The spear-pointed diamond that hung from his gold collar jumped and glared at me in the harsh sunlight.

Richard turned round, his face taut, his mouth snarling. "How could you?"

I squeezed my folded arms against my chest.

He thrust his sword back into the scabbard, grabbed me, and jerked my head back. "Don't I mean anything to you? What about our marriage vows? What about our children?"

I stared back, trying not to see his pain, when suddenly he let go.

I clutched at the wooden bench to prevent myself from falling, then got to my feet.

"If you knew how many times I tried. How many times I walked away. How many times I tried to forget about him."

"So you blame him? By G.o.d Almighty and all his saints, if I ever catch him, I'll flay him alive."

"You won't."

"I won't what?"

"Catch him," I murmured, looking down.

I looked up to find Richard glaring at me. A vein in his forehead was throbbing. "And how do you know that?" he said in an icy tone I'd never heard before.

I folded my arms. "I don't even know his name."

"You don't know his name? How could you lie with someone you don't know? Are you so fickle, so shallow, that you pick up anyone who happens along?"

I lifted my chin. "If I 'd been free, if I'd not been married and had you and three children to think of-"

"You were thinking of running off with him." He folded his arms and gazed at me keenly.

I turned away.

He drew his sword, and walked up and down for several minutes, whacking trees, hedges, anything that he came into contact with. Leaves, twigs and branches strewed the path. Then he sheathed his sword. "I would banish you now. I would lock you up. But I need your family."

I shivered. I had never heard such cold calculation from Richard before.

"You are a Neville," he spat. "There are political considerations. Salisbury is a loyal supporter. I am constantly in the position of struggling to make my voice heard on the king's council. I would be nowhere were it not for your brother's support. A scandal would make me the laughing stock of the whole court."

The color drained from my face.

"You didn't think of that, did you?" he snapped, thrusting his face into mine so that I felt the drops of his spittle as he bit each word off.

I stepped backwards.

"If your family were not so valuable to my political career, I would punish you as you deserve."

Blaybourne's voice filled my ears: Would he lock you up?

"Are you with child?"

I lowered my head.

"You spend days, nay, weeks in that misbegotten knave's arms. And you expect me to accept his b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" He looked around. "It happened here, didn't it?" His eye caught the door in the yew hedge through which the private garden with the turf seat could be seen. He reached out and held my arm in a vice-like grip. "It was on that turf seat wasn't it? It was in this garden where you spent your time."

"One night," I murmured.

He twisted me around. "Look at me, d.a.m.n you. What did you say?"

"It was only one night."

"Ha! So you wish it had been more."

He grabbed me around the waist with one hand, while with the other hand he gripped my chin so that I was forced to look at him. We gazed at each other in dead silence for several minutes.

"d.a.m.n you, Cis," he said between his teeth, letting go of me so suddenly, I crumpled into a heap.

"I am cursed!" he shouted over and over again.

I crossed myself. Was Lisette's curse coming true? I wiped the dust from my clothes and hair and rose. "I am here, Richard. I have not gone."

"Aye, but you lie to me. What is his name?"

An image of Blaybourne filled my mind. I couldn't give him away. I resented Richard for a.s.suming he had a right to know my private thoughts and feelings. Was I to have no s.p.a.ce to call my own in this marriage? Blaybourne would be my s.p.a.ce.

"I think you know, but for some reason, you won't tell me. Come, my love, out with it."

"No."

"No, you don't know? Or, no, you're not telling?"

I stared at the ground.

Richard sprang forward and lifted me up in his arms, holding me in a vise. "You know I could lock you up. I could forbid you to see the children. I could starve you to death."

I shook, then looked him full in the face. "But you cannot make me talk."

He slapped me hard across the cheek. He grabbed me by the arm as I crumpled to my knees, holding my throbbing face.

"Woman. You will speak. I asked you a question. What is the knave's name?"

"I will never tell you."

"You love him as much as that? You would risk all?"

"Yes." I moved to the other side of the seat. "I have never loved anyone before. When you met me after all those years, you were experienced, but I was not. I married you because I had to. I had no notion of what love was like, until now. Here I am. You can do with me as you please. My heart is broken. I don't much care what happens to me now."

Richard moved swiftly to prevent me escaping and imprisoned me against a tree by putting his arms on either side of me. I closed my eyes, but could not get away from him. I could smell the leathery scent of his sweat, and hear his heavy breathing.

"Are you with child?"

I was silent.

He tore himself away. "I cannot believe you would do this!" He slumped onto the bench and put his face in his hands.

I stared at him, still backed up against the tree. I did not dare move.

Chapter 11.

September 1441 to April 1442 When Richard found out that I was indeed carrying another's child, he was not best pleased. He did not shout or carry on, but compressed his lips into a thin line. Thereafter, although scrupulously courteous, he was cold.

