A Dishonorable Knight (9 page)

"But what of his claim to the
crown? Does it meet the laws of inheritance?" asked Gareth.

"Had he no ties to the royal
family, I would support him over one who murders children."

"That cannot be used to justify
what you plan. There has never been a shred of proof that Richard harmed his
nephews in any way," Gareth argued.

"
Crist trugaredd
! I suppose they've just disappeared off the face of
the earth, eh Gareth?" Elena had never heard Cynan speak so harshly. He
had seemed a man who saw a joke in every situation. "Surely you don't
believe--"

"Regardless of that,"
Gruffydd interrupted, "his right is as strong as Richard's. He's a
descendant of John of Gaunt."

"Through his grandmother. That
is not—“

"
Digon
!" exclaimed Cynan. "Is the fact that he's Welsh not
enough to want him on the throne?"

In the silence following Cynan's
outburst, Elena was sure they would hear her heart beating as it raced in her
chest.

"As a matter of fact," said
Gareth quietly after several moments, "it is."

Elena gasped. They were planning to
help the Earl of Richmond overthrow the king! It was treason! Hearing Marared
behind her, Elena quickly composed her features and carried the bowl of berries
to the table, forcing her expression to careful neutrality.

Gareth studied her face as she sat down. She knew he
was wondering how much she heard and whether she’d understood any of it. Elena
absorbed herself in eating and did not pay attention to the noisy jests of
Cynan as he teased Bryant and Marared. Scarcely tasting the ripe fruit, Elena
wondered what she should do. That she must warn the king of the impending
attack was obvious, although she knew he was preparing for its possibility. Perhaps
if she could discover more of the Welsh plans, her information could thwart the
rebellion. And a grateful Richard would no doubt be willing to reward her with
the groom of her choice, would he not?

***

"Elena?" Marared whispered
in the dark room. Elena was bedded down with girl and her youngest sister in
the only bed in the house. Outside a fine mist of rain had started to fall and
the breeze entering the small room was pungent with the smell of wet hay and
wild flowers.

Elena sighed and rolled onto her
back. "Hmm?"

"Do you think Bryant and I make
a handsome pair?"

Silently, Elena thought that Marared
would talk poor Bryant's ear off in a matter of days if they were wed, but she
said, "I suppose so."

"I think so too. I dream all the
time that he'll ask me to marry him before I turn seventeen. My cousin over in
Newtown is already expecting her first babe and she is only ten days
older." Marared was silent for several minutes and Elena was just about to
drop off to sleep when the girl said, "You know what else I think?"

If I pretend I'm asleep, perhaps
she'll leave me alone, Elena thought. "What?" she said.

"I think that you and Gareth
make a handsome couple as well."

Elena's eyes flew open.
"What?"

"You're both so attractive,
you'd have beautiful children. And I think you'd look sweet with a wreath of
flowers in your hair as a bride."

This is ridiculous, Elena thought.
"I'm betrothed," she said flatly.

"To who?"

"To a very powerful earl."

"Oh."

Elena rolled back on her side.
"What a pity," Marared continued. "From the way he looks at you,
I'd say Gareth is quite taken with you." She then proceeded to fall
asleep. Elena stared into the darkness for a long time, unable to sleep when
minutes before she had been utterly exhausted.

The rain-washed morning air was
crisply cool. A light breeze helped dispel the pre-dawn mists and the
ale-induced fog in Gareth’s head as he took deep, restorative breaths. Cynan
and Bryant were mounted on a huge gray workhorse and Gareth moved to tighten
the straps on Isrid's saddle. He glanced up when Elena came out of the small
house and felt his loins tighten. Shrew though she may be, she was a beauty.
Her cinnamon-colored hair glowed richly in the shafts of sunlight that pierced
the dispersing clouds. She had plaited it in one long, fat braid that hung over
her shoulder. Her creamy skin now had a healthy glow from her days spent in the
saddle and thick lashes fringed her nutmeg-colored eyes. Gareth laughed under
his breath.
Cinnamon, cream and nutmeg?
He was no
doubt hungry for food, not a woman. Still…did she not have the tongue of an
adder, the spice of her looks and intelligence would make her a woman to be
treasured.

He watched her look around, and knew
when she realized her small gray palfrey was nowhere to be found.

"Where is my horse?" she
asked.

Gareth continued loading Isrid as he
said, "It would never make it over the mountains we'll soon be crossing.
Besides, we'll travel faster if we're all mounted."

"That still doesn't explain
where my horse is."

"I traded her for this
one," he jerked his chin toward the large horse on which Cynan and Bryant
were mounted.

"How dare you!
That animal was given to me by Queen Anne
just before she
died, you oaf. King Richard will hear of this, I can assure you!"

Gareth swung around. In an instant he
had Elena by the arm. "I care not for the precious symbol of how prized
you are by the King of England. 'Twill
be
a symbol of
a meaningless reign before the year is out."

"Gareth!" Cynan said
sharply.

Gareth glanced at his friend and flushed.

"You do mean to commit treason!
You! A knight sworn to serve King Richard!"

"I am sworn to serve the crown
which rules Wales and England, not the man who wears the crown."

"What is the difference?"
Elena demanded.

Gareth paused. He had been struggling
with the same question all night. Though he had no great fondness for Richard,
and abhorred the thought of how he had obtained the crown, he had, in truth,
done no harm to England. In fact, he had lifted many taxes and devised a fair
and successful Council, which met once a quarter in York to keep the peace,
disperse punishment, and settle disputes. Glancing from Elena's furious face to
Cynan's and Bryant's wary ones, Gareth sighed. He hoped his father would be
able to offer him advice on determining his loyalties.

