~Honour is not in Gold~

October 1475, Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland....

"Have you seen my husband?" Catherine asked Meg as she arranged her hair under a caul. The woman shook her head, selecting a golden pin from the bowl on the dressing table to secure the headdress with.
"Margery saw him this morning heading down to the beach...."

Catherine sighed and glanced out of the nearby window. Of course Richard was on the beach and she knew exactly where: on the dunes. That was where they had buried Roland.

Waving Meg away with a gentle hand, Catherine stood from her dressing table and made her way through the castle, holding on to the iron rail as she glided down the winding steps. The air was cold, even freezing with the added northern sea breeze, but she did not shiver, not once and strode through the gates.

Picking up her skirts with one hand, she used her other to shield her face from the wind; keeping her eyes from watering. The gravel beneath her satin slippers was hard but soon all was smooth and soft as the gravel turned to sand and she stepped onto the beach. Far from the sunny days that were enjoyed in summer, the sky was faded with an overhang of grey clouds that swirled like the mist on Barnet field; threatening rain.

Her gown fluttered around her ankles, swept up from the floor by the breeze that stuck sand to her stockings as she made her way along the beach. Better that Maud had secured her hair in a caul, she thought, for if she didn't the golden curls would be whipping around her head in a tangled birds nest!

Richard didn't have to worry about such things! Well, not much anyway.

Pushing onwards through the dunes, dark waves of water crashing onto the shore nearby, creating a rushing in her ears that matched the pounding in her heart as she searched for her husband. No doubt he would still be mourning his lost companion. She'd thought that in the weeks it took for them to return home after Roland's death, Richard's broken heart would've mended somewhat but it didn't.

He spent his days in a brooding shadow that could be found in one silent room or another. He often stared at the spots near the fireplace, memories of his old friend running through his mind. He'd been the last present from the late Duke, by his side when he married Cate, when he trained at Middleham, through good and bad.

Roland was the last thread of connection he held to his Father and now, it was gone. In a way it was he who he mourned and not his dear dog.

Soon, she came upon him, elbows propped up on his knees and his head bent, dark curls blowing in the wind. A heavy rock lay where Roland was buried, a large R carved into the face that Richard stared at. A chest lay to the side of him, open with gold coins bursting from their confines and flowing onto the golden grains beneath.

Catherine frowned. What on earth was he doing bringing a chest of gold out here? While the people of Bamburgh were hospitable and loved their leaders, there were still some who were desperate in the outlying villages, who'd lost their homes and livelihoods in the wars. Now because of the French campaign they were even worse off and desperation could drive people to desperate actions.

"How could he do this?" Richard murmured, not needing to look up to know it was Catherine that sat by him. He knew her footsteps, the way her breaths carried on the wind. Scoffing, he thrust his hand into the chest and brought out a handful of coins, staring at them in disgust "Now Edward attempts to buy my honour!"

Her frown deepened. Smoothing out her skirts as he flung the coins back into the chest, scattering some over the sand.
"He sent you this, Dickon?"
Richard nodded grimly.

"Louis offered us all payment, tried to buy our honour with gold. I did not accept but now Edward tries to buy me anyway" He grimaced a little; sighed "I thought he knew me"

"He does know you" Catherine told him, placing a tender hand on his arm. She would not let him sink further into the depths of despair because of his brother. That was the last thing he needed "He is simply blinded by George's ambition and his empty promises. He will come back to you, I'm sure"

Richard sighed, letting his head rest on her shoulder.
"And what if he doesn't? Everything I thought I knew had been shaken. Perhaps there is no honour in anyone and each of us....is alone" Catherine frowned as he spoke, the soft words leaving his lips almost scaring her.

No honour in anyone? All he knew had been shaken?Surely not. This was not her Dickon speaking....
Reaching out, she gently tilted up his chin with two fingers.

"Not everything you know has been shaken, my love" She told him, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. He stared up at her like a lost puppy, eyes wide, seeking guidance. He looked almost like their Henry "You know in your heart that I love you, that you love our children and while your brothers may not have honour, you do. I know it and so does each one of your men. That is why they choose to follow you"

Richard looked down again and her fingers slipped from his chin, intertwining with his when he offered his handr.
"I put my faith in you, ma belle"
"As you should!"

A small smile twitched at the corners of his lips.
"A letter came with the gold" He said quietly "Edward says he wish to rebury our Father and brother" A small sniff sounded and Catherine realised he was beginning to cry again "he wants me to lead the procession"

Squeezing his hand, she gently kissed his forehead. While Edward had not judged his brother's character right, he certainly had bestowed an honour on him.
"That is good, is it not?" She asked and Richard gave a small nod, another sniff "Where does he want them to be buried?"

"Fotheringhay" Catherine's eyes widened and her heart leapt in her chest. Home? They would go home?
"Truly?" Truly Dickon? Fotheringhay?" A small smile appeared on his lips again, despite his eyes still glistening with tears and he nodded.

