Anne of Warwick The Last Plantagenet Queen by Paula Simonds Zabka

Author:Paula Simonds Zabka [Zabka, Paula Simonds]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bosworth Publishing Company
Published: 2012-11-12T05:00:00+00:00

II. CHAPTER 20

In Newgate Prison, Malory heard the screams of a whip fight. He dragged himself to the window slit to watch. Breathing was hard. A constant pain burned in his stomach. The December cold stabbed him. Two naked, desperate prisoners fought to kill. He leaned from his cell, the best one on the upper level. The courtyard swarmed with prisoners. Their skins were blackened with dirt and disease, splotched with running sores. Some had been brought up from the lower levels to witness the fight. They blinked in the sun, slapped their bare hides, and stayed close for warmth. Long whips cracked. He was startled by a movement behind him.

“Well, Sir Thomas, I trust you are comfortable?”

Malory swung around. Richard was at his side. “Aye, m’Lord. I eat and sleep better than in many years.” He shaded his eyes. Richard of Gloucester stood out in the dimness of the cell. Everything in Newgate was colorless and dull except Richard, who was wearing brilliant green and gold garments. “And I thank you, Your Grace. I don’t know how I’d fare without you.”

“I’ve asked the King to release you. He says he will in a little while.”

“There’s not a little while for me, my Duke.” Malory thought with indifference of the death signs stalking near. He would go quietly, not by whip or club. He went to his one possession, a thick manuscript. “I give this to your care, Your Grace.”

“The legends of Arthur?” Richard remembered hearing them as a boy at Middleham.

Malory smiled. “At night I dream of those adventures and soon I will enter one of my own, never to return.” He hoped it would be this night. Life was over. He was ready.

“I’ll not forget you saved my lady, Sir Thomas.” Richard picked up the faded and ragged manuscript. “I’ll share this with her and see to your care until you’re free.”

Malory could feel the strong beating of his heart, each thump an effort. “Tell Lady Anne, I am happy to have been able to help her. It gave meaning to....” he sank down on the floor; the racing pain in his chest was too great to bear standing. “Ask Lady Anne....” his voice faltered, “.... pray for me.” He slumped forward.

Richard bent over him. Malory’s pulse beat was suddenly barely detectable. The old man smiled as though in contentment. “Take the manuscript. I want to be remembered for these stories forever in the eyes of man and God.”

Richard crossed himself and held the legends close.

Malory’s voice rattled in his throat. In one suspended moment, he remembered himself as a boy at Warwick Castle. The legends had haunted him since then. His face became peaceful. He looked beyond Richard, beyond Newgate and time itself.

“I go to my own Camelot,” he said haltingly, and closed his eyes as if in a gentle sleep. Richard left the cell with Mallory’s lifeless body cradled in his arms.

Richard brought the collection of manuscripts to Anne, some faded and difficult to read, others done more recently, but all in the same elaborate elegance and style.

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