Timeless Tales of Honor (78 page)

"And you must understand how important England is to me," Henry's voice was faint as he stared into the dying embers of the hearth, contemplating the turn of events. An inkling of an idea suddenly occurred to him and he glanced to Richmond, shrewdly. "I have a counterproposal, Richmond. I will dissolve your betrothal contract to Cecily, which will be no easy accomplishment, but I shall do it because I see your reasoning in the matter. Mayhap I shall offer her a groom of royal blood to offset the loss of Richmond le Bec and to fortify the crown's relationship to Northumberland, as you have suggested."

Richmond could sense a compromise coming; he had been involved in Henry's circle long enough to know when the king was preparing to strike against a weaker, simpler adversary. Bearing that in mind, he braced himself when Henry took a long drink of wine, licking his lips before continuing.

"In addition to Arissa's dowry to Whitby, I shall donate a sizable sum to release her from her contract to the church so that you will be free to marry her," noting that Richmond's expression remained even and constant, he cocked a stern eyebrow purely for effect. "And I shall grant you a barony so that my daughter will not be marrying a man beneath her station. But you must complete one particular task before I will do these things for you."

Richmond drew in a long, steady breath. He had suspected as much. "Speak, then."

Henry sat forward in his chair, his blue eye piercing and sharp. "You will determine the path Hotspur has chosen to follow. If he chooses to remain loyal to me, then you shall assist him in defeating Glendower. And if he has chosen to move against me, then you shall destroy them both."

Richmond pondered Henry's counterproposal, not entirely unexpected or unreasonable. "You would have me complete this mission before I marry Arissa?"

Henry nodded, a sly expression creasing his features. "You want something from me, and I want something from you. I will agree to your demand for Arissa, but you must resolve Henry Percy's standing and the Welsh rebellion before I will grant your wishes. The guarantee of Arissa at the conclusion of a mission well executed shall make you work harder in your endeavor, will it not?"

Richmond pondered his king a moment longer before rising wearily from his chair, moving to draw his fifth goblet of wine. Swirling the ruby liquid upon his tongue, he realized that Henry was playing the political game very well. The king was being forced to compromise by dissolving his betrothal with Cecily Percy; Richmond, in turn, would be compromising by delaying his nuptials to Arissa until the Hotspur situation was resolved.

It was not unreasonable. He'd waited this long for Arissa; another few months, although an eternity, would not matter overly in the grand scheme of his life. But he was not entirely comfortable with the prospect of losing a valuable friend in the process. Henry Percy had no idea what was at stake.

After a moment, he sighed. "What will happen if I fail?"

"I have never known you to fail."

"Nor have I. But for the sake of argument, we will suppose that I do. What then?"

Henry did not hesitate. "Then you get nothing. Arissa stays with her mother at Whitby, and I lose Wales."

Richmond drained his cup, feeling warm and calm. Slamming the chalice to the table, he turned to face his king with all of the power and confidence he was experiencing. Arissa would be his; of that he had no doubt. No matter what.

"Hotspur will maintain his loyalty to the crown or I will destroy him. Any way I can."

"And Wales?"

"The resistance shall meet a decisive end."

Henry nodded, feeling a tremendous assurance as their mutual understanding settled. "I have the utmost faith in you, Richmond. I always have."

Richmond quit the room without another word, leaving Henry alone to ponder the future. If he was lucky and Richmond was successful, he would still have a kingdom come the new year.

"
A
rissa
? Emma? Where are you?"

The soft but unmistakably sharp command echoed against the ancient stone walls. For the past two weeks, walls that had been accustomed to the prayers of the faithful or the strains of heavenly music had suddenly become witness to the shortcomings of two foolish young maidens unused to life in an isolated abbey. Sharp footfalls bounced off the scrubbed stone as a slight nun made her way down the corridor.

"Arissa? Emma?"