"It was their home as it is ours"
"It is a memory for your Mother and your family" She replied "And that reminds me, my love, we will soon be making a new memory for..." She paused and lead the hand in hers to the front of her gown that would soon be softly rounded "I...I am with child again"

Suddenly Richard had sat up straight, his tears gone and his eyes now wide, not with sadness, but with excitement. He looked down at the hand pressed against her belly, smoothing his thumb over the soft silk. He laughed.

"With child?" He repeated, smiling "You are with child?"

The wind whipped around them but they did not feel the cold, it's stinging slap on their faces or the ice seeping through their clothes. All they knew were each other's smiles and the warmth of their intertwined hands "You are with child!" Richard said again, his voice now the epitome of glee and Catherine giggled when he pulled her into his arms, peppering kisses all over her face.

If there was one thing that could cast a foul mood into the shadows it was the news that Catherine was with child and Richard pulled her onto his lap to hold her close. A year ago, if they'd done this, they would've found a wet nose nuzzling between them but Roland was long gone.

"He knows" Catherine whispered, reading his mind "He can see and he celebrates with us"

꧁꧂

July 1476, Fotheringhay....

The people of Fotheringhay had turned out in full to see the burial of their late Duke and his son, stood in black along the roadside while they passed. Women curtsied, men bowed and swept their caps to their chests.

The King and Queen stood near the gatehouse with the royal court, arm in arm and watching with solemn expressions. For once Elizabeth did not glitter like a goddess and she was almost void of jewels in her back gown and hennin that possessed a black veil flowing down her back. All that adorned her was her wedding ring and the ruby rosary wrapped around her fingers.

Standing by the Queen, was Catherine, also dressed in black, who pushed her veil over her shoulder and cooed at the two month old baby in her arms.

A boy. Edward.
Her little Edward Plantagenet.
Her fourth child and third son.

He'd come easily enough on the first of May, being delivered in under three hours which Catherine thanked the Lord for!

With golden hair and pale skin, plump cheeks and bright blue eyes just like her own, there was no doubt he looked like an angel sent from heaven. In truth he looked almost exactly like the King he was named after (for he and Catherine shared the same colouring) and to say that Edward was pleased when he was presented with his little namesake was an understatement.

He was delighted.
And his tiny nephew was delightful!

All little Edward did was laugh and smile day and night; roll around on his blankets when he found the strength. Whenever someone picked him up, he clung to them (just like his siblings) but would grin and giggle and clap his little hands, sometimes missing so that one went straight past the other!

His siblings adored him from the moment he was born and when their Mother carried him around, they would trail after her, craning their necks to get a look at their baby brother. Henry especially liked to carry him around (now seven and considering himself a man grown) and when he was riding along the beach with their father on his own pony, Joan liked to care for him.

Dickon, still too young to fully comprehend who this little stranger was at only two would often stare at Edward, prodding his blankets or playing peekaboo like Catherine showed him. He often asked why a 'pink worm' was sleeping in the cot that used to be his! That only made his parents laugh.

Now he and his older siblings stood by their Mother, dressed in black with their heads respectfully bowed. Edward, for once was silent, content to be rocked in Catherine's arms while the funeral procession heading towards Fotheringhay slowly moved by. Their Father lead it, garbed in black and grim faced but he was long gone, followed by soldiers in back liveries.

Now two black stallions walked by, pulling the coffins of the Duke of York and his son Edmund. Catherine dipped down into a curtsy, black and silver skirts pooling around her feet as she bowed her head. The memories of the days she'd cared for the second son of York had become a blur to her long ago but now they flashed through her mind.

She remembered when he told her Dickon had mentioned her, when he'd scared the living daylights out of her when he woke! She'd thought he may harm her, after all, he was a York, but he'd been kind and she never forgot that. She remembered when his fever broke and then the next morning she'd found him dead.

"At least he was able to smile one last time" She whispered and Elizabeth looked at her from her own curtsy, her sheer veil covering the golden crown she wore.
"Who did?"

Catherine sighed, straightening her back again once the coffins had passed and the crowd of nobles dressed in black fell in behind them, led by the King the Queen and the Duchess. They were a river of sombre black, eyes lowered as if the day would blind them with one simple glance at light. It was hot but somehow they did not feel the heat, although beads of sweat gathered on their foreheads; were mopped away by embroidered handkerchiefs.

Catherine looked up to the keep of Fotheringhay above, watching the ravens fly around the top, landing on the ramparts. She had never imagined her return to Fotheringhay would be under such sad circumstances. She imagined Roland would be by their side, their children laughing and smiling but they were not. They were as sombre as the adults around them.

Once all had gathered in the courtyard, Richard and Edward led the way into the chapel, their wives behind them. The doors were wide open and the chamber filled with multicoloured light that painted everything in a myriad of heavenly hues. The sigils of the boar and falcon gazed down on the crowd as they processed down the isle. The only sound was their echoing footsteps.

Everything else was silent. Not even the choir boys sung. They only watched as the nobility took their places in the pews and the two coffins were placed on the stone mounts laid out for them.

Amongst the yards of silk and velvet, Catherine took her husband's hand and squeezed, making him look to her. Little Edward stared at him with big blue eyes and he reached out with his free hand, taking his baby boy into his arms. Edward gurgled and Richard gently shushed him; stroked the cowlick of blonde hair sticking up on his head.

