The Rose at Twilight (31 page)

“Shhh,” Alys hissed back. “Come with me to my chamber.”

“But what if Sir Nicholas is there?”

“I do not care if he is, but he will not be. He rode out this morning on some stupid duty or other, and was in such haste that he did not even pause to bid me farewell.”

“Well, I told you husbands were not assets to one’s life,” Madeline retorted in her normal tone, causing more than one nearby head to turn toward them.

They spoke no more until they reached Alys’s chambers, but finding that neither Jonet nor the maidservant who helped her had arrived yet, Alys said without hesitation, “I should like to kill Elizabeth! There now, it is said. What am I to do now?”

“She does not like you,” Madeline said, hoisting herself to sit upon the bed and nearly tumbling off again when she tried to free the elegant feathered fan, dangling by a gold chain from her girdle, which she had somehow managed to sit upon.

“She knew I could not play well,” Alys said. “She did the whole business on purpose to pay me back for …”

“For what? Here now, what is this?” Madeline demanded.

“’Tis nothing.”

“Oh no, my friend. This is Madeline. You will tell me or I do not leave this room.” She leaned forward expectantly.

Alys grimaced, but short of putting Madeline bodily out of the room, there was not much else to be done but to tell her. She made the tale as brief as she could, but Madeline’s mouth hung agape when Alys finished.

“You slapped Elizabeth of York! Marry, were you crazed?”

“She lied through her teeth about Richard. She infuriated me. Oh, I do not want to talk about it anymore. Where is Jonet? By my faith, that woman ought to know when she is wanted.”

“That woman is here,” Jonet said with chilly calm from the doorway. “It is bad luck to sit upon a bed, Mistress Fenlord.”

“So it is,” Madeline agreed, sliding to her feet and looking at her fan. “I have lost two feathers from this pretty bauble. I leave you now, Alys, for I must dress for supper if we are to attend her grace in the great hall. But we will talk again later,” she added with a look that made it clear she meant to have the long tale before she was done with the matter.

No sooner had Madeline gone than the maidservant arrived, so Alys had to endure Jonet’s near-silence until the wench had been dismissed. But as soon as the door had shut, before Jonet might speak her mind, Alys said, “I should not have spoken as I did. I was unkind, but I was angry and did not think.” It occurred to her that she could not explain the matter in greater detail without speaking improperly about Elizabeth; and although she had certainly discussed her with Jonet in the past, she decided that Sir Nicholas was right. Now that Elizabeth was the king’s wife, it was unwise, perhaps even unsafe, to criticize her to anyone. Thinking of Sir Nicholas brought his image into the room, however, and she silently cursed Elizabeth again for making it necessary for her to tell him about the incident of the lute, if not about the exchange she had had with Elizabeth afterward.

She did not encounter him until that evening after the tables had been cleared. By then the room was buzzing with talk of the king’s intent to begin a progress to the north in the near future. Elizabeth would not go with him since it was still hoped that her condition was too delicate to sustain a journey, and Alys heard more than one person suggest that Viscount Lovell, if he had not already broken sanctuary, might choose to do so to lead an assault on the royal party. It was not the first time she had heard such talk, for there had been rumors before she fled north, but now she had all she could do not to reveal, by expression or word, her own knowledge of Lovell’s whereabouts.

No sooner had she turned from one such conversation than she was accosted by Sir Lionel Everingham, and she realized at once that his sister Sarah was not alone in believing that he had been cheated. His polite, inconsequent discourse did not conceal his hunger for her, and Alys knew not whether to be complimented or dismayed by it. So determined was she to parry his bold looks and the tendency he had to stand closer to her than was comfortable, that she did not attend as she might have to his actual words, until he mentioned his lute.

“I am proficient with the instrument, my lady—indeed with many instruments,” he added, leering and shifting his weight in a lewdly suggestive manner. “I should find it an extremely great pleasure to provide you with the lessons you require.”

She stared back, at a loss for what to say to him.

“My wife requires lessons from no one but me,” Sir Nicholas snapped, startling Alys nearly out of her wits when he spoke from right beside her. Possessively, he put his arm around her.

Sir Lionel bowed. “Your servant, sir.”

Sir Nicholas nodded, saying, “You will excuse us, I know. ’Tis but the second day of our marriage, and I have been denied my wife’s companionship for the entire day.”

