The Rose at Twilight (48 page)

Her curiosity overriding all else now, Alys opened her hand and watched as he put into it what looked like a gold coin with a hole drilled in it for a chain. She looked at it closely, and recognized, etched into it on one side, the sun in splendor, King Edward’s device. Turning it over, she found a single rose on the reverse. That was all, but it was enough. She had heard about such a medallion once before, and she looked up in dismay to ask how Lovell had come by it. But the door was just closing behind Davy, and she dared not run shouting after him.

When Jonet returned, she found her mistress huddled on her bed, her knees up, her arms folded around them, deep in thought.

“I could not warn you, mistress,” Jonet said apologetically. “He came upon me in the gallery unawares.”

“There will be fighting,” Alys muttered. “If not tomorrow, then Saturday at latest. All for the power of the throne.”

Jonet nodded. “Davy told me that his lordship expects to meet the king near Nottingham Castle, mayhap at Newark crossing. Lord Lovell has a house nearby and knows the land full well. More men will die, mistress, men we care about on both sides.”

“Davy said the rebels will win; Nicholas said not. Nicholas claims to know his business. By heaven, Jonet, I hope he does.”

Jonet frowned. “Davy said not so many English had joined as they’d hoped, but he said, too, that there be more than enough, that all Yorkshire is theirs, all the land north of the Trent.”

They continued to speak their tangled thoughts aloud until Madeline entered, whereupon they fell silent so suddenly that she demanded to be told what they had been talking about.

Jonet looked to Alys, but Alys did not hesitate. “Davy was here, Jonet’s brother. He rides with Lovell, and he managed to get past the guards to assure us that there will be no fighting here. They move south, toward Newark and Nottingham Castle.”

“Now, by my faith,” Madeline said with an imp of amusement in her eyes, “wait till I tell Gwilym his defenses were breached so easily. He thinks he has made this castle impregnable.”

“You must not say anything to him,” Alys said fiercely. “There is no danger here, for Davy gave his word, but if you tell Gwilym that I have spoken with one of the rebels, he will lock me in my bedchamber. Nicholas warned me that he had ordered him to do so. Moreover,” she added, suddenly deciding what she had to do, “if you tell Gwilym that someone managed to get in, he will make it a great deal more difficult for someone to get out.”

“Has Davy not gone then?”

“Certainly, he has. I was speaking of … of someone else.” Too late did she recall that Madeline’s loyalties had no doubt shifted, that she might well consider herself bound to speak to Gwilym. Madeline’s next words confirmed that fear.

“Look here, Alys,” she said, plumping down upon the bed and staring into her face, “I recognize that look. You are up to some devilment or other, and I will not have you playing your tricks off on poor Gwilym at such a time as this.”

“Poor Gwilym?” Alys said, gently mocking her, but when Madeline blushed and looked self-conscious, Alys straightened and said much more seriously, “I have long known that you cared for him, but do you love him, Madeline? Tell me. It is important.”

Madeline nodded. “Aye, I do.”

“And you will not refuse to marry him?”

The answer came in a whisper. “No, but do not tease me, for I have only just come to see the truth myself. I was so stubborn and stupid, Alys. When I saw Nicholas and Hugh ride out through the gates, and knew they might not come back—that, even here, Gwilym could be killed before this business is done—I could deceive myself no longer. I cannot imagine life without him. You will think this silly, I know, but I think I love Gwilym most because I like myself better when I am with him.”

“We have all been waiting for you to know your own mind,” Alys said, hugging her, “but I am glad for more reasons than you know. I fear for Anne. Swear to me on your oath, Madeline, that if aught happens to me, and if Nicholas is killed, you and Gwilym will look after Anne as if she were your own. Swear it!”

“By our Lady, I do swear it,” Madeline said, looking at her through narrowed eyes, “but why should I? You have said that no harm will come to any here, and if that is so—”

“Can I trust you not to betray me?”

“Marry, what a question!”

“To Gwilym?”

Madeline hesitated, then said grimly, “I owe no duty to him yet, Alys, and you have stood my friend. Tell me.”

“The rebels mean to kill Henry Tudor,” Alys said quietly.

