I clenched my hands so tightly together, my nails drew blood.

"Yours was a perfect marriage, except for all those dead children." She paused to pick a red rose. "We Woodvilles take good care of our own. My brother is a good man. Think on it, good mother, I beseech you. For truly I have Richard's best interests at heart!"

She swung around, her green silken skirts making whorls, and left, trailing her brittle laughter.

Chapter 56.

Westminster Palace, London December 1468 Three years and more pa.s.sed. In July of 1465, Henry of Lancaster was captured and brought to the Tower. In October of 1466, Edward agreed to a treaty of friendship with Philip of Burgundy. From France, the b.i.t.c.h of Anjou stirred things up by sending Warwick a message. She extended the hand of friendship, deducing correctly the frustration he must now feel.

Matters were not helped, when in July of 1468, Margaret finally married Charles of Burgundy. I did not attend the wedding myself, for it was not the custom to do so for foreign matches. But I listened avidly to the reports of the magnificent ceremony in which the streets of Bruges were hung with priceless tapestries. The parades, feasting, masques and allegorical entertainments so impressed everyone that folk called it The Wedding of the Century.

Now it was December of 1468, and I arrived to celebrate Christmas Court with Edward and his Serpent-Queen. I stood by the window, wrapped in a thick fur mantle, my hair in its night plait, gazing at the wintry scene before me. It was so cold the frost had swirled patterns onto the icy windows and the scant vegetation had hardened into ice. What would befall the House of York this season?

I didn't have long to wait, for the door to my chamber burst open, and my nephew Warwick strode in.

"This is insupportable!" he roared.

I bade him sit and signaled to Jenet to bring hot mulled wine and wafers.

But Warwick paced around my chamber, his face flushed darkly, a vein throbbing in his temple.

I waited.

"Cousin," he said finally. "What shall I do about my daughters? There are no eligible heirs to the peerage left for them to marry."

Warwick had no sons, so Bella and Nanette were his heirs, standing to inherit substantial holdings from their Neville, Montacute, and Beauchamp forbears. They were both of an age to marry-Bella, seventeen, and Nanette, twelve.

"You have just come from the Serpent," I stated.

Warwick's mouth crinkled in amus.e.m.e.nt as I handed him a cup of wine. "You have a gift for nicknames, Aunt."

"What did she say?"

"She had the insolence to suggest that Bella marry her brother d.i.c.k, while Nanette should be betrothed to Ned Woodville."

I nodded. "She must be getting desperate to marry off Ned. She once had the temerity to suggest that my Margaret marry him."

He narrowed his eyes. "But Margaret married Burgundy."

My cheeks warmed. I put my hand on his arm. "I know you spent many years working for the alliance with France. But Edward wanted an alliance with Burgundy, and he can be obstinate."

"He was not always that way," said Warwick, his voice rising. "Before he acquired a wife-"

"Before the Serpent came, he was easy to manage. You and I both know that. But now he is different. The Serpent is ensconced in his life, whether we like it or no. Edward will not be ruled by either you or me, so we must devise some other plan."

Warwick glowered. "Those sisters of hers have swept the aristocratic marriage market clean. There is no one suitable left in England. I will not have her loathsome Woodville brothers get their hands on my wealth."

I understood, already alarmed about the marriage prospects for my son George. George was such a handsome boy, tall and blond, the very image of my father. Yet I was having trouble procuring a bride for him. Two years before, Duke Philip of Burgundy had offered his granddaughter's hand in marriage, but Edward would not hear of it. I'd been stunned when George told me the news. In having made a bad marriage, did Edward begrudge a good one for his brother?

At nineteen, George was now the age Edward had been in the first year of his reign. He needed something to do, but the king seemed disinclined to use his brother's talents. George was well educated, I had seen to that. And he showed signs of being a talented administrator, like his father. Yet, if Edward were not going to give George a position in his government, surely he should allow his brother to marry a foreign princess and use his talents abroad?

As if reading my thoughts, Warwick said softly, "It seems the king doesn't want George to marry Mary of Burgundy. So what would you think if George married my Bella?"

I leaned forward, smiling. It was a brilliant idea. "But what of Richard?"

"He can have Nanette."

