Free By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III by Elizabeth Ashworth Page A

against their inquisitive eyes.
    At last they turned into the courtyard of a building with a picture of a sunrise painted on a board above its door. Trampled straw covered the ground and there were horses and dogs and people all around. Sir William Stanley got down from his horse and after handing the reins to his servant raised his arms to clasp her by the waist.
    “Lady Anne. May I assist you?”
    She stared around in bewilderment. Surely this wasn’t where she was to be held? She thought that she would have preferred the dungeon in the castle to this. A man, obviously drunk, staggered by and her horse flinched from his loud and tuneless singing, forcing her to cling to Sir William as he lifted her from the saddle. For a moment the male scent of him and his warm hands on her body reminded her of Richard and she had to push the thought forcefully from her mind. She recoiled from his touch and struggled for a moment to steady herself, having become accustomed to the swaying of the horse. She felt his large hand grasp her elbow.
    “Careful, my lady!”
    Beyond an open door she could see an ill-lit and crowded room filled with men sitting on benches around wooden tables drinking ale, talking and laughing loudly. Some of the women were dressed in gowns that showed the rise of their breasts as they leaned over to pour ale from large flagons and at least one of them had her hair uncovered and snaking over her shoulder for everyone to see.
    “Where is my sister?” asked Anne, speaking for the first time since they had left Hornby. She felt sickened that Izzie might have been left alone in such a place as this.
    “She is inside, in a private upper chamber, waiting for you.” Anne glanced up at the shuttered windows of the wooden building and shuddered. “It is quite respectable,” said Sir William in an amused tone.
    Anne’s legs were stiff and she stumbled as she tried to walk, but Sir William supported her and steered her towards a steep flight of wooden steps. At the top a man dressed in the blood red of William Stanley’s livery with its hart’s head emblem was lounging against the wall by a stout door. He jerked upright when he saw his lord approaching.
    “Open the door,” Sir William instructed him and the man bent to turn the large iron key that protruded from the lock. It squeaked as it opened and Sir William reached past her to give a perfunctory knock before twisting the handle and pushing the door. As it swung back Anne saw her sister sitting on a small stool in front of a blazing fire.
    “Nan!” Izzie ran into her arms and Anne clung to her fiercely and kissed her wet cheeks.
    “Are you well?” asked Anne, after a moment, taking her sister’s face between her palms and studying her closely for any bruises or other signs of mistreatment.
    “Nan, I’m sorry,” she wept. “I am so sorry.”
    “I will have some supper sent up,” said Sir William from the doorway and Anne heard the door being locked.
    “Have you been treated well? Has he hurt you?” she asked, turning her attention back to her sister.
    “I... I’m all right,” she said. “I was just so scared. I didn’t know what would happen to me. I’m so glad you’re here. It’s all my fault,” she added before beginning to sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nan. I know I shouldn’t have gone to the village.”
    “Hush, hush,” Anne comforted her, taking Izzie in her arms again, stroking her hair and murmuring empty reassurances.
    All through the long and tiring ride from Hornby to Lancaster her anger had increased with every mile as she had thought about the recriminations she would shout at her sister when she found her. But now she realised that no words would make any difference. Izzie was well aware that her disobedience had caused their greatest fear to come to pass. Little had she thought when she had watched Richard and her uncles ride away that by nightfall she would be held captive in an inn at Lancaster.
    After a while she