“That is charming. That is delightful. I like to see people around me happy. Now, my lord Duke, you have deserted her too long. Let me see you lead her into the dance.”
When he and Marion were alone that night in the royal bedchamber James was overcome by mirth.
“This is a fine state of affairs,” he said. “This is going to set the Tudor ranting . . . if he ever rants. I doubt he does. He is a very self-contained man who never shows his anger. But just think what he will say when he hears that Perkin Warbeck is marrying Lady Katharine Gordon . . . my cousin . . . I can tell you this is going to madden him.”
“It pleases you,” said Marion.
“My dear, have you only just learned that what infuriates Henry Tudor is most certain to give me the utmost pleasure?”
“I hope it works out well . . . for the Lady Katharine,” said Marion.
So they were married and because of the rank of the bride and the expectations of Perkin they were given a royal wedding. James took a gleeful delight in behaving as though Katharine Gordon was marrying into the royal family. She was royal herself. “A fitting bride,” said James, “for the future King of England.” He was maliciously wondering what was happening below the Border.
The bride and the groom gave little thought to anything but each other, and as the weeks sped by their happiness grew for they were more in love every day. Katharine was all that he had believed her to be—gentle yet strong; modest yet proud of her family and of him; pliant and yet firm; fun loving and yet she could be serious. These were the happiest days of Perkin’s life and he wanted them to go on for ever. The thought of leaving Katharine to go and fight for his throne horrified him. In his heart he did not really want the throne. He wanted to live in peace with Katharine for the rest of his life.
She admitted that she wanted the same. It was amazing how they thought as one person.
He realized during those weeks of marriage that he had never really wanted a throne. It was people around him who had selected him because of his appearance and his natural grace to fill a role for which they sought a character to fit.
He began to see that he had been used.
But he dismissed that flash of understanding. He could not bear to examine it. He had become adept at pushing aside the truth and supplanting it by a picture of his making—or perhaps that of those around him.
All he knew now was that he wanted to go on like this. He wanted to make his home here in Scotland, to go on living under the protection of the King and the powerful family into which he had married, but into the halcyon contentment of those days there crept the fear that they must be transient. At any time the call would come. They would raise an army for him and send him to gain that to which they said he had a right.
“I don’t want the crown,” he said to Katharine. “I just want to stay here with you.”
She held him tightly against her. “If only it could be,” she said.
“Do you want to be Queen of England?”
She shook her head. “Not if it means your going away, risking your life. No . . . Let us hope we can stay here. Why should we not?”
He shook his head. “They will never allow it. Oh, I wish . . .”
What did he wish? That he had never left the home of John Warbeck? But if he had not he would never have met Katharine. Anything was worth that.
But it brought him back to where he had started. Here he was . . . blissfully happy, except when he remembered, then living each day in terror that suddenly the call would come.
Katharine added to his bliss when she told him that there would be a child. He wanted to weep with happiness . . . but it was a happiness quickly tinged with fear.
When the call came, there would be even more to leave . . . and perhaps lose.
Tyburn and Tower Hill
hen Henry heard that James of Scotland had allowed the Lady Katharine Gordon to marry Perkin Warbeck he was deeply disturbed.
“This means that James really accepts the impostor!” he cried to Dudley and Empson whom he had summoned because he knew that he would have to consult them as to how to raise money for war.
That seemed inevitable now. James would never have allowed such a marriage if he had not made up his mind to help Perkin Warbeck fight for the crown of England.
“He must be mad!” said Empson. “Does he want war then?”
“He is bent on making trouble. It’s a Scottish custom,” said Henry bitterly. “It will mean raising money for an army, which is the last thing I wanted to do. It is infuriating to see money wasted in this way.”
“It will be necessary to tax the whole country,” murmured Dudley.
“We must be in readiness for war,” agreed the King.
“The Spanish emissaries have arrived in England, Sire,” Empson said. “They will have heard of this marriage. It will not please them.”
“The French will be delighted. Do you think they intend to give him their support?”
“Who can say with the French! They are involved in their affairs.”