“To be sure,” Sir Lionel said, but his expression was not particularly amiable when he walked away.

Alys turned to Nicholas, words of gratitude upon her lips, but one look at his set expression warned her that she had not been rescued after all but had only fallen from the pot into the cook fire. She made no protest when he led her from the room, nor did either of them speak before they reached his chambers.

Then, shutting the outer door with a snap, Nicholas turned and gave her a shake, demanding, “What devilment has got into you, madam? Whatever did you think you were about?”

“He accosted me! I did not invite him.”

“I do not speak of Everingham; I speak of Elizabeth.”

“That was not my fault!” she cried, pulling away from him. “It was Elizabeth. That chitty-faced bitch knew I could not—” When his hand flashed up to strike, she broke off, jumping back out of his reach and saying hastily, “I cry pardon, sir! I should not have spoken so, but she made me angry and you are blaming me for a scene that she created. She said I had married beneath my station. She … she compared you to Sir Lionel!”

His hand fell. “I know.”

“All that, as well? What prating-Jenny dared to tell you?”

“The king.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Was he angry?”

“No, our Harry has a sense of humor, fortunately, and he enjoyed the bit about our both being Welshmen. But you said ‘as well,’ madam. What more is there for me to know?”

Alys was too indignant to reply to that question. “I do not think it at all funny that she compared you to Sir Lionel, but who has dared to carry tales of Elizabeth to the Tudor?”

“Elizabeth herself,” he said flatly.

“Elizabeth! But why, when the tale discredits her?”

“Mayhap you had better tell me the whole,” he said, reaching toward her. When she evaded his hand, he frowned. “I won’t harm you. I just want to know what happened. No more
baldarddws,
either, lass. I want the whole truth.”

“What is b-balderdoosh?” she asked curiously, trying to say the word as he had said it, at the same time letting him urge her from the parlor into the bedchamber.

“Foolishness, nonsense, female prating,” he said impatiently, shutting the door. “Now, tell me.”

“Aye,” she said. Standing before the fire, she told him what Elizabeth had done. She was precise, and she made no effort to spare herself in the tale. When she finished, he shook his head.

“Women!”

“Art angry, sir?”

“Nay, lass. You ought not to have spoken, but I grant the provocation. And I doubt the deviceful wench told our Harry about the lute-playing bit, for he did not mention it to me. By the rood, I warrant she said only what she had to say to protect herself against any gossip there might be, but he is like to hear the whole soon enough if Everingham has heard it. ’Tis why the fellow was offering to give you lessons, is it not?”

She nodded, still uncertain of his temper.

“Elizabeth won’t like it if Harry does hear the tale, for it will not amuse him.” He sighed. “There must be no more of this, lass. ’Tis plain now that I cannot leave you here.”

“Leave me? But—”

“Didst think you would accompany our king on his progress to the north,
mi geneth,
when his lady stays behind?”

“No, but I did think that you might …” She hesitated.

“I follow my liege lord,” he said, “or such was my plan, and what he does expect. I must disappoint him, I think, but it will not serve for me simply to take you to Wolveston Hazard.”

“Why not?”

“Your leaving will make an odd enough appearance when the queen stays, and I cannot tell Harry I want to take you to Wolveston to see my new estate. His route takes him through Bawtry and Doncaster, so I would be close enough to look it over, in any case. There is no need to take you.”

“’Tis my home,” she protested.

He shrugged. “You serve the queen, madam. Your place is with her, not in Nottinghamshire. Be still now,” he commanded when she opened her mouth to say more. “Let me think.”

She stared into the fireplace, angry that he thought she could not protect herself against Elizabeth, and angrier that he would not take her with him to Wolveston. Surely they could travel apart from the king’s procession of knights and gentlemen.

Almost as though he were thinking aloud, he murmured, “I could take you to Wales. Not only did Elizabeth herself suggest such a trip but Harry will understand that my family must want to meet my bride. And from Wales we can go on to Wolveston. If we travel swiftly enough, I can join him at Doncaster.”

“How soon will he be there?”

“He has said he wants to make haste, but ’twill take time nonetheless, for he is to spend Easter in Lincoln, then go to Nottingham Castle, and from there through Sherwood Forest to Doncaster and York.” He smiled at her. “Should you like to see my home, madam? ’Tis in Brecknockshire in the valley of the river Honddhu. Our market town is Brecon, fifteen miles away.”

