Virginia Henley (3 page)

She stared at him as the thought formed slowly; I
am a royal bastard!
The revelation took her by surprise, yet it explained many things she had questioned in her childhood. Now the answers all fell neatly into place. “’Tis shameful to have carnal knowledge at fourteen and indulge until you got her with child,” she whispered accusingly.

“We were in love, Roseanna,” he explained.

“Then why did you not marry?” she demanded indignantly.

“Roseanna, but think for a moment,” he asked patiently.
“I was fourteen. I was only the Earl of March. My father had just been named temporary protector of the realm because Henry of Lancaster had gone mad. Suddenly my father and his brother, the Earl of Warwick, had ambitions for the crown. I was in service to Warwick. He gave the orders, and I obeyed him implicitly. Warwick said marriage to Joanna was out of the question, and Warwick’s word was law!”

“Warwick,” she reflected, “the one they call the kingmaker?”

“He earned the title. I was King at eighteen!”

She reflected for a moment on the events of the past few years, on gossip she had heard. “If I remember aright, Warwick forbade your marriage to Elizabeth Woodville also, but you made her your Queen!”

He laughed shortly at the memory of it all. “Aye, I was twenty-two years old and had ruled England for four years. Yet still I feared Warwick so much, I had to keep the marriage secret.”

As she gazed at him, she could not imagine that he had ever been afraid of anything. Enclosed in a room with him, she could feel his strength.

He put a finger beneath her chin, and she did not shake him off. “My Rosebud, you were my firstborn, and ever have you held the softest place in my heart. Can you forgive me for not making you a royal princess?”

“I care nothing for that!” she flared, her pride stung. “Who knows of this?” she asked.

“None save your mother and of course Sir Neville. Roseanna, no one must know. For your own safety you must guard the secret. There are evil men who would eliminate all who have a blood tie to the throne.”

“The Woodvilles?” she asked bluntly.

He searched her face with his eyes, wondering how much he could entrust to such a young girl. “The Queen’s family is a large one—six sisters and five brothers, not to mention her mother and stepfather, Lord Rivers. They are the most ambitious family I have ever encountered, barring us Plantagenets, of course,” He laughed. “My own brothers and Warwick, who loves me little now that I am no longer his puppet, would stop at nothing to further their positions.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” she said quietly. She did not want him to have to malign those he loved for her protection, for he was the best-natured man under the sun, bar none.

He gathered her to him and kissed her brow, then held back the covers while she slipped into the bed. “Will you be all right?” he asked.

She nodded, not daring to trust her voice further.

As she lay sleepless, her thoughts chased each other until she was exhausted. How did she feel? The same, yet different. Saddened, yet glad she knew the truth at last. Wiser, yet ignorant of the world and its ways. At last she admitted to herself that she understood his position and felt empathy for him. It was her mother’s role in this deceit that she could not tolerate!

    Ordinarily, Roseanna would have arisen before dawn to examine the Arabian stallion awaiting her in the stables, but today she was filled with lethargy. The aroma of food reached her nostrils, and she wondered what Alice had been about, to fetch her breakfast in bed. As she sat up slowly, she saw that it was her mother who was bringing her the tray. She wished Joanna a thousand miles away. Roseanna’s dark lashes swept down to her cheeks;
she could hardly bear to look at her mother. Joanna was thirty-two years old, and she looked every minute of it this morning. She set the tray down onto a leather-topped side table and gently sat down on the bed. She offered neither excuse nor explanation, and as Roseanna slowly raised her eyes to meet her mother’s, the image of the previous night’s laughing wanton dissolved, and Roseanna saw in its place the image of a fourteen-year-old girl, heavy with child. How she must have suffered! Punished by accusations, threats, whispers. Facing the shame and the burden alone. Suddenly she reached out to touch her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry. Do you love him very much?”

Joanna smiled. “No, I’m not in love with Ned. But oh, Roseanna, I was, I was!”