I mulled this over. I liked it. Warwick's plan did mean giving up any hope of brilliant international marriages for my boys. But with Edward in his present mood, it wasn't likely he would allow Richard to marry a foreign princess, any more than he had allowed George to marry Margaret's stepdaughter. The Neville heiresses were the most suitable young ladies in the whole of England.

"I like it. But we should move cautiously so that Edward doesn't know our full intentions. Richard and Nanette are full young and can wait awhile. I propose that we focus now on getting George wed to Bella. Let me speak with George first."

And so I summoned Jenet to attire me for my appearance at Edward's court and sent a page with a message for George.

"Mother," said George, coming forward to kiss my cheek. "Do you not like my new suit of clothes?" He smiled down at me as I examined him closely. Today he was resplendent in a tunic of purple decorated with intricate gold embroidery. His stockings were of purple and gold with the seam up the middle of each leg. His sleeves were slashed to show the gold shirt he wore under his tunic. His blue-green eyes glowed with excitement. How he loved being at court.

I smiled back at him. "You have such a good eye for color, George," I remarked. "That purple brings out the color of your eyes." I turned around on my stool so that Jenet could pin on my headdress, a pointed henin with a veil of translucent silk.

"Hurry, Mother," he said. "It would not do to be late."

"George." I smiled. "Your mother is an old woman. She is not as fast as she was when she was a girl."

"Nonsense, Mama!" he exclaimed, offering me his arm. "Old? You'll never be old."

I laughed out loud. George always had that effect on me. Though I was fifty-three, George made me feel younger. "I have three grown daughters," I reminded him. "It would not be seemly for their mother to look like a maid."

George threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Now, Mother," he said. "You know you are looking very well."

It was true. Prodded by George, I'd finally decided to abandon my widow's weeds and put on something more cheerful. Today I wore a gown of sky-blue velvet edged in ermine, with silver embroidery running down the sleeves and over my skirts.

Jenet put the last pins into my headdress, and I rose and signaled for her to leave. "I have something important to ask you, my son," I said, leading George to a window seat. "As you know, I think it high time you were married. But I want your opinion on this matter." I paused and looked at him closely. "How would you feel about marrying your cousin Bella?"

At once, his face lit up.

"It would make you happy?"

"Yes, Mother. I am very fond of my cousin. She makes me laugh and-" He flushed. "I've always found her beautiful."

I smiled as I kissed his cheek. "Let's ask cousin Warwick to join us."

Warwick was delighted, and as my nephew and my son conversed, a scene played itself out in my mind, something I had been vaguely thinking of, but had not articulated. When folk grow old, it is the custom for the widowed mother to live with her eldest son in a quiet retirement. But I had been too deeply wounded by Edward's marriage for that to be possible. Suppose I lived with George instead? I adored George; he always made me feel cheerful and energetic. And Bella would be a fine wife for him. Perhaps I could live out my life in the company of George and his family.

George offered me his arm, and we left for the formal banquet that Edward was giving as part of the Christmas celebrations at court. These celebrations were very elaborate, both in terms of the number of courses served, as well as the strict protocol the Serpent insisted on. I was very glad to have my handsome son beside me, radiating energy and good cheer, for I found these occasions wearisome in the extreme.

"Now remember," I said in a low voice, "today is the feast of Christ's birth, of peace and joy upon the land. We must put on a good appearance of one happy family. You understand, my son?"

George's expression darkened.

"You will be polite to the queen." I was careful not to call her by her nickname in front of George, because he was acquiring a disturbing tendency to blurt out secrets. But now I was going to take George firmly in hand. First, it was imperative that he learn some skills to arm himself against the Serpent's poison.

"What would you have me do?" said George, his lower lip jutting out sulkily.

"The only way to deal with her is to be polite and ignore everything she says. She will attempt to bait you, to goad you into saying things you should not say. Remember it gives her the greatest pleasure to upset us. You must, however, remain silent or turn the conversation. Try not to listen to her, and whatever you do, you must not rise to her bait. She is adept at spotting her opponent's weaknesses."

George nodded and I took his arm again. I resolved to stay as close to him as I could without being too obvious about it.

