~The Devil's Brood~

Catherine awoke the next morning as the sun streaming through the windows struck the soft skin of her face. Margery had already arisen and was padding about the bedchamber in her soft silk slippers, laying out a gown of sage green brocade with a golden girdle to match.

She smiled when she saw her young Mistress was awake, curtsying before she gave her a small cup of wine to sate her parched throat. Catherine blinked, adjusting her mind to the day as she took in the eerie silence around her.

"Strange" She murmured, sipping slowly on her drink. "I could've sworn I heard crying last night"
"Crying?" Margery repeated, smoothing out the skirt of her gown before helping her lady from the bed, pulling her nightgown over her head to replace it with a fresh shift "Nay, my friend, it must have been the wind!"

One look at the outside told Catherine it was not so. The previous day had been calm, the night too and now the morning was as calm as a sleeping babe. It could not be the wind. So what had it been?

Stretching out her arms, she let her green gown be guided over her head, tightly laced and her hair gathered in a caul adorned with rubies. Margery placed the girdle around her waist, fastening it before she slid Catherine's stockings onto her slim legs, tying the silk garters with nimble fingers.

The Duchess kept a small frown on her face. The quiet that surrounded her chamber was unusual for a morning, for any morning, not just one of travel. Walking to the window, she could see her horse was prepared, the guards standing to attention to await her arrival. But there was one thing awry, one soul missing.

"Where is my husband?"

Margery shuffled behind her, her breath catching in her throat at the question.
"He rode on" She murmured quietly "Alone, before dawn"

"Rode on?" Catherine echoed, striding away from the window in confusion "Rode on?" She repeated, more to herself than to Margery who simply watched her pace up and down the bedchamber. Richard could not have left! He would not abandon her, not when they were so close to Middleham, the place they had agreed to go for their benefit.

Why would he have gone? Surely he would've come to say goodbye, told her why he had to leave! To leave without explanation would only cause her to worry, he knew that! He had always known that "Did he say why?" She demanded, reaching for the thin summer cloak draped over the end of her bed.

Margery shook her head, helping to fasten the golden clasp before her lady walked from the chamber, striding down the inn stairs. She almost jumped down the last few, ignoring the bows and curtsies, the incessant stares that stalked her through the dining chamber. Her friend followed quickly behind, trying to keep up as they walked into the light of the courtyard.

It was strange, Catherine thought, to not have Richard to greet her, to kiss her hand and ride beside her through a day filled with idle chatter. This day would be one of silence, of hard riding across the land to reach Middleham so she could demand why her husband had left her alone.

"We ride" She ordered firmly once she was seated comfortably in her saddle and the men obeyed; banners of murrey and blue flying behind them as they bounded across the countryside.

꧁꧂

That evening, Middleham Castle....

Catherine's tired body sagged against the wall as the flames from the torches flickered across her features. The cool stone seeped through the silk of her gown, pressing against her skin like ice, but she did not shy away from it.

Her return to Middleham had been merry enough, with warm embraces from Francis and Rob, a supper with them and the other squires. She had barely been able to eat for laughter, each mouthful of food following a quip or two that would set the castle roaring with mirth. Without their guardian to oversee their behaviour, the squires of Middleham were all but left to their own devices!

The castle became their playground, one where they ran wild day and night, feasting and fighting to their hearts content. They still kept some decorum about them, after all, noble blood ran in their veins but they were boys and they sought fun. After dinner, they had pushed aside the trestle tables to put on a wrestling match, cheering and yelling while the eldest of them sought to prove their worth.

Catherine had shrunk back at such unbridled behaviour, almost afraid of the drunken youths around her. It would be best if she returned to her chambers, to Margery, where she could keep her image of a great lady.

Rob had not allowed that for one second!

Grabbing her hand, he had pulled her from her chair and into the ring of boys surrounding the fighters. Between he and Francis, Catherine had not long been able to deny herself the excitement that surrounded her. She was pleased to see the younger boy had been accepted now and was cheering and yelling with the others, something she was coaxed to do. Something she had never once done in her life.

The wine flowed like a river from the kitchens to the great hall, the scent of Burgundian red assailing the noses of any who entered the mighty northern fortress.
"Is it always like this?" She'd yelled over the roar and Rob had turned to her with eager eyes, nodding enthusiastically.

