Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) (29 page)

"He has daughters too," Denys observed quietly.
He waved dismissively. "They are mere girls, and but babes."
"Elizabeth Woodville and our mother are but mere women, yet most
formidable," she pointed out sharply. "And we all grow up one day,
if the Lord sees fit to spare us, and our king, of course."
"True."
"And Richard the Second was eleven when he ascended the throne and
Henry the Sixth was but nine months," she argued.
"Aye, and having a sovereign who has not reached his majority
lends itself to endless problems." He cast her a sly glance and
cocked a brow. "Look what just happened when King Edward died and
his young son was proclaimed King. Gloucester stepped right in as
if he had the right. I rest my case."
"You bloody well do not rest your case!" By now she'd forgotten he
was the King; he was simply her tyrannical brother who was showing
a very ugly side of his character much too early for his own good.
"King Edward made Richard the Lord Protector and then his children
were found to be illegitimate. That attainder includes your
betrothed, Elizabeth, remember? The marriage never took place due
to a pre-contract."
Again he waved away her words dismissively. "I shall take care of
that, too. I told you I would make Edward Plantagenet my successor
and you agreed. Now let us cease this arguing. All I wanted to do
was make amends for having caused you such misery."
"Nothing you could ever do would make amends! You selfish little
scut! Not only did you kill my dearest friend, you seized the
crown of England from him, quite undeservedly!"
His eyes narrowed. "Selfish, am I? May I remind you that I spared
and pardoned the Duke of Norwich, unlike many of Gloucester's
other supporters, just because he is your husband. Surely a cruel
heartless bastard such as you accuse me of being would have sent
him into the dungeons with all the other traitors."
"He is NOT a traitor,"  Denys hissed. "He has done more to
serve this country for years than many another seeking worldly
reward at your hands now."
"We shall see."
She stared at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I need to keep a close eye on him should those, er, northern
rabble arise and give me any trouble."
"You will have no trouble from us, Henry, as I have said. Leave us
be."
"Very well. Just remember, you have a brother now, who is King. I
want to make it all up to you, your futile searches, your
tragedies. And if you change your mind and decide you wish to be
my successor should I not sire a male heir, then the crown is
yours. However if you choose not to succeed me, I shall
understand.
"But if there is anything at all I can do for you, not only as
your King, but as your brother, just say the word and I am at your
service. Your husband will retain his titles and lands. Nothing
will be taken from you."
"I need nothing from you, Henry. I am perfectly happy in my cozy
realm up north serving my subjects there and my husband, so my
plate will be quite full."
"Then so be it. Then just let me know if there is anything else I
can grant you."
"Aye, there is. I would like to commission a family portrait. As
of now, this is all I have." She reached into her sack and pulled
out the beads, the miniature dangling. She held it up to him.
He looked at it, at her, then back down to it. "The eyes. You have
her eyes. Beaufort eyes. And the "B" necklace she's wearing in the
portrait, she gave to me. I've got it here—" and he disappeared
for a moment, as she stared at the portrait, seeing her mother's
willful eyes, so much like hers.
Henry returned with a gold "B" hung with two pearls suspended on a
gold chain. Before Denys could utter a word, he'd slipped it over
her head. "She gave it to me the last time I came upon these
shores. I was going to give it to my daughter some day, but I
think you should have it. Besides, I hope to only have sons," he
added, with a sly smirk.
"And now that Foxley Manor is back in the Crown's hands, I want
you to have that as well."
Her heart gave a little leap. That hauntingly beautiful abandoned
house that she'd wished she could pretty up—now it could be hers.
Despite herself, she found herself thanking him. "I would like
that, Henry. Our mother's legacy."
Henry nodded. "Besides us, of course."
"But why was Foxley Manor empty when I went there?" she asked
curiously.
"Elizabeth had tenants living there, but when she had an inkling
you'd gone to investigate it, she'd ousted them and the
furnishings as not to leave a clue."
"Except this one little clue." She clasped her fingers round the
beads. "Oh, what a wasted life, living as a Woodville."
"Don't dwell on the past. Think of what you have now. A brother
who is King...and if that means naught to you, you have a husband
who was spared. Go back to him now...and enjoy your life in the
north."
