Approaching the river, Tom, my driver, drew our cart to a halt. I did not inquire why. It would only lead to some leering remark about the call of nature and did I want to see what he had? The place was thick with willows, and beyond, I could see the Thames running strong, carrying leaves and branches downstream, a ruin caused by a recent rain.
Tom got down and walked away to duck beneath the willows. I didn't look until after the sound of branches cracking indicated he had thrust his way through. There followed a lengthy pause.
This Tom was a big fellow, a mate of the slippery Robinson. The knowledge had worked on my nerves as we traveled, for there had been a host of odd things, beyond this sudden turn of events. For one, Ankarette had never come to say good-bye, although a few others with whom I had grown familiar had waved me off in the courtyard.
A movement caught my attention and I spun around. After all, so soon after a war, who might be lurking in such a secluded place? It was only Tom, but I startled, for he had come up quietly. He seemed disconcerted when I saw him, but he quickly sprang up onto the wheel and seized my wrist.
"This is as far as you go."
I began to kick and yell, but he was strong. With the free hand, I got into my pocket for the blade, but he only used that to get me off balance, to throw me down upon the ground. The landing knocked out my wind and the knife fell from my hand. In a leap, he was on top, using his legs and weight to hold me. While I fought and tried to reach the knife, he twisted a silken cord around my throat. To do that, though, he had to let my hands free. Struggling with all my might against him, I went for his face. My nails dug into flesh, but he had me fast.
* * *
I heard a terrible roaring, next, a man shouting.
“Rose! Rose!"
I coughed and choked, drawing a breath that rushed into my lungs like a burning spike. Hands had pulled me into a sitting position, while I gasped for air and coughed violently.
"Are you all right?" I could at last recognize who my rescuer was.
I couldn't answer. I was too busy sucking air. Alive!
Grey clouds rushed overhead. On a nearby willow, a raven croaked, bobbing his heavy black body. He seemed more than a little put out.
Lost your supper, I thought, but I'm not sorry for you. No, I'm not.
Next to me lay the unmoving hulk of Tom, the livery of the Duke of Clarence all muddied, face down in a reddening pool. The sight of him made me jump.
"Easy." A chuckle followed my alarm. "That bastard isn't going anywhere."
"He tried to kill me!"
"Yes, with Clarence’s blessing. Sorry about the blood."
I collapsed into his arms and let him hold me, which he did very kindly, wiping sticky blood from my face and neck with his sleeve and patting my back while I shook, coughed and sobbed.
"Can you get up on the cart?"
"Yes." The hysteria had gone. Abruptly, I felt as if I could flap my arms and fly over the trees. Maybe the river, too!
"Good. Get up there while I put our Tommy in the water."
As Hugh grabbed Tom by the boots and began to tug, I lurched toward the cart. It was astonishingly easy to put my foot on the wheel and spring up.
Only a few minutes later, Hugh was in the seat beside me. While I watched, he wiped his knife on a rag and then settled it into the sheath at his side.
"Now you must marry me."
"What?" I stared at him as if he'd grown another head.
"I would think that a woman whose life has just been saved might be grateful."
"Grateful? Holy Mother! I am! But—but—Fletcher! I have said! I cannot marry anyone! Lady Anne needs me!"
"Damn you! I should have known that’s what I’d hear! So now it’s ‘good Fletcher run to the Duke of Gloucester and save my precious Lady’! Well, hold tight, stupid bitch!" Seizing the reins, he slapped them upon the fat back of the pony. We went off with a jerk, me hanging on for dear life. His rage was visible all over his fair skin. I could actually feel it, roaring off him like a hot wave.
"Hugh Fletcher! What on God's earth—"
He dragged the pony to a stop, impetus slamming the cart into the traces and almost knocking the poor creature over.
"What's the matter?" he roared into my face. "The matter? Shall I knock you on the head and toss you into the river? Go back and collect the reward from the Duke of Clarence? Or will you—by Bloody, Suffering Christ—keep out of the Thames and marry me?” His gray eyes bulged. His face was purple. It was clear that a man who has just killed one person may very easily kill another.
"Um—Yes! Certes, I’ll marry you.” My face began to twitch like mad. I wanted to rub to stop it, but did not dare to let go of the seat.