"My boy" Catherine heard him whisper as the choir began to sing, sending a sweet melody into the air "My sweet Neddy. I'll never leave you, I promise....I promise"

She was sure the dead Duke had made that same oath.

꧁꧂

Two weeks later....

Walking up the stairs of the keep, Catherine tried to keep the squirming bundle of fluffy warmth as still as she could in the silk blanket she carried it in. Every so often a wet little nose would push into her hand or an excited tail would hit against her wrist followed by a happy yap. The royal court had left a week before, allowing her to enjoy her home once more but Richard seemed to have fallen back into the dark slump he'd been in at Bamburgh.

He spent his days brooding in the chapel next to his family's graves or in his office, surround by piles of work. When he came to bed in an evening, he lay in her arms, winding his hands through her hair and nuzzling into the base of her neck.

He needed cheering, she decided.

So, she'd searched high and low for something that could make him happy and after a wolfhound in the village had had a litter of pups over a month before, she knew she'd found it. That morning she'd collected the little thing, a squirming bundle of happy squeaks and tiny licks that made her laugh.

He bounded (or rather stumbled on his young legs) into her arms and she gathered him up into the blanket she'd brought.

His coat was the same as Roland's, a soft grey that would become a little coarser as he grew. 'Yes' She thought as she carried the puppy up the stairs with her. This would make Dickon happy, and what better time to give his new pup to him when he was drowning in affairs of state? What better way out to provide?

Coming to the top of the stairs, she almost skipped along the bright corridor until she came arrived at her husband's study.

"Hush, little one" She told the puppy, gently covering his head with some silk and tucking the little bundle behind her back "All in good time" Slowly opening the door, she sidled inside to see Richard exactly where she knew he'd be: at his desk, with his head bent, brow furrowed and his quill working furiously across a piece of parchment. 

A small cough from her and his head darted up, widening in welcome surprise at the sight of his wife "Ah!" He exclaimed, laying down his pen "The exact distraction I was looking for. Come" He held out a hand to her "Sit with me, sweetheart"

She made her way forward, matching the smirk on his lips; glad to see he seemed in a better mood that day. Little did he know, she was about to improve it ten fold!

"Maybe I will, sweetheart" She returned, coming to stand at the front of his desk "but first" A little squeak came from behind her back and Richard arched an eyebrow trying to see what it was "I wish to give you something" Laughing at his look of curiosity, she carefully brought the bundle of silk around to her front and let the material fall away, revealing the pup inside.

Richard's eyes went wide as the little wolfhound nosed it's way out of the silk, sniffing at his new surroundings, and Catherine placed him on the table, his short nails tapping on the wood. The puppy stared around at the papers, nose sniffing, paws prodding while Richard stared and tears pricked his eyes.

"For me?" He asked, looking up, and Catherine smiled.

"I know none can ever replace Roland, my love. But that doesn't mean you cannot have a new companion" Sniffing slightly, Richard blinked back his tears and reached for the puppy, bringing him as tenderly into his arms as he would a baby.

The pup stared up at him, wide eyes, tail wagging and he jumped straight for his new Master's face, licking with all his might while he yapped! Richard's lips split into a grin and he held the dog close to his chest, laughing as it continued to lick him.

"Easy, boy!" He said, holding him at arms length for a moment while his legs continued to move, his tail continued to wag. Catherine giggled "Now! What to call you?" Looking the dog up and down, he brought him back and set him on his lap, grinning when he jumped up, trying to lick his face again "I think I shall name you Ralph!"

"Ralph" Catherine mused and Richard got to his feet, a new spring in his step as he walked across the room and placed little Ralph on the floor "A fine name" He took a moment to nose at the surface, sniffing the stone and looking at the amber flames that were strange to him. Richard strode back to his desk, watching over his shoulder as the pup obediently followed a moment later on rather unsteady legs.

"It is, isn't it!" He exclaimed with glee, lifting him up again and petting his small head "Thank you, Cate, I do believe you have given me one of the greatest gifts on earth!"

Two weeks later, the Gloucester household departed for Bamburgh once more and Richard led the lengthy procession. Only, it was not just he who rode on his stallion with him.

Little Ralph stayed tucked snugly in the front of his doublet, either peeking his head out of the top to watch the world or sleeping between the warmth of velvet and his Master. Richard travelled with an ever present grin on his face and at least twice a minute, he could be seen to look down to check on his new companion.

"Father is happy again" Henry remarked, smiling atop the dapple pony Richard had given him just before their departure from Fotheringhay. It was his first time riding alone for a lengthly journey and he finally felt like a man! A knight! Joan had begged to ride with him but was denied and so now stuck her head out of the carriage window where she travelled with their Mother's ladies and little brothers.

"Perhaps you will all have wolfhounds one day?" Catherine replied and her son's young face lit up with wonder "Go, now, Henry, ride with your Father, you shall be a Duke yourself one day and lead your household like this!"

"I am already the Earl of Rutland, Mother!" He said and trotted away to do as he was bade.