The Everlasting Covenant (23 page)

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Authors: Robyn Carr

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: The Everlasting Covenant
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***

Through the rest of the summer Anne spent very little time with Brennan

s son, but it was evident that he was more than a little spoiled, he was demanding
and inconsiderate. Castle serv
ants could not easily please him and he indulged in childish tantrums that challenged the patience of the entire household, but Brennan did not take him to task. He seemed to ignore the problems his son presented. Anne knew that her skills as a mother would be tested, for she would not raise a child with behavior like Brainard

s. And she saw that Brennan might be little help. Good in so many things, he seemed indifferent to fatherhood.

The air cooled and the harvest was being brought in. Anne

s burden grew while she luxuriated in her rich home, getting to know the good people who faithfully served the earl. And then the Gifford banner appeared without the Ayliffe gates and Lady Gifford was admitted with twenty men-at-arms, six servants, and a baggage cart that held the furnishings of a bedchamber and a winter wardrobe. Anne knew then that Brainard would be the least of her problems.

Anne met her mother in the courtyard in the midst of many Ayliffe guards in addition to her mother

s escort.

You

re round
ing out quite well, daughter,

Marcella said, kissing Anne

s cheek perfunctorily. She examined Anne

s swollen form.

Your brother brought the news when he returned to Raedelle. Bart and Tren
ton have scurried off to do the earl

s bidding. When is the child due to be born? Christmastide, Quentin says. No sooner?

Anne lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. She should have known that her mother would challenge her instantly. She felt overpowered by Marcella, a feeling made worse by the fact that she had to look up to meet her eyes.


The earl must be very proud to get a child on you so soon.


Indeed, madam, he is very proud. You should have informed us you were coming.


Did I not? Oh, I write so many letters I was sure I told everyone in England and France and encouraged them to visit me here. The earl invited me. I assumed ...


Where is Divina, Mother?


Oh dear, I have been remiss. I must make tallies in the future. I was sure I had written you. She is with the sisters of Bury Saint Edmunds, dear. She is very happy with them.

Anne

s face bleached of color. Her mouth opened in shock and she nearly swayed.

She did not want to go to the convent, Mother,

Anne said in a stunned whisper.


Oh, but she changed her mind, dear Anne.

Anne gave a quiet and miserable moan as her mother looked around the courtyard, lifting a thin brow as she contemplated Ayliffe

s rich
ness.


Is there any way I can assist, my lady?

Anne found Sir Clifton standing beside them and she smiled in relief. This knight had developed a habit of being nearby when there was any need. J
ust when Marcella was most over
powering, there stood Clifton, his presence a show of strength. She gave thanks yet again that she had Brennan and his people. It was a great deal easier to face Marcella here, at Ayliffe, where she was a countess with so many strong helpers at her disposal. And Clifton had made it clear he would serve her most both
ersome request and be grateful for the chance. She did not wonder where Brainard was as she took comfort in the show of allegiance.

Thank you, Sir Clifton,

she said, smiling.

If you will direct my lady mother

s es
cort to the cookery for refresh
ment, I will take her into the hall myself.

He nodded and bowed, backing away from her.


Ah,

Marcella sighed as she walked alongside Anne toward the hall,

it
is good to be here –
Raedelle had become so dark and lonely. It is doubtful the place will become cheery under Quentin

s dominion, unless we can find him a rich wife. And, we must speak to the earl about Bart. It has been months since Edward was crowned and with all the attainted lands left by
Henry, surely we can fix him something now. I know you

ll speak for him, Anne.

An uneasy feeling prickled up Anne

s spine. She knew she must carefully balance her mother

s power with her desire for more. Their tenuous pact, Marcella

s silence against Anne

s vul
nerability, would be a challenging existence at best.
I must be stronger,
Anne thought.
Strong and clever enough to show her that I will not be shuffled out of sight as Divina was.


You will speak for Bart, daughter?

