Timeless Tales of Honor (80 page)

She had no idea what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling more astonishment and anguish than she ever thought possible. The knowledge that demure, kindly Sister Repentia was the woman who had given her life was far more than her young mind could comprehend at the moment.

Hotspur watched her with concern; it was obvious that the lady had been unaware of her mother's identity and he cast Owen a long, critical glance.

"Sister Repentia accompanied us from Whitby," he said softly. "I ordered her to stay to the wagon."

David suddenly rose from his chair. "My sister is here?" he rasped. "Ellyn is in Wales? Why.... how..?"

"As a chaperone," Hotspur answered softly, refocusing on Arissa’s bowed, quivering head. "The mother abbess would not allow me to take Arissa without a chaperone."

David's pale face stared at the tent flap as if to see his sister in the camp beyond, clad in the nun's habit secured with a simple coarse rope, tied with four knots to remind the holy woman of the four vows she had taken upon entering the cloister. A woman he hadn't seen since his twelfth birthday, when last he had been witness to a terrible disagreement between his only sister and their parents.

Horrible words, nasty rumors. A disagreement that had caused her to leave Wales for the bustle of London, to fend for herself however she was able.

An argument that David had not been a part of, but he had been old enough to know that their parents had accused his sister unjustly and he found himself more than willing to apologize for her anguish. If Ellyn was truly in their midst, then he would not permit her to leave without allowing him to make amends for the sins of their parents.

Without another word, David quit the tent. Owen let him go, still focused on Arissa. He felt rather guilty that he had not realized her ignorance of Ellyn's identity and knelt beside her quaking body, wondering how he could possibly make reparation for his lack of tact.

"I apologize for your surprise, my lady," he said softly. "Had I known that you were unaware of your mother's identity, I would not have been so callous. Forgive me."

Arissa did not reply, completely shaken and bordering on madness. From the very moment she had gazed into Sister Repentia's eyes, there had been something uncannily familiar about the woman. A puzzled inquiry of familiarity that had been politely refuted. Suddenly, she felt foolish and sickened; if Sister Repentia had wanted her to know, then she would have told her immediately. She would not have allowed weeks to pass with nary a word of recognition. Instead, the link had gone ignored. Just as the woman had ignored her since birth.

In spite of the fact that she could not bring herself to hate the woman, it did not prevent her from experiencing a barrage of violent emotions. Resentment, anger, the agony of the unknown... Arissa felt the emotions building within her chest, swirling into a hurricane of torrential feelings. She simply couldn't believe that the woman had been intent on making a fool out of her.

"My lady," Owen broke into her turbulent thoughts. "Might I help you to rise? Come and sit by the vizier."

"Leave her be, Owen," Hotspur's voice was tight as he interrupted. "Allow her to recover her shock alone."

Owen rose to unsteady feet, raking his fingers through his dark hair. "Had I been aware that she was ignorant of Ellyn's identity, I certainly would not have...."

"Why did not you tell me Arissa was your cousin?" Hotspur cut him off, his dark eyes stormy. "If you have been intent to betray me from the beginning, I shall...."

Owen shook his head sharply. "It has never been my intention to betray you, Henry. I simply thought it best not to mention that the lady's mother is David's older sister."

Hotspur's jaw ticked unhappily, turning once more to linger on Arissa's lowered head. "Not only is she Henry's bastard, but she’s your cousin as well?" he shook his head, pondering the enormity of Arissa's station in life. "God's Blood, Owen, she links the Welsh rebellion with the crown of England. Do not you understand she could be the true instrument of peace?"

"All too well. And I intend to utilize that instrument."

"Aye - with threats and warnings. Not with understanding and good faith."

Owen cocked an eyebrow. "Just as Henry has shown good faith in your ability?" when Hotspur looked away, Owen drew in a deep breath and returned his attention to his niece. "Have no fear, my friend. Arissa shall be my guest until Richmond and Henry come to terms with the new order of England and Wales. Her presence will work to our advantage, I promise you."

