Rose of rapture (35 page)

"I have always thought so," Warrick agreed somewhat coolly, for there was something about the Count that disturbed him, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

He had heard certain rumors about the Italian, but that was all they were, for Lord Montecatini was a most secretive man and ' jealously guarded his privacy. There was no actual proof the Count had ever been involved in anything unsavory, although, of course, all Italians were always suspected of dealing in poisons, fatal potions being, apparently, a favorite method of eliminating one's rivals at the Roman Court. Even in England, there were those lords and ladies who so feared being murdered in such a fashion that they would drink from nothing but cups of the finest hand-blown crystal, the glass being thought to render poisons harmless. And there were others who were always careful to pass a shark's tooth over a chalice before sipping from it (it was believed the tooth would turn colors if poison were present in the contents of the cup).

Still, although gossips speculated on Lord Montecatini's knowledge of this murderous art, it was not these rumors the Earl found distasteful. Though poison was not a means that Warrick would have chosen to rid himself of his enemies, it was certainly no more dishonorable than sneaking down a shadowed corridor to knife someone in the back, the method preferred by the English.

The dark hints that the vain, handsome Count favored young men rather than young maids were what gave the Earl a slight sense of disgust and unease whenever he encountered the Italian.

Warrick scrutinized Lord Montecatini carefully, certain the Count had guessed the true cause of Isabella's momentary an-

guish. For some strange reason, the Earl found the thought vaguely discomforting; and he did not like, besides, the manner in which the Italian was staring at Giles. For one unguarded instant, Warrick could have sworn he saw a blaze of lust in Lord Montecatini's black eyes when they looked at Isabella's brother. Without warning, the Earl realized that as his wife was beautiful, so Giles was handsome. The idea that the Count might seek to seduce Giles alarmed Warrick. His brother-in-law was young and relatively inexperienced. He would be at the mercy of a clever, determined man like the Italian. The Earl must take immediate steps to prevent Giles from falling into the Italian's clutches. To do that, Warrick must find some way to be rid of Lord Montecatini and whatever schemes he might be plotting.

"Come 'Sabelle. Giles," Warrick ordered abruptly. "The hour grows late, and as Giles and I have both entered our names on the lists for the King's tourney tomorrow, we should no doubt seek our beds. Do ye tilt, my lord?" the Earl asked of the Count.

"Alas, nay. I have no taste for jousting, I'm afraid."

"But of course. Your.. .preferences are well known. Lord Montecatini," Warrick drawled, deliberately provocative and insulting. "What a pity. Methinks 'twould be most interesting to cross steel with ye."

The Italian did not miss the double meaning of—or warning in—the Earl's words. One eyebrow lifted.

"Indeed? Then, of course, ye must allow me the honor of granting ye that privilege, my lord," the Count stated politely.

"Until tomorrow then," Warrick said. "Come, 'Sabelle. Giles."

Isabella's brother was surprised and slightly offended at being commanded by his sister's husband to leave the great hall, especially as the Earl's rank was no higher than his own. Then Giles recalled how desperately Isabella longed to make her marriage work and how difficult this would be if there were to be trouble between Warrick and him, so he made his adieus politely and followed the newlyweds from the chamber.

Not a one of the three looked back, thereby missing the faintly twisted sneer of amusement that Lord Montecatini wore upon his shuttered face and the sudden flame of anger that lit his black eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE DAY OF THE KING'S TOURNEY DAWNED BRIGHT and clear that warm summer day of July. Above, the yellow sun shone down mellowly this early mom, although it promised to grow hotter the higher it rose in the brilliant azure sky. Huge, white cotton-candy clouds floated serenely in the firmament, little wisps drifting away, now and then, with the breeze. Below, Tower Green was like a sea of emerald, the trees wafting gently with the wind, their verdant branches rustling. The River Thames sparkled blue beneath the sun, its rippling waters lapping softly at the hulls of the boats and barges that filled the harbor.

