A new Christmas, a new king. Surely a miracle, that all of the impossible things that had to happen before he and Alice could marry had come to pass.
Almost all of them.
Henry had defeated Richard on the battlefield in August. John’s family, and Alice’s, had played their promised parts. Parliament had recognised the new King, he had celebrated a proper coronation and, now, Henry Tudor sat on the throne.
No, John reminded himself, as he entered the gates of the Palace. Henry the Seventh, not Henry Tudor, was now King.
Yes, almost everything had come to pass except one thing: Henry and Elizabeth had not wed.
Yet.
But as John handed the reins of the horse to the page, even Westminster Palace seemed new, full of clean air and fresh possibilities.
The guest list this year was smaller and more select. Henry, from the beginning, had recognised and rewarded those who had risked all to support him, but he allowed only a select few into his inner circle.
John was not yet one of them.
When he entered the palace, the first thing he heard was his father’s voice. ‘Son!’ The word echoed along the stone walls.
They embraced, awkwardly and spoke of John’s journey, as they walked to the room the Earl had taken.
They had seen little of each other since the battle at Bosworth Field in August. There, the Earl of Stanson had done as agreed and kept his troops apart. Denying Richard their support no doubt helped make Henry the victor that day.
But despite all pressure and warning from his father, John could not refrain from battle. He broke away, leading his own small group of men into the melee to join Henry for the final assault. A decision irrevocable, in direct defiance of his father’s order, but he was weary of the cautious games his father played.
And in the end, his father could not protest, for John had picked the winning side. Now, just one thing remained.
John held his tongue until they were alone, behind closed doors. ‘When will the King marry Elizabeth?’
A shrug. ‘I helped persuade Parliament to officially endorse the match. He only awaits the dispensation to arrive.’
‘It’s been a year,’ John muttered, remembering when he had told Alice the Bishop had left for Rome. ‘Did the Pope object?’ Of all the obstacles, he had worried more about war than God.
His father shrugged. ‘The hierarchy of the church is more complicated than that of the law. And had I not seen Henry in battle, I would have guessed him a lawyer. He has insisted that every legal obstacle be addressed and solved. We had to reverse the Act of Parliament that made her illegitimate, without saying she had been declared illegitimate, then we had to—’
‘I don’t need to hear each step,’ John said, impatient. ‘What remains to be done?’
His father sighed. ‘Tedious business, yes. But a request has now been sent to the Papal Legate who is in Edinburgh. I hope he will act quickly. And once the wedding is set, we will have completed our part in putting Henry on the throne. There will be no need for you to marry the Oakshire woman. I see a different alliance to be much more advantageous.’
A different alliance? He must have misunderstood. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Our neighbour has a daughter ready to be pledged.’
‘I am already pledged.’
‘Yes, and that arrangement accomplished its purpose. But their land abuts ours upstream. It is pasture we need to feed the sheep...’
His father continued to talk. John stopped listening. All the machinations, the plotting, the moving of people as if they could be controlled like chess pieces, and, in the end, to break his word? He was done with it.
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘No.’ All his life he’d trusted his father’s wisdom while ignoring his own. And now, on the battlefield and the field of the heart, he was defying the man. ‘I am betrothed. That is an unbreakable contract.’
His father chuckled. ‘No contract is unbreakable.’
‘Does Henry feel that way?’ Had the King’s marriage been delayed because he had changed his mind?
‘His agreement to marry Elizabeth is more like a treaty. We can find a reason to walk away from a simple betrothal. Maybe she has decided to enter a nunnery.’
‘Alice does not want to enter a nunnery.’ Of that, he was certain.
‘She doesn’t have to stay. Just retreat for a while. After a year or two, she can come out and marry whom her father pleases.’
John’s anger flamed. The thought of Alice being forced, even temporarily, to be exiled to a convent... And for what? For his family’s convenience.
For his family’s power.
‘We won’t say anything until after Henry and Elizabeth wed, of course,’ his father said. ‘But once they have, we will have fulfilled our parts. Henry is on the throne and will be married to Elizabeth. Our promise made that possible. That was enough.’
The promise was enough. Words were enough. Well, there had been deeds, too, but a promise not kept was only words.
And what man could trust himself if he did not keep his word?
This was everything he had railed against. But this was not just any man. It was his father, clearly more interested in power than honour. How had he not seen that before?
Because he had seen only the venality of the man on the throne.
‘I will not break the betrothal.’
His father raised his eyebrows, but kept his temper. ‘Don’t be so quick to decide. I have not spoken to Oakshire yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he would be open to a different alliance for his daughter, now that we have our preferred King on the throne.’
Something in the tone of his words... Was it Alice who wanted a different alliance? Perhaps he had misread her. Perhaps, she, too, was ready to abandon their vows. Perhaps he had been the fool to trust all along.
He stopped his thoughts. If he was to defy his father, he must know her mind.
As eager as Alice was to see John, she was far more nervous than she had ever been in the Christmases past. This year, what had been no more than promises and speculation was to become real.
She had passed John’s father in the hallway. His greeting had seemed cursory, but he had more important things to do than exchange words with her. The Earl of Stanson had been busy with his duties in the House of Lords. No doubt he had meetings with the King.
King Henry.
Still difficult to realise...
She had seen too little of the man to judge him truly, though even an imperfect man was to be preferred over the monster Richard had been. But allowedly, her thoughts were first of Bessy, not the country. Would Henry be a good husband?
Both John and the King were expected at Westminster soon, so, late in the afternoon, Alice and Bessy gathered in Bessy’s rooms to wait.
Bessy looked ready to be happy.
