Virginia Henley (12 page)

“God knows who else has guessed. None, I hope! For her safety I want it kept secret.”

“I agree, Your Grace,” said Roger solemnly.

“Plague take you, call me Ned! So you’ve changed your mind about marriage. Are you sure, Roger?”

Roger was sure. She had been his from the moment he
set eyes on her. “Never have I done anything in my life with a thousandth part the joy which I do this.”

The two men’s relationship was close and easy. When they supped together, the tales went ringing around the hall; there had always been more laughter shared than curses. They had wrestled and fought since boyhood, had drank and whored together, and when alone they had shared inner thoughts on death and life that they could trust to no other ears.

“I entrust her to you without hesitation,” said Edward.

“I’ll cherish her always,” pledged Roger. “But as I told you, she’s come to beg you on her knees to get her out of this marriage.”

“Has the chit set her sights on an earl? All Plantagenets are cursed with ambition.”

“Nay, she is in love with her hatred for me. She has set her will against mine and is determined to have her own way at all costs.”

Edward grimaced. “Poor Roger. Leave her to me. Women can be the very devil!”

Roger hesitated. His face softened as he thought of Roseanna. “She fancies she is in love with a young knight. Don’t be too hard on her, Ned.”

The King changed the subject. “I decided on a tournament as a show of strength here in the North. You know I refused Warwick when he asked for my brother to marry his daughter, and I expressly forbade George to marry the girl. But I have information that they are going ahead with secret plans, and the marriage is imminent. Warwick cannot pull my strings any longer. The moment he gets George for his son-in-law, I fear he will try to depose me and set George up as King.”

“You should have clapped them in the Tower and had
their heads for treason long ago,” said Roger flatly. Yet he knew Edward was never the first to pick a fight.

“Warwick thinks he is still the kingmaker. His brother Northumberland holds the North, and his youngest brother, the Archbishop of York, holds Hertfordshire. It runs alongside Warwick’s holdings in Warwickshire and Buckinghamshire.”

“Which conveniently converges with your brother George’s estates,” said Roger dryly. “Add to all this that Warwick is still Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports with the warship Trinity at his command, and I tell you he has too much power!”

“He was my mentor for the first twenty years of my life—yours also, Roger. It isn’t easy to betray him. Harder still to betray a brother.”

“Yet they will betray you,” said Roger flatly.

“Two wrongs never made a right. They must act first; only then will I be truly convinced.”

    Roseanna went back down to the stables, ostensibly to check on her horse but really to find Sir Bryan. It was not many minutes before he was beside her. They slipped down past a long line of animals and into an empty box stall. The miasma of horses, leather, and oats tickled her nostrils, and she suppressed the urge to sneeze.

“Bryan, are you all right? Ravenspur’s men didn’t threaten or ill-treat you, did they?”

“No, no, we have become good companions. I don’t think the thought even entered Ravenspur’s head that we were running off to get married.”

“Well, things have probably worked out for the best. I’m going to see the King and tell him that I want to wed you, not Ravenspur.”

“My God, don’t do that, Roseanna. I’ll disappear off the face of the earth and never be heard from again!” he said, greatly alarmed.

“Don’t be silly. My family will arrive in a few days, and we can be married properly with the King’s blessing rather than run off to Scotland. Bryan, the King won’t deny me my heart’s desire.”

“You must have great faith in him to risk my safety,” he said quietly.

She reached up and kissed him on the mouth. “Of course I do,” she promised. “In the meantime there is a whole wing set aside for my family, so you can stay there.”

“I think I’ll slip home for a fast visit to Marston Moor. I’ll return tomorrow or the next day,” he promised.

“Then take care, my love, and don’t worry about me. Everything will be the way we want it,” she assured him.

Before she kept her appointment with the King, she removed her cloak and brushed out her long dark hair. She had packed no veils or posy caps, so she fastened it back demurely with a pink ribbon unthreaded from her garter. As she was ushered into the King’s presence, she made a low curtsey until the last of his attendants departed. It was a beautiful room filled with priceless tapestries, but Roseanna concentrated on what she had come to say. She sat upon the window seat, which was piled high with velvet cushions, and Edward joined her there.

