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double back, make a large circle, and emerge from the trees to take a different path to Hunsdon.
    Feeling the pulsating rhythm of the horse’s flanks beneath the high leather of his boots, he at last reached the foliage. Reining in his mount he hid behind a tall, stout tree, scarcely daring to breathe. From his position he could see the shadows of the men on horseback as they rode past him. He could hear their shouts, the plop of their horses’ hooves, could nearly smell the sweat of man and beast as they passed him.
    Ride, ride, you bastards! He thought. For your journey will be all in vain.
    Only when he was certain that they were gone did he come forth from his concealment to ride in the opposite direction. He knew a shortcut to Hunsdon, a dangerous one to be sure, but he had to take the chance. He had to reach Mary before Northumberland did, before the queen fell into the duke’s clutches.
    Using only one hand on the reins, clutching his sword in the other, Richard Morgan rode through the wilder nooks in the forest, that area where robbers and thieves were known to hide. His fancy velvet and brocade clothing would surely invite ambush, he thought, but he had to take the chance. Strangely enough, no such attack took place, although he could sense that he was being watched from behind many a tree. It came to mind that perhaps those who had admired his uncle, mourned his death, would leave the nephew alone to complete his journey. Right he was in his supposition, for he reached his destination safely, though not as quickly as he would have liked.
    Dismounting his horse, Richard appraised his appearance. He was covered from head to foot with the dust and mud of the road, hardly a fitting figure to stand before the queen, and yet, it could not be helped. Time was of the essence.
    Taking the steps of the rambling brick manor two at a time, he found his way blocked by two men-at-arms, their scowls telling him that they thought him to be a vagabond.
    “I must see Princess Mary at once!” he ordered, ignoring their appraising looks upon his person.
    “She is preparing herself for a long journey,” came the answer. “She has no time for the likes of you.”
    So, thought Richard, Northumberland has already sent a message to her bidding her to come to London. He could imagine what the fate of the princess, now the queen, would be if she did as she were told.
    “She must not go!” he shouted, taking a step forward. Strong arms pushed him back.
    “You hardly look the sort to tell a princess what to do.” One of the guards growled. “Now, be gone.” He gave Richard a push which sent him sprawling.
    “No!” he shouted, standing up again and moving forward. “Tell her Richard Morgan is here and must speak with her.”
    Laughter was his answer and he cursed these buffoons beneath his breath. All the danger he had faced would be for naught if they kept him from seeing Mary.
    “Your heads will roll if you do not at least tell her that I am here,” Richard barked. His voice was so forceful, so commanding that the men-at-arms stopped their chuckling and stared at him.
    At last one of the guards spoke. “I’ll go to her but it will be your head if she is angered by the interruption.” He was gone but a short while and when he returned he nodded his head at his companion. “She says to let him in.”
    Richard pushed his way through the door and stood in the hall to await his queen. His eyes roamed over his surroundings, taking in the silken hangings drawn back from the latticed windows, the murals, paintings, and tapestries. A fire was burning in the great hearth and Richard welcomed the warmth. The night was growing chilly. The enticing aroma of cooking food made his mouth water. He had not eaten all day.
    “Richard,” he heard a deep, slightly mannish woman’s voice say. “It has been so long.”
    He turned and watched as she entered the room. Dressed in blue brocade and velvet, her full skirts over the stiff