"We train during the day and during the night we play, dear cousin!" He replied, spilling his wine as two of the squires knocked into his side, causing the ruby liquid to splash onto Catherine's dress "Careful you fucking clodhopper!" He yelled, shoving the two boys back "That's the Duchess of Gloucester! Dickon's wife!"

"And very beautiful she is too!" One slurred, toasting the little Duchess while she giggled, her senses heightened by the alcohol she had drunk. The second boy chuckled, hitting his companion over the head while he swayed from side to side.
"Don't let Dickon here you say that! He'll have your head!"

"He will!" Rob said sharply, shoving them both away while Catherine continued to smile "If I don't have a mind to tell him myself!"
"Oh don't, Robert!" She scolded, grinning at Francis who was jumping up and down beside her "We are having too much fun to anger my Lord husband!"
"That we are!" Francis called "That we are"

A lazy smile crossed Catherine's young face at the memory of mere hours ago, letting the gentle breeze floating through the open window beside her blow her locks of loose hair from side to side.

The taste of the fine wine she had drunk was still on her tongue, staining her mouth a crimson red; the roars of the squires still in her ears. She ran a hand absentmindedly through the hip length curls crowning her head lashes fanning her cheeks while she waited, weary and ready for sleep but more eager than to see her husband.

He had not been at dinner; had in fact only been glimpsed once by Francis who had seen him ride out onto the hills that afternoon.

"He did not even stop to say hello to us, his brothers" He'd said a little sadly before wandering to bed and Catherine wondered if he would say hello to her. She would tempt him to speak when they retired that night, she was sure of it.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs alerted her weary mind and her eyes opened to see the figure of her young husband standing before her. He looked tired as she was, his hair windswept and his skin pale, almost like stone; akin to his expression.

Catherine smiled, pushing herself from the wall and towards him.
"You have come back" She said merrily, reaching to take his hand even though he did not return her smile. "Come now, my Lord, we should retire!"

"No" He returned sharply, a little sharper than he intended, making her smile fall as he pulled his hand back, locking both behind his back in an unusually cold stance for him.

He looked upon her as if she were a stranger and Catherine could feel her heart sink within her chest when he opened his mouth to speak again "I will sleep in my chambers, my Lady" He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak, holding up a hand with command. A cold command she had never seen before "It is for the best, I'm sure"

"The best?" She exclaimed in disbelief "Since when has separating us been for the best?" Richard sniffed indifferently, drawing himself to his full height in a way she had seen Edward do when he was about to dish out a scolding. It made her feel like a small child, inferior to him almost, and she did not like that. She did not like it one bit.

"It is for the best" He said again, avoiding her eyes to the best of his ability. Instead he stared over her head, his recent increase in height proving an advantage in that moment. He stared over her head, looking blankly at the arched window behind her. If she had been able to see behind him or had she been closer she would have seen the way his hands fidgeted, the way he fought to keep tears from his eyes.

But she was not close and she did not see, she only felt. Felt an overwhelming coldness flood through her veins, spreading throughout her body like a disease. It hardened her face, straightening her lips into a thin line. There was only so much rejection she could take, her mind could take. If pushed far enough, she shut down into a cold shell of herself and that was what she did then.

Gathering her skirts around her, she sank down into a prim curtsy, tilting up her chin in confident defiance.
"Very well, my Lord" She said coldly, rising up with a stony expression she thought could rival Warwick's "I will leave you to your bed. Goodnight"

Casting her eyes in front, just like he did, she glided past him, walking down the corridor in an unfamiliar silence that did not seem right. None of it seemed right. Dickon was not cold, not heartless and yet he did not even bid her a goodnight as she walked away. He only stood quietly before she was out of sight and went to his own rooms.

꧁꧂

July 1466, Middleham....

He had drawn away from her, like fire from water he had drawn away, slinking into the shadows of life so that his very existence could be denied. She did not know what she'd done, while she lay alone in her cold bed night after night wracking her brains, she did not know what she had done.

But it had been two weeks and he had spoken not two words together to her, not a good morning, not a goodnight. He did not even look at her. Not once. Not when he trained, not at dinner, not when the castle residents went hunting, although he had declined the last two outings. It was if somehow her very presence wounded him beyond measure, like she was a sword driven deep into his flesh; causing unimaginable pain.

But there was no sharpness to her as there was to a blade, at least, not with him. With Richard there was only tenderness and now a slowly breaking heart that cracked each dawn and sunset. What had she done?
She missed the days when he would come to her rooms and hold her close during the night, she missed the times when he would lie beside her and play with her hair or he would read to her from one of his books.