Anne impulsively turned back toward the courtyard where Sir Clifton directed Marcella

s escort by pointing toward the stables, the cookery, and other comforts they might indulge themselves in. Sir Clifton did her bidding quickly and efficiently, and the sight gave Anne a bolstered sense of might. She knew she had but to whisper a request to have services performed all over Ayliffe.

I will speak to the earl in good time, Mother,

she said more easily.

 

***

 

The visiting troop of escorts dispersed to stable their horses and find food, but Sir Clifton stood staring at the hall where Anne had disappeared behind the door. Her smile still tickled his memory with desire, and there were times when he could not think clearly for hours after she passed him in the town.


He won

t be good for currying horses for an hour, now he

s got her ladyship

s scent,

an Ayliffe knight said in jest.

Clifton

s head jerked in the offender

s direction and his dark eyes blazed with fury.

What did you say?

A companion chuckled easily and slapped a hand on the shoulder of the first knight.

He meant no harm, Sir Cliff. It hasn

t gone unnoticed that you

re less often with young Brainard, but lingering about the doors, hoping the little countess will be passing by.

Both men laughed.

You

re not alone in your ap
preciation. I bet she

s a lively piece for t
he old lord. Aye, for a young –”

Clifton

s arms had tensed through the teasing and before the man finished he let out an enraged growl and flung himself on the two of them. Fists were flying as the trio landed in the dirt, the two teasing knights unable to escape Clifton

s attack. Some
one shouted when they were spied, and within moments a large circle of men gathered. But the match went quickly out of control as one of the knights escaped Clifton

s hold and tried, futilely, to pull Clifton off the remaining knight. Sir Cliff sat on the young knight

s chest and hammered his face mercilessly. A second, a third, and finally a fourth knight was required to pull Clifton from his prey. But for a trickle of blood at the corner of his lip, Clifton was unmarked.

Clifton

s rage was slow to abate. He stood, breathing heavily and holding back the tides of his temper, while his victim was dragged to his feet, his face battered and bleeding.


Christ, man, what brought that on?

someone asked.


With Sir Cliff, he could have stubbed his toe on a pebble.


Sir Cliff? I thought him the favorite? A temper like that guards his lordship

s son?


He

s different with his own kind, lad. Mind you don

t make him angry.

Clifton might have answered that remark with another on
slaught of punches, but the crowd had grown and he would be badly disadvantaged. He whirled away from the group, stomp
ing off toward his quarters. She brought him near madness with her young beauty, her sweet disposition, her soft, caressing voice. Even though he had become well known for his volatile temper long ago, he blamed Lady Anne for his sudden and dangerous outburst.

 

 

 

 

Part
II

May 20, 1
465

 

Chapter Nine

 

The ship
on which Dylan had sailed from Calais to Eng
land had belonged to his wife

s father, but since his recent death it was now Dylan

s. He anchored off Plymouth, but did not go ashore. It was too soon. He wanted to remember the moment his foot was again planted on English soil, and he wanted to touch ground on land he owned.

It was not to be Heathwick, but this would do nicely. If he was ever welcomed at court, he would thank King Edward most kindly for marrying Elizabeth Woodville. She would be crowned in a few days, although Dylan would not dare go to London to witness the event. He was still officially in exile until things could be arranged. That he had actually returned to England was the strictest secret. And this estate that he would henceforth own and temporarily call home had been a part of his wife

s dowry. His wife, Raynia, God keep her, was the niece of Lord Rivers, Queen Elizabeth

s cousin.

Dylan had lived in precarious flight, often in poverty, for most of the last four years. He used his warring skills as a mercenary in six brief battles on the continent, never for loyalty, never for the same duke or king twice. He had managed, along
with Cameron, to better his lodgings each year they remained abroad and even visited a few noble households, among them King Philip

s in France. He made the acquaintance of Anthony Woodville, also in exile and, through him, met Raynia. They had been married now six months.

Dylan traveled with a few men and servants, but no one spoke as they transferred from the ship to a small craft. To reach his property it was necessary to travel through an inlet that went deep into the land, surrounded by woody hills, rocky cliffs. He pulled the scrolled map from inside his short mantle and studied it as the lesser men rowed.

