“Our uncle loved all children! Bess, how can you believe this of Uncle Dickon? You know he would not hurt any child. He kept my half brothers safe at Middleham. It was only after his death—” Adair cried, stopping at the king’s thunderous look.
“You forget yourself, madam, and you forget towhom you speak,” Henry Tudor said in measured tones.
“You will leave our presence, and never come into it again. You are banished from the court. You will not refer to your connections again on pain of further punishment should we learn of it. You are bastard-born, madam, and this day you have shown your true and traitorous colors despite the many advantages that you were given.” The king nodded to two of his men at arms.
“Escort this woman from the castle. She may take with her what she brought.”
“My liege,” Adair spoke again. “If you take Stanton from me what am I to do? Where am I to go?”
“We do not care where you go, madam. As for what you should do, you can whore for your bread, like your mother before you,” the king told her brutally.
The two liveried men at arms stepped up to stand on either side of Adair. With an elegant curtsy, for she would not allow them to say she had no manners, Adair turned and left the chamber where the king had been receiving petitioners. “My belongings are in the serving women’s dormitory,” Adair told them. “My horse is in the stable.”
They escorted her to the dormitory, waiting outside while Adair changed from her fine gown back into her riding garments. She didn’t care what the king said: She was going home to Stanton. It was all she knew, and while she might no longer be the Countess of Stanton, Stanton was her home. The king would neither know nor care where she had gone. Her lands would be given to someone in Henry Tudor’s favor who would probably never lay eyes on them, but would just enjoy the possession of them. Lifting her two saddlebags up, she exited the chamber to rejoin her guard. But they were gone, and instead she found a serving woman.
“You’re to come with me, lady,” the woman said.
Adair did not argue, but followed the servant through a series of dimly lit corridors until they reached a door that opened into a small room where Lady MargaretBeaufort was waiting. “Mags!” Then Adair curtsied.
“Forgive me, madam. It is just that I am relieved to see you.”
“Come in, Adair,” Lady Margaret said. “I am sorry for your troubles.”
“If you would but intercede for me, my lady. I don’t care about the title, but it is Stanton that means so much to me. You know I am loyal.”
“Sit down,” Lady Margaret replied. She handed Adair a small goblet. “Drink. I think you need to calm your nerves.” She turned to the serving woman. “Wait outside, and when we are done escort Mistress Radcliffe to the stables, where her horse is awaiting her.” When the servant had left the little chamber, the king’s mother turned back to Adair. “Now, my dear, tell me what you meant that the princes were alive at Middleham after Bosworth. How can you possibly know this?”
“Uncle Dickon removed my half brothers from the Tower after he was crowned. He felt the atmosphere there was not healthy for growing boys. They were taken to Middleham to be with their cousin. I saw them there myself, although I never spoke with them. A young servant who slept in their chamber came to me late last autumn. He told me that they were brought word of Uncle Dickon’s death and King Henry’s ascen-sion, and that same night the two men who had come to Middleham crept into the princes’ bedchamber. He was asleep on a pallet in the corner of the room, and they did not know he was there. Some little noise awakened the servant, and he saw the men smother the two boys.
He could not help them, and was in fear of his own life.
After they had left, carrying the coverlet-swaddled bodies of my little half brothers, he fled the castle and came to Stanton, begging me to protect him.”
“Did he see any badges of service on these men when they arrived at Middleham?” Lady Margaret wanted to know.
Adair shook her head. “If he did he did not say, andwould probably not have recognized such badges, madam,” she lied. Better she keep silent for her own safety.
“Unfortunate,” Lady Margaret said slowly, her slender, elegant fingers drumming softly on the arm of her chair. “I never thought that Richard had killed the boys, or even ordered it done. But now we shall never know who did.” She arose. “You must be going now, I know.
Thank you for speaking with me.”
Adair had risen too. “Can you not intercede for me with the king?” she asked softly. “Let me keep Stanton.
It can be of no use to the king, and who among his court would want property in the northwest corner of Northumbria, my lady?”
“My son is angry right now,” Lady Margaret responded, “and he feels the need to solidify his position by making public examples. Why did you speak to him as you did? I know you know better, for you were among my best pupils. But Henry is not cruel or unreasonable. Go home, Adair, and I will see if eventually he can be reasoned with, but in the meantime I will make certain that Stanton is given to no one else. Your title, however, I cannot regain for you. I am sorry.”
“The title means little to me, my lady. I will relinquish it gladly if I can retain Stanton. Will I be given an escort home? I am a woman, and cannot travel alone.”
“It is barbaric, I will admit, but I dare not order such an escort in defiance of my son’s rule. You must make your way on your own, I fear. God go with you, child.”
Adair curtsied. “Thank you, Lady Margaret,” she said. “You will tell my sister, Elizabeth, that I will pray she delivers a son. She is with child, I am told.”
“She is,” was the reply. “And I will pass along to her your good wishes. Do not think harshly of Bess, Adair.
She was raised to do her duty. She will always be loyal to my son first. I even believe they are growing truly fond of each other. You are unlikely to hear from her ever again.”
Adair nodded. “Tell her I understand,” she said. And then with another curtsy she left the little chamber to find the serving woman awaiting her.