In essence, she missed him. Her serious thing of a husband who could be as quiet as he was caring. Only now he had increased the former and erased the latter! He was like a monk, silent and no longer appearing to care for her.

Oh, how the thought made her weep at night; curl into herself like she did when she was younger! Perhaps she cared for him more than she knew for the notion that he had discarded her brought the greatest pain she knew, even greater than the pain of her childhood memories and she had never felt anything as powerful as they were.

"Please come back" She would beg pitifully in the dark, her luxurious room a cell without the warm presence of Richard beside her. As the days dragged by, she began to stay in her chambers more and more, seeing no reason to bask in the warm light of the sun when her life was naught but darkness.

"I should stop hoping" She told Margery one day, the older girl now her only companion as she no longer visited the tiltyard "He is gone from me and our marriage"

Her friend tried to comfort her, but her efforts proved fruitless and she was often sent away so the young Duchess could stare out of her bedchamber window undisturbed. Strangely, she had found comfort in the landscape she resented, watching the trees sway in the summer breeze; birds tweeting in their branches.

It was a way she could observe her husband too. Richard had taken to riding from the castle alone, saddling a horse and riding out to the trees. Catherine could not see him properly but his lean figure was clear enough to her eyes for her to see him scale the same oak tree each evening and hang from its branches.

His arms held taught above his head, she thought it looked painful, especially when he hung on for so long. But Richard did not seem to care, he simply dangled from the sturdy oak branch until his arms failed him and he fell onto the grass below. Each night she prayed he did not injure himself but with each hour that passed she could feel her faith waning.

Did he know how much he was hurting her? If he did, he did not show it.

He hid any feelings he had beneath a veil of cool indifference, something he'd seemingly learnt from Warwick and that notion began to scare her. What else had he learnt from Warwick? Richard had been under the devil's care for five years, almost six! That was ample time to adopt his ways, to become like he was.

Her body trembled one afternoon as a hard thought suddenly struck her, like a slap to the face or a dagger to the heart. It was one she had sworn she would never think of her husband, her Richard, who cared for her, was kind to her.

'When have I ever lied to you?' He had asked and she had replied 'Never' but what if.....what if he was lying to her now? What if he had lied to her? He held Neville blood in his veins, what if it had now twisted his character to be like Warwick's? It was not as if he didn't trot after the man like a loyal hound, what if he had trapped her here just as his cousin did?

She looked up from her place at the window, gazing around her chamber that was large, yes, but now seemed to trap her like the Far Tower had done. A cold shiver ran down her spine and she began to drum her fingers on the stone windowsill, willing her gaze to the castle activity below. Chicken's clucked and pottered around, flapping wildly when servants bustled past in their usual hurry. The smell of fresh hay and meat pies filled the air, raising up in an enticing aroma that made Catherine think of Haddon.

Hay always reminded her of Haddon, of the stables and Georgie. Perhaps she could go back to him for she was sure he would accept her. She and he could live out their days at Haddon Hall and she would be happy again! She was sure she could never be sad with Georgie. He would never hurt her, not ever.

Hooves on the castle drawbridge alerted her to the world once more and she could tell someone was leaving Middleham. The hooves became quieter and quieter until they were a mere thud upon the earth and a figure, dressed in burgundy began to gallop up the Wensleydale hills. Richard. His hair blew in the wind and he urged his steed on with a ferocity, almost an anger that Catherine had not seen before.

On and on he went, not once looking back to the castle and flying past his oak tree, ridding higher and higher up the steep slope of the valley....

"My lady!" Catherine turned at the sound of Margery's call, her footsteps pounding in the passageway before she burst into the room "My Lady!" She breathed again, all but collapsing into a curtsy. The Duchess skilfully caught her arm, helping her up on her shaking legs and guiding her to the bed, forcing her to sit on the soft covers and breathe.

Margery did so, taking deep gulps of air like one who had been starved of oxygen until she could speak once more.

"His grace" She panted and Catherine frowned, looking to where the young Duke's figure was still retreating up the hills.
"His grace what?" She demanded, a little sharper than intended and Margery looked up at her, an almost apologetic look in her eyes while she took another breath.

"He says he is moving to Sheriff Hutton....alone"

Catherine gawped, her mouth forming into an O of shock and disbelief that only turned to a boiling pot of rage within her as the seconds passed. He had ignored her, all but abandoned her and their marriage without uttering one word of explanation and now he planned to leave Middleham? He had promised her a summer free of cares, a summer for them and their friends and where had that summer gone? It was scattered to the winds like crushed leaves in Autumn!

