The Court of the Midnight King: A Dream of Richard III Read Online Free

Lancastrians attacked during a truce, while the duke was still at Sandal Castle, celebrating Christmas. He stood no chance. Edmund fled, but Queen Marguerite’s men chased him and slaughtered him even while he was pleading for mercy. Massacre!”
    He went on, grumbling about the atrocities perpetrated on the battlefield by the House of Lancaster. Slaughter, mutilation, vengeful cruelty beyond belief. Kate’s rich imagination conjured its own images and wove them into a crimson nightmare.
    “Is this the end, then?” asked Eleanor. “Gentle Harry has destroyed his enemies. We might see peace at last.”
    “Not a chance,” Thomas Copper replied. “York still has three sons living. Edward, George and Richard.”
    “Yes. Naturally it will never end.”
    “Why?” asked Kate.
    Her mother didn’t answer for a time. Katherine looked closely at her strong, gentle, troubled face, her kind hazel eyes, her hair showing coppery beneath a covering of umber velvet. Her appearance of demure grace was deceptive, Kate knew. As her other-self, her hidden self, Eleanor was unrecognisable.
    Around them, the crowd murmured with outrage and wonder. Eventually she said under her breath, “White rose and red rose, Kate; different shoots of the same thorn bush. They’re cousins who have become the deadliest rivals.”
    Kate had a clear view through the open gates of Micklegate Bar to the road beyond. She saw a cloud of ice crystals, whirling and billowing along the road towards them. In an ecstasy of terror, she clutched her mother.
    “Are they coming to kill us?”
    “Of course not. Why, Kate?”
    “Because Father loved the Duke of York.”
    Eleanor bit her lip. There was a hard shine in her eyes. “They won’t kill us for that. One king is much the same as another. Whoever wins, we’ll swear loyalty to the crown and keep our heads down, as we’ve always done. There’s nothing to fear, love.”
    Closer came the glittering cloud, like a swirl of wintry spirits. Through the cloud appeared the grey silhouettes of six priests, scattering holy water and flaunting huge crosses with dagger-pointed ends. They were trying to drive the elementals away. They looked like wizards, ridiculously fighting an invisible enemy.
    Kate’s mother gave a small, tight gasp. Exorcism. Such rituals always made her hiss in contempt. The holy men kept chanting and the elementals went on playing. Suddenly – of its own mischievous will, not the priests’ – the diamond cloud twisted, veered into the air and vanished in a shower of snow-mist. The exorcists were slow to cease their ritual; looking around bewildered, as if unsure of their success.
    Kate realised she could see more clearly than them.
    She saw the road beyond with a hard white landscape around it. A long column of mounted knights was approaching, thunderous and magnificent. Kate’s heart thumped. The priests, running to avoid being ridden down, formed two hasty lines to flank the column. Their cloaks flapped in the chill air. They’d been frantic to drive the mischievous snow spirits out of the way, as if the elementals had been trying to obstruct their passage into the city. Perhaps, thought Kate, Mama and her friends had summoned them.
    The riders reached the gate and came rumbling through. The ground shook. The crowd peeled back to watch the great procession. Huge horses breathed steam like dragons. Men in armour, their surcoats torn and bloodied, advanced amid a forest of banners stiff with ice. There were ten couple of graylix on chains: great charcoal creatures with almost-human faces, snarling and snapping at the onlookers, straining to escape the pages who fought to hold them. A sigh of fear went through the onlookers. On every surcoat the red rose glistened like a burst heart.
    Eleanor and Katherine were jostled as the people around them pushed backwards and forwards. Kate was afloat on a sea of florid, staring faces.
    In centre of the army rode a woman. A slender, blade-straight