I
t was after the mass the following morning that Sir Owein Meredith came to the Countess of Richmond as she was departing the chapel and said in a low voice, “I would speak privily with you, madame, on a matter most urgent.”
“I will see you after I have broken my fast,” the Venerable Margaret replied, never breaking stride as she returned to her apartments.
Their eyes met for a moment, and then he moved off, seeking Maybel. Finding her, he asked, “Did your mistress explain what happened yesterday afternoon? Your quick actions prevented a travesty.”
“He should be whipped,” Maybel replied indignantly. “I don’t care if he is to be England’s king one day; he should be beaten. What kind of a man, young or not, deliberately sets about to despoil an innocent young girl, sir? I know Sir Hugh, God assoil his good soul, meant well by entrusting my sweet bairn to the king, but I wished to God that we were safe at home again at Friarsgate!”
“I will protect her as best I can,” Owein assured Maybel. “I have been granted a private audience with the countess after she has eaten her meal. She will not be happy to learn of her grandson’s misbehavior. She will want to blame Rosamund. I will not allow it. But she will understand the difficulties of the situation. I am going to suggest that she choose a husband for Rosamund immediately and marry her off before the young prince manages to seduce the lady of Friarsgate, thereby ruining her reputation. Rosamund is intelligent, but she is also naive. She is drawn, I
fear, to Prince Henry, despite her better judgment. It is exciting for a young country lass to be pursued by a prince.”
Maybel nodded. “ ’Tis the truth you speak, sir, but there is something else that could lead to her downfall. Her juices are flowing now. She is indeed ripe for a husband, and if not a husband, then a lover. She is too inexperienced to understand that she cannot help herself. She needs a good man in her bed, and better it be a husband.”
Sir Owein nodded. “Aye,” he agreed, a small hint of a smile touching his lips. “Do not fear, Maybel, I will speak with the countess, and you will stay with your mistress as much as you can. Do not leave her alone.”
“I won’t, sir,” Maybel promised.
Just after nine o’clock of the morning, one of the countess’ women came to fetch Owein Meredith. She led him to a small paneled room with a corner fireplace that blazed brightly. There were two high-backed tapestried chairs before the little hearth and a round table set between them. Margaret Beaufort was ensconced in one of the chairs, garbed in her usual black, an arched headdress covering most of her snow-white hair. She motioned him to seat himself in the other chair as the departing serving woman closed the door behind herself.
“Sit down,” the king’s mother said, “and tell me what it is that you would have a private audience with me, Owein Meredith.”
The knight sighed. “I beg your highness’ indulgence, and your forgiveness also, for what I am about to relate, but I cannot keep silent lest an innocent girl be wronged, and one you hold dearly be guilty of a terrible crime. Will you give me leave to speak frankly, knowing that I make no judgments in this matter? I simply wish to prevent a tragedy, dear madame.”
“You have never been a man to put himself forward and involve himself in what does not concern him, Owein Meredith, so I certainly must accept that what you have to say is indeed serious. You have leave to speak. I shall not hold you responsible for your words, whatever they may be,” she told him. “Say on, sir.”
“Your grandson, the prince, has been tempted into an act that would dishonor him, madame. Wagers have been placed on the outcome of this
act. Charles Brandon advised against it but holds the wagers nonetheless. Richard Neville has been the chief instigator in this mischief.”
“Indeed,” the Countess of Richmond remarked dryly. “Why am I not surprised to find Charles Brandon being politic and the Nevilles being troublemakers? Go on.”
“The prince, being young and filled with the juices that young men his age are filled with, thinks himself enamored with Lady Rosamund Bolton of Friarsgate. There have been shy kisses exchanged between them on one occasion. The prince would have more of the girl, but she is careful for her reputation and will not give it. Neville and the others have wagered that Prince Henry can, or cannot, seduce the lady of Friarsgate. Yesterday when you took the princesses and your ladies to the river, the prince bribed your remaining women to leave your quarters where young Rosamund lay sleeping. The prince entered the girl’s chamber and attempted to force her. Only the timely intervention of her servant, who ran for me, saved the Lady Rosamund and her good name.”
