The Red Queen by Philippa Gregory

Author:Philippa Gregory
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781416563723
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2010-08-03T07:00:00+00:00

I look at him uncomprehendingly, and then I brush past him, open the door to my husband's bedroom, and stride inside. "Henry?"

His face is ashen on the pillow, gray against the white. His lips are dark. I see how thin and gaunt he has become in the few weeks that I have been absent.

"Margaret," he says, and he tries to smile. "I am so glad you are come home at last."

"Henry ..."

"Is your boy safely away?"

"Yes," I say.

"That's good, that's good," he says. "You will be glad to know that he is safe. And you can apply for his return later, you know. They will not be ungenerous to you, when they know about me ..."

I pause. It is suddenly clear to me that he means I will be a widow, applying for favor to the king whose service has cost the life of my husband.

"You have been a good wife," he says kindly. "I would not have you grieve for me."

I press my lips together. I have not been a good wife, and we both know it.

"And you should marry again," he says, his breath coming short. "But this time, choose a husband who will serve you in the wider world. You need greatness, Margaret. You should marry a man high in the favor of the king, this king, the York king--not a man who loves his hearth and his fields."

"Don't speak of it," I whisper.

"I know I have disappointed you," he continues in his rasping voice. "And I am sorry for it. I was not suited to these times." He smiles his crooked, sad smile. "You are. You should have been a great commander; you should have been a Joan of Arc."

"Rest," I say weakly. "Perhaps you will get better."

"No, I think I am done for. But I bless you, Margaret, and your boy, and I think you will bring him home safely again. Surely, if anyone can do it, then you will. Make peace with the Yorks, Margaret, and you will be able to bring your boy home. That's my last word of advice for you. Forget your dreams of kingship for him; that's all over, you know. Settle to seeing him safe home, that's the best thing for him, and for England. Don't bring him home for another battle. Bring him home for peace."

"I will pray for you," I say quietly.

"Thank you," he says. "I think I will sleep now."

I leave him to sleep, and I go out quietly, closing the door behind me. I tell them to call me if he gets any worse, or if he asks for me, and I go to the chapel and get to my knees on the hard stone floor before the altar. I don't even use a kneeler, and I pray to God to forgive me for my sins to my husband, and to receive him into His holy kingdom where there is no war and no rival kings. It is only when I hear the bell start

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