The Serpent was ensconced by the fire, clad in a magnificent dress of silver and blood-red brocade. In four and a half years of marriage, she'd given Edward two children, both daughters, and now she was heavily pregnant with their third child. Edward sat next to her, and of course her numerous Woodville relatives surrounded them: her father and mother, her six brothers, and her nine sisters with their stolen husbands.

I was forced to sit by the windows, facing them, with Warwick and his family on one side, and George on the other. Icy fingers of air made their way through the cas.e.m.e.nts, chilling my fingers. I placed them in the folds of my new velvet gown.

A flurry of movement caught my eye. One of the Serpent's sisters, Jacqueline, had wandered over a few feet away and started nibbling at some nuts. She looked like a rabbit with her fine, strong teeth, and as she talked, she continued to nibble.

"How fare you, sweet Johnny?" she said to her brother. Sir John Woodville was a well-made young man of three-and-twenty years.

"I fare well," he replied evenly.

"How does marriage suit you?" Nibble, nibble.

"She is very kind."

"She does not excite your pa.s.sion then?" Nibble, nibble.

John sighed but made no reply.

"Is she not too old for you?" Nibble.

John occupied himself in taking his new kid gloves off. They were dyed black to match his hose and fit perfectly to his shapely hands.

"How have you the patience to bear it? Why, she has no teeth, her breath is foul, and she-"

John shushed his sister with a wave of his hand.

I turned. Cath stood in the doorway. Her eyes moved slowly around the room, and as they lighted on her husband John, she smiled. She went over to kiss him full on the lips.

"I found the tincture I told you about, the one for sore throats and colds. Come with me, my darling."

During this speech, John made various gestures, intended to slow the volume and rapidity of Cath's speech. At seventy-one, she was deaf and difficult to understand, having lost most of her teeth. She stood there, looking at her husband lovingly, drooling; when suddenly noticing this, she fumbled for a kerchief, flushed, and excused herself.

Poor Cath; my heart ached. I glanced at my son Edward. He was talking to my Richard, clapping him on the back and laughing merrily. And Richard's face showed an unusual amount of animation.

I made myself sit ramrod straight in my seat, gritting my teeth to forestall the impending headache always produced by the Serpent's presence. But Jacqueline had not the good manners to hide the look of disgust on her face. "Couldn't you get this marriage annulled?"

Her bell-like voice rang out as silence suddenly filled the room. My gorge rose. I stood.

"Don't you think you should keep your wicked thoughts to yourself?" I snapped. The nibbling stopped.

The Serpent, her face impa.s.sive, rose and faced me. Casually stifling a yawn, she lumbered slowly towards George and held out her hand. "Come, brother. Come, keep me company. You know how to play piquet, no?"

George flushed as he rose and bowed to her. They went to sit near the fireplace with her family.

I went slowly back towards my place near the window, taking care to take a seat that was in earshot of the proceedings.

"You're a good-looking boy, you should be married," the Serpent said.

Nineteen-year-old George smiled but refrained from saying anything.

The Serpent deftly cut the cards and shuffled. "I have a little sister."

"Another sister?" blurted out George. "I thought your sisters to be all married."

"All except for one. My sister Agnes would do very well for you."

I should have been prepared for this, but I was not. Was there no end to the Serpent's coils? I drew my handkerchief from my sleeve, and dried my moist palms.

"How old is the lady?"

"She turned twelve last month. She's a sweet child, and well suited to you." The Serpent stared at George, as she dealt the cards. "She pouts, and sulks, and is easily led." She paused, and smiled. "She would be the perfect playmate for your little games."

George sat stone still, a flush spreading slowly up his neck, staring at the card-strewn table before him. Suddenly, he leapt up, knocking over his chair. "How dare you insult me like this!" George jutted out his lower lip, making him look exactly like a sulky child.

The Serpent smiled sweetly.

I put my finger to my lips, but George ignored me.

"I already have a bride," he said.

The Serpent's cat's eyes went wide.

"Sweeting!" she called across the room to Edward. "Were you aware that your dear brother planned to marry?"

Edward rose, his blue eyes blazing. "Who is she?"

George faced him, scowling. "You don't have any right-"

"Who is she?"

George flicked a look over at me.

I nodded.

"Cousin Bella."

"What?" roared Edward.