Queen by Right Read Online Free PDF Page B

thirteen children, she was eager to put motherhood aside and enjoy her late middle age, knowing that each of her ten surviving children was well provided for. “Young women of noble birth must devote themselves to becoming wives, which oft-times means leaving their own home and joining another great house. ’Tis where we learn to become loyal to our husband’s family and devote our life to our children and support our husband’s ambitions. And thus Nan will go to Brecon and be under the protection of my cousin Anne, Humphrey’s widowed mother. I expect Nan and Humphrey will be properly married inside the next two years.”
    Cecily digested this and stared ahead in silence. Despite the awkwardness between the sisters, Cecily drew comfort from having a sister close to her age share in her daily routine. Her three other sisters were long gone: Katherine to Framlingham Castle in Suffolk, seat of the Mowbrays, dukes of Norfolk; Eleanor to Alnwick Castle, where her husband, Henry Percy, earl of Northumberland, guarded the northeastern border from the Scots; and Joan, still a novice but soon to be veiled, to Barking Abbey near London. And now Nan was to leave and be out of reach in the wilds of Wales.
    “Dear Virgin Mary,” she prayed, “do not desert me too. Nan is not the best of companions, but she is always here. Please stay with me when she goes.”
    It then occurred to her that her turn would come one day, and her stomach lurched. But another blast on a hunting horn, much closer now, banished her morose thoughts, and the baying dogs told her that an animal was cornered.
    This time she made up her mind not to be left behind, and before Joan could command her to stay, Cecily had urged Tansy into a canter, and horse and rider expertly wended their way through the woods toward the source of the commotion.
    Then, as she drew closer and slowed to a trot, her eye caught a movement to her left. Every muscle in her body tensed.
    “It could be robbers,” she thought, knowing that they were common in the forests of lawless England.
    She was just regretting striking out on her own when she gasped in wonder. Slipping between two white birch trees and perfectly camouflaged against the snow was an ethereal, almost mystical beast.
    “The white deer,” Cecily whispered, transfixed.
    Suddenly the hind saw her, and for a second the delicate creature and the lovely girl stared at each other. Cecily held her breath. And then it was gone, springing over the snowy ground and disappearing behind a copse of hazel. Cecily exhaled in awe. Taught to believe in holy signs, she was convinced the Virgin had visited her, and she crossed herself reverently.
    “You will be with me always, will you not, Holy Mother,” she whispered. “I know that now.” And so she vowed never to tell anyone about the hind. The idea of such a gift from God being felled by hunters and dogs horrified her.
    Kicking Tansy into a fast trot, she headed for the huntsmen and their victim—an enormous stag, its summer-red fur turned winter gray, with a magnificent rack of antlers that Cecily knew would join others on the walls of Raby’s great hall. The skilled huntsmen were making short work of the still warm animal, and after it was gutted, the dogs were given their grisly reward. Cecily hated this part of the hunt and looked away from the glassy eyes and lolling tongue as the stag’s lifeblood oozed onto the snow. She was aware of a rider sidling close to her and recognized Richard’s voice—half boy, half man, asking if she would like to leave the scene.
    Cecily held her head high and shook it vigorously. “Nay, Dickon. One cannot join in the hunt and then not stay to respect the death of such a noble beast,” she said, quoting her father word for word. “I cannot help but feel sorry for him, ’tis all,” she murmured. With a brave smile, she asked who had found the stag’s heart with his arrow.
    “It was your father, Cecily. He felled the stag with one