"I shall."
"Now then...you will attend my coronation, of course, you and the
Duke? I hope to be crowned by mid-October."
"Nay. Do not expect to see us at your coronation, Henry. It would
be too painful. Even someone like you should be able to understand
that."
"I think I can. And I am truly sorry for all you have suffered. I
understand that ties of friendship can be even stronger than those
of the blood, and you have been with the Yorkists for many years.
Richard was a man of great talent, but the Almighty has seen fit
to give me the crown of England. My destiny lies waiting, just as
yours does now that you are a Tudor."
"Nay, Henry, not a Tudor. A Starbury."
He gave a tight smile. "Indeed. As you wish. Be well, Sister."
"Farewell."
She curtseyed, and then brother and sister parted company, with
Denys' mission at an end at last.

 

CHAPTER FORTY
Denys was resting in her favorite window seat, rocking her son to
sleep. Love filled her heart as she gazed upon his peaceful face.
It had not been the daughter she had first hoped for, but they had
named him Richard and were delighted that Valentine finally had
his heir. Now she lay a protective hand over the belly where her
unborn second child lay. She was eager to give her husband a shire
full of sons.
A horse caparisoned in royal colors galloped through the gates
into Dovebury's entrance courtyard and the messenger dismounted.
Denys froze when she saw the red dragon, Tudor's banner, draped
over the horse and emblazoned on the messenger's tunic. She
summoned the nursemaid to continue rocking the child and hastened
from the window seat to the courtyard.
"A message for His Grace the Duke of Norwich from His Highness the
King." The messenger bowed to her and handed over the parchment,
embossed with the royal seal.
Valentine was tending to some business at Middleham College and
was not expected back soon. Unable to bear the suspense a moment
longer, she broke the seal with trembling hands as the messenger
galloped away and that dreadful dragon faded from her sight.
He was summoning Valentine to court.
Oh, what does he want with
us?
she wondered as the words on the page swam before
her eyes.
Young Queen Elizabeth had just birthed their first son, so he now
had his own precious heir, the future King Arthur. But what did he
want from her husband? Henry Tudor had not gained any degree of
popularity, especially in the north, which still remained Yorkist
and staunchly loyal to Valentine. Knowing Henry Tudor was her
brother tore at her heart. Not knowing couldn't have been worse,
except for the fact that it had probably saved Valentine's life
after the Battle of Bosworth when all of Richard's supporters had
been executed.
Grabbing her cloak, she rounded up a retinue to load a pack-horse
with supplies, spurred her mount on and tore down the road to
Middleham College. A summons like this could not wait.
Several days later, after a hard journey, Valentine stood in the
outer council chamber at Westminster Palace, where he'd spent so
much time as Chancellor.
Back then joviality and camaraderie among the King's men had
filled the air. Now the place looked downright gloomy. The King's
grooms and footmen wore sullen faces as they went about their
duties. Armed guards were posted everywhere. That bloody red
dragon repeated on rows of banners hung from the ceiling's beams
made the whole place look like hell itself.
Finally the King's guard swept through the doorway and strode up
to Valentine. "His Highness the King wishes to engage your
services, Sir Starbury," he said.
"My services? In what capacity?"
"He has assigned you the office of Great Chamberlain."
He shook his head in bewilderment. "I have gone back to being
governor of Yorkshire. I have no desire to serve in the royal
court. You may relay that to His Highness." Valentine turned to
leave.
The guard seized his shoulder and spun him round. "It is not the
express wish of His Highness for you to return to Yorkshire. Your
only alternative...is to die a traitor."
"
What
?"
Valentine was placed in the Tower with one week in which to
deliver his decision. He immediately dispatched a message to Denys
telling her of his fate.
Denys rode to London as fast as she dared considering the babe in
her belly as soon as she received her husband's missive.
She arrived just in time, on the morning of his audience with the
King.
The guard opened the door to Valentine's sparse but comfortable
cell in the Byward Tower and Denys hurled herself into his arms.
"Oh, Valentine... Are you all right? What has he done to you?" she
gasped between kisses.
"Naught, Dove, I have been quite comfortable here," he said with a
reassuring smile.
"What has transpired between you and Henry?"
