not blame you so much as those who have used you. I shall not harm your wife. I know she is a highly born lady. I shall have her sent to my Queen where she will be accorded the honor due to her rank.”
Perkin put his hands to his face. He was weeping with relief.
“Oh I thank you, my lord, I thank you with all my heart. She has done no harm. She believed . . . with the rest . . .”
Henry smiled. It was going to be very easy to get a confession from this boy. He was glad. He hated the clumsy work of torturers, and the information they got was always suspect.
“So,” he went on gently, “you can rest assured your wife and child will be well treated. Now as for you . . . well, you have offended us greatly. This nonsense about your identity. You know full well who you are and it is not Richard of York. That’s so. Is it not?”
Perkin was silent.
“Oh come. Do not be foolish anymore. I tell you your wife is safe. You must be grateful for that. Are you?”
Perkin nodded dumbly.
“I understand. I have heard of your devotion. You see, I hear a great deal about you, Perkin. There was another like you who set himself up: Lambert Simnel. He has worked well in my kitchens. I have just promoted him to become one of my falconers. He is a good servant . . . very grateful to his King for having spared his life. Poor simple boy. He knows he deserved to lose it . . . as you do, Perkin, as you do. But I do not propose to put you in my kitchens. All I ask you to do is to make a full confession. If you do this, I shall spare your life. I have sent for your wife. You must confess in her presence. And if you do that I shall send you to the Tower of London where you will be my prisoner for a while, but I have no doubt that if you behave with propriety . . . well, I am not a vindictive man and it might well be that in due course . . . you could join your wife . . . if she still wants to be the wife of a Flemish adventurer after she thought she had a royal Duke of York.”
Perkin could not speak. He had not imagined it would be like this at all.
Henry rose. “I will give you a little while to think. And when your wife arrives you shall make your first confession . . . to her.”
Perkin was taken to Exeter where Henry had gone and it wasn’t long before he was summoned to the King’s presence.
As soon as he entered the chamber he saw Katharine.
He gave a cry of joy and would have rushed to her but he was restrained by guards. Eagerly he studied her. She was not harmed in any way. She looked at him in a bewildered fashion as though she was seeing him afresh. He could not bear that.
“Katharine . . .” his lips formed the words and she smiled at him.
“Husband . . .” she whispered, and he knew that she loved him still.
The King said. “Give the Lady Katharine Gordon a chair, and place it here beside me.”
This was done and Katharine sat down.
“Now, my lady,” said Henry, “your husband wants to tell you who in truth he is. He will explain everything. I thought it right that you should know and hear it from his own lips. Proceed, Perkin.”
He tried to speak but he could only look at her. He wanted her to run to him; he wanted to put his arms about her; but she only sat there looking at him with those beautiful appealing eyes begging him to speak.
He had to tell the truth and it all came back so vividly now.
“My father is John Warbeck. We lived in Tournay. He was a controller of customs.”
She stared at him disbelievingly. He should never have lied to her. He should have explained everything before they married. But at that time he had for long periods believed it was true that he was Richard Duke of York. That story of being with his brother in the Tower, of being handed over to the man who could not murder him had seemed far more real than his father’s house in Tournay.
But he must go on. He must preserve his life. He must try to make Katharine understand. He could not bear to see her look at him like that.
He went on: “I was put into several houses. I served there in various capacities . . . in exchange I was given some education. Then the Framptons came to Flanders. They had been supporters of the House of York and they had to leave when King Henry came. They saw my resemblance to the Duke of York and they convinced me that I was one of the Princes who disappeared in the Tower. I passed from one household to another. . . .I went to the French Court and the Court of Bordeaux. . . .I was learning all the time. . . .You know the rest. I passed myself off as Richard Duke of York, second son of Edward the Fourth . . . and therefore since Edward the Fifth was dead, heir to the throne.”
The King was watching Katharine closely during this confession. He said: “You see, my lady, how you have been deceived like so many others.”
Still she was silent, looking at Perkin with disbelief in her eyes.
“My lady, you shall go to the Queen. I have asked her to care for you and treat you as a sister. You will understand I cannot free your husband. I shall not treat him harshly for I see full well that he has been the tool of others. Now he will go to London and you shall go to the Queen. I will leave you for ten minutes to take your farewells of each other and to say what you wish to.”
With those words Henry rose and walked slowly out of the chamber.
Perkin rushed to Katharine. He knelt at her feet and buried his face in her skirts. For a few seconds she did nothing; then he felt her fingers in his hair and he lifted his face to hers.
“Is it true?” she asked. “Is it something they have made you say under threat?”
He shook his head. “It is true . . . alas. Lady Katharine Gordon has married the son of a customs official.”