“God’s nightshirt!” the Countess of Richmond swore. “I will have him whipped!”
“Good madame, I beg you, hear me out. Prince Henry cannot help being filled with the joy of life and a bit of lust. He is young, and God only knows he is as big as any man, in many cases bigger. He is beginning to have a man’s desires. But it is his pride that is at stake here more than anything else. The situation can be easily and quickly diffused, for the prince is honorable at heart, and having been chased off yesterday probably prays for a solution that will leave his pride intact as well as Lady Rosamund’s virtue.”
“What do you suggest, Owein Meredith?”
“Rosamund Bolton was sent here because her uncle has mistreated her and attempted to steal what is hers. Sir Hugh Cabot sought to protect his wife. He knew that Rosamund must wed again, but he did not want her forced into a marriage with her five-year-old cousin so that Henry Bolton could hold on to Friarsgate. I have met the man, madame. He is not an honorable fellow. Choose a husband for Rosamund, and the prince will step back; I guarantee it. Rosamund will be safe, her
reputation intact, and the prince can retain his pride. Even Richard Neville would not dare suggest that the prince seduce another man’s betrothed wife, madame.” Sir Owein sat back in his chair and waited for the countess to speak.
“It is my granddaughter’s wedding that has taken up all of my time now that her mother is dead and cannot attend to it. In just a few weeks the Queen of the Scots must go to her husband, and her marriage must be celebrated. And there is poor Spanish Katherine to place as well. The king is very unhappy that King Ferdinand has not completed the payments on the girl’s dowry. Especially as he intends to eventually marry her off to Henry. I have heard rumors, Sir Owein, that my grandson enjoys the ladies. Is he not overyoung for it?”
“In the prince’s case I would say not, madame,” the knight replied, wondering just how much the old woman knew about her randy grandson and his sexual adventures.
“I had intended to find a husband for the Bolton girl after Margaret was sent off, but I suppose something else would interfere and the girl would be twenty before I remembered her. You brought her down from Cumbria last year, did you not?” The Venerable Margaret leaned toward the fire to warm her hands.
“I did, madame.”
“My granddaughter likes her. Do you? What kind of a girl is she, Owein Meredith?”
“Sensible,” he said, “and reliable. She loves Friarsgate, and was taught to manage it herself. She does it well, and her people love her. The place is prosperous. It seems to be safe from the Scots because of an unusual feature of the land about it. The hills are too steep, and consequently cattle and sheep cannot be driven away fast enough. So Friarsgate has been left in peace but for her uncle.”
“How long was she orphaned?” the countess asked.
“She was three,” he answered. “The uncle came posthaste and married her to his five-year-old son. The boy died. It was then she was wed to Hugh Cabot. Henry Bolton thought Sir Hugh would be content to have a place in his old age. Instead Hugh Cabot taught
Rosamund how to run her own affairs. He loved her as he might have loved a daughter, and she adored him. She was most devastated when he died.”
“And Sir Hugh foiled the uncle by placing his wife in the king’s care,” the countess said slowly. “A clever man, I would say.”
“I arrived as they sat at the funeral feast. The uncle was already insisting that Rosamund wed his next son, a child, newly breeked just for the occasion. She was resisting, and only my timely arrival saved her, I believe,” Owein Meredith explained.
The Venerable Margaret smiled and said in an amused tone, “You seem to have a habit of saving this damsel, Owein Meredith. Well, I thank you for bringing this little matter to my attention. I shall see that Rosamund Bolton is carefully watched and not allowed to be alone with Henry, the naughty scamp. And I shall think on a husband for the girl. She is Margaret’s age, even a bit older. It is time she was wed again, and this time for good and all.” She held out her hand to her companion.
Sir Owein arose from his chair, and taking her hand, he bowed as he kissed it. “I thank your highness for her kindness,” he said, and then he departed the little room.
When the door had closed behind him the countess said quietly, “You may come out now, child, and join me. Tell me what you think of what you have heard.”