“Well, I suppose they do. ’Tis natural, if they win.”

Alys looked at Jonet, then back at Madeline. “Davy said the king will die no matter what, and Nicholas once told me Henry is so poor a soldier that he had vowed never to ride at the head of his army again, but to stay at the rear. What if the rebels plan to seek him out, to kill him and thus declare the battle won?”

“But Henry has a proper heir,” Madeline protested.

“Arthur is a babe in arms,” Alys said, “and no army will fight for him. Richard, too, had heirs. Indeed, Nicholas believes the true pretender now is Lincoln, but when I asked Davy, he would not say. It struck me then that the proper heir does not matter. Only the power of the throne concerns them. The victor will control it, and I think the rebels mean to declare victory by battle just as Henry Tudor did at Bosworth.”

“But do you not want them to win?” Madeline asked.

“Do you?” Alys countered. “Do you want Lincoln to rule England—a man who cannot speak without pausing to choose every word—or do you prefer a boy king who will have men fighting on forever over who will control him?” Seeing the answer she sought in her friend’s eyes, she turned to Jonet. “And you?”

“I want an end to war,” Jonet said. “The cause matters much to Davy, and I love him, but my loyalties have got mixed for I do love that great gowk, Hugh Gower, even more. I wish harm to no one, but if I had to choose, God help me, I would choose Hugh.”

Alys said quietly, “The times have changed, have they not? Henry Tudor is liked by the people who know him and respected by many who do not. He has ruled well and fairly, and he has worked to bring stability to his realm. With him to lead them, men look to see such prosperity in England as we have not seen in thirty years. If the rebels win, there will be more and more fighting. The only way to lasting peace is with the Tudor.”

“What must we do?” Madeline asked.

“I must try to find Nicholas,” Alys said. “He has got to be warned that they intend to kill the king.”

Madeline said sharply, “Then tell Gwilym, Alys! He can send men to warn them.”

Alys shook her head. “They might not get to him, or be believed if they do. The rebels will have men on the watch all over Nottinghamshire. They would kill anyone riding to warn the king. But I will be safe from soldiers on either side. None would dare to harm me.”

“If they know you,” Madeline said. “But they will not all know you, Alys. You could be killed.”

“No, I won’t. I have a letter from Lovell himself. It is not a simple safe-passage that can be given to Gwilym or anyone else, for I have read it and it specifically names me, as Lady Alys Wolveston, and protects me, my lands, and people. I will be safe, but Gwilym must not know. Not only would he refuse to let me, but he would want to go himself, and he is needed here all the more if the letter is with me. I won’t go alone, I promise you, but will take Ian and two others. We can leave in the morning after Gwilym rides out with his men. He does so each day, so he will do so tomorrow. And Ian will know which other men to take and how to get us horses and gear. Once we are gone, Madeline, I leave it to you to prevent Gwilym’s riding after us. He must stay here to protect Anne and the rest of you.”

“He will murder me,” Madeline said, grimacing.

“No, for he will understand that you could not stop me. I must go, Madeline. I can convince them of the danger to the king more easily than any men we could send. I will be believed.”

“Mistress, we cannot allow it,” Jonet said. “By rights, we ought to tell Master Gwilym at once what you mean to do.”

“If you do, I will never forgive you,” Alys said fiercely. “My husband has already lost his son. If I can help prevent the death of his king, I shall feel that I have compensated him, at least in a small way, for that loss.”

They did not argue anymore after that, and Alys hoped she could trust them not to speak. She had not told them that she feared even more for Nicholas’s safety than for Henry’s, for the feeling made no sense to her. She was no soldier and he was one of the best, but she was certain that she would not want to live if Nicholas were killed. She knew now that she loved him with a passion much greater than she had ever felt for the Yorkist cause, and that she would suffer more if she lost him now than she had suffered at the death of her son.

Not until she and Ian and the two men he had found to accompany them were safely away the next morning could Alys be sure that her friends had not betrayed her, but the escape proved easier than she had expected. The guards had been posted to keep people out, not to keep the residents within. Nevertheless, when they rode away down the hill toward the river, she was deeply grateful for the thick fog that prevented anyone seeing them from the castle ramparts.