Her demand for response was met by the soft shuffle of clogged feet and Sister Repentia was not surprised when Arissa and Emma came bolting from a slender staircase, a winding flight that led to the loft high above. Nearly plowing the green-eyed nun over in their haste, Arissa and Emma skidded to an appalled, unsteady halt.

"Sister!" Arissa gasped. "Forgive us! We did not see you and...."

Sister Repentia cut off the beginnings of what would undoubtedly be a rambling explanation. As much as she loved her daughter, as much as the entire convent had come to love the sweet young woman, she could talk God himself off his mighty throne and Sister Repentia was unwilling to stand patiently through another insipid explication.

"There is no need for excuses, ladies," she said breathlessly, a bit startled by their sudden appearance. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she straightened the kerchief that covered her daughter's dark head as tendrils of silky black hair attempted to escape. "Vespers is upon us and you will not be late again. Be off with you."

"But.... Sister!" Arissa protested as Emma hovered eagerly by her side. "We saw a great army approaching from the south!"

Sister Repentia sighed. Arissa and Emma spent a good deal of time in the loft when they weren't moving about their chores, waiting for the reappearance of Richmond le Bec and his muscle-bound knight.

"You said the very same thing two days ago,” Sister Repentia said patiently. “And two days before that. You should have realized by now that the fog from the ocean oft appears dark on the horizon, like a tide of men," before Arissa could protest, she shook her head sharply and directed the two young women into the corridor, towards the chapel. "Vespers, ladies. And then we will eat."

Arissa was wise enough not to dispute the nun who had become an integral part of her life for the past two weeks. With Emma by her side, the three women made their way to the dimly-lit chapel, bowing their respect to God as they entered the sanctuary and moving for their assigned places. At the rear of the chapel, behind the novice nuns, Arissa and Emma dropped to their knees and made the sign of the cross about their head and shoulders.

Sister Repentia's gaze lingered on the two kerchief-clad heads as they bowed in prayer. By the stone altar in the very front of the sparsely-furnished room, Sister Mary Ignatius was preparing to commence with the reading and Sister Repentia quickly moved for her assigned space.

But even as she made the sign of the cross over her slight body and knelt in reverence, she couldn't stop her thoughts from lingering on Arissa and her young friend who had literally breathed life into the old abbey within the span of a few short days. A spirit the gloomy structure had lacked for decades, unmissed until now.

Laughter had come again, as had beauty and bright opinions of the world in general. Even though the mother abbess had tried to discourage such interaction in the beginning, afraid the addition of the two lively young women would upset the delicate balance of her abbey, it was apparent that the aura emanating from Arissa and Emma had worked in harmony with the holy atmosphere of the godly fortress.

A measure of vigor began to infiltrate their lives, the meaning of life that a few of the older nuns had forgotten existed. As the holy women of the order taught Arissa and Emma about life at the abbey, they in turn received an updated education on what it meant to be young and happy and full of hope.

Arissa had never attempted to deny her relationship with Richmond le Bec and it was obviously from the day she had arrived at the abbey that she was desperately attached to the man. It did not seem to matter that he was twice her years, an aging knight who was rapidly approaching the winter of life. The only matter of concern for Arissa seemed to be when he would return to marry her, and she had taken to expressing the joy of endless love to all who would listen. Expressing her glee to women who had never experienced such feelings and who had quickly become consumed with the intriguing concept.

With haste, the mother abbess had put a stop to Arissa's stories of undying devotion lest her nuns find themselves confused and willing to explore such areas that were better left unventured. Even so, Arissa had never made any secret of the fact that she was not destined to join the cloister and looked forward to the day when Richmond le Bec would return for her.

The foolish fantasies of a young maiden's mind? Mayhap, Sister Repentia thought. But, somehow, she realized she would not be at all surprised should Richmond le Bec reappeared at their door one day.