He probably would not even say goodbye! It was not fair, it simply was not fair.

"This will not do" She hissed and stormed from the chamber before Margery could stop her, running down the winding stairs with her hair flying behind her in a stream of spun gold. She would have answers, she would demand answers and she would have them. She would not allow Richard to deny her any longer, she would force him to speak and then she would be the one to leave. She would go to Georgie and never have to see this York boy again!

As she entered the stables and took a dapple mare from her bed of hay, her heart set a storm within her. One half cried out in anger, in rage, the other in tenderness, a simple longing to know what she had done! Things had been so sweet between them, so tender, so easy and now that was all gone, it was all a memory.

Tears pricked her eyes as a nearby groom saddled her steed and she snatched the reins from him, hoisting herself up easily into the saddle before she nudged the mare's side. The animal took off without a whinny of warning, all but bolting from the castle and over the drawbridge! It's eagerness coincided with Catherine's determination and together, they raced through the meadows scatters with wildflowers, leaping over drystone walls.

She would have answers, Catherine thought again as she and her steed ascended the imposing hill above, urging the animal faster and faster. The tears that stung her eye began to flow free, streaming down her face while she rode across the landscape. Her shoulders heaved with small sobs, her breaths stuttering and stunted when she sniffed, trying with all her might to control herself.

She could not.

Through woodland and fields she rode, not once stopping even though she knew not which rout to take. She simply climbed higher and higher up the Middleham hills in the hood she would find her husband.

And, after a while, she did.

Richard was sitting on a jagged rock at the edge of the great hill, watching the lush green of the valley grass sweep down below. He sat hunched over, his doublet cast to the side and so trapped in his thoughts he did not hear his young wife approach.

Catherine halted her steed mere yards away from her brooding husband, her anger once more inflamed at the sight of him. With a heavy thud she jumped from her horse, tying its reins to a nearby branch before storming forward. Her feet hammered upon the ground, hands clasped in her skirts to prevent them from shaking but she could not deny the tremor that wracked her voice when she spoke.

She could not deny her misery.

"What have I done?" She demanded, not caring that Richard jumped in fright, not caring that his cheeks were streaked with tears as he turned to face her. Let him cry, she thought angrily, for he has made me do just that many times these past nights "What have I done to offend you so you treat me thus?" A small sob wove it's way into her voice and her words trailed away, chased into silence by the tears gliding down her cheeks.

She stepped closer to her husband, the rage she had felt suddenly melting away, leaving nothing but desolation "We were friends" She whispered, watching as he bowed his head "I had begun to believe that we could be more than that but now....now I just want to know what I have done wrong" Taking a breath, she stared at him and he stared at her.

Their eyes met in the first gaze they had shared for over two weeks and for a moment, all was quiet, even the birds seemed to cease their song.

The one thing she did not expect was for Richard to begin crying as he did. Desperate sobs escaped his lips, his face contorted with pain and he drew his knees to his chest, tears dripping onto his shirt. Catherine's breath hitched, her heart suddenly aching with an urge to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and assure him all was well.

She had never seen him cry.

She had seen him after when his eyes were puffy and his cheeks tear-stained but she had never seen such raw emotion as she did now. Richard sobbed pitifully, strangled noises tearing from his throat while heavy tears rolled down his face. He looked so small, so helpless, in need of comfort....in need of her.

Her feet moved automatically, forcing her to her husband where she collapsed to her knees but before she could take him into her arms he moved away. He shook his head, continuing to cry when she reached for him again, grasping his hand in hers and refusing to let him pull away.

"You have done nothing" He wept, his voice weak and trembling "I'm sorry....I'm afraid, Cate.... so afraid" Again, Catherine's heart ached with pity and she squeezed his hand, shuffling onto the rock beside him without trying to draw him into her arms again. No matter how much she wished to. She sat by him while he cried, letting the tears that filled his eyes fall until there were none left to do so.

Eventually, Richard only sniffed, hiccuping once or twice while he tried to regain his breath before he fell into silence. The wind stirred his hair, plastering strands of dark hair to his damp and reddened face. He tried to wipe them away with his sleeve but the linen was also sodden and proved useless in his efforts. Never tearing her eyes from his trembling form, Catherine pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and reached out to dab his face dry.

