Jean Plaidy - To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York
But not yet. They would wait until the time was ripe. Let them have help from overseas. Let the Tudor fret in his bed at night . . . just a little longer.
In the meantime Perkin had noticed beautiful Katharine Gordon. That was interesting. A lovely girl—cousin of the King, Huntly’s daughter. Perkin looked high . . . that was if he were only plain Perkin. Of course, if he were indeed the true King of England it would be an excellent match for Katharine Gordon.
Marion’s child was born. It was a son and so Damian had scored again.
Marion was delighted and so was James. He said the child should be called Stewart after his father. Alexander Stewart. None could doubt with a name like that that he was a true Scotsman.
Damian was clever, Marion agreed, crowing over her little son. He had been right about the child and the visitor.
“And he said that I was to welcome him,” said James. “None can say I have failed as a host. And did you notice, Marion, that our gallant gentleman is casting eyes on Katharine Gordon?”
Marion had noticed. She was ever watchful of Katharine Gordon.
“It would not surprise me,” said James, “if he should ask for her hand.”
“You’ll grant it?”
“Huntly will have to be asked. But if he is indeed the true King of England he should have a bride with royal blood.”
“So you’ll give your consent.”
“I might . . . when it’s asked. I wonder what the Tudor will have to say about his rival’s marrying into Scotland.”
“For that my dear, we must wait and see,” commented Marion.
“And you, my very dear, are as usual right,” said James. He was laughing. He was glad Perkin had come to Scotland. Perhaps soon they would make warfare over the Border. It would be pleasant to see the Tudor ousted and a beautiful Scottish lassie on the throne of England.
Perkin Warbeck was in love.
She was a very beautiful girl, this Katharine Gordon, daughter of the great Earl of Huntly and cousin of the King himself.
She was gracious to him. After all he was an honored guest at the King’s Court. They called him the Duke of York . . . heir to the throne of England . . . more than that, rightful King of that country. He had come a long way from the Warbeck home in Flanders. Fleetingly he thought of John and Katharine Warbeck whom he had believed to be his parents before he learned the fantastic story. What would they have said if they could see their son—or so-called son—now, honored guest in all the courts of Europe, awaiting the moment when he should regain his throne.
He did not want to think too much of those early days in Flanders; they had been put away in some quiet recess in his mind—not to be disturbed, to be left there until they crumbled away into forgetfulness. Especially now he must not remember. What would these people say—the King, and the Earl of Huntly—if they thought a humble Flanders adventurer was asking for the hand of Katharine Gordon.
And Katharine herself? The manner in which she returned his glances, the flush which came to her cheeks at the soft pressure of his hand was enough to tell him with a girl like Katharine. She was not like so many women at James’s Court. To tell the truth its crudity after the elegance of the Court of Burgundy had shocked him. The women were bold and brazen and the men openly coarse. That did not appeal to Perkin. He was immediately attracted to Katharine because she was different from so many of the others.
He contrived to be near her when possible, to talk to her, to attempt to assess what her feelings would be if he were to ask for her hand. The Huntlys were powerful noblemen; they lived close to the King. But the King had shown him the utmost friendship ever since he had arrived in Scotland. He could but try. It would be strange if having done so much for ambition he should falter in love.
In the dining hall of Stirling Castle he contrived to seat himself beside her. From the end of the table he was aware of James watching him and he could swear there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. If he was against a match between them would he allow them to be so much in each other’s company? The Earl of Huntly was present also and he showed no objection.
Beside the King was his mistress Marion Boyd—very sure of herself now that she had a son as well as a daughter and both without doubt the King’s.
Perkin deplored such conduct. The King should marry and settle down and make his Court respectable. If he must have mistresses he should have them in private. Perkin had heard there were negotiations for marriage going on between him and Spain. This showed something of the devious natures of the Spanish Sovereigns for there were similar diplomatic missions in progress between them and Henry Tudor for the same purpose. It was clear that Isabella and Ferdinand were playing one off against the other.
If the Spanish Sovereigns would aid him, with the help of Margaret of Burgundy and perhaps the King of France, he could be certain of achieving his goal.