Hotspur's gaze lingered on Arissa a moment longer, an ugly mottle shading his cheeks. The situation was deepening by the moment and he was not at all sure that allying himself with Owen Glendower had been a wise decision. But it was done, and he was forced to make the best of it. He had come too far to turn back.

Moving for the tent flap, he jabbed a gloved finger at Owen. "Do not touch her. And allow her time to recover before you inform her of the reasons for her imprisonment," his jaw ticked a moment as he gazed between the Welsh prince and the young girl on the floor. "I shall return for her, have no doubt."

Alone with his cousin, Owen reflected on the events that had led to this point in time. Lives lost, wasted efforts exhausted. He mused that the emotional toll had been far greater than the physical. As he gazed at the young lady's dark head, it would stand to reason that the emotional destruction was about to rise.

Higher, yet.

A
rissa lost
track of time as she huddled in Owen's tent, oblivious to all else but her disorderly thoughts. She still was not completely rational when Hotspur removed her from the shelter and took her to a small, warm tent lined with an abundance of furs. She had allowed him to carry her across the snowy compound, thinking his powerful embrace to feel a good deal like Richmond's and wishing that it was.

Henry managed to settle her nicely in the musty, warm tent, muttering something about returning with a bit of food. But Arissa had ignored him for the most part, still shaken with the news of Sister Repentia’s identity. Although she did not blame Hotspur for her emotional state, he felt extremely guilty nonetheless and quit the tent without another word. Knowing that whether or not he and Richmond met on the field of battle as a result of their political differences, surely they would do battle somewhere, somehow, for his transgressions against Arissa. He was sure of it.

Even as Hotspur wrestled with his guilt, Arissa forgot him the moment he left the tent. In faith, it had not been difficult to understand the truth behind her royal heritage; Richmond had taken the time to explain the facts, maintaining a calm and tender atmosphere, and although she had been astonished with the concept, she hadn't felt near the devastation or confusion that she was experiencing now.

After an eternity of sitting atop a pile of warm furs, attempting to calm herself, she shifted a little and removed her hood, taking the time to note her surroundings for the first time. She'd barely begun her observations when her vision came to rest on an identical pair of pale green eyes, gazing at her from the opposite side of the tent with the utmost apprehension.

Sister Repentia sat huddled in the corner, obscured by a pile of furs and the dim shadows. She stared at her daughter, and Arissa met her gaze with the same shocked expression.

Truthfully, she did not know how to react. It was obvious by the countenance on Sister Repentia's face that she was aware that Arissa had been told her identity. Arissa did not know how the woman knew, but she did. And the longer she gazed into the familiar pale green eyes, the more unnatural fury gripped her.

"How could you do this to me?" she suddenly hissed.

Sister Repentia swallowed. "It.... it was never my intention to keep the truth from you, Arissa. But the timing never seemed to be correct for my confession. I had hoped that we would come to know one another better and...."

"You made a fool of me!" Arissa exploded, leaping to her feet. She tore at the cloak, ripping it free and tossing it to the frozen ground as she faced her mother with a degree of resentment never before witnessed. "You let me go on thinking that you were my friend when, in fact, you were my... my
mother
! Sweet St. Jude, did you have a laugh at my expense when you retired at night, thinking of the silly young girl who was living her daily existence in complete ignorance of your identity?"

Sister Repentia shook her head, her breathing coming in harsh gasps. The reaction Arissa was experiencing had been her greatest fear; no understanding, no compassion, no love. Only hatred and fury. Only rejection.

When her brother had come to her as she wait in the wagon, she had not been overly surprised to see him. The reunion had been brief and comforting as he apologized for their parents actions those years ago that had driven a very young girl into the heart of London, desperate to escape the parental hatred.

Through the sometimes-awkward conversation and timid peace, she did not elaborate to David regarding her life in London and was quite surprised when he mentioned his knowledge of Arissa's parentage. Although he did not mention the reason behind Arissa's visit to Wales, she suspected correctly that it had something to do with the Welsh's resistance against Henry and actually began to fear for her daughter's life. Somewhat humiliated that her brother had discovered her liaison with the English king, she further wondered if the Welsh rebels were intent on harming her, too.

