“Particularly The Dicts and Sayings of Philosophers, ” said Nell.
“I would guess ’tis not the subject matter that entices readers to it, as the novelty of it.”
“Of course. ’Twas the first book printed in English, but your translation was brilliant.”
“Nell Caxton, you flatterer!” He put his arm round her and hugged her to his side. Thus they walked companionably across Ludlow’s moat bridge.
Up ahead, Bessie was still teasing Edward mercilessly when their brother Dickon exploded out the residence door and came running across the yard to meet them. Now the king and queen emerged from the same door, and attending on them were Lord Stanley and his wife, Lady Margaret. The boys began wrestling playfully before their parents, and their shouts of laughter echoed in the castle yard. As they rough-and-tumbled, the little princes seemed a pair of golden Olympians. They were sweet and fresh and joyful, and they cheered every soul who saw and heard them.
A commotion at the gates drew the family’s attention there.
A large contingent of soldiers wearing not the king’s livery of blue and gold, but red jackets and red-plumed helmets, came thundering cross the moat bridge, filling the yard. Now to the fore came riding the column’s leader—a tall, arrogantly handsome man. Nell felt Antony Woodville bristling at her side.
“Who is that?” she whispered to him.
“Harry, Duke of Buckingham. He’s married, quite unhappily, to the queen’s sister Catherine.” Even before Rivers stepped forward, Nell could see there
was trouble brewing. The crowd quieted, and everyone silently noted that Buckingham had not bothered to unhorse, leaving him that much higher than Rivers, who was on foot—a rude gesture by any measure.
Nell noticed Bessie’s father quietly pulling the queen with him, to hide themselves, back inside the doorway. Perhaps he wished to witness the exchange between his men—perhaps a contretemps—objectively, without affecting its outcome.
The sound of the yard being filled with the mounted troops had brought Richard of Gloucester to his second-story bedchamber window and he too watched with interest.
“How does my Lord Rivers?” Buckingham inquired with cordial grace. He looked round him. “I see the royal party has arrived.”
“It has indeed, Lord Buckingham.” There was sharp formality in Rivers’s tone. “And I see that you have brought with you an army to greet your king and queen.”
Buckingham’s laugh was derisive. “You’ve exaggerated my small column of men into an army.”
“You know very well that the mustering of any soldiers not of the king’s colors is illegal.”
“Do you not mean ‘Lord Rivers’s colors’?” This was a stinging retort, though Harry Buckingham managed to keep the smile plastered on his face.
“I am the governor of Ludlow, my lord. And the governor of the Welsh Marches too.” Rivers was bristling now. “But I am always aware that my governor is King Edward, something that you have managed to forget. Therefore, by the order of the king, I command you to disperse your troops immediately.
When that is done you shall be welcomed into the royal circle.” It seemed to Nell that Buckingham was, by sheer will, keeping his expression sanguine, for it was clear that beneath the
placid smile and uncreased brow he was raging. She wished desperately to whisper a comment to Bessie, but her friend was halfway across the courtyard.
“May I not be allowed to greet my good aunt Lady Stanley?” Prince Edward glanced at Margaret Beaufort to see her narrow face locked in an impenetrable expression.
“Of course you may, Harry,” said Rivers mildly, “after you’ve dismissed your illegal army.”
That was Buckingham’s limit. High color rose from neck to cheek to forehead in the space of a breath, and Nell heard Dickon stifle a laugh. Edward elbowed the younger boy, which had the opposite effect than desired. Dickon uttered a single bark before his older brother could clap a hand over his mouth.
At the moment of threatened explosion, King Edward and the queen stepped out from the doorway into view, making their presence known, to Buckingham’s very great surprise.
“Your Majesties!” Buckingham was off his horse and down on bent knee in humble obeisance with almost comical haste. The queen nodded to him, but made little attempt to hide her cool contempt for her brother-in-law.
“Rise, Harry. Let me look at you,” said the king.
