The Rose of York by Sandra Worth

Author:Sandra Worth [Worth, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), General Fiction
ISBN: 9780975126400
Amazon: 0975126407
Publisher: End Table Books
Published: 2003-11-14T22:00:00+00:00

~*~

Despite the queen’s vengeful urgings, Edward made an accommodation with George and Warwick for the peace of the realm. On Christmas Day, as a soft snow fell, they attended a feast of forgiveness at Westminster and agreed to forget their past differences. Edward ushered in the new year of 1470 with a general pardon for all those guilty of taking arms against him.

Though God had finally sent Richard the reconciliation for which he’d prayed, nothing changed. He had been unable to see either Anne or John. The usual border troubles kept John busy in the North, and Warwick kept Anne in Middleham, far from court, and far from him. Even her letters had stopped. Richard had written her almost daily for weeks, and she hadn’t answered. Either her father intercepted their mail or he’d commanded her to stop writing, and she had complied, as she must. Richard knew Warwick was punishing him. You’re either for me or against me, he had said. Richard feared he’d never be forgiven for choosing Edward, yet whenever he thought back to their confrontation, he remembered that Warwick’s sharp, accusing eyes had softened at the end, and that he had called him “son.” Hope would sweep his breast. Then, as crocuses broke through the March snows, everything changed.

In Wales, Richard read a letter from Edward. “Sweet Christ!” he exclaimed. Percival bolted upright and Rob Percy nearly dropped the hand of cards he was dealing to his friends, Tom Parr, Tom Harrington, and Richard’s squire, John Milewater. Richard waved the letter. “Warwick’s mounted another rebellion!”

The shock brought Rob and the others to their feet.

“There’s more… As Constable of England, Tiptoft has the power to try cases without a jury.” He hesitated, forced himself to go on. “Tiptoft once spoke of a custom he had observed in Rhodes where Turkish prisoners were impaled alive— He caught twenty-three of Warwick’s men in a sea battle and drove stakes through their buttocks and out their mouths. They’re calling him the Butcher of England.”

The two Toms blanched; Milewater’s mouth dropped open. Rob moved to the table, splashed himself a drink, and downed it with a trembling hand.

“What of George and Warwick?” Rob asked, his goblet shaking visibly.

“They fled to Calais. Edward has proclaimed them traitors.”

Richard took a moment to compose himself. “Edward is marching north in pursuit of Redesdale. We are to join him.”

A tense silence enveloped the room. Six months had passed since Warwick’s rebellion and much had been accomplished to settle the land—now this! Richard hurled his goblet against the wall, startling Rob and the servants. Percival leapt to his feet with a low growl. Richard turned his back, clutched the cold stone mantle of the empty fireplace, and dropped his head.

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