All along the shore, merchants hawked their wares, and crowds thronged, hoping to catch a glimpse of some of the more famous personages who were making their way toward the river. Isabella fairly skipped along on her husband's arm; she was so excited. When they had gone to Westminster Palace, they had ridden by horse, taking King's Road, on which only persons of blood or rank were allowed to travel. To reach Edward's residence at Greenwich, where the tourney was to be held, they were journeying by barge. As Isabella had never been aboard any type of water-going vessel before, she was naturally quite thrilled by the prospect. Even the slight rocking of the barge as Warrick handed

her into it did not dim her anticipation, though Jocelyn grew quite pale and begged her mistress to sit down immediately. Caerllywel laughed as he sprawled down beside the maid, encircling her waist with his arm and vowing cheerfully, at the cost of his own life, to prevent her from drowning, should the vessel sink.

"Oh, sir," Jocelyn breathed with dismay, gazing down at the river that now seemed too close for comfort. "Do ye think there's a chance that might happen?"

"Of course not, Jocelyn!" Isabella asserted, frowning sternly at her brother-in-law. "Caerllywel was jesting, as usual."

"What makes ye so certain of that, my lady?" he asked, his eyes dancing.

"Because ye wouldst say anything in order to gain the opportunity of consoling a pretty maid," the girl responded tartly, though she was not at all displeased by the romance that appeared to be budding between her maid and Caerllywel. "Pay no heed to the rogue, Jocelyn," she commanded firmly. "And tell him he must mend his wayward manners before you'll have aught to do with him."

"Aye," Warrick said with a grin as he took his place beside Isabella under the striped canopy that protected them from the sun's rays. "The devil could well do with some lessons on that score."

Caerllywel's answer to this was to snatch off the Earl's plumed hat and toss it overboard.

"Oh," Isabella gasped as the two brothers proceeded to scuffle good-naturedly, and the barge tilted alarmingly.

"Oh, my lord and sir, I beg ye to stop at once," Jocelyn pleaded, clutching one side of the vessel frantically.

Even Ragnor, perched firmly upon Isabella's shoulder (for the hawk now accompanied her wherever she went), squawked with annoyance.

"Here, here, Warrick. Caerllywel," Giles put in as he retrieved the now-sodden hat before it floated away. "You're frightening Jocelyn, and Isabella is looking none too well either. Remember—neither of them has ever been aboard a barge before."

Upon being reminded of this and seeing that the two girls really did look a trifle green about the gills, the brothers ceased their mock battle and settled down in their seats once more. As best he could, Giles wrung Warrick's hat out and, trying hard not to laugh at its shameful condition, handed it back to the Earl. Warrick glanced ruefully at its sadly dripping feather while Caerllywel shook with silent merriment.

"Ye know I always repay ye for these childish pranks of yours, brother," the Earl said somewhat crossly, "so I do not understand why ye persist in them."

"And / do not understand why ye don't develop a sense of humor, Waerwic. Really, Isabella, how do ye stand the arrogant churl?"

She was saved from replying to this question by Warrick asking whether or not he was to consider the damage done to his hat diverting.

"I found it most diverting indeed," Caerllywel assured his brother, thereby earning another box to his ears.

This would have set the brothers off once more, had not Isabella protested that others were now getting into the barge, among them Lord and Lady Stanley, who would not look leniently on being overtiuned into the Thames. Warrick and Caerllywel sobered quickly enough upon having their attention drawn to this fact, although the Earl had the temerity to grab off his brother's hat and exchange it with his own. Caerllywel tried to smile nonchalantly as he was forced to doff the wet hat to Lady Stanley, who eyed him reprovingly before taking her seat.

Shortly thereafter, the barge began to move slowly down the river until it had reached the Royal palace at Greenwich.

The Palace of Placentia, as it was now called, was extremely old. It had come to the Crown through King Henry V in 1414; but for over five centuries before that, it had belonged to the Abbey of St. Peter of Ghent. His Grace the Duke of Gloucester, Humphrey, Henry's youngest brother, had been made a grant of the manor and there had built himself a large keep, complete with battlements, towers, and a moat. He had named it Bella Court. A smaller, outlying fortress, which was now known as Duke Humphrey's Tower, guarded the strategic road from Dover to London.

After the Duke had been arrested for high treason and had died in prison, Bella Court had passed into the hands of Queen Marguerite of Anjou, who had changed its name to the Palace of Placentia. The vain Queen had taken great pains to leave her mark upon the castle, fitting the windows with the costliest of glass and paving the floors with terra-cotta tiles that were engraved with her monogram. In addition, she had commanded sculptors to ornament the piUars and arcades of the residence with her emblem, the ox-eyed daisy that bore her name. To house her many jewels, she had ordered a vestry constructed; and west of the keep, in the Thames, she had had a pier erected so royal

barges might land without mishap there, no matter the state of the tide.

