Read Online The Dragon and the Rose by Roberta Gellis - Free Book Online
Authors: Roberta Gellis
Tags: Fantasy
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Brittany to suspect that his eyes had ever turned toward England. As a cover, he asked and received permission to ride the borders with Jasper. If events began to move swiftly in England, the number of couriers would betray Henry's deep interest in events basically unconnected with Breton affairs.
The precaution was a wise one. By the end of May, Margaret's messengers were almost treading on each other's heels. The queen's brothers had tried to keep Edward's heirs in their own power, but Gloucester had been warned by Hastings and had seized the princes himself with Buckingham's support. The lines were drawn; Gloucester, Buckingham, and Hastings against the queen and her Woodville relatives, and the first round was Gloucester's. The queen with her eldest son by her first husband, the marquis of Dorset, and one brother were in sanctuary; her other brothers, Rivers and Grey, had been taken prisoner. Day by day the news became more dramatic and more significant. The members of the council that Richard of Gloucester had summoned did not trust each other. Hastings was being won over to the queen's side by the influence of Dorset's ex-mistress with whom he had formed a connection.
Then came Margaret's own chaplain, tumbling down on his knees at Henry's feet in exhaustion as he gasped out the news. Hastings was dead—seized at a meeting of the council and beheaded in the Tower courtyard without a trial. Morton and Rotherham were prisoners in the Tower and Stanley himself was being detained, although only in his own quarters.
"My mother?" Henry asked softly, but Jasper saw his nephew's hands clench into fists, those hands that were usually so relaxed in times of extremity.
"Safe," the chaplain murmured, almost sobbing with weariness. "She bides near to sanctuary, and there is a secret way for her to flee there if need be."
"I thank you for that surety." Henry's hands opened, lay quiet on the arms of his chair. "Go now to rest and refresh yourself."
"He will seize the throne for himself!" Jasper exclaimed.
"Nay, he could not! The prince is his nephew." Henry was so shocked that the words were wrenched out of him before he thought. "Richard of Gloucester, much as I dislike all the house of York, has been an able and faithful supporter of his brother," Henry added defensively. "I will not believe that he would turn on his brother's children."
Jasper's face softened and he moved across the room to place a comforting hand on Henry's shoulder. He understood that his nephew was not defending Richard of Gloucester but Jasper of Pembroke. "Harry, there is not one drop of blood in me on either side that could give me a claim to the crown. Therefore—therefore, I say—you may believe I will never strive for it." He could feel the muscles in Henry's shoulder tense and see his brief, unguarded expression of pain. Jasper bent and kissed his nephew's temple. "In my heart I believe that nothing can come between us, that no hope of gain or power could make me lift a finger that was not lifted for your good. But I have lived for fifty-two years in a hard world. Who knows what a man will do, even an honorable man, when such temptation is put in his way?"
Henry twisted his head to smile at his uncle, and Jasper received a shock of pleasure. For once, both Henrys were smiling—the beloved nephew and that other who watched apart.
"On the day I must doubt you, I will have lived long enough. On that day, uncle, I will know there is no God, that this world and all else is the creation of some great Evil, and that Good does not exist."
"Hush, Harry, you blaspheme."
But for a while the events in England seemed to give substance to what Henry said. Richard of Gloucester first declared his nephews illegitimate and then usurped the crown. The wave of blood that was to engulf England gathered volume. Rivers and Grey, the queen's brothers, were beheaded at Pontefract without even the mockery of a trial. This information was brought to Henry by another
The precaution was a wise one. By the end of May, Margaret's messengers were almost treading on each other's heels. The queen's brothers had tried to keep Edward's heirs in their own power, but Gloucester had been warned by Hastings and had seized the princes himself with Buckingham's support. The lines were drawn; Gloucester, Buckingham, and Hastings against the queen and her Woodville relatives, and the first round was Gloucester's. The queen with her eldest son by her first husband, the marquis of Dorset, and one brother were in sanctuary; her other brothers, Rivers and Grey, had been taken prisoner. Day by day the news became more dramatic and more significant. The members of the council that Richard of Gloucester had summoned did not trust each other. Hastings was being won over to the queen's side by the influence of Dorset's ex-mistress with whom he had formed a connection.
Then came Margaret's own chaplain, tumbling down on his knees at Henry's feet in exhaustion as he gasped out the news. Hastings was dead—seized at a meeting of the council and beheaded in the Tower courtyard without a trial. Morton and Rotherham were prisoners in the Tower and Stanley himself was being detained, although only in his own quarters.
"My mother?" Henry asked softly, but Jasper saw his nephew's hands clench into fists, those hands that were usually so relaxed in times of extremity.
"Safe," the chaplain murmured, almost sobbing with weariness. "She bides near to sanctuary, and there is a secret way for her to flee there if need be."
"I thank you for that surety." Henry's hands opened, lay quiet on the arms of his chair. "Go now to rest and refresh yourself."
"He will seize the throne for himself!" Jasper exclaimed.
"Nay, he could not! The prince is his nephew." Henry was so shocked that the words were wrenched out of him before he thought. "Richard of Gloucester, much as I dislike all the house of York, has been an able and faithful supporter of his brother," Henry added defensively. "I will not believe that he would turn on his brother's children."
Jasper's face softened and he moved across the room to place a comforting hand on Henry's shoulder. He understood that his nephew was not defending Richard of Gloucester but Jasper of Pembroke. "Harry, there is not one drop of blood in me on either side that could give me a claim to the crown. Therefore—therefore, I say—you may believe I will never strive for it." He could feel the muscles in Henry's shoulder tense and see his brief, unguarded expression of pain. Jasper bent and kissed his nephew's temple. "In my heart I believe that nothing can come between us, that no hope of gain or power could make me lift a finger that was not lifted for your good. But I have lived for fifty-two years in a hard world. Who knows what a man will do, even an honorable man, when such temptation is put in his way?"
Henry twisted his head to smile at his uncle, and Jasper received a shock of pleasure. For once, both Henrys were smiling—the beloved nephew and that other who watched apart.
"On the day I must doubt you, I will have lived long enough. On that day, uncle, I will know there is no God, that this world and all else is the creation of some great Evil, and that Good does not exist."
"Hush, Harry, you blaspheme."
But for a while the events in England seemed to give substance to what Henry said. Richard of Gloucester first declared his nephews illegitimate and then usurped the crown. The wave of blood that was to engulf England gathered volume. Rivers and Grey, the queen's brothers, were beheaded at Pontefract without even the mockery of a trial. This information was brought to Henry by another
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