There were times when he wondered whether that was really what he wanted. He tried to see himself as a king and could not quite manage it, for he knew there was more to governing a kingdom than riding through the streets in purple and gold and smiling at the people while one acknowledged their cheers. He had managed the speech and the manner very well, but he was not quite sure how he would emerge from the other. In the meantime this dalliance was very pleasant particularly now he had met Katharine.
He turned to her and said: “You must forgive me for staring at you.”
“Were you?” she asked.
He smiled. “Ah, you are so accustomed to people’s gazing that you do not notice. In truth they cannot keep their eyes from you, for they all admire you as I do.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “You are kind to say so.”
“I say only what I feel. If you but knew what I feel for you . . . well, I hardly know what you would say.”
“If I knew, you might have an opportunity of finding out.”
She was smiling at him, encouragingly surely, but if he asked her to marry him and she refused . . . that would be the end. He wanted to go to James and say, “The Lady Katharine Gordon and I love each other, I beg you to give your consent to our marriage for that reason.” But what if she didn’t? He realized that he was afraid. That was why he did not want events to go further. He wanted to stay just as he was . . . pretender to the throne . . . accepted by important people talking constantly of the day he would be a king. He did not want to think beyond that. The future yawned before him like a dark pit and he was afraid to step into it lest he should fall into darkness. At the moment he was happy in the sunshine. He wanted to remain there.
He prevaricated as he did so often.
“You look so serenely beautiful; you are so young and when the sun shines on your hair it is like gold. I never thought to see such a perfect being.”
“I fear you do not see very clearly if you consider me perfect. I am far from that.”
“You have everything. Your family is a great one, you are rich, you are beautiful, above all you are good. I have been your slave . . . from the moment I saw you.”
“Have you?” she replied smiling. “I did not know.”
“You mock me.”
“In truth no,” she said. “How could I mock one who pays me the sort of compliments which anyone would want to hear?”
“I would speak seriously to you,” he said, “if I dared.”
“I did not expect you to be a fearful man, my lord Duke.”
“In one respect . . . yes . . . where you are concerned.”
“Afraid of me! Oh no that is not possible.”
“Katharine, you must know my feeling for you. Ever since I set eyes on you I have thought of little else.”
“You should be thinking of regaining your crown.”
“I could regain it I know . . . if I could but have this dearest wish of all granted me.”
“And you ask me to grant it?”
“You are the only one who can. I know I have to regain my crown. I know my future is insecure. . . .Perhaps I should not have asked you until I have that in my grasp. . . .”
“You do me an injustice,” she said, “if you think that I would say no if there was no crown and say yes if there was one.”
“Then you know of what I speak.”
“My lord, you are taking such a long time to say it that I must say it for you since you are meandering back and forth from the point in such a manner that you leave me no alternative but to guess.”
“Katharine . . .”
“Duke Richard, ask me . . . if that is what you want.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I cannot believe it.”
“Of course you know full well . . .”
“I know now that I am the happiest man on earth.”
“You will have to get the King’s permission.”
“And that of your father.”
“The one would follow the other.”
“I feel James will be sympathetic toward lovers.”
“I feel that too.”
“Oh Katharine, I would we were alone that I might kiss your lips.”
“You will speak to the King?”
“At the first opportunity, which I shall now seek. Katharine, you will be the Queen of England.”
“I hope there will not be a lot of fighting. I would rather stay here . . . at James’s Court all our days. Perhaps we could escape often to the country . . . and be by ourselves.”
“I cannot wait to speak to him.”
“He is in a good mood now. He is pleased with Marion but I believe he is glancing far too frequently at Janet Kennedy, but speak to him soon . . . speak to him tonight.”
“I will.”
He did. The opportunity occurred that very night.
The company was dancing, and James who had drunk a great deal of wine seemed drowsy. Perkin went to him and asked permission to sit beside him, which was readily given.
“Sire,” he said, “I want to speak to you of a matter which is very important to me. May I do so?”
James smiled and nodded. “Though I’ll take a guess first. It concerns a lady.”
“You are so shrewd, Sire.”
