The Sunne In Splendour: A Novel of Richard III by Sharon Kay Penman

Author:Sharon Kay Penman [Penman, Sharon Kay]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin
Published: 2008-01-21T23:00:00+00:00

Three days later, however, Véronique found herself on Thames Street, staring up at the greying stone walls of Baynard’s Castle. She was shivering, as much from apprehension as from the cold, and to her uneasy eye, every man that passed seemed suspect, seemed sure to be a spy for the Duke of Clarence. She shouldn’t have come; Anne had been right. But Anne was ill, drifting in and out of a fevered sleep, drenched with sweat and suffering from coughing spasms so severe she’d begun to bring up phlegm flecked with blood.

After two days and nights at Anne’s bedside, Véronique, too, was far from well, was numb with fatigue and fear. It was the fear that proved strongest, that sent her out into city streets slick with rain, that brought her now to Baynard’s Castle. Once there, however, her courage failed her. It was so imposing a structure, a veritable stone fortress rather than a manor house like the Herber. She hadn’t the faintest idea what to do next, loitered for some moments, hoping fervently that Richard might magically appear. He didn’t. Instead, she attracted the attention of several men clad in the blue and murrey of York; taking her for a harlot in search of customers, they began to yell offers down from the outer bailey walls. Thoroughly flustered, she retreated in haste, moved back up Addle Street to regain her composure and to nerve herself to approach again the gatehouse guards.

Directly in front of the castle, several drovers were swearing and struggling to free a cart mired down in the muddy swamp the streets had become after three days of heavy rains. They’d attracted a small crowd of spectators, one of whom now detached himself from the other onlookers, began to follow Véronique up Addle Street.

Her suspicions at once flared up into active alarm. She quickened her pace, and glancing back over her shoulder, was panicked to see that so had he. She never for a moment considered that he might have made the same mistake the guards had, might have taken her for a woman of the streets. To Véronique, this man stalking her up Addle Street could only be one of Clarence’s hirelings, and she began to tremble with fright.

She had to lose him, could not lead him back to the inn, to Anne. By now she’d reached Carter Lane; he was still behind her, had narrowed the gap somewhat. A large crowd was thronging the churchyard of St Paul’s, gathered for the St Edward’s Day High Mass, and she plunged into their midst. Ignoring the curses and punishing elbows of people she was dispossessing, she forced her way into the churchyard.

Not daring to look back, she shoved and pushed until a path opened for her, darted through the side door leading into the nave of the cathedral. She stumbled at once into disaster, tripping over one of the tables set up in the west end of the nave, where scribes wrote letters and legal documents for any willing to engage their services.

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