CHAPTER FIFTEEN – MIDDLEHAM, JUNE 1478
A scream split the serenity that cloaked the Yorkshire Moors and the great fortress of Middleham Castle. Servants abandoned their posts and activities, rushing to the source of the noise. There they would find John of Gloucester, the natural son of their liege lord, Richard, Duke of Gloucester. The boy lay sprawled on the rush-covered floor, his tunic steaming and clinging to him, black hair mattered around a pale, terrified face. Marion – who although she now bore the title of Lady, still worked some days the servants – was one of the first to find the boy.
"John!" she cried, rushing forward, pulling him off the ground, before leaping away with a yelp of pain. His tunic was scalding, filled with terrible heat. Clearly, he had gotten himself doused in hot to boiling water.
Thinking quickly, Marion pulled the tunic off the boy, despite how it hurt her hands, leaving him almost bare to her save for his leggings. Despite the fact that John was only a boy of seven, Marion wrapped him in the light cloak she had worn around her shoulders, once she had soaked it in a pale of cold water nearby. The stables were filled with such things, for the horses to drink from. She heard John sigh as he wrapped the garment around himself, only turning back to face the boy when he cleared his throat softly.
"Thank you, Aunt Marion." he mumbled, head bowed.
"You are very welcome, lad. Now tell me, how did you manage to get yourself into this mess n the first place?"
The boy coughed awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot. "I was making Neddy's Christmas gift."
"And what, pray tell, is this gift? And how is it so dangerous that it nearly got you scalded?"
"Well, you know how Neddy always admires Papa's sword? And follows me to the training yard when I go to practice mine own sword skills?"
"Yes..."
"Well, I was thinking of making him a little sword of his own. So that when he's all grown up and a lord, he won't forget that his brother did give it to him."
"Oh, John..." Marion sighed, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair so that his dark blue eyes met her own with an unwavering gaze. "What makes you think Neddy will forget you?"
"Because he shall be a lord. I will be but a servant to him. He may forget that we are brothers."
Before Marion could open her mouth to reply, a new voice spoke up.
"A truth uttered well, yet a folly to even think it."
Both turned to see Lady Anne standing at the door to the stables. Her hair was pulled into a simple braid, and her hazel eyes looked dull. Marion flinched. She had seen Anne like that a few times before, always when the Lady had been with child, but had tragically lost the babe. As each year went by, it appeared that Neddy, frail, little Neddy, was to be Dickon's only legitimate heir. This fact only convinced Marion more that God was cruel, and that He was punishing Dickon for his sins as a mere teenager. And yet, King Edward had bastards, more than Dickon, and his wife had borne him many children. How was that fair? Marion shook her head, she did not know, and it was not her place to know. Life, and God could be cruel, that was all she needed to know when she saw the tired look upon Lady Anne's face.
Seeing Lady Anne standing there in that state made Marion panic. Releasing John from her grip, she hastened to Anne's side, exclaiming in shock:
"Lady Anne! I did not think you would venture down here..."
Anne waved a thin hand nonchalantly, hushing the girl.
"I am not a cripple, Marion, I can walk wherever I please. But, we are not here to speak of me, or my health. Nay, we are here to speak of young John's attempt at being a blacksmith."
John bowed his head. "I am sorry, Lady."
"Oh, hush now boy! I am not angry with you. I am, however, concerned for you. Your father will not like to see you so narrowly escaping a scalding and – God have mercy on us – would be livid if he found out why you have done this."
"Please, my Lady, I really am sorry -"
"No more apologies, boy!" Anne said shrilly, cutting John off. "Neddy will have his sword, but you shall not be the one to craft it. Follow your Aunt and I, and once you are cleaned and dressed again then we shall draw your design for the sword on some parchment, and give it to the blacksmiths."
Both John and Marion gaped at Lady Anne's kindness. It was not that she had been unkind to them before; rather, it was strange that she was being so kind now, going out of her way to do so, especially when she was in ill-health.
She pities him, Marion realised, as they left the stables.
They were met by a horde of servants and staff who had come running at John's scream, Lady Anne dismissing them. Marion was instructed to return John to his chambers, so the castle physician could see that he had no more injuries, while Anne went to see if Dickon had heard of what had happened, and if so, assure him that all was well.
As John was being examined by the physician across the hall, Marion sat with Katheryn in her chambers, playing a game of chess. Dickon had given the girl a chess set for her last birthday, and after months of practice, Marion thought her young niece was rather proficient at the game.