He made to move away again but she squeezed his hand, gently brushing the cloth against his skin.
"Let me, Dickon" She whispered, allowing herself to shuffle a little closer "Let me"

Sitting still, he allowed her to wipe his face, leaning into her tender touch after a while as if he'd missed it, craved it. Perhaps he did, she wondered. When she finished, they sat in silence for a moment, watching the rolling hills and the castle beneath them, their hands intertwined between them. It was the first touch they had shared for two weeks and, despite her aching heart, Catherine could feel it soothed a little.

"It's my back" Richard suddenly said and she blinked in surprise, tearing her gaze from the landscape to look at him. He kept his eyes firmly on the fields, not daring to look at her.
"What?"

"It's my back" He repeated a little quieter, sounding almost like a frightened child and flushing red at his admittance. A red of shame "It's twisted and my shoulders are uneven" He continued, his voice dropping to a whisper but Catherine did not have to strain her ears to hear the words that were the truth of his pain, of his coldness towards her "I am a monster, Cate"

Without another word, he lifted her hand, trembling as he guided it to his back and ran it along his spine, along the curve that had begun to form in the middle. It was slight but there all the same and Catherine gasped, shame filling her when she saw him flinch at the small sound.

He sniffed again, laying her hand down to the cold stone while he still refused to meet her eyes, seemingly out of fear.

"I thought you would despise me" He murmured miserably, his mysterious weeks of silence and desolate looks becoming clearer by the second. He had tried to hide from her, tried to hide what scared him, what he feared would scare her, but in doing so had pushed her away, almost out of reach "I thought that you would find me repulsive" He admitted "And think I was cursed by the Devil"

Catherine gasped again, but this time not in shock, in pity, a heartfelt pity that made her want to hold him and never let him go. How could he have thought this of her? He had been so scared that his fear had twisted his thoughts beyond reason. He thought she would reject him, would despise him, would hate him for something he could no more control than she could the weather.

Tears pooled in her eyes once more and she found she began to cry, small sobs leaving her lips that made Richard look up for the first time. His face filled with panic and he immediately put his free hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears that fell in an almost desperate manner.

"Sweet Cate" He whispered "Don't cry, please don't cry! I didn't mean to push you away, truly I didn't! Only, I thought that once you knew you would hate me that....." He suddenly stopped, letting their eyes meet again as he realised she had not yet said if she hated him or not. She had not spoken one word after his revelation, she had only cried "D....do you....hate me?"

Catherine's face crumpled and before he could resist, she pulled him into her arms, hugging his body against hers as tightly as she could. She wove one hand into his hair, breathing in the soft scent of lavender that surrounded the dark curls and smiled through her tears. Oh how she had missed this.

"Oh Dickon" She whispered, cradling his head against her neck "You should know by now that I never would, I never could, despise you"
"But I'm a monster!" He cried, verging on tears once more "It's not natural, Cate!"

"I do not care! You are my husband and my friend and" She pulled away, the words on the tip of her tongue ones she could not have conjured mere moments ago for they had not existed and the realisation almost took her breath away "Even if you were a sea monster I would not love you less than I do" Cradling his face in her hands, she watched his eyes widen with a smile, the relief clear upon his face mingling with shock.

"You....love me?"

Catherine nodded, the truth only then sinking into her own heart, a truth long waiting to be told. She loved him, Richard Plantagenet, a York, a Yorkist. Her husband. She loved him.

"I do....I think perhaps I always have, in my own way"

Richard beamed, his eyes glistening with tears but with tears of happiness, of joy as he gazed upon her. His eyes held hers, sure and steady and she knew there was no other place she would rather be than there, upon the Wensleydale hills "I...."

Before she could speak, his lips were suddenly on hers, hot and demanding, almost desperate, making Catherine gasp when he pulled away, his chest now heaving.

"I'm sorry" He stammered once he realised what he'd done, carding a hand sheepishly through his hair "I don't know what...." Now it was his turn to be interrupted as Catherine darted forward and pressed her lips to his in a second kiss that took him as much by surprise as the first had her! She lingered a little longer than he had, not truly knowing what to do.

She had never been kissed before, not like this and was lost in this new world of excitement and adrenaline that pounded through her young veins. Richard's eyes were wide with surprise when she pulled away, but a good surprise, one betraying the happiness bubbling within his chest, so hot he swore his heart was about to burst!

Reaching out, he tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear, smiling softly.

"By God I love you, Cate"