14 - The Burgundian's Tale Read Online Free Page B

responsible for that death, the Queen’s family, the Woodvilles.
    Then, as he came towards me, he smiled again, and this time his whole face lit up. I realized with gratitude that the man I had known and to whom I had sworn lifelong devotion was still there, inside that shell of suspicion and disillusionment that had hardened around him for his own protection.
    ‘Roger!’ The Duke held out a heavily beringed hand, which I knelt and kissed. He raised me, adding, ‘It’s good to see you once more. Thank you for coming. I know you’re married and a father. And also, rumour has it, a householder. You must tell me how that happened, for you’d never accept any help from me. But first, here’s someone who wants to meet you.’ He turned and beckoned.
    A boy, who had been sitting in one of the armchairs, came forward; a tall, smiling, shining – for I can think of no better way to describe him – child of some eleven or twelve years of age.
    ‘My son, John,’ the Duke said proudly. ‘John, this is Roger Chapman of whom you’ve heard me speak.’
    I bowed. ‘My Lord.’
    This, I knew, was Duke Richard’s bastard son, born before the Duke’s marriage to his beloved cousin, Anne Neville. There was also a bastard daughter, Katherine, as much the apple of her father’s eye as this bright and lively young man. (I wondered fleetingly about Prince Edward, the Duke’s legitimate heir, who, if everything said of him were true, had inherited his mother’s fragile constitution.)
    The boy grinned broadly. ‘My Lord father has been singing your praises, chapman. My cousin, John of Lincoln, insisted on haring off to Bristol just to steal a march and get a glimpse of you before I did. I wanted to go, too, but it wasn’t allowed.’
    I addressed the Duke. ‘Your Grace, I suspect all this underserved praise is a ploy, first to get me to London, secondly to ensure I do your bidding now I’m here.’
    Duke Richard smiled. ‘You always did have a suspicious mind, my friend. But if you can solve the riddle of a death that will greatly distress my sister, the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, when she hears of it, I don’t mind what you think of me.’ He gave his son a little push. ‘Off you go, my lad, and make yourself useful to your grandmother if she needs you.’ He ruffled the dark hair so like his own and watched with pride and affection as the Lord John made his courtesy to both of us in turn before quitting the room. ‘One of the lights of my life,’ he said simply as the door closed. ‘Now, come and sit down and tell me all that’s happened to you in these past two years.’
    Half an hour later, he knew as much of my life as I had chosen to reveal; and, being an astute, shrewd man, probably much else that I had hoped to conceal.
    ‘The
bond
of marriage can sometimes be just that,’ he said enigmatically when I had finished. ‘All the same, I’m delighted you’ve found a good woman to comfort your bed and bear your children. I’m pleased, too, for your good fortune, and that the money I sent after you last time proved of use in furnishing the house. You obviously rendered this Mistress Ford a great service to be the recipient of such gratitude.’ He must have seen me colour up because he chuckled. ‘No, no, Roger! I didn’t mean that! I give you credit for being a faithful and loyal husband. Now, I’m afraid I must leave you. I’m wanted at Westminster. But I’ll send Timothy to you. He’ll arrange for someone to show you where the murder was committed and Mistress St Clair’s house in the Strand. How you then go about solving our mystery is up to you. But I’m sure we shall see one another again in the days to come.’ He pressed my shoulder – the same one – and I valiantly refrained from letting out a yelp of pain. ‘I shall, of course, expect to be kept informed of your progress, but otherwise, you won’t be bothered. I know you like to work alone.’
    I again kissed his hand. When he had gone, I