Young Margaret Tudor stepped from behind the tapestry on the far wall where she had been hidden. She seated herself with her grandmother. “Rosamund was subdued when we returned from the river, madame, but I did not think to ask why,” she said. “How like Hal to allow his pride to direct his cock. If he does not learn better it will one day lead to his downfall.” She smoothed out her skirts, her long fingers brushing over the tawny orange silk.
The countess laughed. “Thank God you are a clever and wise girl, Margaret, my namesake. As Scotland’s queen you may one day be called upon to make hard decisions. And, child, you will want to have your husband turn to you as well as his counselors. Now, if the decision were yours to make, who would you choose to be Rosamund Bolton’s husband?”
“Sir Owein Meredith, of course, grandmama,” the princess answered without any hesitation at all.
“Not the son of some good northern family? One of the troublesome Nevilles, perhaps?” the countess asked. “An heiress would put them in our debt.”
“Nay, grandmama. The Nevilles are indeed troublesome. We can never be certain of them, for they blow like the wind in whichever direction they consider is best for them alone. Even while I am wed to Scotland, we can never be certain that war will never break out between our countries again. ’Twould be best to marry Rosamund to a man in whom the Tudors could have complete confidence. Sir Owein is Welsh. He has been in service to our family since before I was born. He was even younger than Mary when he entered our household. There is absolutely no question as to his loyalty to the Tudors, and to England, grandmama. We could trust him to guard our flank,” the princess said.
“But he is not a great lord,” the countess countered.
“He is not,” Meg agreed, “and so to give this loyal servant of the Tudors an attractive young heiress, certainly something he has never expected, will put him far more into our debt than a Neville,
and
we can be sure of his loyalty. The important sons of a great name would not want, or accept, Rosamund. You would have to choose a lesser light among the unmarried men. In fact, you would have to inquire among the great lords as to which of their young men would be suitable. The lord would pick a relation who would be in the lord’s debt
first,
and not in ours. It is to us, the Tudors, that the debt must be owed if we are to profit from this match. Sir Owein is our man, and no one else.”
“I wonder if a man so used to being in our service would be content as a husband, not that it matters,” the Venerable Margaret said. “If we say he must marry her, then he will do so.”
“I believe he cares for her,” Meg said. “You, yourself, noted that he is always saving her from one peril or another. And I think that she likes him very much, although she is careful not to admit it. In fact, I am certain of it, grandmama. ’Twould be a good match for them both. Sir Owein is not yet old. He will probably outlive you and my father. There will be
no place for him at my brother’s court. What will become of this loyal servant of the House of Tudor? Owein Meredith deserves to be treated in a kindly manner by us. Do you not think so, grandmama?”
“They would be well-matched,” the Countess of Richmond agreed. “The girl is old enough to bear children now, and Sir Owein is young enough to get them on her. If they are both comfortable with each other, then, aye, ’twould be a good mating. The girl will be safe from her greedy uncle and grateful to us. Sir Owein, with his long service to us, would also be content and would remain loyal. A loyal man in the borders would be to our advantage, especially one who was not particularly made visible due to his own great wealth or a greater name.” She leaned forward and patted her granddaughter’s rosy cheek. “You have made a wise and thoughtful decision, my young Queen of the Scots. It shall be as you have suggested. We shall give Rosamund Bolton of Friarsgate to our good and loyal servant, Sir Owein Meredith.”
“Thank you, grandmama,” the princess said. She could scarcely wait to tell Rosamund of her good fortune, but then the Countess of Richmond held up a ringed hand.
“You can say nothing yet, child. I must gain your father’s permission, for he is the girl’s guardian,” she told Meg.
“If you want it, papa will approve it,” the princess said candidly. “When has my father ever refused you anything, grandmama?”
The older woman laughed. “Until your father came into his own, he and I had a rough life with the Yorkists always seeking to destroy him. All those years spent at the court of Brittany while your grandsire of York, and afterward Duke Richard, sought to kill him so that the House of Lancaster would die, I gave my youth for your father’s safety, and he has always known it, though I never complained. He is a wonderful son, my darling Henry. May the son you give James Stuart be as loving to you, my child.”