“Is Brecknockshire not near Glamorgan?” she asked, recalling that he had once said something to that effect, and that Sir James Tyrell was Sheriff of Glamorgan. She had not yet been able to help Lovell, but perhaps her chance might yet come to do so.

“Glamorgan is the next county to the south, beyond mountains called the Brecon Beacons. Why do you ask,
mi geneth
?”

She smiled. “’Tis the only Welsh county whose name I have heard before. I heard it first when you explained the name your men call Hugh Gower, and told me of the legends about the giant. I look forward to meeting your family, sir, and seeing your home. But I do confess,” she added with a sigh, “I have had my fill of traveling with only soldiers and servants to bear me company. Might I have leave to invite Mistress Fenlord to accompany us?”

He hesitated, but a thoughtful look came into his eyes, and he said, “She is an heiress, is she not, and as yet unpromised?”

“Aye,” Alys said, “but she does not want to be married.”

He paid no heed to the last, saying in a musing tone, “She’s a pretty lass, too. I’ll warrant she’d suit my brother Gwilym.”

“She would not,” Alys said. “She has no wish to marry, sir, and she is accustomed to having her wishes indulged.”

He laughed. “Is she? Well, if you promise to behave, lass, I’ll ask Harry to let her go with us. First, however, I must gain his permission for myself and my men. The rumors flying about just now are making him a bit nervous.” He gave her a straight look. “Some say that the outlaw Lovell has fled to the north, where he is plotting against the king.”

“And what do you say, sir?”

“Only that Harry ought not to be too quick to discount what he hears. He still hopes Lovell will submit, and has said he is certain the bearers of the rumors want only to advance their own positions at court by condemning York’s last capable leader.”

“When must we leave, sir?” she asked, having no wish to encourage further discussion of the matter.

“The king leaves Wednesday morning. Can you and Mistress Fenlord be ready to leave so soon?”

She grinned at him saucily. “’Tis a vast amount of time, sir. You do not usually give me so much. But what if the king denies us his permission?”

“He will not. His lass will see to that, and I shall see that you have your lute lessons,
mi geneth
; but I’ll hire you no tutor. I will teach you myself.” He smiled. “I enjoy teaching you. Indeed, I believe there is time right now for a lesson. ’Tis a pity we have no lute at hand.” His expression warmed provocatively, and he reached for the laces of her gown.

She responded at once, and with pleasure. Some lessons, she thought, were much more pleasant than others.

Whether by virtue of Sir Nicholas’s persuasiveness or that of the queen, on Wednesday morning a cavalcade comprised of Sir Nicholas, Alys, Madeline, Jonet, Elva Dean, and forty men at arms left Westminster Palace shortly after dawn.

They enjoyed beautiful weather along the way, and made excellent time, riding west along the Thames to Uxbridge, then to Oxford, crossing the Severn at Gloucester. They spent that night and the following day, which was Sunday, at an abbey south of the town, and the following day, they crossed into Wales at Monmouth.

Early the next morning they were off again, traveling alongside the river Usk to Abergavenny. When Sir Nicholas identified the massive tower of Raglan Castle in the distance, Alys was impressed. She knew Raglan by reputation.

“’Twas a good Yorkist stronghold,” she said.

Madeline, riding beside her, said, “Yorkists in Wales? I thought all here would be Tudor people. But then,” she added with a laugh, “I know little history. ’Tis boring stuff.”

Sir Nicholas said, “There was much Yorkist influence in this part of the world, but at least one rebellion against the late king—that of Buckingham—began in Brecon, and the Welsh are well pleased with Harry. He may not be as Welsh as some would like, but folk hereabouts are pleased that he traces his heritage to Cadwaladr and thus fulfills that great leader’s prophecy that a Welshman would one day rule over England.”

The landscape changed beyond Abergavenny. The gentle slope they had followed up the valley was steeper now that they were climbing into the mountains known as the Brecon Beacons. The air was filled with birdsong and the scent of sun and flowers, for the Welsh countryside was lush, the hillsides around them thick with green grass, shrubbery, and gaily colored wildflowers. But the lush foliage lasted only until they reached the summit, where they were greeted by a stiff breeze and wind gusts strong enough to blow the hat off one’s head, if it was not firmly secured. The view at the top made Madeline and Alys stare in amazement.