“I know the pain you must have suffered when they would not allow you to marry,” she said quietly.

“Nay, you do not. You will never know unless you are forced to give up your first love.”

A tear slipped down Roseanna’s cheek, and her mother stood up briskly. “However, I soon discovered that women are very resilient and can face anything that must be faced. Eat your breakfast. I’ve a hundred tasks to see to. We’ll talk again, Roseanna.”

When Alice came in to help her braid and bind her hair, Roseanna could see that she was filled with curiosity about last night’s tears and the King’s nocturnal visit. So improvising quickly, she said, “You were right, Alice. I should have worn the underdress. I received a terrible scolding from Mother, and if it hadn’t been for the King’s intervention, the rift between us would have been irreparable.”

Alice said with awe, “The King is reputed to be the
best-natured man in England, yet his very presence terrifies me.”

Roseanna fastened her hose and pulled on soft riding boots. “Tis the office of Kingship that is awesome. But rest assured, beneath that Kingship breathes a man made of flesh and blood.”

As Roseanna walked to the stables, the only man she dreaded to encounter was Neville Castlemaine, her father yet not her father. She did not know how she could ever face him again. Her delicate cheeks were pink at the thought.

The stables were alive with King’s men and their servants saddling for departure to Belvoir, the King’s hunting lodge. Edward was pointing out the unmistakable characteristics of the Arabian stallion to Dobbin.

“Oh, Your Grace,” Roseanna said in deep appreciation, “he’s white!” Quickly she spat upon the ground, and the King threw back his head and roared. “You are superstitious.” He laughed. “By God’s blood, ’tis years since I spat at the sight of a white horse.”

Roseanna laughed back. “I still bow three times to the raven and never, ever look at the new moon through glass.”

“And wish upon a star, and carry a rabbit’s foot,” said Edward with nostalgia for youthful days long past. He watched Dobbin lead the Arabian to a rear box stall. “See if you can breed me some war horses from that one.”

Sadly she said, “The life of a war horse is short, and consequently the demand for them is great.” They walked together to Zeus’s stall, and the animal nickered a greeting to Roseanna.

Edward spoke after only a slight hesitation. “I promised
your mother that I would speak to you about riding this uncut horse. Why don’t you choose a gelding, Roseanna? She would rest easier.”

Her eyes darkened as she spoke with passion. “You answer me a question first. Why do you ride an uncut stallion into battle? There is no logic to it. A gelding would be easier to control and wouldn’t give your position away to the enemy by screaming wildly.”

Edward grinned. “Damned pride! Stubborn Plantagenet pride!”

“Did you think I had none?”

The King looked at her with admiration in his eyes. “Then all I can do is bid you to take care. Ride over and join our hunting. We’ll be there until the end of the month, then I’ve promised the lodge to Ravenspur.” He strode off. For a moment it seemed the light was dimmer after his departure. Deep in thought, Roseanna leaned against Zeus’s stall. A beautiful voice behind her startled her from her reverie.

“Don’t stand too close, Mistress Castlemaine. The beast could harm you.”

She raised her eyes to his, then lowered her dark lashes quickly. “Thank you, Sir Bryan,” she whispered demurely, and allowed him to place himself protectively between herself and the black stallion. Anyone else would have received a setdown for their presumption! With all the emotional turmoil she had just been through, she had forgotten all about Sir Bryan. Now she wished fervently that she hadn’t braided her tresses so severely nor worn the plain blue riding dress. She forced herself to raise her lashes and speak to him lest he think his friend had an imbecile for a sister. “I pray you, call me Roseanna, sir.”

He bowed; his manners were flawless. “It will be my honor, Lady Roseanna.”

She sighed with relief when she heard her brother Jeffrey’s voice hail them, for indeed she had exhausted her store of conversation with the young knight.

“There you are, brat! Father’s been asking for you. I think he went into the garden to look for you.”

