Free The Jewels of Warwick by Diana Rubino Page B

you may talk like this with me, for I am your own sister,
    and I shall never let your words go any further than the two of us.
    But if anyone ever hears you speaking of the King like this, well,
    'tis treason."
     
     
"'Tis no secret, Amethyst. God's truth, the man is not the Almighty.
    He's a man, a mere mortal. And mortals make mistakes. He'll make
    many more, no doubt, before he departs this earth." She called
    Edward over. "Tell Auntie Amethyst all about the King."
     
     
Edward scampered over to them, his tiny fist full of daisies. He
    thrust them out at Amethyst, who accepted graciously.
     
     
"The King is not really married to the Queen," Edward recited in his
    high-pitched, yet carefully articulated voice.
     
     
"And what is the Princess Mary?" Topaz goaded.
     
     
"The Princess Mary is a bastard," Edward nearly sang.
     
     
"Who else is a bastard?" she coached, to her sister's growing
    horror. "Who else?"
     
     
"His son, Henry Fitzroy, the Duke of Richmond. The King longs for an
    heir but is cursed with two bastards." The boy giggled, squirmed,
    then, his eye catching another butterfly, sprinted off in the other
    direction, a powder-blue bundle of energy.
     
     
Amethyst shook her head in dismay. That wasn't her nephew talking.
    That was Topaz, talking through him, feeding his mind with all this
    scandal about the King. She feared for his life as she thought of
    their innocent father locked in the Tower for life, nary a harsh
    word about any king ever passing his lips!
     
     
"Topaz, how could you! How could you teach that boy all those
    dreadful things!"
     
     
"He knows of what he speaks, Amethyst." Topaz plucked a red rose
    from the vine and ran it down her neck, crushing it between her
    breasts. She inhaled deeply of its soft fragrance. "He knows who he
    is. I will never forget who I am, and never forget all Henry and the
    Tudors have taken from us."
     
     
"But Henry is not his father. He gave us Warwick–"
     
     
"A bauble compared to all I should have as queen."
     
     
"No queen has ever ruled in England–"
     
     
"Not so. There was Matilda."
     
     
"Who was reviled and hated for the civil war she brought about.
    Think, sister, that is the path you will be set on if you persist in
    this folly. And if you insist on making your son parrot the poison
    you spew, none of us will ever be safe."
     
     
"Nay, not 'til I am on the throne. 'Tis true. I am so glad you
    understand my position at last. And now I must go find my husband.
    One healthy child is a good start but it is high time I was breeding
    again. After all, it is even better to have an heir and a spare."
     
     
With that she strode away, leaving Amethyst gaping after her in
    stunned dismay.
     
     
     
Topaz gave birth to another boy, Richard George, in November of
    1518. Once again, Amethyst and Sabine were both present at the
    birth, at Topaz's insistence. Yet this birth was much easier, as if
    Topaz knew what to expect.
     
     
She'd mastered the breathing techniques, the rhythmic pushing and
    bearing down, and brought forth a beautiful boy weighing just over
    eight pounds. Just like his brother, he was crowned with a shock of
    copper hair, and emitted a squall that could have been heard in the
    far reaches of Scotland.
     
     
"Richard George Plantagenet Gilford, Duke of Lancaster!" she recited
    in a resonant voice, so unlike her weak yet determined proclamation
    of Edward's name upon his delivery.
     
     
"Aye, Topaz, a lovely name," Amethyst soothed, smoothing Topaz's
    hair off her forehead. She turned to watch her new nephew taking his
    first breaths of life. "Richard after our mother's father, George
    after our father's father!"
     
     
Edward, of course, had been named for their father. He bore no
    middle name. He was simply Edward. What Matthew his father thought
    of that was anyone's guess.
     
     
     
As soon as Topaz was able, she fetched the leather-bound journal
    from her writing desk, a pen and some ink. The pen