Page 69 of The Forgotten Boy

Juliet yelped and darted across to her bedroom door. Her hand lifted the medieval latch, and through the noise she thought, I’m sure I left this door open.

She shoved the door open wider, hoping the corridor noise wouldn’t follow, hoping for a space in which to pull herself together and figure out what the hell was going on—

“Hello, Juliet. I’ve missed you.”

Duncan smiled at Juliet from her bed, the predatory smile she’d long had cause to distrust. As she backed away, he slowly stood up, never taking his eyes off her.

“We’re going to talk,” he said. “And then you’re coming home with me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ISMAY

MARCH 1471

And then did the Earl of Warwick remove himself from the side of King Edward. First Warwick counseled and enticed George, Duke of Clarence, to wed his eldest daughter without the advice or knowledge of King Edward. Wherefore the king took great displeasure with his brother and Warwick both.

Then did John Neville, brother of the Earl of Warwick, enter into a conspiracy, the object of which was to seize King Edward. As soon as this reached the king’s ears by spy, he found himself compelled to consult his own safety and take flight to the port of Bishop’s Lynn, in Norfolk. Here, finding some ships, he caused himself and his followers, nearly two thousand in number, to be conveyed across the sea to the Duke of Burgundy. These events took place about the festival of Michaelmas, in the Year of Our Lord 1470, it being the ninth year of the reign of the said king Edward.

In this manner did the Earl of Warwick gloriously triumph over the said king Edward.

* * *

From the moment that rumors of Warwick’s doubtful loyalty to King Edward began to filter up to Havencross, Ismay carried a hard stone of dread in her chest. She dealt with her fear in much the same way she’d learned from Duchess Cecily—to prepare as thoroughly as possible for the worst scenario. Long ago Ismay had laid plans for her son’s safety, beyond that offered by Edward. Now her wisdom was repaid.

She would never let anyone in England lay hands on her son for political purposes.

Perhaps it had been foolish to name the child after his father, but the moment their son was laid in her arms Ismay had felt Edmund with her. She gave the child her surname, branding him a bastard, but that needn’t destroy his future so long as she taught him to keep his expectations in hand.

Which, she admitted, was not much of a problem for a nine-year-old whose greatest excitement was riding his little mare and whose greatest hope was to someday see the great city of York. He had the fair hair and blue eyes of his father and the king, but in features and curiosity he reminded Ismay of the youngest York child, Richard. She liked to think she’d given him his love for Havencross.

When Edward was betrayed by John Neville, forcing the king and eighteen-year-old Richard, his last loyal brother, to flee to Burgundy, Ismay could only give thanks that she hadn’t been forced into her first proposed marriage. She wasn’t terribly surprised by Johnny’s switch in loyalties—and not in the slightest by Warwick’s. He had always struck her as too clever, too ambitious, and too proud to stay in a king’s shadow forever.

Just so long as the kingmaker kept his ambitions firmly in the south.

It was mid-March when the warning system Ismay had put into place throughout Northumberland and York sounded the first alarms. The warning was simple: the Earl of Warwick was coming to Middleham. Not unexpected—the northern castle had long been his home. But at only seventy miles from Havencross, it was enough to raise her fears.

It was unlikely Warwick would come to Havencross, she told herself. It had been more than eleven years since the earl had laid eyes on Ismay—odds were he had long ago forgotten her. Even if rumors of her bearing a bastard child had filtered through to him, what would he care? Bastards didn’t matter.

Still, Ismay followed her plan. The first point of which entailed upsetting Edmund. “No leaving the immediate grounds for now,” she instructed her son.

“For how long?” he asked.

“Until I say otherwise.”

He thought for minute—like his father, Edmund took time to think before he spoke.

“Do you hear me?” she asked, when he made no reply.

“Yes, Mother.”

Unfortunately, Edmund also had his royal uncle’s trick of appearing to agree and then doing whatever he wanted.

The second time his tutor had to drag him back from the direction of the old icehouse, Ismay knew she’d have to tell her son something more.

She sat him down in the solar, his mouth and chin stubbornly set and blue eyes refusing to meet hers.

“Edmund, do you remember what I told you about your father’s death?”

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