An hour later Ian was not so grateful for the fog. “We dinna need it now,” he grumbled. “The road be difficult tae see as it is, and ’twill tak’ us days tae reach Newark at this pace.”

“How far is it?” she asked, trying to remember how long it had taken them before.

Ian grimaced. “Aboot thirty mile tae Nottingham Castle. Five-and-twenty till the river bends sharp west at Newark.”

She nodded. Her palfrey was fresh and could go a great number of miles without having to stop for long rests, but she was not sure about the men’s horses. The best had been taken by Nicholas’s men-at-arms, and Ian and the others had had to make do with what was left. Still, Gwilym did not keep any but the best horseflesh, she reminded herself. They ought to manage at least four miles to the hour once the fog lifted and they could see where they were going. She did rapid sums in her head, grateful for her experience with accounts. Even if they rested frequently, they ought to manage the distance by nightfall.

They did not try to cross the river. The other side of the river was Lincolnshire, and with its fens and marshes, as unknown to any of them as a foreign country might have been. Alys knew there were several towns there, but they did not know who held them; and, not until the fog began to lift at noon and they found themselves with the forest on one side and the river on the other—not far from where they had been attacked once before—did it occur to them that they might have done better to cross.

“Do the master’s men be south of the river, like what that fellow said they was, they will be on the other side from where we be now,” Ian said to Alys. “We havena seen a soul as yet, but I’d as lief the first we see be royal forces.”

She was not so sure. Conscious of the letter crunching in her bodice as she rode, she realized that what meant safe-passage to one side might, if it were found on her, mean something else to the other. She had thought only of getting safely past the rebels. She had not thought that she might have to deal with royal forces to whom she would be a stranger. She thought about it now, and realizing that she might not be able to prove her identity to anyone who did not know her, let alone force him or them, to take her to Nicholas, she decided to remain on the west bank, but to keep near the river, where she would be the least likely to meet any soldiers until they were close to their goal. Then at least, if convincing someone took time, she would be near enough to find Nicholas quickly afterward.

The sun was shining now. Birds were singing and squirrels chattering in the forest. It was hard to believe that danger lay ahead. The air was fresh and clean, the river murmured its own song as they passed, and the steady clippety-clop of the horses’ hooves along the dirt road was nearly hypnotizing. They stopped briefly at one o’clock to rest and water the horses and to make a meal of the bread and meat they had brought with them, and then they were off again, their progress more rapid than it had been, but still well paced and, in Alys’s opinion, with her tension increasing by the minute, nerve-wrackingly slow.

When the sunlight dimmed suddenly, she looked up to see a scattering of fleecy white clouds overhead. She heard the two men riding behind Ian and herself talking quietly to one another, but other than the river’s song and the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees, stirred by the gentle breeze, there was no sound. Even the birds and squirrels were quiet now, and when the men behind her fell silent too, Alys felt a prickling of unease. She peered apprehensively into the dark shadows of the forest, then across the river, where the land was also forested, though not so thickly as it was on this side. Was that a rider?

Even if it was, she told herself, the river ran swiftly here; there was no ford. Her little party was safe enough.

Then, with a burst of shrieks and screams that terrified the horses, a band of heavily armed, half-naked savages leapt out of the forest at them. Her palfrey screamed and plunged, and Alys, caught unaware, was thrown to the ground. By the time she had picked herself up, the skirmish was over. Ian and the other two had reached for their swords, but they were outnumbered and easily outmatched. They stood still now, watching their captors.

Brushing herself off, angry rather than frightened at having her journey interrupted, Alys snapped, “What do you want?”

One man spoke for the others with exaggerated politeness. “We are for the taking o’ yer horses, an it please ye, madam.”

“You cannot have them. We need them.”

“Well now, but I think we must have them,” he replied. “We’ll not be for discussing it here, however. Take them on into the woods, me lads.”

She protested, but the raiders were not interested, and so they were taken into the woods at swordpoint. In a tiny clearing Alys pulled the letter from her bodice and held it out to the man who had spoken before. “Read that, sir, and you will see that we have safe-passage granted us by Lord Lovell himself.”