"Check mate, Aunt Marion." Katheryn's grin made her dark blue eyes wrinkle around the edges. "I win,"
"Aye, you do. That was a good gift for your father to give you."
"Thank you, Aunt Marion. I was very surprised when Father gave it to me."
"Your father loves you very much," Marion smiled, helping to gather up the intricately carved wood pieces.
Katheryn's smile faded somewhat. "Not as much as Neddy... his heir."
Just as Marion was about to reply, the door banged open, and lo and behold, five-year-old Neddy stood there, John behind him. Both boys' faces were flushed with excitement, and Marion was pleased to note that John bore no further injuries, or visible sings of trauma from his stunt in the stables.
"Katheryn, Aunt Marion!" the little boy cried. "Papa has asked all of us go to the Great Hall – he has big news!"
Marion nodded and she and Katheryn left the room, following the boys. As they walked, Marion thought about what Neddy had just said, the sophisticated way in which he had spoken. It proved, quite sadly, that what Katheryn had just said was right – well, mostly right. Neddy was Dickon's heir, his only living legitimate child, and the way said child spoke proved this. And Katheryn, a girl of nine yet far more intelligent and mature than her years had known this. She and John knew they were different, though everyone who knew them – especially Marion – went out of their way to make sure both children were treated equally with Neddy. But these efforts had been for naught, as Katheryn honestly believed that her father loved her less than her youngest brother, and maybe John believed so too. The thought made Marion's heart ache, though she did not despair, for she knew those beliefs were untrue. From what she had seen over the years, Dickon loved all of his children.
In blurs of skirts and riding boots, the four children hurried through the halls of Middleham, chattering excitedly. What news could Dickon have to give them? By the time they got to the Great Hall, theories ranged from a trip to one of the Lords other castles, to Katheryn's betrothal to a French prince (to which, the girl had vehemently screeched that it would not be so!), though no amount of guessing could prepare them for what Dickon had to say.
"I have received a letter," he said, rising from the great chair he sat upon in the Great Hall. "From my brother, the King. His Grace is coming North to tour Yorkshire, and the main city, and has expressed his desire to sojourn here for a time."
As the fire in its pit crackled merrily, his words hung in the air. All four children remained silent, staring at the dark-haired man like he had spoken to them in fluent Latin – a language he knew as well as he did English and French. From behind her husband, Lady Anne stepped forward, giving all the children an encouraging smile. Neddy was the first to break from reverie, with a high squeal that made Marion's ears hurt.
"The King is coming here Papa? Here to Middleham?"
"Aye my son, that he is."
"Will we hold a feast to welcome him?" John asked. Marion smiled. That boy only had two great loves in the world – other than family – and they were archery, and food. When his thoughts were not on one, they were on the other.
Dickon chuckled. "Aye, John, there shall be a feast."
John let out a whoop of delight, clapping his hands together. Katheryn meanwhile leaned towards Marion, a glint in her eyes that Marion did not like to see.
"We will need new gowns, Aunt Marion."
The older groaned, scrunching her face in displeasure. Marion did not desire new gowns or jewels, and though ladies did want for such things, and Marion had been a "Lady" and "Princess" since her wedding, she felt no need to act as such until she joined her husband in his homeland. This knowledge quickly gave rise to another thought, proclaimed in fearful tones:
"Dickon! Will the King not have expected me to join my lord husband by now?"
The man in question flushed, before turning to his lady wife, obviously seeking her counsel, but for what, Marion did not know.
"Has she ah – I mean she is not yet fifteen and ah – er -" he flushed again, glaring at the younger children in dismay as they began to giggle.
"Nay, my Lord, Marion has not yet flowered, but the signs are there that... her time is close. When is the King due to arrive?"
"In a fortnight. He is on his way to Yorkshire now, according to the letter. Surely, His Grace would have had the courtesy to let me know of this visit sooner."
Marion, too, was blushing as they continued to talk. It seemed that there was time enough between the King's visit, and her become a woman, so, hopefully there would be no need for the King to fall to temper over her continued residence at Middleham, and indeed, in England.
"Aunt Marion?" Katheryn's voice broke her from her reverie.
"Yes?"
"What is flowering?"
Marion glanced around and saw the boys were still standing in the room. She jerked her head towards the door, and made a flapping motion with her hands, urging them away. They giggled, before obeying, scampering away to cause God-knew how much trouble.
"Uh... 'tis when you bleed, when you become a woman."
The girl screwed up her face. "That sounds painful. I hope I never bleed."