He clapped a brotherly arm round Buckingham’s shoulder and walked with him to a quiet corner of the yard away from curious ears. They spoke softly, their heads tilted toward each other’s. Buckingham’s shoulders seemed to settle, and Nell guessed that the king was speaking comfortable words into his ear. Buckingham was, after all, the highest-ranking peer in England, Edward’s brother-in-law, and, whilst a Lancastrian by birth, had been for many years loyal to the Yorks.
A few moments later, when they had circled back to the head of his troops, Buckingham was once again smiling, his color normal.
“Then you will give my sister-in-law our regards,” Nell heard the king say.
“I will, Your Majesty.”
“And will you two come to the tilt on Sunday? Elizabeth will want to see her sister.”
“Yes, of course.” Harry Buckingham bowed grandly to the king. “A good day to you.” He turned to the queen and the other onlookers, careful not to meet Rivers’s eye, and bowed to them as well. With impeccable grace, the duke mounted his horse and brought it round. Then, with the merest wave, he signaled his uniformed column to follow, and they thundered from the yard.
Looking round her, Nell saw everyone sag with relief.
Bessie’s father might not look the magnificent king he once was, but he nevertheless retained his kingly authority and charm. He and the queen went on their way across the courtyard to the chapel. Richard of Gloucester disappeared from his window.
Lord and Lady Stanley, without a word, slipped back into the castle. The two boys were all over their uncle Rivers, plying him with excited questions.
Bessie and Nell were blessedly alone in the courtyard. They walked toward each other quickly.
“You must tell me what just happened,” Nell demanded.
“Well,” said Bessie, “when my brother was sent here to rule as the Prince of Wales, he was only three. Naturally he needed a guardian. A governor. My mother convinced my father that her brother Rivers was the perfect choice. He was, in fact. There is no one in England—you know this, Nell—who is more learned or pious or thoughtful or brave than Lord Rivers.”
“Just so,” Nell agreed.
“Well, until that time, Harry, Duke of Buckingham, had been the high lord and master of the Welsh Marches. He was already at odds with my mother for forcing him to marry her
sister Catherine. He always thought himself very grand indeed, and looked down his nose at the match with ‘Queen’ Elizabeth Woodville’s kin. ’Twas far beneath his station.”
“But Buckingham is of Lancastrian descent,” Nell said.
Bessie nodded. “As you saw, he is Lady Margaret’s nephew. If the Yorks were ever to fall to the Lancasters again—”
“ ’Twill never happen,” Nell insisted.
“But if it did, Margaret Beaufort would be first in line for the English throne.”
“Lady Margaret!”
“Shh,” Bessie cautioned. “Did you know she’s already the wealthiest woman, in her own right, in all of England?”
“I didn’t.”
“But the thing is,” Bessie went on, “Margaret has no wish for the crown herself. ’Tis her son, Henry Tudor, she would champion.”
“But Henry Tudor has been in exile in Brittany for years.”
“Seventeen years. Exiled for rising up against the Yorks.”
“In that case, why does your family keep Lady Margaret so close?”
“Better to know exactly where your enemies stand than to have them lurking about, out of your sight. And besides, since she married Lord Stanley, she’s proven quite faithful.”
“I do find her fascinating,” said Nell. “So tiny, yet so . . . res-olute. She seems to have a rod of steel in her spine. I think she terrifies her husband.”
“She terrifies me. ” The girls laughed.
“Come,” said Bessie, “let’s go find our room.” upper that evening was the best Nell had ever in her life Seaten. The Ludlow cooks had surpassed themselves with
beastings pudding, moor fowl smothered with red cabbage, and lamprey pie garnished with crayfish on gold skewers—offerings that, for the king’s pleasure, bordered on gluttonous. His ap-petites, along with his girth, had grown famous, and he insisted that all enjoy their food with the same gusto as he did. Indeed, thought Nell, the king was altogether jolly this night, though he was sober as a monk. Nell remembered Bessie saying that her father was so intent upon keeping his elder son happy, and serving as a model of decency, that on these visits to Wales, he drank little and whored not at all.
