B008257PJY EBOK by Sandra Worth Read Free Book Online

she fell asleep.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Richard did find a way to thank the city. Not only would he reduce their taxes, but here, in their beloved York, surrounded by those who knew them and shared their happiness, Ned would be invested as Prince of Wales in a ceremony so splendid it might well be reported as a second coronation.
    The September morning was overcast, but at least there was no rain. Amid the blaze of a thousand pennons, golden banners, satins, and cloth of gold, Ned was invested as Prince of Wales by the Archbishop of York in the cool and solemn dimness of York Minster. With minstrels playing, he walked from the Minster between his parents, his golden rod in his hand, his golden wreath on his brow. The people cheered lustily and sang in the streets to behold their King and Queen in their glittering crowns and ermine-trimmed velvet robes of state, trailed by a train of nobles, knights, and clerics such as York had never seen in living memory. But Ned was unaccustomed to spectacle and noise, and though there was much to marvel at, including the fountain by the Archbishop’s palace that splashed sparkling white wine for him to drink, he was frightened by the fuss being made of him and the roar of the crowds. He tightened his hold on his mother’s hand.
    “I wish Tristan could have come, Mama,” he whispered.
    “I miss him.”
    Anne laughed at the thought of a hound walking in a royal procession. “I know you do, my sweet. But it won’t be much longer, I promise. If you are good, maybe Papa will knight him when we get home.”
    Ned turned his head to his father so quickly that his wreath almost fell off his silky locks. “Oh, Papa! Could you? Would you? Oh, Papa, I believe Tristan would be proud!”
    “What are fathers for?” Richard replied with a twinkle in his eyes, meeting Anne’s gaze over his head.
    Anne gave a laugh.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Richard and Anne spent a contented two weeks with their family at their castle of Sherriff Hutton, near York, where they had spent many happy days as children themselves. The castle was crowded with chatter and music but Richard still struggled with the burden of guilt that had descended on him with young Edward’s disappearance, and more bad news arrived to dim the glow of Ned’s investiture. The council had written that all was not well. The rumblings of unrest were growing too loud to ignore, and measures had to be taken. In mid-September Richard dispatched writs to London with orders to appoint commissioners to hear cases of treason. He put Buckingham at the head of this commission.
    Richard had long since forgiven Buckingham for suggesting, at Gloucester, that he do away with his two nephews for the security of his throne. He had received the suggestion in horror, seen it as an attack on his honour, and in his fury had practically thrown his cousin out with his own bare hands. But time had spent his anger. However misguided Buckingham had shown himself to be, he was kin and they shared the same blood. There was no doubt that his cousin had made the suggestion in Richard’s best interest. It was one of those terrible ironies of life that young Edward had disappeared at the same time, as if plans to abduct him had been implemented by the plotters even as he and Buckingham stood arguing about the boy’s fate.
    Picnicking with his children by the edge of a pond on the castle grounds, Richard heaved an inward sigh. Buckingham had written him in the meanwhile, expressing horror at the boys’ disappearance. The letter had been cleverly done, couched in language oblique enough to disguise its meaning from a casual reader, yet clear to him.
    Richard leaned back on his elbows, felt the grass tickle his palms. He turned his head skyward to watch the quiet flight of ducks descending on the water. How pleasant it was here! He was determined to enjoy this brief interlude, the first opportunity he’d had to spend time with George’s two children. Strange how different they were,