Her color became high when she realized that Jeffrey was only her half brother. Then that thought led to another—that she had three little half sisters at Westminster, all royal princesses. To her dismay, she found herself curtseying to Sir Bryan as she excused herself. Then she murmured under her breath, “Silly girl, he’s addled your brains!”

Her feet dragged as she walked toward the walled garden and entered through the little ornamental gate. He stood by a rosebush, and she searched desperately for words. But he spoke first.

“Joanna has told me that you know all.”

“Joanna?” she echoed. “How can you bear to utter her name?” she asked in an agonized voice.

“My dear one, Joanna never deceived me in any way. I knew she carried you when we wed. She has been a good wife to me all these years, and the year after you were born, she gave me my son. No man could ask for more.” He said it honestly, and she knew his words were sincere. At last she dared to raise her eyes to his, and she saw love there, clearly written. “You have been a good father to me. I shall always think of you as my father.”

“And you will always be my daughter,” he said simply. He held his arms wide, and she went into them, not caring that tears slipped down her cheeks. She whispered,
“I was afraid to face you, but you are such a good man. You have eased my way, as always.”

Slightly embarrassed, he quickly changed the subject. “Come, I must bid Edward godspeed. Then we’ll have a closer look at that Arabian. Have you a name in mind?”

“How about Mecca?” she smiled.

“Well, it’s certainly a name to live up to.”

Alice handed Roseanna a small parchment. “My lady, a certain knight bade me give you this.”

Roseanna took it curiously, asking, “Which knight?” But as her eyes fell upon the lines, she knew it was from Sir Bryan.

Her pulse quickened. “Very pretty,” she told Alice, trying not to let her excitement show too obviously.
So,
she thought privately,
he feels as I do.
The thought pleased her inordinately. What a lovely day this was! Only yesterday everything had seemed clouded, and now
this day seemed shining; it felt as if it were a new beginning. And perhaps it was.

Everyone noticed that Roseanna was preoccupied. Her thoughts had carried her off to some secret place; she answered with sighs when she was spoken to.

When she took her place for the evening meal in the great hall, which seemed empty after the crowds of yesterday, she found a white rose lying beside her plate. She took it up, cupped its delicate beauty, and buried her nose in its heady perfume. She smiled and felt positively light-headed from its fragrance.

She raised her eyes to search the hall and like a magnet found the face she sought. She smiled brilliantly; then, overcome with sudden shyness, which was most unlike her, she lowered her eyes to her plate. When the meal was over, from the corner of her eye she saw Sir Bryan leave the hall. She felt a small pang of disappointment that he had not waited until she rose so they could have the excuse of leaving together. However, as she walked from the dining hall through the archway that led to the courtyard, she saw that he awaited her, and her heart lifted dizzily. Her footsteps slowed, and he fell in beside her. They strolled across the courtyard, sending the pigeons and doves flying up to the eaves.

“Did you mind my sending you a verse?” he asked tentatively.

“I thought it very pretty,” she began. Then she asked, “Do you have more?”

He laughed happily. “I’ll send one each day, now that I know you won’t scorn me.” He hesitated, “Lady Roseanna, you are so beautiful. You must have scores of knights pouring their hearts out to you.” It sounded like a question.

“No, none,” she answered simply, knowing it was the answer he sought. She was suddenly glad that it was the truth.

“Do you think that someday you could ride out with me and show me your beautiful countryside?”

She smiled at him. “Are you busy tomorrow?” she asked daringly, holding her breath until his answer came.

“I had not dared hope so soon.”

“I think I shall go hawking tomorrow at dawn. If you care to join me, Sir Bryan, it would be my pleasure.” It was the longest sentence she had uttered in his presence, and it left her attractively breathless. His eyes, which had lingered on her mouth, now fell to the rose in her fingers. Gently he plucked it from her hand and tucked it inside his doublet above his heart.