There,

with a pointing finger, was his only utterance. The modest castle, no more than a manor house really, was exactly as it had been described. It sat beneath a viny veil at the top of a steep bank and he could see that the brush and trees were kept cut back along a winding path from the beach to the house. A ship could not get in here, which kept it safe from sea attack. Access by land was said to be even more difficult, as there were many bogs and marshes, known by the residents, unknown to strangers.

He hesitated, but finally stepped into the shallow water, wet
ting his boots and hose, and walked a few steps to the beach. He sighed appreciatively, hands on hips, looking around.

England.

Anne.

The two thoughts had come simultaneously for four years. En
gland and Anne, his two loves .
.. and the two he could not have.

The six knights, former mercenaries who would serve him as men-at-arms when he was restored, and the four male servants began to carry parcels and trunks up the winding path toward the house. They remained quiet. On the voyage and before Dylan had told them so much about his home and his longing to have his country again, they held their tongues reverently while he acclimated himself. But he was oblivious to their ef
ficiency, as to their courtesy. Tears burned his eyes.

Anne. Oh my beloved.
Wed now, they say, and a mother. Would that you could have
been the mother of my child ..
. but
an Ayliffe heir is impressive. I did not do so well by marriage, but Raynia is a decent young woman, if cool. And Anne, she did get me home. What will you say when you see me? That
I
am changed? I ha
ve fought more senseless wars –
I took booty for pay. I robbed a baron of some mighty pretty stuff. Tough
ened. Perhaps I am only toughened. Perhaps my loneliness has not made me bitter or angry. Does it show, my Anne?

And you, my love? Ah ..
. you could only be more beautiful, of course. And bedecked in glorious lengths of silk and sarcenet and jewels, not stolen by a mercenary soldier, but honorably earned by a noble close to the king
--
as it should be. You were born to be draped in the finest cloth, covered with glittering gems.
And motherhood suits you well –
I always knew it would. Your cheeks surely glow, your eyes, deep and brown and soft, show the warmth and tenderness earned by women when they nurse their young and rear them with that watchful, careful mother love.

I hope your marriage is good. I hope the earl is decent and kind and gives you much. Mine? Of course, my wife is a good woman. We are resettled, we two, long and far from our youth. Long and far from the gardener

s tent at the fair. Far, far, from the cask room at Raedelle.

Am
I
so changed? My eyes only show the long distance I have traveled, that is all. I am not as old as I look, only seven and twenty. I have no sons, but I am only
recently wed and my wife is ..
. young. She is young. No, my Anne, not changed.
I
am not changed. Nothing has changed, though I willed it. I prayed for release.

I cannot see you, it is impossible for me. These passions have been barely controlled, though a sea has separated us. One look at your lovely face will bring all my secrets to my lips, to my eyes, and you will know that in my heart
I
am still the boy-knight who would have died for your love. Now and then, over the years, in a common place like a hall or shop or street corner, a scent would come suddenly and my mind would be filled with memories of you. Or a woman would pass and her back, or hair, or manner of step, would remind me of you and
I
would
panic and run to see her face. There was always that hope, always that despair.

What will you tell me? Will you spill your heart

s blood and admit it was the same for you? And will we then begin our sins anew, though now there are even more people we might destroy? Or, my only love, will you say you are content with the earl, and love me no more?


My lord?

Dylan slowly returned to the present. He swallowed back the threat of tears and turned to his friend, Markham.


We

ll take the skiff around for more of the baggage, if that

s all right.


Aye, Mark, my lad. Good work, and thank you.


Glad to be home, my lord?


Aye. Praise Lady Raynia for providing a house. Is it a good house, Mark?


Stout and well kept. There

s a caretaker who lives here with his family. There

s a fine stock of wine, the woman will set the bread to rise, and I

m told the hunting is close and fat. We

ll set an arrow or two and have a hot meal.

Dylan smiled. There were times abroad when he would have given much for a roof and a hot meal. He reminded himself to count mercies, not heartaches.


