Author's Note: Hello everyone, Peppinthepanda here. Thank you for taking the time to read this story, it is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a like or review. This is my first time publishing a story that I have written, so comments/constructive criticisms are most welcome. Have a great day.
CHAPTER SIX – SOAR LANE OUTSIDE LEICESTER 1471
They sat on horseback traveling slowly. Kate held Katheryn to her chest with one arm, the other, holding steady her reigns. Marion sat atop a small brown pony, her new stiff saddle making her bottom ache terribly - the girl swore her saddle sores had saddle sores! Katheryn squirmed in her mother's arms, trying to see everything she could. Now at two-years-old she was a beauty; she had Dickon's coloring, hair a dark, woody brown, fair skin, and dark blue eyes, and his intelligence; for she could string four to ten words together to form odd little sentences that greatly amused the listener if they made sense at all. The rest of her qualities, Katheryn had received from Kate. She had a Morton widow's peak, her mother's tendency to screw up her nose when laughing, and Kate's fine features, including an adorable button nose. She had grown from a screaming babe to a beautiful little girl who would steal the heart of many a nobleman when she grew up, Marion thought.
Marion, too, had grown. Now at seven years of age, she was taller, leaner, her hair falling to just beyond her shoulder blades. She looked wiser - wiser than her years - yet her eyes still bore the mischievous glint of a youth. Kate, near eighteen, was still the beauty who had enchanted Dickon from the moment he laid eyes on her, and thankfully, she was a calm beauty; having learned a few months ago to control her horrible temper when she had heard news that Dickon had another bastard child, this one, a healthy baby boy, birthed by a lady named Nan Harrington. After that incident had nearly gotten them thrown out of Donington Le Heath, Kate had learned to calm her temper. Soothing teas, rigid prayer and meditation had aided her greatly. Little did anyone know that today, Kate's control would be put to the test.
The little family rode out to meet with Dickon, who had soon returned from battle - Tewksbury, it had been called in a letter. He had important news to tell them, he'd said. Marion was excited, but also annoyed. If he had important news to tell, why not come to them and tell it? Why make them ride out to him?
When Dickon did arrive, on horseback also, he was not alone. He had a young man with him, who appeared to be about sixteen. Wild blonde curls fell to his shoulders, and bright green eyes swept across the three of them. A manic, yet delighted grin spread across his face. The stranger let out a whoop, galloping the rest of the way to them, while Dickon rolled his eyes, kicking his horse into action to keep up with his friend.
"Whoo! These must be the three bonny lasses you speak so oft of, Dickon! I'm guessing the ravaging beauty on the horse is Kate, and the smallest girl is your Katheryn?"
Dickon's mouth pressed into an angry line. "Please, Francis, do not refer to Kate as such." But although Dickon appeared to be angry, Marion could see that his dark blue eyes glittered with mirth.
The man - Francis - pouted before grinning once more, making Marion laugh at his ridiculous behaviour. His eyes snapped to her, and he trotted over to her pony.
"Ah, and this must be Marion." he said. "You do not lie, Dickon, she has striking looks. Well, enough idle chatter. Shall I introduce myself? I am Francis Lovell, first Viscount Lovell, and Dickon's best friend."
Kate bowed her head respectfully. Marion copied her.
"How do you do, my Lord?" she asked.
Lovell smiled. "Very well, Madam. In fact, both Dickon and I are so well, we come bearing glad tidings."
"Teedeegs?" piped up Katheryn.
"Ah, so that is the first word you say when you see your father for the first time in months?" Dickon asked, ruffling her hair, which tumbled from blue hair ribbons.
"Papa!" the little girl giggled, trying to bat his hands away from her head, to no avail.
"Ah, that's it." Dickon smiled, before kissing Kate's hand. Marion laughed again.
"Anyway! May I, my Lord of Gloucester, resume telling these lovely ladies our grand tidings?" the blonde man asked, raising his hands theatrically.