‘You like him,’ Alice asked, ‘don’t you?’ A silly question. What difference did that make to her duty? And yet, it did.
Bessy’s answer was given shyly. ‘I do. And I think he likes me.’ She sighed, with the hint of a pout. ‘But even after an Act of Parliament we remain unwed. And he had his coronation without me!’
Alice hugged her. ‘He must have good reason,’ she said, with a confidence she did not feel. ‘Look at the wonderful clothes he has ordered for you.’
‘And for himself and his entire household!’ Bessy’s tone was short.
While Alice was wearing her familiar green velvet gown, new clothes for the King and his family were part of the season’s expectations. Still, every single piece seemed newly stitched. Was he an extravagant man who would waste money on finery?
Then Bessy shook her head. ‘Forgive me. He needed each piece. He had no more than what he was wearing when he arrived.’
A reminder of the miracle that had made him King. An exile, a man who had nothing, embarked on a quest worthy of Arthur and gained it all. ‘But you have spent time with him now. Is he...? Do you...?’
‘Do I love him?’
Alice blushed. Not a question she should ask a queen.
Yet Bessy’s answer was kind. ‘How often is that possible for a king and queen? And even when it comes it can be...’
She did not finish the thought. Bessy’s parents had loved each other. Once.
She let the words fade and faced Alice. ‘You love John, don’t you?’
Alice’s first thought was yes. Her first impulse was to deny it. So she fell back on a simple statement. ‘I have only seen him twice for a short time over the last two years. Here, at court, amid the seasonal madness. How can I know whether we will suit?’
‘And I have just met Henry this year. Yet I may learn to love my duty.’
Her duty to marry. As Alice’s was. She had always thought she wanted love. Had she forced that feeling with John? After all, she had seen him for less than three weeks in two years. Perhaps it would be better, easier, not to love him, but only to do her duty. After all, her father still mourned the loss of her mother. Did their years of joy outweigh his pain at her loss?
‘Lady Elizabeth.’ A page, out of breath. ‘The King...he asks for you.’
And suddenly, Elizabeth of York looked more nervous than royal. She stood, smoothing her hair.
‘And Sir John is looking for the Lady Alice to meet him in his privy rooms,’ he continued.
Now she, too, rose, bumping into Bessy as they both reached for the mirror.
Then she laughed. ‘You look beautiful,’ Alice assured her.
‘As do you,’ Bessy answered. ‘And I think you do know that you and John will suit.’
Their laughter mingled as they left the room.
Finally, John saw at his door, the one thing he most wanted to see: Alice. He knew her shape, recognised the silly steepled headdress pointing aslant and when he saw her face it was as if he had come home.
Did she run? Did he? They moved into each other’s arms and did not let go.
Then, a mutual sigh.
‘You are safe? Unharmed?’ Not willing to take his presence as proof, she touched his head, his arm, looking for wounds. ‘I heard you fought for him. I was afraid. So many died...’
He nodded. ‘Both our families did their part.’
Alice’s father, as promised, had prevented the King’s supporters in the south-east from joining his march to the final battle while sending some of his own men across the country to join Henry.
She gripped John’s hands. ‘And now Parliament has blessed, even begged, for this match. The Lords stood, bowed their heads and beseeched him to honour his promise! Why have they not wed?’
The impatience in her voice matched his own. ‘And yet,’ he said, barely able to think as he looked at her, ‘they are as married as we are. It takes only one thing...’
A king and queen must have a public wedding. Other couples could consummate the marriage without any ceremony beyond the privacy of the bed...
She blushed. ‘Then we could not be put asunder.’
The vision that had teased and tormented him for a year was now too close. If only they...
He straightened his arms to hold her a safe distance away. ‘Alice, do you want to marry me?’
Alice blinked at his question. Struck dumb for a moment. ‘How can I answer? We have not been given a choice. Like Henry and Elizabeth, we do what we must. For the greater good.’
‘What if you were given a choice? What would you choose?’
The world slowed down. Her heart beat faster and seemed to move up to her throat. All this time, the irrevocable promise had been a wall, a fence, a barrier unmovable, trapping them together, no matter what they might want.
Had he changed his mind? She had thought it had become more than a duty for him. Had she been wrong? All this time, she had wanted love so badly she had been sure he had wanted the same. They had shared kisses at Christmastime, yes. What man would resist a kiss? But she had thought there was more. And now...
But he had asked what she wanted. As if that mattered. As if he cared what her choice would be.
She took a deep breath, searching his face. Something had changed, but she did not know what. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because I want to know the truth.’
And if she told it? If she told him she loved him and discovered he did not love her in turn? What then? But if she did not try, she did not deserve the love she wanted.
And suddenly, it no longer mattered. For if she had learned anything over these past two Christmases, she had learned to trust herself. More than family, country or even God.
‘Yes. Yes, John Talbot of Stanson, I do want to marry you.’
‘Even if we no longer are forced to?’
Laughter now. There was nothing to lose but him and she had already won, or lost, that. ‘Especially if we are no longer forced to!’ So close. They could make it real. ‘It only takes one thing,’ she whispered. No longer ashamed to want it.
Now he was the one who blushed. ‘Are you willing?’
‘Yes!’
He picked her up and swung her around. ‘Then, my lady, let us wed and let no one put us asunder.’
And when he put her down, he barred the door and came back to kiss her again and neither one noticed when her headdress was knocked to the floor, nor cared where it landed.
As John led her through the palace well after dark, they heard, from behind the King’s door, murmured, happy voices, including one Alice recognised...
She smiled. ‘I guess we are not the only ones ready to consummate a marriage.’
He burst into inappropriate laughter and the voices beyond the door stilled.