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

Lancastrian fiends killed them.”
    “Are they fiends?” Katherine asked, going closer. “My mother says they’re all as bad as each other.”
    “They’re fiends all right. Savages.” His voice was shaky, rough. “We’re not allowed to see his body because it was so badly chopped up. The Lancastrians went on killing even when the battle was over. They killed prisoners, people who’d surrendered. They’d kill you if you stood in their way! That’s what they’re like.”
    Katherine stepped back from his vehement words, shocked. She wanted to put her arms around him but dared not; he was too prickly with grief. She looked up at the courtyard wall and realised that, above it, she could just see the top of Micklegate Bar. Behind its stark grey fortifications, the sky was cold pink, streaked with clouds like sword blades. The heads were tiny. Puppet heads. Crows and petitmorts were already squabbling for their flesh, squawking black darts.
    Winter wind bit through her. In her mind the scene was changing…
    “There will be different heads there soon,” she said.
    “Lancastrian heads? I hope so. Are you a seer?”
    She didn’t answer. There were no words to explain about the paths and webs that people made. “I’m Katherine Lytton. What’s your name?”
    “Raphael Hart,” he said. He bowed and kissed her hand, and she curtseyed, as if they were grown-ups. This made them both giggle. His eyes were very green, like jade.
    “Now your father is dead, where will you live?” she asked. “With your mother?”
    He shook his head. “I’ll be sent as a ward with my brother Simon. He’s two years older than me. We’ll learn Greek and Latin, and train to be knights.”
    Katherine imagined draughty castle corridors, sour-faced tutors droning on and on. “That sounds boring. Why don’t you come and live with us?”
    He laughed. “You are strange, Lady Katherine.”
    “Why? I would like a brother. I’d be a very good sister.”
    “I think you would.” His agreement warmed her. She grinned, but he wore a remote look again. “I’d like that, but I can’t. I must learn to bear arms, to avenge my father.”
    Abruptly his face lengthened, and he bowed. A long shadow fell. Katherine’s mother was standing over them.
    “And that’s why this will never end,” Eleanor said, tight and angry. “I am so sorry about your father, Raphael. But remember this, which I tell my daughter; neither side is more virtuous than the other. Either may bear a gift in one hand and a dagger in the other. Whichever side you support, you might as well throw dice for your survival!”
    Eleanor’s face transformed, as luminous as Queen Marguerite’s. Raphael looked startled. His mother Edith was behind her, crimson-faced from cold and grief.
    “I believe in loyalty, my lady,” he said, his young voice dignified. “I’m loyal to my father, who was ever loyal to the York. Have you no loyalty, madam?”
    Eleanor glared. Then her face softened. She said over her shoulder, “Your son is very pert, Edith.”
    “He speaks out of grief,” Lady Hart said quietly. “Raphael, show respect to my dear friend, Lady Eleanor.”
    Raphael dropped his gaze, but his eyes glittered. Eleanor said, “Loyalty and bravery, sir, have left an endless line of weeping widows and orphans. They have destroyed your father and my husband. I know you’ll forget my words, and act as you must, and I don’t blame you; but one day, the son of some Lancastrian knight you slew will come to avenge himself upon you. And on it goes. Is this the only path we can make for ourselves?”
    “Eleanor,” said Anne Beauchamp, touching her elbow. “We’ve chosen a difficult path. We each have to be two separate people. Look at these women; some are Yorkists, some Lancastrians. Within our Motherlodge, there are no divisions between us, and our only loyalty is to the Serpent Mother Auset. But we can’t separate ourselves from the outer world. Don’t ask this boy to end a