Gareth ran his fingers through his
hair and turned back to Elena. "Get on the horse. We can argue as we ride,
but we are losing daylight."

"I am not going anywhere with a
traitor."

"Fine. Stay here with Gruffydd
and Catrin. I'm sure they'll be able to drop you at the abbey the next time
they go to Llangollen for the yearly fair in six or eight months. In the
meantime, I'm sure they could use you to tend the herds and help with the
younger children."

Elena strode furiously to Isrid and
waited to be lifted up.

"I'm so glad you decided to join
us," Gareth said amiably as he took the reins and quickly mounted. When
Elena continued to stare at him expectantly, Gareth leaned down and lifted her
unto the saddle in front of him.

The three men waved goodbye to
Gruffydd's family who had gathered around to hear the English woman argue with
Gareth. With little urging, the horses broke into a spirited gallop.

"Where will you leave me?"
Elena asked several minutes later.

"Despite what you may
think,"
Gareth
said, "Wales is not a Godless
country. There are many abbeys and monasteries scattered throughout."

"So, where will you leave
me?"

"Unfortunately," Gareth
continued as if Elena had not interrupted, "Since none of us ever thought
to take up the life of a holy man, we have little or no idea where the nearest
abbey is."

"Couldn't you have thought to
ask before we left?"

"Catrin says there is one about
two days' ride south, but we cannot afford the time to ride there and back. You
will simply have to enjoy our beautiful Welsh scenery until we come across one
that will not delay us overlong."

"Heaven forbid you should be
inconvenienced," Elena said caustically.

***

The next five days were duplicates of
the one following their departure from Gruffydd and Catrin's home: they rode
hard all day, stopping at night at a small village or hut where one of the men
was invariably related to at least one of the occupants. As they ate, they
would discuss Richard's downfalls and the merits of Richmond--the greatest of
which seemed to be the former's lack of Welsh blood and the latter's abundance
of it. Although Elena knew a good deal of Welsh, she did not tell Gareth and
was content to let him ramble on. For some reason she could not fathom, he
seemed to feel compelled to translate a carefully edited version of what they
had spoken about before they went to sleep. Although she never let the three
men see it, she was growing more and more disturbed by what she was learning of
her sovereign.

Elena had long prided herself on her
knowledge of the political games that were played at court. She knew details of
Buckingham's rebellion she doubted Richard even knew, and she could recite the
line of the Woodvilles--Edward IV's in-laws and a constant burr to
Richard--back for two generations. But despite her time spent in court, she
never knew that a majority of the churchmen who served on his governing Council
were from Richard’s home in northern England and that these men had no
knowledge of the workings of the rest of England. In truth, Richard placed such
a greater value on the northern shires that he all but ignored the needs of the
southern shires.

And, though Elena refused to mention
it to Gareth or his friends, she knew that Richard had planned to marry his
niece, King Edward IV's daughter, Lady Elizabeth. Elena remembered the
frightened determination on Elizabeth's face that day less than a fortnight ago
when Richard's entourage was attacked. A marriage between two so closely
related would have been ruled incestuous by the Church, except that the clergy
running the Church were undoubtedly Richard's men.

And no matter what evidence was
lacking, there was always the question of Richard's two young nephews. They had
not been seen since Richard's coronation and speculative rumors about their
fates had been whispered even in Queen Anne's presence.

On the evening of the fifth day since
leaving Gruffydd and Catrin's house a thick, wet fog set in, blanketing the
forest in a swirling veil through which they could see no more than a few feet
in front of them.

"Cynan!" Gareth called
ahead. "Are you sure you can find the house in this fog?" he asked,
referring to their day's destination.

Cynan reined his horse in until Isrid
was even with it. "It can't be more than an hour away, even with this
weather. I've no taste for sleeping in the fog and would have us push on."

Gareth grinned. "Still afraid
Lucifer will sneak up on you?" When Cynan shot him a withering look,
Gareth said, "Very well, continue, but let's hurry. I'm about to fall out
of my saddle with exhaustion. It looks like Bryant's already out,"
gesturing at his sleeping friend whose head was resting on Cynan's back.

"Aye, he's been asleep for the
past hour or so." Gareth looked down at Elena who, seated sideways in the
saddle, was comfortably curled against his chest, asleep. The fog had spangled
her hair with diamond droplets and Gareth resisted the temptation to touch
them. Nudging Isrid on, he followed Cynan.

Cynan's estimate proved to be far
short of true. Two hours later, Gareth's head kept nodding forward and he would
jerk himself awake and urge the slowing Isrid on. Elena had not once awakened
and even through his exhaustion, Gareth couldn't quell the tender feelings her
form evoked as it pressed against him for warmth and comfort. Without realizing
it, his head bent forward until it rested on the silky softness of her hair.
Despite their days on the road, she still smelled fresh and clean. Like mint,
he thought.

Gareth awoke with a start, realizing
Isrid had finally slowed to a stop. Rubbing his eyes, he nudged his horse with
his spurs. "Come on, boy. We've got to catch up to Cynan." He stared
hard into the darkening fog, but could see no movement indicating Cynan was in
front of him. "Cynan!" he yelled and his voice was muted and
swallowed by the swirling fog.

Elena started at Gareth's shout and
straightened. "Are we there yet?"

"Damn!" Gareth muttered.
Glancing down at Elena he said, "No, we're not there yet."

"How much further, then?"

Gareth hesitated. "I'm not
sure."

Elena turned to ask Cynan but saw
only thick white mist in all directions. "Where is Cynan?"

Again, Gareth hesitated. "I'm
not sure."

Elena turned back to look at him,
acutely conscious despite her worry, of how close their lips were, inanely
noticing the plush stubble that covered his face. "What do you mean you're
not sure?"