A Dangerous Inheritance

‘Farewell!’ she had cried. ‘Pray for me!’

‘I will, never fear,’ promised Kat, and was gone.

Back inside the stout walls of Raglan, beyond which she had been told she must not go, she knew despair, keener than before. The Dowager Countess showed her a pained civility rather than her customary warmth, and young Elizabeth took her cue from that. All Kate’s attempts to explain her actions met with studied evasion.

Only to Mattie, dear, comfortable Mattie, great with child now, could she unburden herself, and it was Mattie who saw her through those dark days of winter, wept with her for her lost babe, and listened to the outpouring of her fears for John. Without Mattie, she was certain, she would never have got through that awful time without going mad.

At table, William barely acknowledged her. In the evenings, he made it clear that her presence was not welcome by the fire. When visitors called, she was made to keep to her chamber. Any purchases she required had to be made by Mattie, on her behalf, in the village or from the pedlars who came offering their wares and bringing news; and clearly there were to be no fine new gowns or jewels. Had it not been for the King commanding William to keep her in his custody, Kate was sure he would have consigned her to a nu

Her marriage now seemed a life sentence. What had happened to the carefree, headstrong young girl she had once been? She was sixteen now, and felt old; and if life went on like this, she wouldbe old, long before her time.

The slow, intolerable months passed. Thanks to Kat Haute’s letters, doggedly scrutinised by William, and to Mattie, that inveterate gossip, she was able to keep abreast of news – weeks late – from the outside world, to which she listened with listless apathy. In the early spring, as the daffodils opened their faces to the strengthening sun, she learned from Kat that Henry Tudor had at last married Elizabeth of York. Poor Elizabeth, she thought: much joy she will get of him, and she wondered if the new Queen puzzled and fretted as much as she herself had over the fate of the Princes, her brothers. But she, Kate, had put all that behind her now, of necessity.

She wondered if she would ever hear news of John; she desired the assurance of his health and prosperity more than anything else in the world. If she could be granted that boon, she would rest content.

And then her prayers were answered.

Mattie, nearing her time but as busy about her duties as ever, came hastening to Kate’s chamber one bright day in May; she had been at the market.

‘A letter’s come for you,’ she a

It was from Kat. The King has passed this way on progress to the north, she wrote, and I heard mention that the Earl of Lincoln was of the company and much in favour.

‘Thanks be to God!’ Kate breathed, with heartfelt relief. At least John had managed to convince Henry Tudor of his i

‘Well, I’m sure you’re pleased to hear that, my lady!’ Mattie smiled.

She was, oh she was!

But after that, life went on as grimly as it had done for months, and the only lightening of Kate’s existence came when Mattie gave birth to a daughter in the balmy days of early summer; yet even that was a bitter-sweet thing, for, seeing her maid with the child at her breast, Kate could not but be reminded of the infant she had lost, who would have been of a similar age had he lived.

One night, William appeared in his nightgown at her chamber door, carrying a candle. His ferret face looked gaunt in its flickering light.

‘My lord?’ Kate rose up in the bed, alarmed.

‘I would speak with you,’ he said coldly, looming over her. ‘I have received some news that will interest you. Your lover, the Earl of Lincoln, has married my niece, Margaret FitzAlan, Arundel’s daughter. You had best forget him now, for he is lost to you for good.’

He will never be lost to me, she thought fiercely, trying not to betray the engulfing emotion she felt. Our hearts are one for always: we vowed it.

‘It is of no moment to me, this news,’ she said, and meant it, knowing this marriage could mean nothing to John.

‘Then, since we are constrained to live together, you will not shrink from doing your duty, as my wife,’ William said, abruptly dousing the candle, stripping off his nightgown and climbing into bed beside her, much to her dismay. ‘I am prepared to accept that you did not betray your marriage vows,’ he continued, ‘and for that reason I am willing to take you back and use you as my wife. I need an heir – and a man must live!’

He mounted her then, without further preamble, driving into her as if he meant to punish her for all the hurts she had done him. She bore it in silence, as best she could, not daring to betray by any slight gesture how unwelcome it was to her. She had long ago learned to detach herself from what he did to her in bed; after all, it was not as if this was a new thing. She had to force herself not to think of how joyous it had been with John. That way lay insanity.

When he had finished, William got up without a word, put on his robe and went back to his own chamber. In the morning, if she had expected some improvement in his attitude towards her, she would have been disappointed, for he ignored her as before, and continued to do so. The only difference now was that he kept coming to her at night, demanding sex in his laconic, boorish way, and riding her as if he hated her.

Early in October, as the leaves were turning wondrous shades of red and gold and autumn returned to the land, Mattie, her apple-cheeked babe on her hip, brought another letter from Kat with news of the birth of a prince to the Queen.

‘He’s to be called after King Arthur,’ Kate said. ‘An auspicious name. No doubt the Tudor wishes to invest his dynasty with some semblance of Arthur’s greatness.’ Her tone was sarcastic.

In November, Kate realised that she was to bear another child. A grandson for my father at last, she thought, and resolved heartily to take up her pen again and commit to paper, for the benefit of this unborn i

‘I am with child,’ she told William when next he came to her bed. He nodded slowly.

‘That is good news,’ he said eventually. ‘I will not trouble you tonight, then.’ Or any other night, she realised thankfully – not while she was carrying his seed. He was too careful a husband to break that sanction. Yet he seemed hesitant, reluctant to go from her.

‘You are well?’ he asked, his ma

‘Yes, my lord, I am well. A little sick in the mornings, as before, but that is nothing.’

‘Good,’ he said, and paused again. ‘Well, wife, if there is anything you need for your comfort, let me know.’ Then he was gone. They were the first kind words he had spoken to her in a year; and she knew for a certainty that he would have extended the same consideration to his mare, had she been in foal.

Later that month, a carter came to Raglan, bringing strange tidings.

‘It’s certain that the Earl of Warwick has escaped from the Tower,’ he told the crowd that had gathered around him in the courtyard. ‘The word is everywhere. And it’s said that more will be heard of Warwick afore long!’

‘I do not believe it,’ Kate said to Mattie as they walked away. ‘Warwick would not know how to start a rebellion.’

‘But what if others are using him?’ Mattie pondered. ‘It’s been done before, as you well know, my lady.’

‘But would the people really prefer poor Warwick, a backward boy of eleven years, to Henry Tudor, a man of mature age and proven experience?’