From across the room, Dickon and Anne had finished their conversation, and had obviously been listening to the girls talk, for Lady Anne burst out laughing, while Dickon stood looking pained. That was enough to make Marion laugh, too.
They stood in rows in the Outer Bailey to greet the royal party. Lady Anne to her husband's right, dressed in a fine gown of green cotton, with silver silk embroidery. Neddy stood to his father's left, dressed in a miniature version of one of Dickon's finest tunics, in the colors of the House of York, a white boar pin across his chest. Lady de Beauchamp, Anne's mother stood to the right of her daughter, dressed devoutly in black, a white wimple on her head. To Marion, she looked a lot like a nun. John stood on his brother's left, looking strong and handsome as a boy of seven could, in a dark blue tunic, with a boar pin glinting in the sun. Katheryn and Marion had indeed received new gowns. Her niece was a vision in pale blue and gold, standing beside her younger brother. Katheryn looked and acted every part the lady; prim and proper. Marion herself was uncomfortable in her gray and gold gown, sifting constantly from foot to foot, her hands yanking at the dress in earnest, as if tugging alone would make it more comfortable. The rest of the Middleham household and staff stood behind them.
At last, the royal party arrived. There came, firstly, a trumpeter to announce them, then, King Edward fat as ever, but even older looking than the last time Marion had set eyes upon him. His poor horse looked as if it could barely take his weight, the wooden slats of the bridge connecting the moorland outside to the gatehouse groaned in protest as his steed lumbered across. Then came the Queen, pale and beautiful, yet possessing that same aura of menace that made Marion's skin crawl once more. The children came last; Princes Edward and Richard, then a long stream of princesses, the only two Marion could remember being Elizabeth (Beth) and Cecily. All of them had grown, and looked more like Woodvilles than Plantagenets, though not all possessed their mother's cruel presence, and bits of their father did shine through here and there.
They all knelt before the royal party, as soldiers and standard bearers filled into the Bailey. Finally, Dickon spoke.
"Your Grace, welcome back to Middleham. It is an honor to have you here."
"Arise, brother." King Edward grinned. "And for God's sake, don't call me 'Your Grace', you know I hate the titles, especially from you!"
"Yes, Your G – Edward."
"Ned," the King corrected his youngest brother.
"Ned," Dickon echoed, before both men were hugging and laughing.
After they broke apart, there was much greeting and exchanging of pleasantries. Marion, John and Katheryn stayed out of it all, only speaking when spoken to, and being polite at all times. King Edward seemed shocked that his brother had so many bastards under his roof, and that Lady Anne allowed it. Both the Duke and Duchess answered with the statement:
"They are family. Families take care of their own."
"God, Dickon, you're lucky. I've got some of my bastards in the court, but they are never considered family – heavens no! Right, Arthur?" he added, addressing a boy with scruffy blonde hair standing to the back of the royal procession, along with two other girls, who looked very much like Edward.
"Yes, Father." the boy said dully. He looked to the girls, and the three rolled their eyes in unison, while Edward turned back to his brother.
"You see?" the King asked his brother.
Dickon sighed. "Oh, Ned..."
For a while, Marion was content with the royal visit. It was fortunate that the King did not ask on the matter of her still living in England, and despite how little she held the Queen in regard, Marion felt somewhat safer near the woman than she had five years ago. It probably had something to do with being surrounded by familiar, friendly faces.
As the royal party left a few weeks later, two new people arrived on horseback, looking scared and tired. Margaret and Edward – or Maggie and Eddie, as they were affectionately called – were the children of the Duke of Clarence and Lady Anne's sister, Isabel Neville. Clarence had died a year earlier, after years of scandalous accusations against the King, to put himself on the throne. According to Dickon, his drinking had gotten out of hand, and he seemed to have been on the verge of madness. It was rumored that he had been drowned in a butt of his favourite wine, though Marion did not believe that for a second. Lady Isabel, however, had died the year before her husband, suffering from childbed fever, after birthing a short-lived boy named Richard. That left their remaining living children, Maggie and Eddie, orphaned. But, during the royal visit, Dickon – on the pleading of his wife – had convinced his brother to allow the children into his care as his wards, and by some miracle, the King had agreed.
Now Marion found that instead of tucking three children into bed at night, there were five. Both newcomers were frightened and clingy, and poor Eddie was a bit of a simpleton. But it was love they wanted, so love they received, and by the end of the year, Marion was glad to find that life had settled back into normality, even if she had woken one Autumn morn with her bedsheets stained with blood.