The Devil in Ermine Read online

  ‘Lord’s sake, a morsel of pie and it has followed me all the way from Clerk’s Well.’

  ‘Clerk’s Well.’ That made her laugh more. ‘What in Heaven’s Name were you doing in Clerk’s Well, my lord,’ and then she bit her lip. ‘Forgive me.’’

  Stillington’s lie was adaptable. ‘I have a friend at St John’s Priory.’

  Her eyes sparkled. ‘Would you take me there?’

  ‘He smells and they do not like women visitors,’ I teased.

  ‘No, to the meadows, I mean. Here, boy,’ she snapped her fingers coaxingly at our forgotten visitor and it came forward cagily, with an eye on me. It knew on which side the bread was buttery.

  ‘Hmm, I might.’ Our gazes danced together. I could hardly breathe, jealous that she was caressing the dog when I still had to beg for her favours. ‘Are you staying the night?’ It was too direct perhaps but she glanced up at me through her coppery lashes.

  ‘Would you like me to?’

  ‘If Poyntz isn’t likely to run me through with his sword.’

  ‘If my aunt your duchess will not slay me with her bodkin.’

  ‘Oh it would not be a bodkin. She would probably knock you over the head with a hurdy-gurdy if she cared, but she doesn’t, Meg, not a whit.’ I opened my arms and she was in them within an instant.

  ‘I should hate you,’ she whispered lovingly, winding her fingers through the hair at my nape. ‘Oh God, make me hate you.’

  ‘Your father is a knave and your uncles are vipers but I want to buy you the moon and stars.’ For those words, she kissed me and smiled. Excellent! I gently loosed her arms from my neck and strode to the door and slid the bar across.

  Meg was feeding the dog when I turned. She held some out to me as well.

  ‘You, madame, are a liability,’ I muttered, slapping a wedge of cheese onto a hunk of bread. ‘I have a trio of venerable bishops in my hall, a virtuous cousin in Crosby Place who believes in marital fidelity, I am supposed to be sick with stomach cramps and there is this dog not to mention that I am about to make love to my brother-in-law’s daughter.’

  ‘Are you?’ That soft warm laugh that came from her heart.

  ‘Divinely, exquisitely, unless you like it rough and passionate. The dog can lick your soles while I….’

  ‘I think I would prefer “exquisitely”, Harry.’

  ‘With candles?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘As many as you like.’ She came across and undid the laces of my shirt. ‘Do you take a vow of poverty on Mondays?’

  ‘Oh this,’ I shrugged, realizing I was still clad in a simple dark gown. ‘I was not meeting a woman.’

  ‘I suppose I should not ask.’

  ‘No.’ Her fingers were loosening the laces that held my hose to my gipon and then she slid her hand down my codpiece and I groaned in utter ecstasy and then I was pushing her collar down her shoulders and pulling away the flimsy covering between her breasts as I had longed to do the moment I had first seen her. My hands slid inside her bodice. Delicious pointed breasts quivered against my palm and the sweet nipples tightened as I rubbed my thumbs across them and kissed her with all the passion of my dark soul. Her fingers continued to play upon my prick, stroking and freeing me. I undid her belt, my breath quickening. I wanted her more than any other woman in my entire life. I wanted to bury myself in her, hold her, possess her and ride to the stars.

  I am not sure how we reached the bed but I remember lifting her up onto it and pushing up her gown and petticoats. Tiny curls of flame hid the sweet adit between her thighs. I drew my fingers away creamy with her longing.

  ‘Oh, Meg.’ She was watching me, her eyes wide, as if I had cast some spell upon her. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

  ‘Love me, Harry. All of me. Harry.’

  I kicked the muddle of gipon and hose away and tugged my shirt over my head. She was leaning on her elbows gazing at my body.

  ‘Man enough for you, my lady?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes, my lord.’

  I made love to her with her hair around us like a fire. I stripped her naked and caressed her, until she was pleading with me and I was at such a pitch that the world receded, and as she shattered, I released, with a loud gasp of exquisite pleasure.

  We were adulterers, sinners, and Hell was waiting to welcome us in with torches lit, but entering her had been like entering Paradise.

  I lay back sated, and she fell asleep with her face against my breast and her hair tickling my throat, and I was like a man blessed by God.