"You only say that because you're frightened!" He stared at me, cheeks puffed like an angry dog's. He pounded the seat between us with his fist, striking so loudly that the pony again hopped forward. He was, if possible, even more furious. I thought it best to sit absolutely still.
"Will you?" Yanking a ring from his little finger and seizing my arm, he cried, "Then have this.” He jammed it onto my wedding finger. It was some of his loot, but his grip was what occupied me. I thought my wrist would come apart.
"Don't speak!" He stared balefully. "Especially to take is not to give, or some bloody double talk, or—or—by Christ's bloody wounds, there's still time to fucking drown you." He gestured widely at the roiling river.
"I—I—thank-you from the bottom of my heart—for—saving my life, good Master Fletcher." The words came hissing from my bruised throat.
"Ha! But you don't mean it, do you?" He slapped the reins again on the poor pony's back. "Miserable, ungrateful woman! S'Wounds! If Clarence wishes, he can have me hanged for what I just did! What's a man got to do to get a woman's goodwill these days? Bleeding suffering Christ, I should have let him finish choking you!"
On the way, Hugh, though still thoroughly riled, explained how he came to be there. He said that, curious about this sudden turn of events, he’d done some spying and had overheard Robinson talking with Tom. After a little chat about putting me "to silence," Robinson had boasted to Tom that "Little Gloucester will never discover where we've stowed the lady, which our lord likes very well.”
This news sent another wave of terror through me. My heart pounded, and I felt as if I could have run to Crosby Place, the duke's townhouse, twice as fast as the pony trotted.
We were fortunate to find Richard at home. More, the blood with which I was stained gave our urgency credence. As a result, Hugh and I were quickly escorted into the duke's presence. We rushed with the breeze through an arched walkway. Within the house were dark wooden floors, the white daubed walls crisscrossed by timber frame, and a high ceiling. We approached a table, where a host of gentlemen gathered. Richard of Gloucester rose from the head to meet us. So unlike his brothers, I thought, so small and dark, “More Mortimer than Plantagenet,” or so I'd heard some among the old servants say.
Still, it was clear this was a man of power, in a gold-riveted mulberry brigantine, with a shining golden collar of suns and leopards. Men-at-arms stood by the doors like falcons, falcons with their hoods removed, roused to fly, erect upon the fists of their keepers.
Hugh stopped behind me and removed his hat. I took a few steps more before dropping a shaky curtsy. Richard came to meet me. He took my hand, and raised me, a high mark of favor.
"Rose! What is this?"
Yes, a man now, I thought looking into those shadowy hazel eyes. The boy who had conquered illness, injury and a twisted spine, now tempered to manhood in the fires of war.
"My Lord of Gloucester! My Lady Anne is gone!"
He did not let go of my hand, and his touch brought back something of our past. Like the rest of him, the hand within the glove was hard.
"Speak quickly!"
"Your brother the Duke, told us my Lady Anne had gone to be with King Edward at Westminster, and I was put to packing…."
"Lady Anne is no longer with my brother?"
"No, My Lord. She went for a ride this morning with the Duke of Clarence, but she never returned. We have come to….”
"John!" Richard interrupted, calling over his shoulder to his servant, "My horse."
A servant hurriedly left the room. Richard's eyes returned to me.
"Quick, Rose."
A strange mantle was growing before my eyes, a blackness which obscured everything but his red and gold shape. "They said I was to Westminster after my Lady, but by the river—" Swaying cattails, high water. Tom, his face so grave, his hands, tightening—ever tightening …
* * *
“I slew the dog as he attempted her murder and have brought Mistress Rose straight to you."
Much to my embarrassment, I was now seated in my lord's chair, the sort with broad wooden arms. Here I rested an elbow and my swimming, aching head in my hand. I could not remember how I came to be there.
"You have broken faith with the Duke of Clarence, Fletcher."
"I have, Your Grace," Hugh replied. "I can no longer serve him."
"Where were you born, Fletcher? Yorkshire is on your tongue."
"I was born in Sandal Magna, my Lord. I have been a soldier since Queen Marguerite killed my family. Through service to the Earl of Warwick, I came to your brother Clarence. My Lord of Gloucester, pardon a plain man, but of your brother the Duke I have had a belly-full."
"Stay with me then, Fletcher of Sandal Magna." Richard extended a gloved hand.