Dickons' face grew serious. "Of course,"
"Well, my dear ladies... the war is over! And we are the victors!"
"How? Are the bad people gone forever now?" Marion asked, bouncing slightly in her saddle.
"Aye, girl, they are. The Earl of Warwick was killed at the Battle of Barnet, so he shall not be able to rebel against us ever again. And the pretender Prince of Wales, Edward of Westminster, was killed at the Battle of Tweksbury, not a few weeks ago. Now all that is left to do is... well, figure out what to do about the mad King Henry in the Tower, and send his old Queen, Margaret of Anjou into exile, and nothing will ever stand in the way of the House of York again! Right, Dickon?" Francis grinned from ear-to-ear. It was strange, thought Marion, to see someone so happy about the deaths of others.
"Right…"
"Oh, Richard!" Kate cried, moving her horse closer to his, so she could kiss him on the cheek - even though Marion was sure her sister knew that the young man was uncomfortable with too many public displays of affection (too many being more than one, in his eyes).
He smiled grimly as Kate pulled back, beaming. Marion felt her stomach twist painfully. Something was wrong.
"That is not all the news I bear," Dickon said.
"What else is there, love?"
"Do you remember Anne Neville?"
To Marion, that question seemed to be directed to her as much as it was directed to Kate. Yes, Marion remembered the youngest daughter of Warwick, she had seen her here and there at Middleham. And of course Kate remembered Anne Neville, it was because of her that Kate and Dickon could not wed. She was Dickon's cousin, twice removed, if Marion had read Dickon's letters right, and had been betrothed to him the year they fled from Isolde's house.
"Yes," Kate said presently, a stiffness to her voice. "What of her?"
"As you know from my letters, Warwick and his family fled to France, to aid the exiled King Henry, and the she-wolf Margaret of Ajou. What I only found out a few days ago from Anne is that she was forced to wed that horrid Edward of Lancaster, also known as Edward of Westminster, Prince of Wales."
At those words, Francis Lovell visibly cringed. Clearly, Marion thought, this Edward person is not nice at all - or was not nice at all.
"So... the betrothal was broken? We are free to wed?" Kate gasped, her eyes alight with glee.
Marion too, smiled. She knew, from the look on her sister's face, that both she and Kate were imagining the happy future this promised. She could see Kate in a lovely gown, marrying Dickon in a small ceremony. She saw other children, all with hair that would grow dark like Katheryn's, coming after the wedding. Sons to inherit Dickons vast fortunes and lands he had as Constable of the North. Marion imagined herself with a big brother figure close at hand for the rest of her life, a good career, as a lady in waiting or a maid to one of Dickon and Kate's children, if not Katheryn. She saw years of endless happiness for all of them, a reward for their years of turmoil. Was Kate seeing the same fanciful future? By the continued dazed and happy grin on her face, the answer was obviously yes.
But then Dickon shook his head, and all of the Morton sisters' dreams shattered.
"You choose Nan Harrington instead of me?" Kate screeched.
From his place beside her, Francis leaned down to whisper in Marion's ear: "Is she always like this?"
Marion simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"Damn. How do you live with that? If mine own wife was like that..." he trailed off, looking rather terrified at the thought of having a wife as volatile as Kate. Marion patted his hand in sympathy. She would not wish such a fate on anyone.
She recalled the day Dickon had come and told her and Kate about Nan Harrington. Nan had been Kate's childhood friend, their fathers had been close, apparently. Nan used to sit Marion up on her lap sometimes, and tell her stories. That was how the girl had heard of the tale of King Arthur, she heard it from Nan. And Kate had been so angry when Dickon told her that he had been deep in his cups and laid with her best friend – before he knew that Nan was Kate's best friend. It was even worse when he'd told them that Nan Harrington was with child. And, the girl thought, let's never forget Kate's reaction when Marion had read a letter proclaiming that Nan had borne Dickon a son. Even the memory of Kate's shouting gave Marion a headache. And the girl could feel one coming on now, too.