  I WAS in a deep sleep when Pershall shook me. I awoke to straightened bedclothes and a happy, smelly dog alongside my shins. Meg was gone.

  ‘I thought you did not like black dogs, my lord. Isn’t this—’

  ‘Yes, it is, Pershall. All the way from blessed Skinners Well. Did you not notice the damned animal following me?’

  ‘No, can’t say I did, my lord. You see, Nandik and I were busy discussing free will an’ such like.’

  ‘Free will?’ I said dangerously.

  ‘It might scrub up into quite a handsome creature.’

  ‘Then go and scrub it.’

  ‘Me, my lord, I don’t do dogs.’

  ‘You do now. It goes with the position, Pershall. How about you and he enjoy yourself in the stables!’

  Where had Meg gone, my pretty bastard? Back to being a respectable matron, the Queen’s niece? Every inch of my body remembered, ached, for her. Overnight, I had become enthralled but it was not a healthy condition when I needed my wits sharp as pikes. I was still feeling off balance when Uncle Knyvett came to join me for breakfast. He would have got more conversation out of the abbot of a silent order. But then I recalled that he had done me a huge favour.

  ‘How was supper then?’ I asked, when the servants had withdrawn.

  ‘You owe me, lad.’ He placed a cherry stone upon a spoon and catapulted it at me. ‘How did you fare?’

  ‘I am not sure if our friend Stillington knows anything to make a difference.’

  ‘Never mind, worth a try. By the way, I did not know your fellow Pershall owned a dog.’

  CHAPTER 7

  I managed a few minutes alone with Richard before the Royal Council meeting and slid in an apology.

  ‘Been behaving like a rowdy student,’ I confessed. ‘Stuffing myself to perdition all over the place while you’ve been straining your eyes over dispatches.’

  He only laughed. He was so irritatingly reasonable. ‘Nonsense, I’ve found it invaluable to have someone reliable and responsible meeting everyone on an informal level. You’ve done fine work, Harry, saved me a lot of time for what really matters. I can’t do both and I much prefer my side of the bargain.’

  It was pointless arguing with him and if he preferred to see me with a halo round my head instead of half-moons under my eyes, that was his folly.

  He caught me off guard again later. It was during the meeting – a humdrum bread-and-ale session to argue out details about Parliament and the Convocation. London in June was going to be so crammed with notables that all the castles and cathedrals of the kingdom would be quite deserted and if the Frogs launched a massive assault they would easily conquer us.

  Everyone droned on and on. I stopped paying attention.

  ‘Cousin! I repeat, Is that agreeable to you?’ The Lord Protector’s stern tone cut through my musing. The councillors were all staring up the table at me with great amusement.

  ‘Your pardon, my lord, what was that you said?’

  Richard shifted irritably. There was a flicker of something I could not fathom in his eyes. ‘Do we have to go through it all again, Buckingham? I have a meeting with his highness at the Tower in half an hour.’

  ‘Your pardon, my lord, I admit that my thoughts were elsewhere.’

  The Duke of Suffolk gave a great belch of laughter. ‘Buckingham, we’ve just assented to you becoming the Chief Justiciar of Wales and you weren’t even listening, you daft happ’th!’ He rose and reached out across the table to sha
ke my hand. I was dazed and could only stare speechlessly at Richard, who was laughing with the rest. My thanks were stammered and breathless.

  Wales was mine! Lonely, perverse, damnable Wales, mine at last! My trusting cousin had given me the means to establish a vast net of retainers just as Hastings had achieved in the Midlands. Henceforth I could summon up an army of Welshmen and array troops from Shropshire down to Somerset, and since all castles, garrisons, appointments and incomes in Wales now fell within my jurisdiction, I should easily be able to pay my soldiers and maintain a proper ducal retinue without falling into further debt. My eyes were moist as I clasped his hand and accepted the document confirming my appointment.

  ‘This should have happened a long time ago,’ Richard said for all to hear.

  Hastings’ congratulations to me were noticeably tepid, so in retaliation I loudly invited Catesby, his devoted retainer, to dine on the pretext that I needed the fellow’s opinion on a manorial dispute. Hastings watched us depart, with narrowing eyes.

