Timeless Tales of Honor (76 page)

Taking a deep breath to ease her tumultuous emotions, Arissa realized that the likelihood of being able to physically display her affection for Richmond in front of the mother abbess an impossibility at best. In lieu of a kiss to remember or a touch to linger upon, she realized that a tangible token of her adoration might work a similar effect.

Arissa leapt into the bed of the wagon, struggling to unlatch the heavy oak lid of the case. Releasing the locks, she propped the lid open and began to rummage through her belongings, new and old, searching. Several feet away, Richmond and the mother abbess had come to an uneasy agreement and Richmond approached the rig, eyeing Arissa with a good deal of concern and curiosity.

"What are you looking for, kitten?" he asked softly. "You know that you cannot bring any of your possessions with you."

She continued to rummage about, finally coming upon the object of her search. Richmond watched as she drew forth the rosary he had given her. She smiled weakly at him, stringing it over her neck for safe keeping. He returned her smile and extended his hand to assist her from the wagon, but she ignored him and delved into the trunk once more.

His smile faded. "What are you looking for now?"

"I know I put it in here...." she mumbled, tossing her expensive new garments onto the bags and crates of provisions in Richmond's wagon. "I put it....ah! I found it!"

He watched curiously as she drew forth a small, elegant box of ivory. Exquisite carvings graced the sides of the rectangular case and he continued to observe as she raised the lid, peering inside. A bit of color reappeared in her cheeks as she cautiously fumbled with the contents of the box until she came to the item she apparently sought. Drawing forth a small envelope of green silk, she replaced the ivory box in her trunk.

"What is that?" Richmond asked softly, noting the care with which she held the tiny parcel.

On her knees, Arissa moved to the edge of the wagon to where Richmond stood. His bright blue eyes were filled with a thousand emotions, all of them piercing her heart until she could scarcely breath. She struggled against the natural instinct to collapse into his powerful, comforting arms. To have him so close yet forbidden the luxury of a simple touch was torture. The hands that clutched the package began to quiver as she began to unwrap it.

"I do not press all of the flowers I collect into pomades," she said softly, her voice quaking. "Sometimes I simply press them flat between pieces of wood. Once dried, they are preserved in a lovely state to enjoy forever."

Richmond watched as she unfolded the green fabric, revealing a flattened, perfectly preserved collection of tiny blue flowers. He stared at the dehydrated bouquet a long moment, the name of the delicate blooms suddenly coming to mind and he raised his eyes, his gaze softer and more emotional that Arissa had ever seen it.

"Forget-me-nots," he whispered.

She nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I want you to keep them. So you will forget me not."

He swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of his own tears. Without hesitation, he carefully accepted the small parcel from her outstretched palm, groaning softly when their flesh inadvertently touched. Under the guise of presenting him with a gift, Arissa greedily caressed his fingers as he slowly, lingeringly, claimed her tribute.

He was loathed to pull his hand away from her gentle fingers, but he could not allow their covert contact to continue lest the abbess become suspicious. Already, she was uncomfortable with the proximity of their conversation, as it had been a struggle to persuade the woman that he would do naught but calm Arissa with a few brief words.

He had been forbidden to touch her in any manner and although Richmond had been prepared for the fact that Arissa would officially cease to become his charge the moment he delivered her to the abbey, it was still difficult for him to accept the fact that he was no longer able to do with her as he pleased.

You are forbidden to touch her, sir knight. She’s no longer your concern
.

Technically, the abbess was correct. But his heart still ached with the reality of it.

Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile and refolded the green silk about the flowers. He was well aware that it would be far less painful for them both if he were to put on a brave front, showing her that he was confident in his ability to return for her as quickly as possible. He had to show courage, for Arissa's sake.

"I shall keep your gift next to my heart, always," he said evenly. Noting the faint smile on her lips, he gave her a saucy wink to reinforce his light tone. "I shall return as soon as I can, kitten. Until then, you must decide what you would name our fortress. I am depending on you."

She nodded eagerly, swallowing the torrents of miserable tears that threatened. He was determined to be brave; so was she. "I shall make my decision, have no fear. And I shall watch the road for your return, every day."

He chuckled softly, struggling to maintain the positive atmosphere. "I shall hurry, then. I would hate for you to become bored waiting for my reappearance."

Her smile faded, looking at him with such longing that he was forced to step away from her or risk breaking down completely. "I will not become bored. But I will miss you more dreadfully with each passing moment. Already my heart aches for you, Richmond."

His own smile died, feeling her pain as it mingled with his own consuming anguish. "As does mine for you, kitten," he whispered. "Be brave, my love. We shall be together soon, I vow."