"No," Dickon's voice made her look around. "No, I do not choose Nan, but we still cannot wed, Kate."
"Why ever not?" Kate cried, making Katheryn whimper.
"Because Anne is now in the care of my brother - Clarence - who will stop at nothing to gain the Neville inheritance. He may even kill the girl! I am duty bound to protect her, I promised her I would... and the only way she will truly be safe is through marriage. I intend to write the King and seek his approval before applying for a Papal dispensation to wed."
Kate's mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to bring herself to speak:
"P-Papal dispensation? A Papal dispensation to marry?"
"Aye," Dickon said simply.
Marion saw colour flood her sister's neck, saw Kate's eyes grow dark with anger. But, unlike the last time she was confronted with something like this, Kate did no start shouting. Instead, she simply said:
"I see,"
"You do?" Dickon asked cautiously.
"Yes, I see why you brought Francis Lovell with you, and chose to meet out on an open road, rather than at the house. 'Twas to make sure my temper stayed in check."
Dickon swallowed. It looked like his brilliant plan had been found out, and was not so brilliant any more - if, indeed, that had been his plan to begin with. But how was Marion to know such things? If it had been his plan to meet out here in the open countryside and bring a friend along to keep Kate under control, then yes, it was a brilliant plan. But it now seemed that Dickon was beginning to gain the habit of making brilliant plans that failed dismally.
"Kate - " he began.
"No, I don't want to hear any more! This is the second time this has happened, the second time you have favored another woman over me!"
At that moment, Marion thought that her sister was the only one angered by what was going on. When Dickon's face suddenly flushed red however, she knew she was wrong.
"Katherine Morton, you will listen to me! If I did not have this duty to my cousin, I would marry you, if you so desired me to! Katheryn would be legitimized, and would no longer have to bear the stigma of being a bastard. All would be well. We would have the - the happy ending you were thinking of not a few moments ago."
"And what," breathed the blonde, her eyes alight with fury. "About your other bastard? The boy?"
Dickon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. To Marion, it looked like Dickon was bearing the weight of all his sins on his shoulders - which, at that point, only totaled two: Katheryn, and this other child (as far as Marion knew). When the dark-haired man finally looked up, his face was stricken.
"John would have to remain a bastard, but I would acknowledge him - as I have done with Katheryn, already."
Kate merely nodded, before passing Katheryn to Dickon and trotting away. Marion blinked. How odd. It appeared her sister was making an effort to control her temper for once. What a pleasant change. A heavy silence descended upon the group, shortly broken though, by a little voice. From her father's arms, Katheryn was frowning, biting her left thumb, looking confused.
"Papa?" the little voice trembled through the silence. "What's bastahd?"
Dickon sucked in a breath, and Francis Lovell looked as if he would never be cheerful again. Yet, anther silence arose, in which Dickon seemed to be of the belief that if he ignored his daughter's questions, she would soon forget and stop asking. Marion sighed. Such was the problem of being away for so long, Dickon was unaware that his daughter had his stubbornness.
"Papa?"
Dickon's face twisted into an ugly grimace. It was then that Marion realized why he did not answer her. He did not want to hurt Katheryn as Isolde had hurt Marion. He did not want to see his little girl cry as Marion had cried. His dark eyes bored into her own, silently pleading for a way out of this terrible situation. Not again they seemed to say. I do not want to see this happen to a child again! Marion's heart cried out for her dear friend.
"Papa, what -"
"I will tell her," Marion said, quietly, nudging her pony forwards with the toe of a boot.
Dark blue eyes looked away, pained, before settling back on her once more. "Are you certain, Marion?"
"Aye," she said, using one of Dickon's favorite words for "yes".
"Very well. Francis, mayhap you should go and find Kate, and talk to her. She would welcome your jests more than anything I would have to say right now."