  NEXT day the fire really started. Bishop Stillington visited the Lord Protector and the effect was little short of a miracle. I did not hear of it until I was leaving the royal lodging at the Tower and Hastings, booted and spurred, almost collided with me in the stables. I gave him good-day and would have passed him but he thrust up a hand against my shoulder and slammed me against the nearest wall.

  ‘Get out of here!’ he roared at the grooms, and shoved his riding crop tight across my gullet. ‘What in Hell is going on, Buckingham?’ he snarled.

  ‘I do not know what you mean,’ I gasped in all sincerity. He was almost choking me. Yes, I could have defended myself but I didn’t want to make matters worse. Getting a spray of his saliva and a close view of his sweating pores was distasteful enough.

  ‘For Christ’s Sake, boy, you poxy well know all right. He refused to see me. Me! Not even Ned ever did that to me, so what stinking, arselicker has been pouring filth about me into his ears?’

  ‘You have picked the wrong arselicker, Hastings. I have no time to listen to hearsay.’

  He glared, a tiny muscle twitching angrily in his cheek, but then someone else gave a loud cough and he eased his force on my throat.

  Bishop Morton and Lord Stanley were standing, slack-jawed, at the rear stalls. They must have ridden in with Hastings.

  ‘Are you not making rather a fool of yourself, my lord?’ I chided softly, jerking my head towards the others. ‘Unless there is something or someone you don’t want the Lord Protector to hear about?’

  ‘You poxy coxcomb!’ he sneered loudly, grabbing the neck of my mantle. ‘When I think of the many times I stood by you as a child.’ Liar! ‘I know my household is riddled with your friggin’ informers.’

  ‘You planted Nandik in mine,’ I countered smoothly.

  ‘Nandik!’ he scoffed. ‘That trumped-up scarecrow. Better get rid of him before the pair of you are hauled before the courts for witchcraft and treason. Ha, played at horoscopes already, have you, lad? What do you hope to learn? That you’ll one day be king? Nandik will say anything you pay him to.'

  ‘Lord Hastings,’ I replied coldly with all the hauteur I could muster, ‘you overstep your rank. Perhaps adultery with Mistress Shore is addling your wits.’

  I think he would have driven his fist into my belly but before I could hurl the old goat off me, the Lieutenant of the Tower came running in

  ‘My lords!’

  With an oath that would have made a virgin faint, Hastings flung me away from him and hurtled out, leaving me to ease my collar back into its original position. I brushed aside the Lieutenant’s concern and sent him after Hastings.

  ‘Sweet Mother of God! What caused that?’ I exclaimed, turning to Morton and Stanley, who must have heard every word.

  Stanley shrugged and came forward. ‘Old Dick wouldn’t see any of us. Seems like he’s in a real puther, been running round like a dog with its balls lopped off ever since…’

  ‘Since what?’

  ‘Really, my son,’ Morton beamed at me. ‘I am surprised you don’t know. Bath and Wells squeezed in an audience with our august Protector early this morning. One presumes it was to deliver some tidbit that he’s been saving ever since Malmsey George’s demise. A lovely aroma of intrigue, hmm?’

  An aroma that made me ravenous.

  ‘Where is my cousin now?’

  Morton bestowed the responsibility of answering onto Stanley with a broad smile.

  ‘Gone home to “mother”.’ It was not respectful but what else could you expect of a Stanley?

  RICHARD was in swordplay in the courtyard, when I arrived at Crosby Place. He had forgone dinner at Baynards and seemed to be slashing at Huddleston, his duchess’ brother-in-law, in the hopes of spending some of the pent-up misery that was so obvious in his face.

  He was scarlet with exertion as he joined us later in the great chamber for the meeting of our inner council and he did not bother to change his apparel. His collar was loosely tied at the neck and he had merely pulled on a sleeveless satin jacket over his sweaty shirt. A far cry from his normal fastidious self.

  I raised questioning eyebrows at him as he came in but he ignored me. It was a bread and butter meeting but he sped us through faster than a whore on a busy night, and then curtly announced he wanted to see me alone and disappeared into his inner sanctum slamming the door.

  “I think I am about to be beaten for getting the wrong answers in my hornbook,’ I muttered, pretending to be as perplexed as the rest.