But her fear for Arissa's safety and her own well-being quickly turned to horror of another sort when she became aware that Owen, a cousin she hadn't seen in some time, had taken it upon himself to inform Arissa of her mother's identity. Gazing into her daughter's face, she realized it was a horror well justified.

"You must believe me, Arissa. I never intended to deceive you," her voice was pleading. "But the time was never right for me to tell you of our relationship. Can't you understand?"

"Then when would it be right? Now? In five years, ten years? Never? But, of course, you never wanted me in the first place so why would you even think to tell me of your true identity? Mayhap you did not want me to know the mother who had willingly given up her child in the face of such overwhelming shame."

Sister Repentia rose, unsteadily. Her pale green eyes were wide with gut-wrenching sorrow as she listened to her daughter rave. Slowly, she pulled away the protective wimple that had perpetually concealed her head from the corrupt world of sin. Black, silky hair, mussed and untamed, spilled well past her shoulders.

"Is that what you have been led to believe? That I never wanted you?" she shook her head, her action laced with remorse. "My God, Arissa, I loved you more than life itself. But it was necessary to place you in protective custody, away from those who would do you harm. Being the king's bastard entitled you to more than your share of enemies, but being borne from a woman married to a man not your father entitled you to the hatred of a shamed husband as well."

Arissa stared at the woman, her anguish maintaining a constant level as she observed Sister Repentia's complete features for the first time; she'd never seen the woman without her wimple to cover thick lengths of glorious black hair. Richmond had been correct when he told her that she favored her mother; they were identical.

But as she gazed at her mother, the woman's words took hold and Arissa found herself contemplating the meaning, the edge of her furor reduced by her uncertainty. "But.... if I was the king's child, then why couldn't he protect me? Why was it necessary to send me away?"

"Henry was not the king at that time - Richard was," Sister Repentia said softly. "Furthermore, Henry was married to Mary Bohun. It was unfortunate for us that we happened to fall in love, resulting in your birth. And it was imperative that we did what was necessary to assure you a full, unhindered life. We had to remove you from the bowels of political intrigue and hatred."

Arissa's uncertainty was gaining hold. But her resentment was still a powerful force. "You loved Henry?"

Sister Repentia smiled tremulously in remembrance. "As you love Richmond."

An entirely new light was cast onto Arissa's arena. If the woman had loved Henry as much as she loved Richmond, then it had been a powerful love indeed. A love strong enough to warrant sacrifice for the safety and happiness of another.

She continued to gaze at her mother, the pain of abandonment and separation in her eyes. "And you loved me?" She found she needed to know. .

Sister Repentia's eyes filled with tears, her smiled fading. "Enough to sacrifice my life for you," she whispered, allowing her tears to fall as her naked pain became evident. "You see, my husband had vowed vengeance upon both of us. The only solution was to send you away to assume a secret identity, shielded from the rage of a dishonored husband. And my only alternative was to commit myself to the one place my husband could not harm me."

"An abbey?" Arissa echoed.

Sister Repentia nodded, wiping at her damp cheeks. "Henry was already married and there was no possibility that we could ever be together. Whitby became my refuge, my strength, my rock of faith until such time as you came to join me. Although you and I were separated at birth, Henry had promised me that you would join me in the cloister when you became of age. I lived on that promise."

Arissa lowered her gaze, feeling her mother's pain as it mingled with her own. The woman had waited for the day when Arissa would join her, but Arissa had ignored the reverence of the abbey by declaring her love for a man, a man who would rescue her from the sheltered existence of Whitby. Unknowingly, she had completely disregarded her mother's joy.

If only she had known. She found she simply could not maintain her fury any longer. There was no longer the need.

After a moment, she shook her head, returning her attention to the black-haired woman. "No wonder you never told me of your identity. With my anticipation for Richmond's return expressed on a daily basis, I can understand your reluctance."