Sister Mary Ignatius finished the reading and the entire congregation rose to praise God in song. As the hymn commenced, Sister Repentia found her gaze wandering to her daughter and her young companion. It was odd how the two of them seemed to have physically matured over the past two weeks; with the simple fare provided, Emma had slimmed considerably, dropping a good deal of the weight she had carried on her short frame. What emerged was a beautiful figure, full of bustline and slender of waist, and her face had refined to a beautiful oval shape. In fact, as Emma rapidly approached her seventeenth birthday, Sister Repentia realized a very beautiful woman was surfacing before her eyes.

Arissa had matured as well. Rather delicate and frail upon arrival, she seemed to have increased in vigor and the rosiness gracing her exquisite cheeks was a constant phenomenon. Even now, swathed in the simple gray frock and kerchief worn by all new pledges, there was no beauty on earth that could compare with her. She seemed to gain a certain strength from the chores that she was required to accomplish, churning butter and scrubbing floors. The more she exerted herself in a controlled fashion, the healthier her glow.

Sister Repentia had been told of her frequent bouts with chill and of her breathing attacks, and she had been led to believe that Arissa had led a fairly easy life due to these afflictions. But with the exercise and food and routine of the abbey, she seemed to have flourished into an extremely healthy specimen. Even though Arissa professed her dislike for the abbey, mayhap it had been good for her in a manner to which she was unaware; although her spirit had been dampened by her longing for le Bec, her body had thrived nonetheless.

Sister Repentia was barely aware when Vespers was concluded. She had been consumed with reviewing the days since Arissa had arrived, marveling at the change that had occurred within the confines of Whitby's holy order. As the nuns filtered from the chapel in anticipation of the evening meal, a lamb stew Sister Repentia had been simmering all afternoon, the slight nun hurried from the chapel ahead of the throng to prepare the gallery for the feast.

Behind her, she heard the soft footfalls of clogged feet. Her novice helpers scurried after her like eager pups.

"We could smell the lamb stew up in the loft," Emma said eagerly, licking her lips and tucking stray blond hair back into her kerchief. "It has been over a week since we have had stew."

Sister Repentia marched into the gallery without replying to Emma's enthusiastic statement. "Set out the bowls and the bread, please."

Arissa and Emma immediately moved to do the sister's bidding. Helping her with kitchen chores had been part of their daily routine for the past two weeks and for young women who had grown up relatively pampered and well-removed from mundane chores, they enjoyed the satisfaction of manual labor a good deal.

The young pledges giggled and whispered as they set out the coarse wooden bowls and crude cups. Sister Repentia emerged from the kitchen bearing the pot of stew and the two young ladies rushed to her aid. As Arissa carefully ladled out the thick soup, Emma placed loaves of crusty brown bread on every table.

The coarse crust of the brown bread reminded Emma of the occasion when Bartholomew had used two stale bread crusts to create "horns" for effect during his recitation of a prose involving the ancient Minotaur. Her humorous recollection of the event sent Arissa into gales of laughter and even Sister Repentia struggled against the grin that threatened.

But Arissa's laughter soon faded, a deeper grief taking hold as she realized the recitations, the outrageous skits, the inane manner in which her brother had portrayed Greek tragedies was to be no more. Bartholomew was gone, killed defending her against the Welsh enemy, and her tinkling laughter was suddenly replaced by the swell of tears.

Emma was immediately remorseful as she observed her friend's despondent manner. Bartholomew's death had been a difficult event for Arissa to deal with; naturally, she felt very guilty for having inadvertently caused the incident. "I am sorry, Riss. I did not mean to remind you of Bart."

Arissa sniffled, swallowing her tears bravely. To cry would only bring shame to her brother's brave sacrifice and she loved him too much to dishonor him in such a fashion. "I want you to remind me, always. I do not ever want to forget Bart and his unique personality."

Sister Repentia watched her daughter a moment as she doled out the remainder of the stew. "Who is Bart?"

Arissa sniffled again, squaring her shoulders bravely. "My brother. He was killed defending me when Lambourn was invaded."