The seating arrangements had come as a pleasant shock to Nell. Whilst she’d been separated from Bessie, who sat at her brother Edward’s right hand, who was likewise at the king’s right hand, Mistress Caxton had been granted an equally privileged chair at the left hand of Lord Rivers, who was at the left hand of his sister the queen. To Nell’s other side sat Lady Margaret Beaufort. Both of her dinner companions sought Nell’s conversation. At first it had been frivolous, everyone comment-ing and chuckling at the jugglers who’d been more silly than proficient, dropping their colored balls and tripping foolishly on the rushes. The skinny contortionist in his spun-silver costume had wrenched gasps of disbelief from his audience. Musicians were setting up their instruments for the dancing that would come after the sweet course.
“Nell—” It was Lord Rivers turning back from his conversation with the queen. “Tell me, how good is your Latin?”
“Truthfully?” she asked with mock seriousness.
“Only the truth,” he said.
“Better than yours.”
He laughed at her audaciousness, then said, “With whom did you study in Bruges?”
“The same man who taught the king’s sister Margaret of Bur
gundy. Master Talbot. He said he’d never had a student whose double translations were so perfect as mine. He liked to say I had the mind of a man.”
“Did you find that complimentary?” Rivers asked.
“At first I did. Then I chafed at the notion. Most of the women I knew, I told him, were far more clever than their husbands, most of whom were brutes who knew of nothing more than making war and keeping horses happy.”
“Surely there are exceptions to that rule,” Rivers insisted, suppressing a smile.
“Of course. My father, for one.” Suddenly Nell’s boldness failed her, and she had to look away when she added, “And you, my lord.”
“I have a proposition,” said Rivers.
Nell felt herself fluster suddenly, for Rivers’s words immediately led her to thoughts of a carnal nature. But when he continued, unaware of her lewd thoughts, the proposition proved to be of a far more innocent kind, though just as surprising.
“Prince Edward’s Latin tutor has taken ill and he is currently without one. A new man has been hired from the continent, but it will be several months before he can arrive. Would you like the post? Temporarily, of course. Women have no place in the Ludlow Court.”
“Then how can you offer me the position? I may have the mind of a man, my lord—”
“I’ve already secured the king’s permission.”
“But my father—”
“If you write to him, we will send a courier to London and have an answer back in less than a week. Come, Nell,” said Rivers, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “How could you possibly refuse such an honor?”
“I haven’t said I refuse.”
“Good. I’ll be delighted to have you here. You’re right about the intellectual capacity of most men.” His gaze swept the dining hall and the Ludlow courtiers. “Even my relatives.” Suddenly Rivers lost his aplomb. “We shall spend many happy hours debating Pliny—Major and Minor.”
“Well, I—”
“So you’ll write your father tonight.”
Nell was now quite convinced that Rivers’s interest in her was more than professional. But according to Bessie, though his wife did not live at Ludlow, he was a married man. And he was her father’s dearest friend! Before she could answer him, a short trumpet blast drew everyone’s eyes to the center of the hall.
Richard and Anne of Gloucester, and little Ned, were approaching the dais, the boy holding a prettily wrapped package in his arms. It has to be the book I sold them, she thought. All three made their obeisance to the Prince of Wales, and Ned held out the package.
The place quieted so that all were able to hear when Richard said, “Take it. ’Tis a gift from our family to you.” Nell could see the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester smiling warmly. Edward reached out and took the package from Ned.
At once he knew what it was.
“ ’Tis a book, is it not?”
Gloucester nodded and Nell leaned forward, eager to see Edward’s expression. He untied the leather thongs that held the wrapper closed and found the volume. Breathless, with the care-fulest of fingers, he turned back the cover to reveal the title.
“Jason and the Argonauts! In English!” he cried, genuinely delighted.
“Read on, Edward,” his aunt instructed. “I think you’ll be pleased.”
Edward read silently, then looked up. “ ’Twas translated by
William Caxton himself!” Now it was Edward trying to find Nell and catch her eye. She returned his beaming smile. She and Bessie, just beyond him, shared a conspiratorial look.
“Do read on, Edward,” his uncle urged. “Go to the dedication.”
He did as he was instructed. “ ‘For Edward . . . Prince of Wales’!” Edward whooped with surprise, and his eyes twinkled as he continued. “ ‘Accept Jason from your humble servant . . .