“Fiddle-faddle, Richard!” Kate retorted. “I cannot speak for God, but I hear what people say in villages and towns, where you cannot go. They praise you for your concern of us, the common people. They will not want the unknown Tudor who has not set foot in England for nigh on fifteen years. Your throne is safe, I am certain of it, and you are loved.”

Richard smiled at her naïveté, but he did not contradict her. Instead, he gave her back the ring and asked: “Enough of my woes. So why are you here, Kate?”

She took a deep breath, replaced the ring on her finger, and started slowly. “The reason is important, or I would not have come. There are rumors…I have heard…it is said…” she struggled for the words and finally settled for, “…it is said you have in mind to wed your niece, Elizabeth.”

Richard let out a harsh laugh. “Aye, so I have been told. And the rumors are false.” He was curt now. “But why should this concern you?” He cursed himself for his cruel tongue, but he was tired of the subject. “They are just rumors. Ignore them, as I am trying to do.”

Kate leaned forward, her expression earnest. “But you should not ignore them, Richard. That is why I am here. You should listen to your good friends like Jack, Francis, Rob Percy and the rest of your trusted advisors. You need to deny the rumors not dismiss them.”

“Why should I deny them?” he shot back, and sprang from his chair. “Why not Bess? She was the one who wrote the letter; she was the one who started this,” he railed at her. “How dare they ask me to make a public denial. I have done nothing wrong. Nothing!” and he pummeled the paneled wall in frustration. Kate was distraught by his uncharacteristic anger. This was a Richard she had never seen before.

A door flew open beside the fireplace, startling Kate into knocking over her stool. Will Catesby entered, dagger drawn, only to be told: “Get out! Out I say!” by his king. The man hurriedly bowed and retreated.

“God’s nails, can a king not have any privacy?” Richard complained, glowering at the door.

“Calm yourself, Richard, I beg of you,” Kate implored him, trying to understand the complexity of this man she had loved for so long. He must truly be mad with grief, she reasoned.

“Calm myself, you say. As if it were that easy. I shall never be calm again,” he said, his voice rising. “I am doomed, ’tis certain.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “God in heaven, I never asked for this. I sought only to serve my country, and I have tried to expiate my sins. Why do You hate me so?” he cried, sinking back into his chair.