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Authors: Bertrice Small
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with the king’s family,” Adair said slowly, “but I am hardly that link. I have no importance.”
“But you are my wily brother’s natural daughter, poppet, and you are recognized as such. So the Tudors get one of the king’s daughters as well as an earldom in a union with you. And Bessie is kept for bigger things,”
the duke pointed out.
“The Dauphin Charles,” Adair said. “I know that those negotiations are ongoing, Uncle, but why force me to the altar with a Tudor?”
“Mags also seeks a match for her son, Henry Tudor,” the duke replied. “You, of course, would not suit, given the circumstances of your birth, but one of Edward’s younger daughters would. Mags is satisfied. And her brother-in-law, Jasper, is satisfied, for while you are the king’s brat, his son also comes from the other side of the blanket. And you bring the lad a title.”
“I remember you once told me of the value I had by just that alone,” Adair said slowly. “But, Uncle, I am not of a mind to marry a Tudor. Especially one I don’t know.
Where is this fellow that he has been kept from court?
What is his name?”
“He is Llywelyn FitzTudor,” the duke said. “I know nothing more of him other than that, poppet. Speak to the king. It is your only chance, Adair. Remember that you owe him for all these years he has sheltered and cared for you. You must do your duty.”
Adair sought out the king. In the ten years she had lived in the royal nurseries she had spoken with him but briefly on perhaps half a dozen occasions. But as he was still alone she dared to ask for an audience. She was ushered into the king’s privy chamber.
“Come in, come in,” the king said. “Let me look at you, child. You have grown into quite a pretty young woman, I see. Your mother was your age when I knew her.”
Adair curtsied low to the king. He did not ask her to sit down. “My liege, my uncle, the duke, says you would match me shortly so that I might return to Stanton. I do not wish to wed yet, if it would please you.”
The king looked at Adair with blue eyes that suddenly turned hard. “It does not please me, mistress. The decision on your marriage, my lady Countess of Stanton, will not rest with you. Jasper Tudor wishes one of my daughters for one of his sons.”
“One of his bastards,” Adair said sharply.
“Then it is fitting that one of my bastards marries one of Jasper Tudor’s,” the king replied cruelly, giving her a cold look. “Remember that I am your father as well as your king, my lady Countess of Stanton.”
“You may have sired me on my mother, my liege, but you have never been my father. John Radcliffe, God assoil his good soul, was my father. I bear his name. He recognized me as his own. You will not call me misbe-gotten because of your unbridled lust.” She stared back at the king angrily, refusing to lower her eyes before him.
“By the rood, you are my blood nonetheless!” Edward of York said angrily. “I have sheltered you these ten years past. You have never been mistreated in my house. I am your lawful guardian, and you owe me your duty, Adair Radcliffe. You will marry whoever I say you will marry. And I have chosen Llywelyn FitzTudor for your husband. There will be no further discussion of the matter. Do you understand me, my lady Countess of Stanton? It is time you had a husband to teach you your place. You will wed Llywelyn FitzTudor, and the sooner the better, I am thinking!”
“Nay, I will not!” Adair shouted at the king. And then she ran from the chamber.
Edward watched her go, a small smile touching his lips. Now, if her mother had had the spirit and fire of this royal brat , he thought, I should have never let her go . He shouted for his page. “Fetch the Earl of Pembroke to me, my lad,” he said to the boy.
The page hurried off, returning almost an hour later with Jasper Tudor in tow.
“Give him some wine,” the king ordered the page; then, turning to the Earl of Pembroke,
“But you are my wily brother’s natural daughter, poppet, and you are recognized as such. So the Tudors get one of the king’s daughters as well as an earldom in a union with you. And Bessie is kept for bigger things,”
the duke pointed out.
“The Dauphin Charles,” Adair said. “I know that those negotiations are ongoing, Uncle, but why force me to the altar with a Tudor?”
“Mags also seeks a match for her son, Henry Tudor,” the duke replied. “You, of course, would not suit, given the circumstances of your birth, but one of Edward’s younger daughters would. Mags is satisfied. And her brother-in-law, Jasper, is satisfied, for while you are the king’s brat, his son also comes from the other side of the blanket. And you bring the lad a title.”
“I remember you once told me of the value I had by just that alone,” Adair said slowly. “But, Uncle, I am not of a mind to marry a Tudor. Especially one I don’t know.
Where is this fellow that he has been kept from court?
What is his name?”
“He is Llywelyn FitzTudor,” the duke said. “I know nothing more of him other than that, poppet. Speak to the king. It is your only chance, Adair. Remember that you owe him for all these years he has sheltered and cared for you. You must do your duty.”
Adair sought out the king. In the ten years she had lived in the royal nurseries she had spoken with him but briefly on perhaps half a dozen occasions. But as he was still alone she dared to ask for an audience. She was ushered into the king’s privy chamber.
“Come in, come in,” the king said. “Let me look at you, child. You have grown into quite a pretty young woman, I see. Your mother was your age when I knew her.”
Adair curtsied low to the king. He did not ask her to sit down. “My liege, my uncle, the duke, says you would match me shortly so that I might return to Stanton. I do not wish to wed yet, if it would please you.”
The king looked at Adair with blue eyes that suddenly turned hard. “It does not please me, mistress. The decision on your marriage, my lady Countess of Stanton, will not rest with you. Jasper Tudor wishes one of my daughters for one of his sons.”
“One of his bastards,” Adair said sharply.
“Then it is fitting that one of my bastards marries one of Jasper Tudor’s,” the king replied cruelly, giving her a cold look. “Remember that I am your father as well as your king, my lady Countess of Stanton.”
“You may have sired me on my mother, my liege, but you have never been my father. John Radcliffe, God assoil his good soul, was my father. I bear his name. He recognized me as his own. You will not call me misbe-gotten because of your unbridled lust.” She stared back at the king angrily, refusing to lower her eyes before him.
“By the rood, you are my blood nonetheless!” Edward of York said angrily. “I have sheltered you these ten years past. You have never been mistreated in my house. I am your lawful guardian, and you owe me your duty, Adair Radcliffe. You will marry whoever I say you will marry. And I have chosen Llywelyn FitzTudor for your husband. There will be no further discussion of the matter. Do you understand me, my lady Countess of Stanton? It is time you had a husband to teach you your place. You will wed Llywelyn FitzTudor, and the sooner the better, I am thinking!”
“Nay, I will not!” Adair shouted at the king. And then she ran from the chamber.
Edward watched her go, a small smile touching his lips. Now, if her mother had had the spirit and fire of this royal brat , he thought, I should have never let her go . He shouted for his page. “Fetch the Earl of Pembroke to me, my lad,” he said to the boy.
The page hurried off, returning almost an hour later with Jasper Tudor in tow.
“Give him some wine,” the king ordered the page; then, turning to the Earl of Pembroke,
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