It didn't help when the quarterly bills came due at Michaelmas, for they were unusually high. During Richard's absence, I'd been unable to resist all the lovely luxuries the merchants of Rouen kept bringing to the castle. Richard did not bother with a confrontation. Instead, he sent a note saying that he'd hired a Master Elbeuf to be comptroller of the household, and if I needed money, I was to consult him. This was a clever way for Richard to keep watch on me, for if he knew exactly how I spent my allowance, he'd know how I was spending my time. I couldn't argue with his logic.

Things continued in this uneasy state through October; then little Henry sickened as the first frosts appeared. He died on All Hallows Eve, aged eight months. Truth to tell, I'd never paid much attention to the child, being so occupied with getting the entire household to Rouen shortly after his birth, and then being caught up in my affair of the heart. Now he was dead, and Richard lost his heir.

As I sat there with my hand on Henry's cold cheek, there was a stir, a glint from the diamond, and Richard arrived. He cleared the room with a look and went up to me.

"Well?" he demanded coldly.

"I do not know what happened."

"You don't know. Why not?"

"He was never strong."

"No, he was not. And whose fault was that?"

He came over and gripped my chin with his fingers, so that I was forced to look into his eyes, hard and steely.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You should be. You have been extremely careless, madam, in the care of my son. Riding off to Lincoln in your condition, when you were six months gone with him."

"I had to go to Mama's funeral."

"You should have waited until he was born to pay your respects to your lady mother. If you had done as I'd asked and stayed at Fotheringhay, he would have been stronger. And now we would not be dealing with the death of my heir."

Henry was buried in the Abbey of Saint-Ouen.

After that, I did not see Richard for several weeks. As winter intensified its grip, I spent my days sitting in front of the often-smoking fire, cuddling Joan on my lap. One day Joan could not stop coughing. I thought she had a bad cold, but she started wheezing and making gurgling noises. I doused the fire, but it made no difference. I tried to force syrup down her convulsing throat, but most of it spilled onto her clothes. After a long struggle, she turned blue and expired. She was three and a half.

I clutched Joan to my breast while tears rolled down my cheeks. When the priest came, they forced me to drink a draught of poppy juice because I would not hand her over for the last rites.

When I came to, I ran to the window. Someone-it was Richard-was quick enough to grab me. I twisted my head to look at him.

"Let me die."

"What of your immortal soul? That sin would land you in the fires of d.a.m.nation."

Everything went black.

When I came to, I was lying in bed and someone was holding my hand. As I gradually surfaced, something glinted through my closed eyelids. Richard sat on a stool by my bed. His face looked grey, new lines carving the flesh around his eyes and mouth.

"You've come back."

I raised myself up and looked around. "Why am I not dead? I should be."

Richard turned his head; the room filled with the sounds of people leaving. He sat on the bed and took me in his arms. "I thought we'd lost you," he murmured, holding me close.

I felt the diamond hard against my bosom. I gently pulled back and looked at him. "But why do you want me? I've wronged you."

"Cis!" he exclaimed, putting his hands on my shoulders and giving me a shake. He stopped abruptly as my eyes filled with tears. There was silence for many moments. "Don't you see how much I love you? I want you, not someone else." He kissed me gently on the lips.

"But I hurt you."

"You've been punished enough." And rising, he dashed a hand across his eyes, turned on his heel, and left.

I didn't see him again for many weeks. We buried Joan in the chapel of Saint Romain, in the castle, so that I could visit her every day.

I made a slow recovery. By some miracle, I didn't lose my child. Every day, I went with Margaret to visit Joan to pray for her soul. Every evening, I went to confession and confessed my sins to Pere Andre, the castle chaplain. It took much time, but in the end I told him the whole story.

Pere Andre was a wise man and a good priest. He did not fob me off with a few Aves here, a few Paternosters there. He systematically went over my sins, discussing them at great length. Then he recommended books that I should read, starting with The Confessions of Saint Augustine. But the most important thing he taught me was how to pray. I spent many hours on my knees praying during the winter and spring of 1442. That was how I gradually recovered my sanity.

"My lady, do you want to see your son?" Annette de Caux's voice disturbed my reverie. Annette had stayed on after Henry's death, suckling her own child and acting as a governess for little Nan. Now I engaged her as wet nurse for the new baby.

"Not until I've seen my lord husband."

And there he was, standing in the doorway. I'd scarcely seen him since the day he'd pulled me back from the gates of h.e.l.l.

Annette, Jenet, and the other women hurriedly bobbed their curtsies and left while Richard came over and stood by the side of the bed.

"A son," he said, "You gave him a son."

I was silent.

"Are you going to send word to him?"

"Do you want me to?"

Richard sighed and sat down on the bed. "At least you chose a n.o.bleman. The master sergeant of the garrison told me that one of the archers was a n.o.bleman of the House of Savoy. He disappeared the day I arrived."

I fixed my eyes on Richard's face. Did he know anything else? Did he know he'd spoken with my lover? How would he feel if he knew Blaybourne was a peasant?