The Rose at Twilight (51 page)

“By God, madam,” he snapped, “do not try me too far. I swear to you now that if
my
daughter ever shows a fraction of her mother’s impudence, I will know my duty!”

“If you ever lay a hand on her, Nicholas, so help me—”

“I do likewise swear, my love,” he added much more gently, stilling her protests with a finger against her lips, “that if she ever shows a similar fraction of your courage, I shall reward her with gold coins, just as Gwilym rewards our young archers.”

Relaxing, touched by his words, Alys kissed the finger pressing against her lips, then smiled at him through her tears and said, “I do love you so much, Nicholas ap Dafydd. One day, I promise you, I will give you another son, no matter how many daughters we must have in the meantime.”

He grinned. “I do not doubt you, sweetheart, but I confess I find the thought of so many daughters downright terrifying.”

“Aye, it is,” she agreed, letting her gaze drift toward the river again. She was sorry that she had, for the sight of all the carnage below brought the tears to her eyes again. “Oh, Nicholas, what a dreadful world to bring children into!”

“Not so dreadful, sweetheart,” he said calmly. “’Tis a fine, bright world, and growing finer by the day. We’ve a king on the throne who means to stay there. As to plots and counterplots, we shall soon see an end to them all.”

Slowly she drew the medallion from her bodice and showed it to him. “Davy brought this, Nicholas, from Lovell. He said I was to give it to the queen dowager if the rebellion went amiss.”

He said quietly, “And will you take it to her?”

She stared at him in surprise. “You do not forbid me?”

“You must choose for yourself, my love.”

“But that is a dreadful choice,” she whispered. “’Tis proof he lives, Nicholas. That is why Elizabeth Woodville supported the rebels, and why Lincoln never declared himself the heir. Simnel was but a puppet, sir, a token, so they need not risk exposing the prince to danger. I think, from what Lovell once said, that they named him on our wedding day, on Simnel Sunday. And now he is to serve in Henry’s kitchens, poor little boy.”

“At least he won’t lose his head,” Nicholas said dryly.

“But what am I to do about the medallion?”

“You need not make your choice all in a moment,” he said. “There is time to ponder it before we return to London. So come now, sweetheart, no more tears. If you rust the plates of this brigandine, I shall never get out of it, and I promise I mean to do that as soon as I can, so I can show you how much I love you.”

She gave a watery chuckle. “You had better wait until we get home, sir, if you do not want to display your weakness for me before your men. Oh, Nicholas,” she added with a rueful sigh, “you must think me mad to have rushed to the Tudor’s rescue and yet be sobbing now for rebel losses.”

“No,” he said. “You have learned to care about individuals, my love, not merely to support one cause blindly over another. ’Tis a good lesson, I think. Would that others might learn it.”

“In faith, sir,” she said, brushing the tears from her cheeks, “I believe you learned that lesson before I did.”

“I have learned many lessons,
mi calon
,” he said, putting an arm around her and urging her toward the tower steps. “I have learned that one may value true loyalty in one’s enemies as much as in one’s comrades-in-arms, and I have learned that love is a strength, not a weakness. And in truth, my love, I do trust that over the years that lie ahead of us, there will be many more such lessons for us both to learn. But for the present, the battles of the white rose against the red being over, I want nothing more than to find Hugh and the others, and take you home to bed.”

Putting her arm around his waist, Alys smiled up at him, and they went down the stone steps of the tower together, and out into the sunlit churchyard.

R
IGHT TRUSTY AND WELL
-beloved Reader:

An outbreak of sweating sickness in the north that occurred before Henry VII’s troops landed in England provided Lord Stanley with his reason for not joining Richard III when he was first asked to do so. The disease was new to England and virulent, striking down young men in particular by the thousands. It is entirely possible that one or both of the princes fell victim to it if Richard had sent them north for their own safety, which possibility is suggested by more than one authority.

Francis, Viscount Lovell did swim away after the Battle of Stoke and was never heard from again. Many authorities believe that he took refuge in a secret room in his house at Minster Lovell, where a body was discovered centuries later. The body disintegrated in a puff of dust when the room was opened.

For those purists who also speak Welsh, I confess that certain liberties have been taken with the two endearments used most frequently in this tale. The words for girl
(geneth)
and heart
(calon)
are correct, but the proper usage of the time for “my girl”
(fy ngeneth)
and “my heart”
(fy ncalon)
left a good deal to be desired in context. One does not wish soft language to choke a reader trying to imagine the pronunciation. I tried to make the words sound more as they do when spoken today.

Amanda Scott

A fourth-generation Californian of Scottish descent, Amanda Scott is the author of more than fifty romantic novels, many of which appeared on the
USA Today
bestseller list. Her Scottish heritage and love of history (she received undergraduate and graduate degrees in history at Mills College and California State University, San Jose, respectively) inspired her to write historical fiction. Credited by
Library Journal
with starting the Scottish romance subgenre, Scott has also won acclaim for her sparkling Regency romances. She is the recipient of the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award (for
Lord Abberley’s Nemesis
, 1986) and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in central California with her husband.

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Copyright © 1993 by Lynne Scott-Drennan

Cover design by Mimi Bark

978-1-4804-1534-8

This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media

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