Hugh dropped to one knee before Richard and bent his fair head to kiss the ducal signet.
"I am yours, my Lord."
"You were mine from the moment you saved Mistress Rose and brought this news. Attend my Sergeant at Arms. He will give you livery and a place among my men." You never had to sketch the obvious for Richard.
I tried to leave the chair, but he insisted I stay. I cannot tell you how uncomfortable I was, sitting in his presence.
"My Lord! You are the only man in England who has a care for my dear lady."
"No. My brother of Clarence cares, of that be certain." Richard’s eyes flashed. I wouldn't have wanted to be George—and within reach.
"She has been brave, sir, but what she has borne has come nigh to breaking her heart."
"Near to breaking all our hearts," There he stood, right royal, long dagger by his side, among his soldiers. Had our Dickon, as George claimed, killed Prince Edward at Tewksbury, like a dog tearing the throat from a royal hart? Had he, zealous for the right of his brother, performed the awful necessity of murdering the old king?
All I can say is there was something new hovering over Richard, a ferocity I had never observed in boyhood. It has been said that the spirit of the badge a man chooses overtakes him. I prayed that with such a powerful and wily champion as the boar, my dear lady would be speedily saved!
Richard rode to court and then to his brother Clarence and found matters exactly as we'd said. George declared that he neither knew nor cared where Anne was. Lady Isabel, eyes red, said the same. The entire household, it seemed, had gone deaf and dumb.
What had George done with her? It seemed impossible that all Richard’s inquiries and searches led nowhere. Richard even confronted George before the king, and still he received no answer.
King Edward seemed perfectly willing to sidestep the matter and let his brothers fight for possession of the Warwick property. Perhaps it was simply good politics to let George and Richard quarrel. At least this way, George would stay out of the king's hair for a while.
* * *
Duke Richard was busy, but a few days later, I was summoned to his presence again.
"Are you better, Rose?"
"Yes. I thank the Blessed Mother for her continual protection—and, ah—for Master Fletcher's great bravery."
"At Tewkesbury, you were in the priory with my dear cousin. Did you see any of the fighting there?"
"We heard, sir, the soldiers enter the sanctuary. Others came to protect us, but we heard … the—the—imagination—embroiders fearfully."
Richard nodded while I bowed my head, shuddering at the memory. He seemed to understand. I don't know what came over me, but his apparent sympathy sent me babbling.
"Sailing the channel, My Lady and I were sore afraid! Oh, yes, My Lord, such waves, such deeps! But then, at the French court, they smiled to our faces, but their knives were always ready at our backs. Lady Anne and I spent hours upon our knees, calling upon the Blessed Mother to save us."
"Our Lady has delivered you," Richard said. "Continue with your prayers, Rose. The Holy Mother of our Lord must not forget your dear mistress now."
Richard wanted half of the Warwick inheritance, certainly. What man would not? Nevertheless, if anyone could bring Anne home safe again, it would be the Duke of Gloucester.
"Tell me, how did she fare, when last you were together?"
"She has been very brave, sir." My Anne was a wildflower, bearing all weather with grace. "She never cried until they told her about her father. She carried herself like the lady she is, no matter what affliction of body, soul, or heart was visited upon her." I had slipped into nursemaid's hyperbole, but Richard listened.
His eyes searched mine as I spoke, and I saw that in one way, at least, he had not changed. Excitement agitated the green when I spoke of Anne, made it bright as springtime.
A good sign for my Lady, that green!
Anne wasn't certain of her Dickon anymore, but from that moment I was. So much had changed, so many vows broken! Men had learned from these endless wars to distrust everything, even the evidence of their senses.
Then my old playmate's face closed. Before he schooled himself, however, I caught what he didn't want me to see, like sun breaking through clouds above our beloved dales, so I dared to speak again.
"I have prayed things would be better since your brother, King Edward, is come home, but—oh, Your Grace! What can Clarence have done with my poor little lady?" Tears caught me, but this was a time for tears, after all.
"If I have to pull down London," Richard said, "I shall find her." Reflexively, those strong, long fingers gripped the handle of his dagger. I was relieved when, with a snap, he pushed the blade back into the sheath. He had, for an instant, seemed ready to find an outlet for his rage in the body of the person nearest.