By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III Read Online Free PDF Page A

here.”
    “Your father and brother gave their lives for my father. I would like to see that debt of honour repaid.”
    James met the duke’s eyes and saw his sincerity. He was so much like his father that it was almost like seeing the same person, he thought, unlike the king whose height and fair features betrayed his ancestry to the Nevilles of Raby. He took a breath, determined to bring the conversation back to his niece Anne and wondering if he dared to suggest that the duke’s family debt to the Harringtons might stretch as far as his considering a marriage. But the opportunity was lost as a resounding thud made them both look to where a scaling ladder was now positioned against the outer wall. The archers were firing at the men attempting to climb and James smiled in satisfaction as he heard one fall to the ground with an agonised cry, an arrow protruding from his right shoulder.
    “It seems that Stanley is not frightened by the snow after all,” said the duke, “though it can only make the rungs more slippery. The man is a fool.”
    But a dangerous fool, thought James, and a persistent one too.
     
    Inside Hornby Castle the days fell into a routine. At daylight the women would wake to the sounds of men on the battlements hurling abuse and arrows at the Stanley army below as they emerged from their tents. The insults were most likely returned and, although she couldn’t make out the words, Anne was in no doubt that they were equally coarse and demeaning and called into question the manhood of the Harrington retainers.
    Breakfast in the hall consisted of what was left of the previous day’s bread and a small cup of ale, leaving Anne with a constant thirst that she found harder to bear than the hunger. The brewing of ale had also been rationed to preserve the grain stores. At dinner time they were allowed a little salted fish or bacon with a small portion of potage; on other days it was sops and potage and this grew weaker and more watery as time passed. Suppers were frugal affairs too and Anne found she often lay down to sleep feeling hungry.
    The days became long and monotonous trapped in the fetid atmosphere of the unaired hall, and apart from playing with baby William to allow her aunt to get some sleep, singing to little Peggy and arguing with her sister, there was little to do; although Anne spent much of her time thinking about the duke and yearning to catch a glimpse of him.
    Occasionally a thud would reverberate through the castle as a rock or boulder was hurled from the trebuchet that had been built and often her head would pound along with the rhythmic battering of the ram on the outer gate. Throughout the day there would be shouting as arrows were rained down on men who emerged from the tunnel they were mining under the curtain wall, though Uncle James reassured her that little progress was being made and that the walls were thick and strong.
    Then, one morning, Anne was woken at first light by the sound of laughing from nearby. She sat up in alarm, clutching her cloak to her chest and trying to steady the rate of her pounding heart. She strained to try to make sense of what she could hear. Were Stanley’s men inside the castle, she wondered. She stared at the door and expected them to storm through it at any moment to take her and Izzie captive.
    She clambered to her feet as the latch clicked and the door was pushed open. She stood straight and proud, braiding her hair, which had become loosened as she slept, resolved to face the consequences of defeat with dignity. But it was Uncle James who came in with a delighted grin sweeping the exhaustion from his face, and her fear turned to hope.
    “They’ve gone!” he announced in wonderment. “They must have begun to withdraw during the night. There are just a few stragglers left striking camp.” He took his wife in his arms as she ran to meet him and lifted her up and spun her round. “We won!” he laughed and kissed her on the lips in full view of