The White Rose

The Princess of Wales

Philip Bryan had galloped out of the city to the Red House. Upon being recognized as a retainer of the King's Household, he was permitted entry. And from there, he requested permission to enter the personal quarters of the Princess of Wales. He was told, rather curtly, to wait in the ante-room. Time lagged. Philip wondered if she was detained by visitors or simply took pleasure in making him wait. She'd always been somewhat teasing with him. It had been at least two years, probably closer to three, since their liaison began. The early passion had been tempered somewhat when she'd given birth to Prince Edward's child.

It was at least an hour before the Princess's chamber doors opened. Philip Bryan stood up from the marble bench and walked into the room. To his shock, Margaret Howard was not alone-- one of her ladies in waiting was helping to fit her corset.

"Madam?" he asked "The Duchess of York bids me to give you a gift."

"Oh, leave it on the table. Anything else, squire?"

At a loss for words, Philip replied after a few moments.

"Shall I send take a message to the Duchess?"

"Tell her..." Her voice trailed off. "Never mind, I shall send her a letter myself."

She then beckoned the lady in waiting to leave. After the door closed, Margaret sighed in relief.

"Why haven't I seen you?" Philip hissed.

"I don't think that's your business." The Princess of Wales mouthed in reply. "Ah! What a beautiful girdle! Anne has such fine tastes. Just the thing to go with my new purse!"

"Something from a new lover," Philip growled quietly. "Lord Lovell?"

"No."

"I will find out. Even if I have to name everyone in the English Court."

"You might start naming people at the Imperial or French courts"

It was at that moment that the doors to her chambers burst open, revealing yet another lady in waiting, visibly worried.

"What is it?" Margaret , concerned by the panicked look on the lady's face. "Say it."

"Is His Grace, is the Prince of Wales here?" asked the woman.

"He is not usually here at this hour, no. Why?"

"His Highness King Edward has called an emergency meeting of the council, he wants his sons to attend. The Carthusians have retracted their confessions and there are riots near Saint Paul's Cathedral."

"I'll let him know he's needed" Margaret responded readily.

The lady immediately left the doorway.

"Perhaps we'll have a happy night after all..." Philip commented before walking out the chambers. He entered the anteroom and was about to exit that place when a 6' tall man, clad in madder red with a Russian fur coat, nearly ran into him. It was Robert Stafford. Philip bowed.

"My lord." he said as a courtesy. "Why have you come?"

"I've been told by His Highness to find the Prince of Wales. Are you on the same assignment?"

"Yes." Philip said. "I've asked Her Grace the Princess, but she has not seen him."

"Ah." The giant of a noble walked off.

Idiot, Philip thought to himself. Why did I say that? It's too easy to find to be false.

But the damage had been done. The Scarlet Baron of Stafford had a lead.

'Can it be he?' Robert Stafford suddenly thought as he crossed the anteroom towards the opposite stairs.. An hour earlier he had seen Philip in the Mercers' Hall of the Palace with Anne and Catherine. And now he had met him again at Margaret door. 'Is that young man their messenger, or is he the lover of one of them? If he is, I shall very soon know it.'

For he had lost no time since his return from the Empire to smoke out his foe. Since entering Margaret Howard's service, Madame de Comminges sent him a report every day. He had a man of his own watching the surroundings of the Red House at night. The net was spread. Bad luck to that gaily feathered bird should he be caught in it!

He chuckled.