The Betrayal

Suffolk

September 1421

The sun is shining but I can see the heavy, black clouds gathering in the horizon and soon the rain will be on our doorstep. From my chair in the shade I have the view of our garden, which is still in full bloom, and the fields that stretch out as far as the eye can see. I put down my copy of my latest book on astronomy, a subject that now fascinated me and take a deep breath.

"Time to go inside Richard."

The boy's black hair is nearly invisible as he's standing on his knees in the tall grass, playing his own version of hide and seek with the dog. He is tall for his age and still growing both taller and bigger each day. Just in the last few months I have noticed a change in him in the way he acts and speak to me. I can tell in his eyes that he's hiding things from me, even if

they are only minor details which did in fact not matter. He do no longer need me the way he'd used to and start to become his own person. I can already detect a strength in him which makes me hopeful.

"Please mama a little longer", he yells as he runs in a circle with the mutt at his tail.

I do not have the heart to tell him no, not as long as the sun is beaming. My husband's footsteps are approaching and after squeezing my shoulder, he runs as fast as his ageing legs will allow him. As he starts to run after Richard and the boy screams with excitement, I close my eyes and think that at least for a while longer Richard is still a boy.

I stretch out my legs and feel how truly tiring the heat is. Even though the summer is at an end, the breeze is warm on my cheeks and I can wear my summer gowns without getting a

chill. I have nearly drifted off into sleep when Richard's scream makes me jump out of my chair.

"Papa, papa!" he yells over and over and I realise I can only see him.

My husband is laying on the ground with his hand on his chest, his face twisted in pain, when I reach him.

"Help me somebody!" I scream as I get down on my knees.

I try to get my husband on his feet but he cannot help and his weight is too much for me to carry. Richard's sobbing loudly and the dog's barking whilst running around in a circle.

Someone comes rushing out from the house and when they come closer I see that it's our cook Thomas and his wife Margaret. With his help we quickly get my husband on his feet and with my heart pounding in my ears we finally put him down on our bed.

"Take Richard to his chambers and send someone for the physician and be quick about it", I command Margaret in a brutal voice.

When the room is empty all I can hear is the sound of my own heavy breathing and the sounds of my husband's muffled cries of pain. I go to his side and take his hand in mine.

"What can I do husband?" I ask desperately. "Please tell me what to do."

After a while he's finally able to whisper:

"Water", under his breath.

When I'm back with the cup it already looks like he's in less pain and the sick feeling in my stomach starts to settle down. As he finishes the water I pour down his throat, he watches me closely and when he swallow the last mouthful he is the one who takes my hand.

"Stay", he says, his voice a little bit stronger.

I smile and sit down on the side of the bed. I look at my husband and grasp how little colour he has left in his face.

"Forgive me Emily."

"What for husband?"

"Everything. I know I was hard on you."

The months before Richard is born are extremely lonely. I'm not allowed any visitors and I cannot write any letters which did not go through my husband who didn't speak to me except through the servants. I would probably have gone mad if I did not put all my focus on the child growing bigger in my belly and prayer. At least my husband was never able to take God's comfort away from me.

Finally on a cold, rainy night in December, my baby boy is born after fourteen hours of agony. My body recovers rather quickly, my baby is healthy and I feel happy even though I so wish that Edmund can see our boy. When Richard's a week old my husband suddenly leave the solitude of his study and barge into the nursery.

"Where's the boy?" he yells out in a harsh drunken voice which wakes the child from its afternoon slumber.

Instead of crying, the baby merely looks up at him with big curious eyes. I take the small child in my protective arms.

"Husband this is Richard."

Once more he looks at my boy and this time I can tell that something has changed.

"Do you wish to hold him?" I ask hesitant and to my surprise he reaches out his arms.

In the beginning I think I see pure fear in his eyes but as soon as Richard streches out his small hand which my husband takes in his that distress is gone. He leaves the nursery rather

hastily but after that first encounter everything about the Duke begins to change. It starts with smaller things. He begins only having two cups of ale for supper and visits Richard each

afternoon, if only for a short while. Me and the Duke begin speaking for the first time since we got married and as Richard grow older, we slowly grow into a family.

"Please forgive me", my husband pleads once more. "I know I was terrible..."

"You have loved Richard as only a father could. You do not need my forgiveness for anything."

His eyes begin to grow vacant and I have to fight the burning sensation behind my eyelids.

"The physician will be here soon, everything shall be fine husband."

"Tell our son that he is Duke now and he has to care for you. Tell.."

With one last gasp of air, all that remains of my husband is an empty shell. His hollow eyes are staring right at me and his hand is still warm. Before Richard was born I surely

would have rejoiced at this very moment but what I feel now is something rather different. The man who's raised my son is gone and Richard have become Duke of Suffolk many years before he's ready to comprehend what that title means. I give my husband a last kiss on his

forehead and carefully close his eyelids. Now it simply looks like he's resting after a day's work.

When I open the door I see that Richard is waiting and when he sees the opportunity he runs past my skirt.

"Papa, papa wake up!" he yells as he takes a hold of my late husband's arm and shakes it brutally.

When nothing happens he looks at the man he calls father, waiting for him to suddenly rise up, yell 'buh' and laugh at him for buying into the joke.

"What is wrong with papa?"

I swallow and wish that I can lie to my boy, simply do anything to spare him from this pain.

"Papa is in heaven now with grandmother and your uncle Edward."

His eyes widen and without a word he runs to his chambers. My first thought is to go after and comfort him but reluctantly I realise that he needs to take his own time to grief.

Richard's still in his chambers the next day as I sit down to write to Edmund. I have thought about this moment often, especially when I was carrying Richard, but during that time I had always imagined myself happy. Now the moment tasted bittersweet with the burden of knowing Richard's grieving and even I'm taken aback by my husband's sudden departure.

Richard have sent back his supper untouched and I struggle to come up with a way to ease his pain.