Sister Repentia stared at her a moment as the words of selfless sacrifice sank deep; uttering a small prayer of thanks for the brave actions of the earl's son, she returned to her duties silently. Arissa, for her part, was reminded of another amusing incident and opened her mouth to relay a similar image of Bartholomew's foolery when a flustered young nun suddenly rushed into the fragrant hall.

"An army approaches, sister!" she announced breathlessly. "Where is the mother abbess?"

Sister Repentia was startled with the news; before she could respond, Arissa leapt to confront the woman.

"Are they flying a banner?" she demanded. "Can you see the standards?"

The young nun fixed Arissa in the eye; she had been one of the many who had been privy to the young lady's tales of interminable love and in spite of her devotion to God, she found it wonderfully romantic that Richmond le Bec had indeed returned for his fair maiden. "Henry's standard, Arissa. I saw the crimson myself."

Arissa dropped the wooden spoon in her hand; the color drained from her face as she turned her wide green eyes to Emma.

"Richmond has returned," she whispered, her entire expression laced with disbelief and the most unimaginable joy. "He’s come, Emma. He’s come!"

Emma's face was a mirror of Arissa's; startled blue eyes gazed back at her friend. "Gavan," she murmured. "He must have come, too. Oh, Riss, Gavan has come too!"

Sister Repentia tried to stop them, but she knew her shouts of restraint were in vain as the two young women made haste to the front door. The panel was closed, although several nuns were trying to peer from the slender crack between the frame and the slightly-ajar panel.

Shoving the gray-clad women aside, Arissa yanked the door open and dashed across the muddy walk before anyone could stop her. Emma was directly on her heels, the both of them ignoring the cries of Sister Repentia. Clearly, there were matters of far greater import than the anxious shouts of an aging nun.

Richmond and Gavan had come.

Arissa saw the army approaching on the road, riding the crest toward the abbey with Henry's banners streaming in the brisk sea air. The charger in the lead was a dark animal, though distant, and Arissa set her sights on the mighty beast. Richmond's charger, she was sure. Her heart sang with the joy; already, she could taste him upon her lips. Already, she could feel his body on her, in her, never to let her go. She had never been happier in her life.

Until she realized the charger in the lead was a brown animal. Apprehension and confusion filled her as she slowed to an unsteady halt, scrutinizing the additional chargers that made up the front of the knightly column. More browns, grays, even chestnut. She'd never seen them before.

A creeping anxiety swept her as the destriers closed in on her position; frozen to the muddy turf, she could do naught but stare at the mighty warhorses as their riders reined them to an uneasy halt. The column of men flying Henry's banner came to a grinding stop and Arissa could feel Emma behind her, clutching at her in fear.

The man on the brown charger approached her, a big man in well-used armor. It was apparent that he was studying her, for his helmed head focused on her for several moments before he offered a weak, if not somewhat disbelieving, salutation.

"The Lady Arissa, I presume?"

Arissa stared at him, bitter and disappointed to the core. Angry, even, that the knight before her had dashed her hopes. "You are not Richmond."

The man shook his head, slowly. If there was any doubt that the rumors regarding the existing love between the Lady Arissa de Lohr and Richmond le Bec were false, it had been dashed in that instant. From the expression on her face, he could see that she was beyond disappointed. She was crushed.

"Nay, my lady, I am not Richmond," Henry Percy could scarcely believe the beauty before him. "I have come with a message from your father."

Arissa continued to stare at him, her considerable bitterness eased somewhat with the knight's brief explanation. "What message? And who are you?"

The knight dismounted his warhorse. Raising his visor, Arissa caught a glimpse of dark eyes, not entirely unkind. "My name is Henry Percy. Might I speak with the abbess?"

Arissa blinked as the sound of his name settled into her memory. After a moment, she tilted her head thoughtfully. "Hotspur?"

His eyes crinkled with a smile. "Then you do remember me?"