“Father, I beg you to release me from the pledge to marry Ravenspur. Instead, I wish to marry the knight who gave me safe escort here, Sir Bryan Fitzhugh.”

Everyone, including Roseanna, assumed Edward was good-humored to a fault. He was not.

“You are my ward, Roseanna. No better husband than
Roger Montford could be found for you in all of England.”

She flared, “He’s had much practice at being a husband, but his wives are in the grave and cannot recommend him to me!”

Edward was used to haughty, high-handed, spoiled women. He was married to a woman who acted as if she were Queen of Heaven rather than of England. “Roger suffered grave misfortunes in both his marriages. No doubt he will reveal all to you in his own good time, and it will put to rest whatever gossip you may have listened to.”

“I thought you of all people would understand that I have a sweetheart and wish to marry him!” she cried piteously.

“A young knight is not what I would wish for you,” he pointed out patiently. “Someday you will very likely need the protection of wealth and strength, which Ravenspur offers.” He tried for a lighter tone. “If I refuse him, the damned fellow would think nothing of running me through!”

“Sir Bryan’s father died trying to protect your father,” she flung at him. Tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

He knew that Sir Bryan’s father was brother to Henry Fitzhugh, who in turn was brother-in-law to Warwick. “Sir Bryan’s father was a loyal man,” the King said enigmatically.

“What does that mean?” she demanded.

“Nothing, really. Just that Sir Bryan was in my brother’s service and has yet to prove his loyalty.”

“Must he die to prove that loyalty, as his father did?” she cried.

“Roseanna, twenty thousand men died at Towton to put me on the throne. You think I want more deaths on my conscience?” he asked quietly.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she said, appalled at herself.

“My Rosebud, you are very hard to resist with the tears of a supplicant marring your beauty. But I do resist. You will marry Ravenspur to please me, and one day you will thank me for denying your request.”

She couldn’t believe that he would not let her have her own way! She wanted to fly at him and scratch his eyes out. Instead, she would withdraw her love and treat him coldly from this day forward. With pinched nostrils, firmly compressed lips, and narrowed eyes, she tossed her head and walked deliberately from his presence. She vented her temper on the door and crashed it closed with all her strength. She would flee from this place instantly! Then she remembered with sinking heart that Bryan had gone home.

    In fact, Sir Bryan had not gone home. At the White Rose, York’s largest inn, he met up with his friend, Sir Jeffrey Castlemaine. To a casual observer it seemed as if the two friends had met by chance, but such was not the case. Jeffrey had been following Roseanna and Bryan since they left Castlemaine. It had been he who had anonymously informed one of Ravenspur’s men where his sister could be found. That is, his half sister, he thought bitterly.

The two young men quit the White Rose and rode as if the devil himself were at their horses’ tails. Their destination was Middleham Castle, some thirty-odd miles from York. Warwick owned Middleham, which had such high walls about the round tower that it was a formidable
fortress. While the King held Court at York, a secret gathering was taking place at Middleham, George, Duke of Clarence, was in residence with his new father-in-law, Warwick.

By the time the two knights reached Middleham they were dressed in the Duke of Clarence’s livery, which carried the unmistakable device of the Black Bull. The two knights had been in service to George for many years, which really meant they were in service to Warwick.

Warwick, who made it his business to know everything, had known for years that Jeffrey’s sister was the King’s bastard. But only when he saw a close friendship spring up between Jeffrey and blond, beautiful Bryan, who was related to himself through marriage, did he cleverly let slip that Roseanna was only Jeffrey’s half sister and had royal blood in her veins. Then he nurtured the boy’s envy until it turned into jealousy and festered into hatred.

The knights had been sent home to Castlemaine with the express purpose of securing Roseanna in marriage to Sir Bryan. A King’s bastard would be a valuable weapon to hold ready when blackmail seemed necessary. Now that Ravenspur had come forward and agreed to marry Roseanna, the plans had changed. Would she not be more valuable married to Ravenspur than Sir Bryan? That way they could not only blackmail the King but also render his strongest ally useless.

