Richard tried to concentrate on billeting and the mustering of troops that continued to arrive, but thoughts of Katherine clouded his mind. By the time he had laid his head uneasily on his pillow at the Blue Boar Inn, he could not remember any of the orders he had given nor what his scouts had told him. (It did not help that he had consumed an entire gallon of claret, hoping the ruby elixir would work as a sleeping draught.) Was Henry two days or one away from the royal army? How many did they say the earl had brought with him? Where was Stanley? And had Northumberland come? Instead of conjuring those crucial answers given him by manly voices, he heard Katherine’s sunny laughter and oft-repeated, “Don’t you know, ’tis you I love best, Father?” When he closed his eyes, he saw so vividly her jaunty smile and toss of the head that the image made him open them quickly to confirm she was not real. Soon Katherine’s face dissolved into Kate’s youthful one, and his mind returned to a day by a stream where, naked, he and Kate had frolicked in the icy water and conceived John. He banished the vision, immediately remorseful for the unkind way he had dismissed his erstwhile mistress that day.

Before the wine did its soporific work, he put out his hand to feel Anne next to him and touching nothing but a cold sheet, he turned in that direction, willing her come to him. “I think it will not be long before I shall join you and Ned, dear Anne,” he murmured. “I pray that through your goodness you have interceded for me with God Almighty, and He will welcome me to Heaven.”

A sudden shocking thought occurred to him and he abruptly sat up. “King Henry!” he moaned into the darkness. Christ’s pity, Anne, he thought, you must now know my fearful secret, and I beg of you to understand that I performed the execution myself out of respect for the harmless, saintly man. Edward commanded it, and therefore it would have been done—one way or another. Better I than some paid, sadistic henchman.

Tucking his body around the pillow, he held it as if Anne were giving him comfort. Finally he slept.

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

August 21–25, 1485