Queen by Right by Anne Easter Smith

snapped his fingers. “Od’s pitikins,” he remarked, remembering to soften his oath in front of his mother, “I forgot to mention. Cecily, are you listening?” he called. “York is to be knighted with the king in May. Does he know?”
    Cecily at once asked leave to tell Richard, and Joan waved her off, instructing her to find the steward and see to the long-awaited supper. As her daughter made a reverence to both her and Neville, Joan said under her breath, “The child has finally learned some manners, thanks be to Our Lady. In truth, ’twas beginning to worry me.”
    Cecily knew she would find Richard either in the great hall or seeing to his horse. She wagered on the horse, and she was right. After finding her way to the stables, she passed several grooms, who touched their foreheads or snatched off their hats as she skipped in. She spotted Richard, currying his own horse.
    “Why do you not leave that work for the grooms? ’Tis servants’ work,” she suggested, sitting on a three-legged stool and watching him. “I have some important news to give you, but it smells in here, and I’d rather be in the garden.”
    Richard stopped and stared at her, puzzled. “Since when have you become so high and mighty, Cis? You have always loved horses and the stables—at least you did at Raby.”
    Cecily lowered her eyes to the straw. “’Tis hard keeping my promise to my father, Dickon. But he wanted me to stop being so childish and be a lady, and I am trying.”
    “Ah, I see,” Richard responded, relieved. “I thought I was losing the friend I have known these three years. I applaud your efforts, but I like you the way you are.”
    Cecily jumped to her feet. “Do you, Dickon? Then for you I shall never change! For Mother and my brother and—” She clapped her hand over her mouth as Neville’s face flashed into her mind. “Brother Richard! Sweet Jesu, I am forgetting why I came.” She snatched the currycomb out of his hand, set it on a stool, and pulled him to the door. “Hurry up, this is important.”
    “Soft, little one,” he said, laughing at her. “Whatever it is, it can wait until I have washed my hands.”
    He went to the pump, rubbed his hands under the frigid water, and then wiped them on his tunic.
    “You are going to be knighted with the king!” Cecily cried, without waiting another moment. “Do you think I can be there to watch?”
    Richard stood stock-still, his eyes wide. “Are you sure? To be thus honored is beyond words. Perhaps I was more noticeable during my months at court than I thought.”
    “Pish, Dickon. You are the duke of York, and from what I have heard, you are just as close to the crown as any man in England.”
    Richard clamped his hand over her mouth and looked around the stable yard. “Where is the garden, you silly goose? You cannot say such things in the middle of London or you will bring trouble for both of us,” he said gruffly. But upon seeing her chastened eyes, he sought to soothe her. “Forgive me, Cis, but you must learn to guard your tongue. I know who I am, but Henry is the Lord’s anointed and I am the king’s sworn servant—as are you. We must never forget our place. I learned from Sir Robert Waterton that ambition can undo a man and bring him naught but ill, and I have no need of it.” He let go of her, and they followed the path around the house to the garden, now dusk-dark.
    “I am tr-truly s-sorry,” Cecily stammered. “God’s bones, but why must I watch my tongue when I speak only the truth? You have more right than Henry to be king, do you not?”
    “Hush, Cecily!” Richard rounded on her. “Never say so. Who told you that?”
    Looking sheepish, she admitted she had overheard her uncle Beaufort telling Joan. “There I am prattling on again. God’s bones!”
    “Cecily!” Richard expostulated. “Where did you learn that? ’Tis not the language of a lady.”
    Proudly Cecily told him her father had used it in her presence on several