The Crown by Nancy Bilyeau Read Free Book Online Page B

pilgrimage.” I remembered this trip, my mother had said the duke beat his wife very badly at their London house, and she had run away to the shrine of Saint Cuthbert, to seek relief and succor from her miseries. “It was such a glorious shrine; you would have been as impressed as I was, Joanna. But even though Elizabeth is one of the highest women in the land, we could not approach the shrine too closely, being female. It troubled my sister. So the next week, the duchess received permission for us to visit a small convent nearby, to meet the prioress. We were with them on Good Friday, Joanna. We crept to the cross with the nuns, on our bare knees, and it was so . . . beautiful. So inspiring. To be among women who were devout and kind to one another. Oh, they had joy on their faces, they looked peaceful fulfilling God’s mission. And Joanna, some sisters are very learned. They love to read as you do—they study Latin and holy manuscripts. To be one of them, to be saved from all temptation—”
    “Temptation?” I asked wonderingly. “What tempts you?”
    She looked at me for a moment. “Do you want to be married, Joanna?”
    “No,” I answered, surprised at my own vehemence. “I have met no man who I would wish to marry. Every man I see is so lacking in quality, so far away from . . . from . . .”
    Smiling, Margaret picked up
Le Morte d’Arthur,
lying on a stool by the fire. “From Sir Galahad and the knights?”
    “Is it wrong to hope for a man who is courageous and virtuous?” I asked.
    My bedchamber door burst open, and Charles Howard leaped in the room. With a wooden sword in his hand—doubtless taken from one of my young cousins—he parlayed as he made his way toward us. “Not at all!”
    I jumped back into the bed and scrambled under a blanket.
    “Listening at the door again, Charles?” Margaret sighed. “Have you nothing more worthwhile to do?”
    “In truth, I don’t. This is a very dull house.” Charles bowed low, and when he came back up,he had a glint in his eyes. “You are in need of my company.”
    I expected him to turn his attention to Margaret. She was so ravishing; men ogled her wherever she went. But instead he veered toward my bed, running his hand up the bedpost.
    “I could help prepare you for the men of the court,” he offered. “You’ll need to learn a few tricks to make the important marriage your mother is counting on.”
    “Leave now!” I shrieked, burying myself deeper under blankets. “Or I will call for my father.”
    Charles laughed, bowed again, and backed away toward the corridor. “You’ve missed your best chance,” he said, with a final flourish. “Good night.”
    After the door closed behind him, I emerged from the blankets. “He is loathsome,” I said.
    “Oh, he is not as bad as that.” Margaret shrugged. “Charles is the youngest son in a very large family. It’s not an easy position.”
    “How can you say that? He is
vile
.”
    Margaret was quiet for a long moment. She nibbled her lower lip—I knew what that meant. She’d devised a plan. And once my cousin had an idea in her head, it was very difficult to dissuade her.
    “Joanna, I want to give you something.” She lifted from her throat a delicate necklace strung to a medal. “You know this?”
    “Of course. Your father gave it to you. It’s from the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket.”
    “Let’s look at it by the fire,” she said.
    Calmer now, I followed her. “I always think of the story of his death,” she said, holding the medal up to the fire so we could see it better. Four men wearing knights’ armor stood under a flowing tree. “Archbishop Becket was hated by King Henry the Second. He cried out, ‘Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?’ These four men answered his call.” I knew the story; every child in England was taught it, but as I listened to Margaret tell it once more, it appeared to have special meaning for her. “The men went to Canterbury and hid their