Then let

s settle in, Mark. I could kill a goodly flagon of malmsey. Perhaps we

ll be forgiven and invited to Edward

s court soon
--
once again duty bound and too harried to enjoy a good hunt and the quiet of a country house. Let

s enjoy it.

***

 

Many hours of kneeling were followed by many hours of dining and celebrating. The coronation of Elizabeth made this Whitsunday a day of days. The streets were filled with both singing voices and rude jests. Jealous tongues wagged of her common birth, which was far from the truth, for her mother was the Duchess of Bedford. But, she was not a foreign princess, for which she would likely pay a high price with her subjects.

The Westminster galleries were filled with knights and nobles and King Edward had created fifty Knights of the Bath in her
honor. Familiar and unfamiliar faces pressed into the halls and chambers and grounds for appointments, hopeful for confer
ences, even mere glimpses. Anne, Countess of Ayliffe, sat near the queen, exhausted. And anxious. The coronation would mark the end of a long winter in London. She craved Ayliffe Castle, and Brennan had promised her.

Lord Forbes, being one of Edward

s favorites, had presented his wife to the future queen months ago, and if an appointment to wait upon Elizabeth hadn

t come through Brennan, it would have come quickly in any case.
Anne was taken with Elizabeth –
she found her beautiful, quick, wise, and understanding. And Elizabeth was in like attracted to Lady Forbes, though she had never said the reasons. But the very first time their eyes met, there was a
strong rapport between the two –
a sympathetic, unspoken pull.
Perhaps,
Anne thought,
the joy, pain, sorrow, and love shines in the eyes of all women who do more than just birth their young.
Queen Elizabeth had two sons by her first marriage.

Anne had heard that Elizabeth Woodville, before Edward, had deeply loved her first husband, John Grey, who was killed at Saint Albans. Perhaps there was also a sliver
of light, intuitive perception
that cut through the eyes of women who had loved and lost. Saint Albans had changed many lives. It was after that battle that Dylan had been driven away.

Anne stood behind Lady Scales, Anthony Woodville

s wife, and a bit to the left. Still, it was a position of honor and more than Anne would have asked. She glanced across the large hall to eye Lady Gifford. While she was relieved to be included in the coronation festivities, Marcella would have liked to share Anne

s close proximity to Elizabeth. Marcella still shook her head in confusion at the prospect of Anne

s good fortune. She had never thought of Anne as deserving, only fortunate.

She felt an arm encircle her waist.

Lady Forbes is spent,

Brennan whispered.


Aye,

she sighed. She laughed lightly and let her head rest against his side.

Not much longer, I pray.


No more than two hours, lest they start to drink the river.
The queen will excuse herself shortly. The masses are getting drunk.


The king himself is none the better for drink,

she whispered, noting Edward reclining a bit more in his chair than a sober man would.

I marvel at her, Brennan. She has not flinched or trembled under the weight of that diadem, those robes. Some women, perhaps, are born to be queens.


This queen was found in the forest under a great oak,

he chuckled.

Excuse me to Lord Grange, my love. I will return for you as soon as
I
can.

Anne stood in proper attendance for another hour while man after man approached the queen, knelt to pay homage, and in some instances kissed her hand. Finally, Elizabeth stood from her dais and Anne snapped to attention with a gladness she could feel to her toes. She would attend Elizabeth to her bed
chamber and then she would be excused. Each of the women approached their queen to curtsey low. In Anne

s turn, Elizabeth held out her hand.

My lady, you need not, if you are tired.

Anne kissed Elizabeth

s long, slender fingers.

I am at your call, my liege,

she whispered.

To her amazement, she heard the queen stifle a laugh.

I saw, madam,

she whispered.

Lord Forbes was nearly holding you upright.

She smiled.

Attend your husband, my lady.


Thank you, Your Majesty.


To Ayliffe then?


Aye, Your Majesty.


I will miss you, Anne.


It will not be long, Your Majesty. God keep you.

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