10 - The Goldsmith's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

to London even more than she had expected to do. These intriguing glimpses into the lives of the royal family and the court made her feel part of a wider, less parochial world than the one she normally inhabited.
    Next came a procession of guildsmen in all their fur-trimmed finery, followed by the Lord Mayor and his aldermen in their glory of scarlet hoods and gowns. And then a great fanfare of trumpets heralded the approach of the bride.
    She walked, a small, upright figure between the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, glancing coldly to right and left, seemingly finding it difficult to move, so weighed down was she by her gown of cloth-of-gold and a multitude of jewels. All I can remember of her expression was the look of blighting indifference she cast at the crowds. Not so the Duke and Duchess, who smiled and nodded and occasionally offered a hand to be kissed. But their greetings were mechanical, and I thought how haggard they both looked. Prince Richard’s face, in particular, was pinched and lined with worry, its pallor accentuated by the rich crimson and purple of his wedding robes. Today, he must appear happy and joyful; but tomorrow, his brother would be brought to trial on a charge of high treason.
    As the royal party drew nearer, I withdrew suddenly into the shadow of the chapel doorway, wishing that we had not placed ourselves to such advantage. I had no wish to be noticed by the Duke, previous encounters between us having invariably resulted in my undertaking some commission for him – commissions that had led me into personal danger. I therefore breathed a sigh of relief as he, together with the Duchess and the bride, passed into Saint Stephen’s Chapel without seeing me.
    And now here at last was the little bridegroom, flanked by the King and Queen, and looking every bit as indifferent as his future wife. Boredom was written large on a face that had not yet lost the dimpled curves of infancy, and as we all watched, he gave a tremendous yawn, not bothering to conceal it behind his hand. His mother said something to him sharply, and his face puckered as if he were about to cry. Only the sudden weight of the King’s hand on his shoulder seemed to deter him, and he fought back the tears. I recollected Margaret’s strictures on the marriage of two such young children, and my heart went out to them.
    Mine, it appeared, was not the only one; for while we waited outside in the cold for the Nuptial Mass to be celebrated, the general buzz of conversation was of the iniquity of such a wedding. But then, as Jack Nym had argued, it was the nobility’s way, and who were we to say it was wrong, so long as it had the sanction of the Church?
    Suddenly the chapel doors were flung open, once more revealing the great cavern of warmth and light and colour, spilling out its radiance into the grey January morning. The bride and groom emerged, followed by the King and Queen and the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. Two attendants advanced, carrying bowls of coins into which King and Duke dipped their hands, tossing a shower of gold to the waiting people.
    Everyone was trying to catch as many coins as possible, and I, momentarily throwing caution to the wind, reached up with the rest. Because of my height, I towered over my neighbours and might have caught more than I did but for the fact that, glancing round, I found myself looking straight into the eyes of the Duke of Gloucester.

Three
    I don’t know what I expected from this exchange of glances; that Timothy Plummer would suddenly materialise at my elbow, perhaps, with orders that his master wished to see me without delay? Of course, no such thing happened: my lord of Gloucester’s Spymaster General was nowhere to be seen.
    Nevertheless, I could not shake off a feeling of uneasiness. The Duke’s smile had been accompanied by a long, hard stare, and, in consequence, I was unable to enter into Adela and Jeanne’s excitement at this sign of royal recognition. It was a source of