When they rode over the drawbridge, they found that Middleham was acting as host to a multitude. Warwick’s brother Northumberland was there, and so was Lord Stanley, the greatest lord in Lancashire and Cheshire. He had reason to hate the King, for half his holdings had been repossessed and handed to the Yorkists when the
Lancastrian nobility fell. But they were surprised to learn that the northern rebel Robin Mendell was also being entertained at Middleham.

Though the young knights were not privy to the plots that were being hatched inside this stronghold, their common sense told them that it would not be long before events would explode into action. They told Warwick that Bryan’s plans to secure Roseanna had been thwarted by Ravenspur but that they believed she would be more useful to them married to the baron. Warwick clearly agreed and told Jeffrey to get back to his sister’s wedding with all possible speed. He advised Sir Bryan to seek service with Ravenspur so that he would be doubly valuable as a spy, and to keep the King’s daughter close to his hand, should they need her.

    Neville Castlemaine’s abundant patience was put to the test every mile of the journey to York. The baggage train was considerable. Now that they had been assured by letter from Ravenspur that Roseanna was safe at York with the King and that wedding plans were going forward, Joanna had packed every article that Roseanna possessed. There were also three wagonloads of furniture, carpets, tapestries, and bed linen that Roseanna would take to her new home. As well as this, there was the baggage that the family would need for the journey to York and back. Joanna in a generous moment had decided that Roseanna would have both Alice and Kate Kendall to look after her. Neville himself added to the procession by bringing Mecca and three other horses that Roseanna had bred.

There had been a terrible flap at Castlemaine when they had discovered Roseanna missing, but Jeffrey assured
his parents that he knew where the young couple was headed and would catch up with them within hours. It had been a great relief to them when Ravenspur’s knights had arrived to act as escort and had brought the letter from Roger.

Neville brought along a dozen of his own men-at-arms as well as a dozen household servants, and he made use of every man there. The wagons bogged down in mud, stuck in ruts, and lost wheels at the most inconvenient times. The Great North Road itself was marvelous, built by the Romans so that the rain drained off it well, but the roads that led to and from it were nightmarish.

The women complained continually about the weather, the delays, the food, and the sleeping accommodations at the inns they used. Only their sense of humor prevented Neville and Joanna from murdering each other. After four long days they arrived at York, and it took a fifth day to unload and settle into the apartments assigned to them.

Roseanna was prepared for a battle with her mother, but no words of censure came. Joanna merely gave her a penetrating look that conveyed a wealth of meaning, then proceeded to direct the serving maids in unpacking Roseanna’s wedding gown and trousseau.

Joanna was happy that the Queen—or the Woodville woman, as she called her—was not in York but had remained in London with the rest of her clan. But she had no intention to dally with the King. Such behavior at her daughter’s wedding and under the eye of so many spectators would be inappropriate.

Roseanna haunted the stables, looking for signs of Sir Bryan’s return. She knew that Kate Kendall followed her steps, that her mother had once again set her watchdog
upon her. But finally, Bryan was there, and nothing else mattered to her. She went into his arms as he emerged from the royal stables. “Oh, my love, never have two days gone by so slowly in my life.”

Gently, he took her arms from around his neck and drew her into the stables, where he hoped they would be less conspicuous. “Sweetheart, we must be more discreet,” he chided.

Tears flooded her eyes. “Love is not discreet—love is flamboyant!” she cried.

He took her hands into his and said low, “We both know that your marriage to Ravenspur is inevitable.”

“How did you know that the King refused me?” she cried.

“Sweetheart, it was just wishful thinking that we could wed, but listen to me. It doesn’t have to be the end of everything. Somehow I will take service with Ravenspur, and we will be together. I swear it to you!” he promised fervently.

“Can’t we elope?” she begged.

“Be sensible. At this moment your woman servant is keeping watch on us. Think you she’s the only one? The King has spies everywhere. Even Ravenspur may have you followed. Our staying together depends on our keeping his suspicions at bay. Don’t try to see me anymore. I will write you some sweet poetry, and when he finally takes you to his castle, I will be in his service. Tell me you understand.”