We Speak No Treason Vol 1 by Rosemary Hawley Jarman Page B

disguisings. Sir Gawayn and the Green Knight held sway on the floor below, the knight clothed in green branches, his horse also green, a little unsteady on its legs, but marvellously lifelike. I had begun to take pleasure in the play, when Patch brought back my dolour with a chance word.
    ‘I see my lord of Warwick does not grace the company tonight,’ he said. I do not care, I thought. They could all be missing, save one, and he alone would make for me a feast day.
    ‘And George of Clarence, too, begs urgent business elsewhere,’ went on the fool cunningly. ‘Could it be, sweet mistress, that these two fair knights sup quietly somewhere together and talk of a lady?’
    ‘What lady?’ I said dully.
    Cautiously yet pleased, Patch murmured: ‘Men speak much before a fool. They think me truly
witless,
I trow, when they should but substitute an “n” for an “l”, and be nearer the truth.’
    ‘Go on,’ I sighed, my eyes on the court.
    ‘George of Clarence would wed Warwick’s eldest maiden,’ he whispered. ‘It would be a right wealthy match for him, and the great Warwick knows his mind. Isabel is the lure to draw this falcon from his royal brother’s side. And across the sea, waiting, sits an old spider, a French spider. King Louis...’
    ‘I know naught of these intrigues,’ I answered. ‘And in any case, are they not cousins, George and Warwick’s daughter?’
    ‘Dispensations have been arranged,’ muttered the fool. ‘The Curia is greedy. And ’twould be a weapon in the hand of Warwick, to have George as close ally. Warwick has never, will never, forgive Edward for his lowly marriage.’
    I looked sharply at Patch. ‘What’s this?’
    ‘Did I not love you, maiden, I would not tell you all these secrets, for you and I could be thrown in the Tower for such whisperings,’ he replied, with a frightening grimace.
    I pressed his hand. ‘Pray, don’t leave a tale in mid-air.’
    ‘Warwick had planned a great marriage for his Grace,’ Patch murmured in my ear. ‘He had arranged for him to wed the Princess Bona of Savoy, sister-in-law of Louis of France. Imagine his fury when your fair widow of Grafton Regis filched the prize from under Europe’s eyes! I trow the Earl writhed in his skin with rage. Think you, while we were at the May-Games that day, England was being set on its head!’
    Yet I am glad, I thought, in my then arrant folly. Had all this not come about, I should not be here. I should not have seen what I have seen; should never have known this love, this love that tears my heart. I said: ‘So now he seeks to wean Clarence from his Grace? Treason?’
    ‘Of a kind,’ replied the fool. ‘Jesu! How the Earl must have fumed when he found his King was also a man, a frail man with a will of his own! No longer his mammet to raise to a height, to counsel and dangle...’
    Suddenly, he stopped speaking, pointed down below. ‘Here enters Lord Hastings. A great fighter, loves the King well.’
    Lord Hastings was tall and fair, and I saw him not. For another came with him through the door, and again my heart was rent like the temple veil at Our Lord’s Passing. There entered Richard, my soul’s liking, Richard Plantagenet, my beloved.
    This night he wore an air less lonely and distracted, and for the first time I saw him smile. He smiled when the King beckoned him over to the dais, and throwing an arm about him, placed in his brother’s hands a little satin pouch or some such thing for holding jewellery. Richard opened it and drew out something small and shining, doubtless a Christmas gift from the King. A look of pleasure crossed his face. It was then I realized he was younger than I had thought; it was but his sombre expression that gave him years. He thanked the King, swiftly bent and kissed his hand, and Edward, cuffing him on the shoulder, roared with jovial laughter.
    But the glad moment passed. I saw a pout forming on the Queen’s lips, and with one of her white hands she touched