She was making a valiant attempt to maintain her courage but he could see that her strength would not hold out indefinitely. The sooner he made a quick break, the stronger they would both be.

With a final, weak smile as if to prove to her that he believed his own words, he turned away and motioned for Gavan to release Emma to the custody of the nuns. Before he could move away completely, however, Arissa’s delicate voice came wafting to him upon the damp sea breeze.

"I love you, Richmond. For all time, I will love you."

He turned to her, slowly, his eyes screaming with emotion. "And I love you, Lady Arissa,” his voice was hoarse. “In this life and beyond."

Without another word, he mounted his charcoal gray charger. Arissa watched as he and Gavan galloped down the rocky road, toward the column of men that had collected since the disbanded skirmish. A company of soldiers that would have virtually no time to recover before their liege was marching them to London.

Arissa continued to watch the two armored figures until they disappeared from sight. Even then, she could scarcely believe he had gone. Trying desperately to bite back the tears, she was simply not strong enough to stop the heart-wrenching sobs.

Richmond's wagon driver attempted to help her from the wagon so that he might join the rest of the column, but she refused to leave. Sobbing and gasping, she ignored his requests, his offers of aid, simply for the fact that she irrationally hoped he would give up his efforts and drive away with her lying amongst the wheat sacks and take her back to Richmond.

She was vaguely aware of Emma's comforting voice, of the mother abbess' throaty tone, but little else. The only matter of import was the fact that Richmond had left her. Even when gentle hands forcibly removed her from the flat bed, she was barely aware of their efforts.

Richmond was gone, and he had taken her soul with him.

H
enry Percy was becoming quite
familiar with Owen Glendower's hospitality. Even though it was the dead of winter and there was scarce food to be found, Owen always provided the very best that he had which, at the moment, included dried autumn fruits and wedges of tart cheese.

But Hotspur was not interested in the Welsh menu. Having ridden over miles of snow and ice, he was interested in the topic of the proposed meeting. Owen had indicated that he had the key to Henry's control; being a naturally curious man with a dwindling loyalty for the English king, Hotspur was interested in Owen's information. Through the year of fighting that had occurred between them in the battle for Wales, Owen had always shown his penchant for honesty. A characteristic, at the moment, Henry trusted more than his own king's.

Even now, Owen and his cousin David sat across from Hotspur, making a weak attempt at small talk and meaningless chatter. On his second goblet of smuggled French wine, Henry moved to the heart of the summons.

"You have not brought me here to speak of the intricacies of Byzantium glass," he said quietly. "What is it you would say, Owen?"

Owen's pleasant expression held firm as he studied the mighty warrior before him; tall and dark, he was Northumberland's heir. As King of the North, Owen knew he would have a powerful ally in the son of the Earl of Northumberland if he were able to convince the man to side with him in his resistance against Henry.

By Hotspur's body language, Owen was able to deduce that the man's patience was thinly held. Setting his emptied pewter chalice to the table before him, he drew in a deep breath as he collected his thoughts.

"I will move to the point, then," he said, fixing Hotspur with a piercing stare. "You are bordering on mutiny, my lord. Even though you have not indicated as much, rumors to the effect have been rampant for months now and the fact that the war on the border has all but stagnated is a good indication of your indecision."

Hotspur's gaze held even. Without waiting for the reply that he knew would not be forthcoming, Owen continued. "I have received reliable information that Henry's bastard daughter, a young lady he’s shown particular interest in, has recently been sequestered at Whitby Abbey in Yorkshire. If we can obtain the girl, I believe Henry can be controlled."

Henry stared at him a moment before raising a droll eyebrow. "Is that why you called me here? To inform me that we can control Henry if we are to hold his bastard daughter hostage? Honestly, Owen, I forbid you to waste my time with such nonsense."

Owen shook his head. "I have simplified the matter a great deal, but it is far more complex than that," he suddenly paused, a dull gleam coming to the black eyes. After a moment, he lazily reached for the half-empty bottle of wine. "What if I tell you we can undeniably defeat Henry if we hold the girl?"

"I would say you were mad."

Owen smiled faintly, watching the garnet liquid as it spilled into his chalice. "Tell me, my lord; if you rebel against Henry, who will lead his armies against you and against me?"

Hotspur drew in a long, vague breath. "Richmond le Bec, I suppose. He’s second only to me in the chain of command; but you know that already, do you not?"

"Would you fight Richmond?"

Henry's irritation with the conversation faded. After a long moment, he looked to his hands. "The man is like a brother to me."

"But would you fight him?"

Hotspur pondered his gloved hands a moment longer. "'Twould not be a pleasant task, but one that I would engage in if necessary."