It was this wharf that the vessel containing Isabella and the rest of her companions now approached. Once they had reached the dock, several able-handed men ran forward to catch the lines cast to them by the numerous oarsmen who had rowed the barge, and the vessel was safely moored until such time as it would be needed again. Warrick, Caerllywel, and Giles leaped lightly ashore, then turned to assist the girls as they disembarked.

After that, they made their way to the palace greens, where the tourney was to be held. Although the keep did not boast a formal tiltyard, Isabella saw, as they neared the fortress, that great pains had been taken to prepare the lawns for the coming joust. Tiered benches, set beneath canopies, lined one complete side of the arena and were akeady starting to be filled with the spectators who were making their ways from the barges. On the opposite side of die stadium stood the brightly colored pavilions of the lords and knights who had entered the lists. The gay tents, with their banners rippling gently in the slight breeze, had been erected earlier that mom by each participant's men-at-arms and squires, who had been entrusted with the bringing of destriers and armor as well.

"My Lady Hawkhurst?" A small page ran forward upon spying the girl.

"Aye."

The boy bowed respectfully, then, his young face puckered up wi± concentration, breathlessly rattled off the message he bore for her.

"Her Grace the Duchess of Gloucester humbly begs the presence of ye and your companions in her box and would be most pleased if ye would join her."

"Oh," Isabella gasped with surprise, startied and much touched. "How kind of her grace. Do go, and inform my lady Duchess that we are most honored by her request and would be very happy to join her," the girl said, handing the lad a silver coin from her purse.

The boy's face beamed as gladly he accepted the half crown she offered him. Then, after being certain he had committed her reply, word for word, to memory, he raced off to deliver it.

Warrick, Caerllywel, and Giles escorted Isabella and Jocelyn to Anne's box, then, after paying their respects to the Duchess, departed for their pavilions to ready themselves for the tilting. Isabella, although she had corresponded with Anne over the years,

had never met the Duchess and sat down a trifle shyly beside

her.

Like Isabella, Anne was very small and slender, even more so: for the Duchess seemed almost too thin and wan, too frail to endure the rigors of the worid. Her delicate, exquisitely drawn face was heart-shaped and her skin, almost translucent; it was so pure and pale. Her hair was a bright, lustrous shade of chestnut streaked with gold that matched the amber flecks of her warm, dark brown eyes. Her cheekbones were fine and high; her nose was straight and narrow; her mouth was full and soft. Arrestingly beautiful, her whole appearance was such that Isabella found no difficulty in perceiving why Richard loved his wife so and fought so fiercely to protect her; and the girl knew at once that she too would love Anne.

"Your grace," Isabella murmured, "how kind of ye to mvite us to join ye."

"My lady"—Anne's voice was low and gentle—"'twas the least I could do for Giles's dear sister and one whose letters have oft brightened my days. I hope I didst not upset any other arrangements ye might have made, but I found I couldst not forego the opportunity to meet ye at last."

"I had no other plans, your grace," Isabella assured her, "and I also am glad of the chance to meet ye and to thank ye, in person, for your many past kindnesses to me and my brother. Ye cannot guess what I, especially, would have suffered in my childhood, had it not been for ye and your husband. 'Twas indeed most generous and thoughtful of ye to take an interest in a young maid who had no claim upon ye."

"I fear ye are too kind, my lady, for it cost me little enough to befriend ye. A few letters written to a frightened child—what is that?" the Duchess asked.

"Yet, there are those who would not have done as much," Isabella remarked.

"Then I pity them," Anne stated simply, "for they are without compassion and doubtless find little love or joy in their lives. How could I have done less when I learned of your plight, my lady? Indeed, I wish only that I had been able to do more. It must have been horrid to have been raised by such persons as Lord Oadby and Lady Shrewton," the Duchess went on softly, her dark eyes flashing a little with anger. "I guessed immediately, from Dickon's letter to me, explaining the matter, how things stood at Rushden. My heart ached for ye, my lady, for I too was once in the clutches of those who would have used me ill; and I