The Uncrowned Queen: A Novel by Posie Graeme-Evans

Author:Posie Graeme-Evans [Graeme-Evans, Posie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 15th Century, Fiction - Historical, England/Great Britain, Royalty
ISBN: 978-1416534327
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2005-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Margaret, duchess of Burgundy, contemplated the corpse of her least favorite prelate in all the world. Anne and she had propped Bishop Odo’s body upright in the cathedra. It hadn’t been easy; in life he’d been a corpulent man. Butter, cream, eggs, and much good goose fat had created this impressive bulk over many, many years. In death, the many chins, the bald head, gave him the look of a monstrous baby. The two women looked at the cooling corpse with horror. Their situation was desperate. Margaret had earlier sent her trusted maid to lure away the boy who was guarding Anne’s cell, but he might return at any moment. How could they explain what had happened? For Margaret, the clarity of an hour ago, the certainty that only she could save Anne, had evaporated and some of the bishop’s words returned with dreadful force. Obedience. Duty. Sorcery. Could she really look her husband in the eye and lie about the events of tonight?

Anne sensed the duchess’s growing fear. “Margaret, listen to me. We can do this.” With one arm around her friend’s waist, holding her steady, holding her up, Anne forced Margaret to look away from the corpse. “How many people know that Bishop Odo is in the Prinsenhof tonight?”

Shock had filled Margaret’s mind with mist. “Um. Enough. The gate-wards would have let him into the palace. Charles’s servants would know as well, of course—and the bishop’s monks.” The duchess was feeling strange, very strange. She giggled. “But why would they worry? Why should we worry either? Not going anywhere at the moment is he, our dear, dead bishop?”

Anne took her friend’s hands and gripped them tight. “We must make people think that Odo has left the palace. I will stay here. In this room. The guards must know I’m still here. And you have to go before you’re seen.”

But the duchess did not move; the bishop’s body was some dreadful anchor, holding her to the spot. Round and round the words went, round and round. What do we do? Sweet Mary, tell me what to do! He’s dead. God in Heaven, we killed him. What do we do now—

The smart crack as Anne’s palm connected with Margaret’s cheek was very loud. Anne seized the duchess of Burgundy by the shoulders. “I’m sorry, Margaret, I’m sorry. I had to do it. Please, please forgive me.”

Margaret swallowed. After a moment she nodded shakily.

Anne grasped one of Margaret’s hands again and, linking their fingers together in a web, took a deep breath. “We need help. You must go and get it. Whom do you trust?”

Margaret closed her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate. “Aseef. I will get Aseef.”

Anne nodded, her eyes darting around the room. “Yes, of course! But first, Duchess, we must turn this chair.”

Margaret saw what Anne meant and hurried to help her friend push the heavy cathedra with its ghastly contents around until its back was presented to the door. If the guard returned and looked in through

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