The Rose of York: Crown of Destiny Read Online Free PDF Page B

Richard’s old request that he had long refused. He gave the last of the three Neville brothers, Archbishop Neville, his freedom.
    Richard had taken the good news to the Archbishop at Guisnes. He was shocked at his condition. More gaunt and frail than ever before, his tall frame bent by illness, George Neville was a broken man.
    “I would invite you to sit,” said Anne’s uncle, attempting a smile and indicating the torn, lumpy mound of straw on the floor that could scarcely be called a mattress, “but the pallet has lice.”
    A vision of a rosy-cheeked George Neville jauntily striding along the halls of Middleham Castle at Warwick’s banquet flashed into Richard’s mind. That was before Edward’s detested Queen had come between them. He, Richard, had been ten years old then, and the King and Kingmaker had been friends and allies.
    “I deplore the conditions under which you have been imprisoned, my good cousin. I tried to ameliorate them, but to no avail. The Woodville Queen…” Richard broke off. Such talk was dangerous and normally he didn’t make mistakes. The terrible shock of seeing John’s brother this way had made him forget his usual prudence.
    “My Lord, I know I have you to thank for my freedom now. I am grateful not to die here…” A dry, hoarse cough racked his thin body and sent him gasping for breath.
    When the fit finally subsided, Richard said, “The York climate may prove too harsh for your health. I shall request you be returned to your duties at Westminster, my gracious cousin, if that is agreeable to you.” He turned his reluctant gaze on the bony face. George Neville fell to his knees and pressed Richard’s hand to his lips. “May you be rewarded for your Christian charity, my Lord Richard!” he sobbed. Gently, Richard had raised the feeble old man to his feet.
     
    As he approached the walls of York, Richard forced the memories away and concentrated on his surroundings. Crimson and gold adorned the trees this fine September morning, and the sunlight was so bright it made his eyes ache. Children came running to view the procession, laughing, their hounds at their heels. Men left their ploughs to wave and cheer. Maidens appeared, curtseying, smiling, flinging flowers from aprons full of wildflowers.
    Soon he would be home in Middleham with Anne and Ned. Home… Far from France, and far from court.
    ~*^*~

Chapter 5
    “Fair and dear cousin, you that had most cause
    To fear me, fear no longer. I am changed.”
     
     
    At Middleham Anne stood at the foot of the grand staircase of the Keep, awaiting Richard’s arrival as a duchess should, quiet and dignified. But at the first blow of Gloucester Herald’s horn, she was unable to restrain herself. She grabbed Ned from Nurse Idley, ran through the arched stone gateway, over the drawbridge, and down the hilly path, hair flying, the babe in her arms. Richard flung himself from his saddle and, amidst the smiles of his retinue, swept them to him.
    Later, Anne listened as Richard vented his anger at King Louis, at the treaty, and at Edward’s councillors, nodding her head in agreement; but in her heart she was glad there had been no war. For the first time in her life, a softness crept into her thoughts of Edward. Honour was all very well, but as Edward himself had pointed out, he’d returned men to their families alive, with limbs intact. Was that not enough?
     
    The following month of October passed happily. They celebrated Richard’s twenty-third birthday and watched eighteen-month-old Ned take his first sure steps. All Hallow’s Eve was a special treat. Ned was now old enough to delight in the bonfires and revelry, and his pleasure only heightened theirs, but on All Saint’s Day they had to kiss him goodbye. Much as Richard and Anne hated the court that swarmed with intrigue and Woodvilles, they were leaving for Westminster. Her mother by marriage, Marguerite d’Anjou, the once-fearsome French Queen of Henry VI, had been ransomed by