Owen studied the man's expression, seeing the pain at the thought of waging battle against le Bec. He quaffed deeply from his chalice. "Tell me this, if you will; if Richmond le Bec were not leading Henry's armies, what chance would the monarch have against your forces and mine?"

Hotspur snorted softly. "Very little, I should think," sighing sharply, he met Owen's gaze again in a return of weak annoyance. "What is this about, Glendower?"

Owen met his gaze, pausing a moment purely for effect. When he spoke, his voice was low.

"Because I am to understand that Richmond le Bec is in love with Henry's bastard daughter,” he said. “If we can acquire the girl, we can not only control le Bec, but we can control Henry because he will undoubtedly be pained with a double stake in all of this. Not only will he be haunted with the knowledge that his daughter is our prisoner, but he will have to deal with the fact that his greatest knight will not lead the crown armies against the faction who holds his beloved hostage. Am I making myself clear?"

The color was gone from Hotspur's face as he stared at Owen, feeling the shock of the situation as it penetrated deep into his veins. "Richmond loves the girl? But.... but you said she’s at Whitby. She’s a nun?"

"Richmond delivered her to the abbey sometime last week after the home where she was raised fell under siege. Presumably he moved her to Whitby for safety's sake," Owen poured his shaken companion more wine. "Apparently, Richmond has practically raised the girl. You are aware that he’s spent a good deal of his time at Lambourn, seat of the Earl of Berkshire."

Henry nodded slowly, taking a healthy drink of alcohol. "William de Lohr and Richmond have been friends for many years. In fact, I visited years back and...," he suddenly paused, his brow furrowed. "I do not understand. What does Lambourn have to do with Henry's bastard daughter?"

"The girl was raised there by the earl and his wife. Her name is Arissa."

Hotspur's eyes opened with surprise. "Arissa de Lohr is
Henry's
daughter?" he boomed. "God's Teeth, I had no idea! All I can recall of her is a thin child with black hair and.... you say Richmond is in love with her?"

"Undoubtedly," Owen watched Henry Percy's reaction to the revelation, casting David a lingering glance before returning his focus to the English knight. Unwilling to give the man time to recover from his shock, he intended to drive his desires to the forefront and he rose from his chair, bringing his fist to bear on the old tabletop. "Help me, Hotspur. Help me obtain the girl and thereby guarantee Henry's defeat. If we have her, we can drive England to her knees. There is no opportunity for failure, I tell you, but I need your support. Will you do this for the peace of England and Wales? One insignificant girl is all that will be compromised to assure two countries their right to live in harmony."

Hotspur was staring at him, his dark eyes dull with the concept. After a moment, he sighed heavily. "If Richmond loves her, I cannot be a party to her misery."

"Would you rather meet him on the field of battle?"

"I already told you I would not."

Owen's harsh manner subsided somewhat as his gaze lingered on Northumberland's heir. After a moment, he relaxed into his chair once again and pondered the embers in the vizier. "Would you have him fight for your cause?"

Hotspur raised his eyebrows wearily. "That would be preferable, but he would never go against the crown. He and Henry are very fond of one another."

"Would you wager to say that he loves his king more than the black-haired girl residing at Whitby?"

Owen's subtly-phrased blackmail settled and Henry turned his astonished gaze to the Welsh prince, a heavy understanding of the man's motives filling him. He scratched his stubbled chin as he pondered the statement. "Are you suggesting that I use the girl to force Richmond to fight for our cause?"

"I am told he would do anything for her."

Henry Percy licked his lips in nervous thought. He was well aware of the time Richmond spent at Lambourn and it suddenly became clear to him as to why; he had been in love with the skinny little girl graced with a glorious mane of black hair, a girl he knew to be Henry's daughter. Or mayhap Henry had sent him to Lambourn to watch over the girl and somewhere during the process Richmond discovered that he had fallen in love with the royal bastard. Whatever the case, it was abundantly clear that Owen spoke the truth. Richmond had spent the majority of the past eighteen years residing at Lambourn for no apparent reason... until now.

Hotspur held a good deal of love and respect for his friend. But his politics differed greatly from those of Richmond, and he had cemented a weak loyalty with Henry the very day Richard II had surrendered his crown. The Percys and their allies had been staunch supporters of Richard and it had been difficult to stomach their monarch's defeat. But as a vow to assure England's peace, he and his father had pledged support to Richard's cousin, Henry, and for the past two years it had been a brittle alliance at best.

With a cold stab of reality, he realized that he hated Henry more than he loved Richmond. Although he did not take delight in betraying his friend, the opportunity to defeat the distrustful English monarch was worth the risk of Richmond's hatred.

