“How old is your daughter, madame?” the king asked.
“Just two, Sire.”
“Would a Percy suit you, madame? A minor one, of course,” the king said, gently acknowledging her unimportance. “Sir Henry has a young bastard of whom he is quite fond. The lad is six now and being raised in the Percy nursery. His mother, the daughter of one of Percy’s captains, died in childbed with him. The Percys are a difficult family at best. Giving them a small heiress for this child might help to bind them to me.”
“The Percys know Greyfaire,” Arabella said thoughtfully, “but if you are not quite certain of their loyalty, leave the keep in my hands until after the marriage between my daughter and the Percy bastard is consummated. I would even prefer that there be no marriage ceremony until Margaret is at least fifteen.”
“There must be a formal betrothal, however, if the Percys agree,” the king replied. “I cannot promise them an heiress whose dowry is to remain in her mother’s hands until a consummation without offering some sign of good faith.”
“And another thing,” Arabella said boldly. “Instead of my daughter going to the Percys, have them send the boy to me when he is ten.”
“What, madame?” The king looked astounded.
“Sire,” Arabella said in a reasonable tone, “you do not really trust the Percys, you say, but to put them in your debt you would match their favored bastard with my heiress daughter. If the Percys are indeed tempted to disloyalty against your majesty, would it not be better that the boy come to me that I may teach him to be your majesty’s faithful servant, rather than that the Percys possibly teach my Scots-born daughter to be treasonous and turn her keep against you?”
“By the Rood, madame,” the king said admiringly, “you are a clever woman! Aye! The Percy lad will come to you. We will say it is so you may teach him of Greyfaire firsthand. ‘Tis most plausible.”
They had walked to the far end of the queen’s garden that the others might not hear them and gossip about their conversation.
“Then you will reconfirm my right to Greyfaire, my lord, and that of my daughter?” Arabella said hopefully.
“It would seem a prudent course, madame, particularly if what you have told me about Sir Jasper Keane is indeed true,” the king answered slowly, “but it is my habit to always sleep upon such a decision. Then, too, I must sound out Sir Henry as to whether such a match between his cub and your child is acceptable to the Percys. You do not lodge at court, do you?”
“Nay, my lord, I have not the means. My child, my servants, and I have been staying at St. Mary’s-in-the-Fields, close by Sheen.”
“Your daughter is with you?” The king seemed surprised.
“Aye, Sire, she is. Margaret is far too young to be separated from her mama, and I could not bear to be far from her,” Arabella admitted.
“But the rigors of travel,” the king protested.
“Margaret is a strong and healthy lass, praise God, and she seems to thrive on travel,” Arabella told him.
“Would that my son Arthur be the same,” the king said softly.
“May the queen bear your majesty a fine, strong son before year’s end,” Arabella said graciously.
“I will send to St. Mary’s when I wish to see you again, Lady Grey,” the king told her in dismissal.
Arabella curtsied low and kissed the king’s outstretched hand, but as she arose, her lovely face plainly bespoke her concern.
“I will not keep you waiting more than a day or two, madame,” Henry Tudor reassured her. “I am certain, given the importance of your visit to court, that you can manage until then.”
“Of course, my lord,” Arabella said, her face now composed, even as her mind recalled the number of coins left in her purse. Traveling was more expensive than she had anticipated. With another curtsy to her sovereign, Lady Grey hurried back up the garden to bid the queen farewell and to thank her for her kindness. “God bless your grace,” she said. “I will beseech our Lord for your safe delivery and a healthy son come autumn.”
Elizabeth of York smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Lady Grey. I pray that your audience with my husband, the king, has been a successful one, and that I have truly been of aid to you.”
“I have hope, your grace,” Arabella said quietly, not wishing to appear smug, although her heart was racing with excitement.
She was almost certain that Henry Tudor would return Greyfaire to her!
“Then I have done my duty toward you as your queen,” came her gracious reply. “If I do not see you again, Lady Grey, I bid you Godspeed.”
Arabella curtsied a final time, kissing the queen’s beringed hand gratefully, and backed slowly from her presence accompanied by Father Paul.
“The king has granted your request, madame?” the priest asked.
“Not yet, Father, but he has promised to render his decision to me within two days’ time,” Arabella told him.