  ‘Brawling before school, I heard,’ corrected Lovell with a light smile that barely masked his anxiety. ‘I hear you and Lord Hastings had words this morning.’

  ‘Search me why.’ I answered. ‘Is that what has angered him?’ I nodded towards the closed door.

  Lovell shook his head, perplexed. Howard gathered up his papers and hugged them to his chest. ‘If it’s aught else, do us a favour, Harry, and find out. We need to know.’

  They were upset, his good men and true. Until now, we had all been heading towards the coronation upon the same barge, golden tassels, purple canopy, the lot, all happily waving but now the future seemed as hazardous as shooting London Bridge.

  MY cousin, the queen bee, had discarded his jacket, and was sitting at his table of papers, with one hand supporting his temple. The chamber was hotter than a brothel and it was a wonder he could concentrate on anything. Across the table, his chief secretary, John Kendall, was struggling to consult one of the Patent Rolls. It was flowing off his lap onto the floor and an undersecretary was on his knees rolling it back up. Loyaulté was in the corner on his sack looking disgruntled, and snapping at a blue fly.

  I had to wait while the three finished their business before my presence was coldly acknowledged by my cousin. Kendall deposited his burden into his assistant’s arms, wiped his hands on his flanks and offered me his vacated stool. I declined to be seated.

  ‘Open the window before you go, John,’ Richard muttered, pulling savagely at the lower lacing of his shirt. He flung himself back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. While the room emptied out of the servants’ door, he watched me sternly, carefully choosing his words.

  ‘Two grown men squabbling like jealous children,’ he sneered.

  ‘Hastings attacked me for no good reason,’ I replied.

  ‘Holy-friggin-Paul! I have enough to contend with without the twin pillars of my protectorate having dogfights in public. Do not let it happen again!’ He swung his feet down and took a warrant from the nearest pile but I refused to be dismissed like an erring schoolboy.

  ‘Hastings is as guilty as Lucifer, Richard, and you know it. He is openly jealous of my influence with you, he’s ingratiating himself with the Prince and he’s kissing hands with the Queen again.’

  He did not look up. ‘I do not want to discuss it further, cousin, you can see I’m busy.’

  I slammed my hand down upon the table making the inkpots shudder.

  ‘For Lord’s S
ake, Richard! We are discussing the security of the realm. You know as well as I do that Mistress Shore is a messenger between Hastings and Elizabeth. She pleasures him by night and then minces down to the sanctuary by day to dandle your nephew and nieces while she gives Elizabeth a full report on last night’s pillow talk.’

  He swore at me but I persisted.

  ‘He has been listening to rumours that say you are bloody enough to seize your nephew’s crown. The city’s edgy with it. You only have to stick your nose out of doors to smell the uncertainty. There is an anti-pope in your protectorate, Richard, with a shadow conclave ready to move in on us at any moment.’

  ‘Oh, Christ bless us,’ he said nastily, ‘is this some peculiar ability learned in Wales, some fey instinct for nosing trouble or—’

  ‘God’s Truth!’ I roared at him. ‘Listen to me! You may be bent on self-destruction but I’m not. I know how the Woodvilles do things and right now they’re gradually moving in on you like a pack of bloody wolves. The city’s crawling with them. I've seen faces from the old days in the streets. They’re bringing in supporters from Kent and Surrey, not to mention the new recruits who fear losing their offices to your northerners.’ He opened his mouth but I did not give him a chance. ‘Oh yes, I know how they do things,’ I muttered. ‘They tried to turn me into one of them, remember. It’s Stony Stratford all over again and we need a show of strength. You must send for more soldiers from Yorkshire, men you can trust.’

  ‘Don’t talk like a fool! I can’t do that,’ he replied savagely. ‘That would only confirm the rumours. I’ll end up with more fucking enemies than I have already.’

  ‘Then you have no alternative but to arrest Hastings.’

  He clapped his hands to his ears. ‘No! Arrest our greatest ally? I’ll not hear of it! Christ, that would start a fire! On what proof? Just because he lies with a foolish strumpet and spends time with the Prince. He’s the boy’s friggin’ chamberlain, for Christ’s sake. You call that treason?’