“Where ladies are concerned, yes. And the Lady Katharine is a beauty. I grant you that.”
“We love each other, Sire.”
“Love indeed! A beautiful emotion. Nothing like it. What do you wish, my lord Duke? You can’t make a mistress of a girl like Katharine. Huntly has her at Court to find a husband for her.”
“That is what I want to be, my lord.”
“Ah, marriage to Huntly’s daughter. Well if you are going to be King of England that will be an honor which even Huntly can’t refuse.”
“It is your consent I am asking for.”
“You have it, my lord Duke. I will speak to her father. I will point out to him the advantages of such a match for his daughter.”
“You have earned my endless gratitude. But you had that already. I cannot tell you what your kind acceptance of me at your Court has meant to me. And now . . . and now . . .”
“There, my lord Duke. That is enough. I wish to help you. I see no reason at all why the fair Katharine should not be yours and I shall see that Huntly feels the same. What of the lady herself?”
“She loves me . . . even as I love her.”
“That is charming. That is delightful. I like to see people around me happy. Now, my lord Duke, you have deserted her too long. Let me see you lead her into the dance.”
When he and Marion were alone that night in the royal bedchamber James was overcome by mirth.
“This is a fine state of affairs,” he said. “This is going to set the Tudor ranting . . . if he ever rants. I doubt he does. He is a very self-contained man who never shows his anger. But just think what he will say when he hears that Perkin Warbeck is marrying Lady Katharine Gordon . . . my cousin . . . I can tell you this is going to madden him.”
“It pleases you,” said Marion.
“My dear, have you only just learned that what infuriates Henry Tudor is most certain to give me the utmost pleasure?”
“I hope it works out well . . . for the Lady Katharine,” said Marion.
So they were married and because of the rank of the bride and the expectations of Perkin they were given a royal wedding. James took a gleeful delight in behaving as though Katharine Gordon was marrying into the royal family. She was royal herself. “A fitting bride,” said James, “for the future King of England.” He was maliciously wondering what was happening below the Border.
The bride and the groom gave little thought to anything but each other, and as the weeks sped by their happiness grew for they were more in love every day. Katharine was all that he had believed her to be—gentle yet strong; modest yet proud of her family and of him; pliant and yet firm; fun loving and yet she could be serious. These were the happiest days of Perkin’s life and he wanted them to go on for ever. The thought of leaving Katharine to go and fight for his throne horrified him. In his heart he did not really want the throne. He wanted to live in peace with Katharine for the rest of his life.
She admitted that she wanted the same. It was amazing how they thought as one person.
He realized during those weeks of marriage that he had never really wanted a throne. It was people around him who had selected him because of his appearance and his natural grace to fill a role for which they sought a character to fit.
He began to see that he had been used.
But he dismissed that flash of understanding. He could not bear to examine it. He had become adept at pushing aside the truth and supplanting it by a picture of his making—or perhaps that of those around him.
All he knew now was that he wanted to go on like this. He wanted to make his home here in Scotland, to go on living under the protection of the King and the powerful family into which he had married, but into the halcyon contentment of those days there crept the fear that they must be transient. At any time the call would come. They would raise an army for him and send him to gain that to which they said he had a right.
“I don’t want the crown,” he said to Katharine. “I just want to stay here with you.”
She held him tightly against her. “If only it could be,” she said.
“Do you want to be Queen of England?”
She shook her head. “Not if it means your going away, risking your life. No . . . Let us hope we can stay here. Why should we not?”
He shook his head. “They will never allow it. Oh, I wish . . .”
What did he wish? That he had never left the home of John Warbeck? But if he had not he would never have met Katharine. Anything was worth that.
But it brought him back to where he had started. Here he was . . . blissfully happy, except when he remembered, then living each day in terror that suddenly the call would come.
Katharine added to his bliss when she told him that there would be a child. He wanted to weep with happiness . . . but it was a happiness quickly tinged with fear.
When the call came, there would be even more to leave . . . and perhaps lose.
Tyburn and Tower Hill
hen Henry heard that James of Scotland had allowed the Lady Katharine Gordon to marry Perkin Warbeck he was deeply disturbed.