After several long moments of silent reflection, he sighed heavily and quaffed the last of the fine wine. "I would assume you have a plan?"

Owen fought off a smile, pleased beyond words that Henry Percy had finally chosen a path for his future. "Am I to take it that we are allies?"

Hotspur grunted, evading the question. "Tell me of your scheme to grab Henry by the throat."

Owen glanced at David, silent words of victory filling the air between them. Hotspur was in their fold. As David pulled his stool closer to the table, Owen faced Hotspur with restrained joy.

"We must assume that Richmond has not remained with her at Whitby for one very good reason; the nuns will not allow him to stay. Moreover, I would wager that with the Welsh resistance and the rumors of your insurrection, Henry requires his power and wisdom in London. Therefore, it would be a safe assumption that the Lady Arissa is alone in Yorkshire while her beloved is embroiled in the politics of England. Which is where you play a part in all of this."

Hotspur's face was impassive. "I am listening."

Owen paused a moment. "You will ride to Whitby bearing a forged missive from Henry demanding that his daughter be released to your custody. Certainly, no one will question the mighty Hotspur as he moves to accomplish the bidding of his king by escorting Henry's bastard daughter to London."

"For what purpose is she required in London?"

"Does it matter? She’s the king's daughter and it is his prerogative to do with her as he pleases. Moreover, she’s not a nun and thereby not bound to the abbey by her vows. Based on Henry's commanding directive and your powerful presence, she will be relinquished to your protection."

Henry's jaw ticked. "How can you be so sure?"

Owen shrugged. "The abbess cannot keep her if the King of England demands her temporary release. Technically, she has no legal right to hold her over the demands of her parent and I would wager a good deal on the fact that she would be unwilling to anger the king with a refusal."

Hotspur drew in a long, harsh sigh, pondering his overall role in the Welsh prince's scheme. A scheme that appeared to be safe enough, although he would not stake his life on the fact. Nothing in this world was ever safe. "And I will bring her here?"

Owen's eyes glittered. His design was foolproof, providing one factor remained true; that Richmond le Bec was indeed in London. "Aye, my lord," he replied softly, with confidence. "You will bring her here."

On the snowy hills overlooking the weakened camp of the Welsh resistors, a lone wolf bayed into the crystal-clear evening sky. A thousand diamonds of light glittered across the black expanse, their light casting silver fingers on the gloom of evil that had settled over the western border of England.

The malevolent darkness that became a plan this night.

R
ichmond passed
through the King's Gate to the south side of Windsor, having completed his glorious procession through the Great Park in order to reach his destination. The massive bailey of Windsor was open and welcoming, soldiers and courtiers alike shouted their greeting to the mighty warrior. Ignoring the admiring throng, Richmond ordered his weary soldiers to seek rest and food before they collapsed entirely.

Gavan dismounted beside Richmond, exhausted after the seven day march from Yorkshire. Stubbled and bordering on disheveled, Richmond raised his visor and wiped at his clammy brow as his eyes drew in the sight of The Earl Marshall's Tower, towering four stories into the bright blue sky overhead. St. George's Hall was directly to his right, a gallery he was most familiar with, but it merely warranted a passing glance as he loosened his gauntlets.

"I am intent on seeking Henry this moment," he said, his voice rough with fatigue. "Retire to the knight's quarters and wait for me."

Gavan's gaze was dull, wary. As if he did not trust Richmond to simply present his case in a rational manner; the man had been an emotional bundle for the past several days and Gavan was not at all sure that anything but a positive response on Henry's part would be met with a sword through the gullet.

"I would be more than happy to accompany you...."

Richmond cut him off. "Do as I say, Gavan. I have business to attend to and I would complete it alone."

Gavan watched his liege march into the gaping entrance to the castle. Concerned for his mental state though he might be, his concerns were not strong enough to warrant the disobedient action of following him into the castle. Richmond could well handle Henry's audience and did not require supervision. Moreover, Gavan was not in the position to supervise a fellow warrior's emotions at the moment; he was quite consumed with sentiment of his own.

His dead wife and son were expecting him.

Leaving his second in command behind to disband the troops, Richmond made his way into the cool interior of Windsor. Taking the grand staircase to Henry's suite of rooms, he marched past a collection of household guards as if their protecting presence was insignificant against his strength. He intended to seen Henry immediately and to hell with any delay or show of resistance.

Since the moment he had left Arissa, there had been nothing else to occupy his thoughts. He had lived, breathed and slept Arissa, feeling her soft body against him in his dreams only to awaken to a cold bed and an even colder heart. But the building desperation to reclaim her only served to fuel his determination to bargain with Henry; Gavan had been correct when he had advised him to play the political theater. And play he would.