"Aye, m'lord." he said, before turning his gelding around and galloping off.
Dickon looked down at Katheryn, who gazed up at him curiously. A tiny hand rested on his neck. Marion watched silently as Dickon took the girl's hand, kissed it, and ruffled her hair once more.
"Katheryn, your aunt Marion wants to take you on a ride on her pony. Would you like that?"
Kathery looked stricken.
"Me wanna stay wiv you..."
"T'will only be for a little while, poppet, then I promise you will be back with your mother and I."
The little girl nodded sadly, and allowed Dickon to lift her down on to Marion's pony. Marion noticed that he clenched his jaw as he did so, as if he was trying to hold back a noise of pain. His back ache must be getting worse, she thought forlornly, remembering that on the day he had come to tell them about Nan Harrington, he had complained of backache. A moment later, Katheryn was sitting on Marion's pony, one of Marion's arms wrapped around her tiny frame, her other hand gripping the reigns. Marion was sure her bottom would have blisters on it from the saddle, but at that moment she did not care. All she cared about was Katheryn; about telling her the truth without breaking her little heart, as had been done to Marion all those years ago.
The girls rode along the muddy road until they reached a majestic old oak tree, where dandelions grew wild between the roots. Katheryn let out a small gasp, reaching out to touch one of the flowers. There was a smile on her face that was both heartwarming and heartbreaking to Marion.
"Katheryn?" she said softly.
The girl looked up, still smiling. "Look, Aunt Mayon! Flower! Pweetty flower!"
"Not nearly as pretty as you," Marion assured her niece before sighing. "Katheryn, there is something I must tell you."
"Whasda, Mayon?" she asked.
"I am going to tell you what... what 'bastard' means..."
Katheryn looked back at the flower, all smiles gone. A breeze was blowing, turning the white fuzz of the dandelion into a pitiful green stalk. Hastily, Marion leaned over and picked another flower. She would not have Katheryn crying over something as trivial as this, when she had something so serious to tell her.
"A bastard," Marion began, trying to fight off the lump in her throat. "Is a babe born when its mama and papa are not married."
Again, a breeze reduced this second dandelion to nothing. Marion picked another one, taking the worthless stalks from Katheryn's grasp. Her niece was shaking, Marion realized.
"Papa get mahweed," she mumbled, obviously having picked up more than the adults had thought of the earlier conversation. Then, turning to her aunt who was rapidly falling into despair, she asked: "Not to Mama?"
Marion's chin was wobbling, her eyes burning. Terrible memories assaulted her mind; a raging woman, bedchambers far away from everyone else, eating alone in the kitchens. This was the weight Marion had to bear for her parents' sins, to make up for their folly and mistake - the mistake that had resulted in her. She alone was the one who could redeem her parents and herself in the eyes of God, and she would spend the rest of her life doing so. Marion knew this already, so for herself she did not despair, it was for Katheryn. Such a sweet little girl, how could she carry such a burden? The weight of Kate and Dickon's sins on her tiny shoulders? To Marion, this was grossly unfair. And though it made her despair, it also made her determined that she would include Kathryn in her struggles for redemption, so her little niece would not bear the burden of being basely born on her own.
Katheryn's next words broke Marion's already weary heart.
"Kafwyn a bastahd? Me bastahd?"
"I'm so sorry Katheryn, but yes."
Marion let out a sob, pulling her niece closer to herself, burying her now blotched, tear-stained face in the child's dark curls. The pony brayed, kicking its front leg in protest. And suddenly, Marion felt a new set of arms around her and looked up to see her sister's face. Kate was pale, her mouth drawn into a thin line.
"My sweet girls..." the older Morton managed to croon. "My sweet, brave, girls..."
Marion looked over her sister's shoulder to see Lovell standing beside his horse, looking grim; would he ever smile again? And then, there was Dickon. Still mounted on his horse, head bowed in shame, as rain began to pour, like God's tears as He watched the scene below.