"A brief exchange, naught else. He paid me a personal visit,
entering alone to speak with me; he turned the key in the lock
himself. Rather a humble entrance for a usurper. I thought he'd
come riding in on a donkey."
"Has he pressured you?" she asked, her brows knitting.
Her husband shook his head. "Not at all. He gave me one week to
make my decision, which, I must admit, is quite generous. So I
must take my leave shortly, as I must give him my decision."
"I don't want to return to court, Valentine. I love our home and
our life together in the north. It will be so miserable living
here. But I will if the alternative is--"
"Dove, listen to me." He cupped her chin in his palm the same way
he had done when he had delivered that devastating news after the
final battle. Her sense of dread kicked her in the stomach.
What was coming?
"Dove, I have made my decision to die rather than bend to Henry's
will."
She groaned as though her heart would break. "No, please, my
love..." She locked her arms around his neck, her tears staining
his tunic, her heart beating wildly.
"I shall not serve him, Dove. I am giving myself up freely. I said
I would die a noble death and now I shall prove it."
He ended their embrace too painfully soon, pushing her arms from
around his neck. Two guards flanked him, clutching him at the
elbows.
"But, Valentine! You have so much to live for! What about our
children! You'll be leaving us alone in the world if you do this!"
"You shan't be alone, Dove. You have your brother. For me to serve
Henry Tudor just to escape death would be the most cowardly act I
could ever commit. After a while you would begin to loathe me. I
would not expect you to live with a coward. Death is a much more
noble alternative."
"Then I am going with you! We shall die together. I do not want to
live without you!" she insisted, running now to try to keep pace
with the men.
He shook his head. "Do not be daft. You must not leave our
children as orphans. They must know the truth about me, Richard,
all that we did and hoped to do before Henry usurped the throne so
foully."
"But what will become of us without you? My love for you is--"
"No harm will come to you. You are his sister; you are royalty. I
am merely in the way. You must understand. I must act as my
conscience dictates, no matter how much I love you."
"Please, Valentine…"
But it was too late. Another guard attached himself to her elbow
before she could grip her husband around the waist to plead with
him, and they were both escorted down the winding stone stairs of
the Byward Tower.
"Nay, I shan't let you do this, Valentine. I know what I must tell
my brother." Her mind was made up. Her work was done; she could
leave this world knowing she'd accomplished what she'd set out to
do. She and the intrepid, brave Cristoforo Colombo were the only
two people she knew who could honestly say that.
She fought the pang of regret that she would not live to give
birth to their second child. Young Richard would never know his
parents.
But her sadness was jarred away as the door to the King's
receiving chamber opened. The guards crossed their swords and he
appeared in the doorway. As Valentine bowed and Denys curtseyed,
her eyes bored into her brother, whose long saturnine features
were expressionless.
"Denys," Henry said, signaling them to rise as he approached them.
"How nice to see you, dear sister."
She ignored his greeting and blindly clutched her husband's hand.
"We have come to give you our decision," she said firmly, no trace
of agitation in her tone.
"I shall speak for myself, Dove," Valentine rasped.
"I know. But Valentine, please let me speak to my brother."
"Ah, then you are come to serve me." Henry nodded, a
self-satisfied smirk forming on the thin reedy lips.
Denys shook her head. "Nay. We cannot serve you, Henry, either of
us. I have told you that before. But all of the work Valentine
does in the north on behalf of the poor is invaluable. Therefore,
I have come to die in place of my husband."
"You?" Husband and brother looked at her with equally astonished
eyes.
Valentine grasped her sleeve, trying to push her behind him.
"N—nay, she did not mean that, sire—"
"Valentine, cease!" She shook his hand off and turned back to her
brother. "Loyalty does not end with a monarch's death, as anyone
in Yorkshire could attest to, Henry," Denys said, her voice
steady. "I want you to spare Valentine and take me. He's worth
much more to you alive than his estates after he's dead. You are
just too ignorant in the way of politics and—most of all—the
English people, and what's in their hearts—to realize that." 
"My lord, forgive her--"
"Nay, Valentine, there is no other way. Better I should forfeit my
life than the country be plunged into civil war again because you
are gone."
The King stood silently, assessing the situation.
Denys couldn't stand to look into the green eyes that were so much
like their mother's. All emotion began to drain away, leaving her
shocked at what she had said and done, but knowing that she could
not have done anything differently.
Valentine remained silent. He clutched her hand again and this
time she did not resist, but gently grasped his fingers and
squeezed them.
The silence lengthened, until at last Henry said, "I am impressed,
I have to admit. I really believed I could get you to bow to my
will and shift sides the way so many others here have been all too
happy to do. I am doubly impressed that you would choose to die in
the place of your husband, Denys, instead of coming here and
partaking of royal life as a privileged member of my court. I
cannot undermine your loyalty to your dead King, nor can I expect
you to consider me an ally, but I cannot kill my only living
sister.
"Valentine, your following in the north is formidable indeed, and
I cannot expect everyone to like me, as not everyone liked Richard
either." The corner of his mouth twitched in a weak smile.
He cleared his throat and carried on, "I am sorry you do not wish
to avail yourself of the offices I wish to bestow upon you, but
that shows that you are a truly loyal and unambitious man after
all. Therefore, I shall no longer consider you a threat. You may
go back to the north with my blessing, to live out your days there
in peace."
Valentine nodded curtly, bowed, and began to back out of the
chamber.
But Denys stayed rooted to the spot a moment longer, looking into
the eyes of her new king.
Her kinsman.
Finally she found
her voice, enough to utter a small, "Thank you, Brother."
"Be well, Sister."
"We shall try. Farewell, Henry." She curtseyed and turned to join
her husband where he waited for her, just inside the door.
"Denys," the King's voice reached her just as they were about to
exit the chamber.
She froze, steeling herself for the cruel blow she was sure would
follow.
Henry said almost timidly, "Would you not like to see Prince
Arthur before you leave?"
A hard fist gripped her heart and squeezed.
Her new nephew.
She looked up at Valentine and got an encouraging smile. She
turned and said quietly, "Aye, Henry, I would indeed."
Henry looked visibly relieved and personally ushered them into the
nursery a short distance away, where Elizabeth sat rocking the
infant at her breast. She was no longer the giggly girl that had
harbored fanciful thoughts about Valentine. She was a woman now,
the Queen consort, and her new-found regal bearing brought an
amused smile to Denys' lips. She greeted Denys and Valentine
warmly and willingly let Denys hold her nephew in her arms.
"Let us treat bygones as bygones, Dove," Elizabeth said. "After
all, the past can't be helped now, can it. If you can find it in
your heart to forgive Henry's injustices towards you and to
forgive my mother for her heinous treatment of you, I would wish
to welcome you into our hearts as our sister."
As she looked down at the handsome boy and thought of her own son
back home and the other one growing within her, she said softly,
"‘Tis all history now, Elizabeth, is it not? Let us simply look
forward and secure a better world for our children."
Denys gathered the swaddled infant to her breast. The eyes were of
her and her brother's and their mother's. The tiny lips had that
same pouty heart shape. He was a Beaufort through and through,
with nary a trace of Woodville in sight.
"He is lovely, Elizabeth, so very lovely."
"But why did you not name him Henry?" she asked her brother, who
she was sure would have wanted to watch the future Henry the
Eighth grow before him.
"The Welsh bards told me the Breton versions of the Arthurian
legend, and I made them tell me over and over. I dreamed of living
that legend, and having a son I would name Arthur. It was a
fitting name for a boy born to be king."
So he too had dreamed of those Arthurian legends. He had also
longed to live them, just as she always had.
"Well, Henry, the Arthurian stories are compelling indeed, but
they are just that, legends. Living here will make you realize
that you can't live life in a storybook. However, I wish your son
Arthur a long and prosperous reign as our King one day, as God
sees fit." She couldn't wish the same for him.
As she took her leave, Henry spoke a few last words to his sister.
"Loyalty takes many forms, and remember, you have family here."
"I've finally found my family and they're here at court, Henry.
But I've also found my own life, which is in the north with my
husband." She nodded her final farewell.
She took Valentine's proferred arm, and both bowed and strode out
the door without a backward glance.
The King watched with renewed pride as his sister and
brother-in-law walked down the corridor, arm in arm. Then he
turned back to his wife and new son.