She
nodded eagerly, swallowing the torrents of miserable tears that threatened. He
was determined to be brave; so was she. "I shall make my decision, have no
fear. And I shall watch the road for your return, every day."
He
chuckled softly, struggling to maintain the positive atmosphere. "I shall
hurry, then. I would hate for you to become bored waiting for my
reappearance."
Her
smile faded, looking at him with such longing that he was forced to step away
from her or risk breaking down completely. "I will not become bored. But I
will miss you more dreadfully with each passing moment. Already my heart aches
for you, Richmond."
His
own smile died, feeling her pain as it mingled with his own consuming anguish.
"As does mine for you, kitten," he whispered. "Be brave, my
love. We shall be together soon, I vow."
She
was making a valiant attempt to maintain her courage but he could see that her
strength would not hold out indefinitely. The sooner he made a quick break, the
stronger they would both be.
With
a final, weak smile as if to prove to her that he believed his own words, he
turned away and motioned for Gavan to release Emma to the custody of the nuns.
Before he could move away completely, however, Arissa’s delicate voice came
wafting to him upon the damp sea breeze.
"I
love you, Richmond. For all time, I will love you."
He
turned to her, slowly, his eyes screaming with emotion. "And I love you,
Lady Arissa,” his voice was hoarse. “In this life and beyond."
Without
another word, he mounted his charcoal gray charger. Arissa watched as he and Gavan
galloped down the rocky road, toward the column of men that had collected since
the disbanded skirmish. A company of soldiers that would have virtually no time
to recover before their liege was marching them to London.
Arissa
continued to watch the two armored figures until they disappeared from sight.
Even then, she could scarcely believe he had gone. Trying desperately to bite
back the tears, she was simply was not strong enough to stop the
heart-wrenching sobs.
Richmond's
wagon driver attempted to help her from the wagon so that he might join the
rest of the column, but she refused to leave. Sobbing and gasping, she ignored
his requests, his offers of aid, simply for the fact that she irrationally
hoped he would give up his efforts and drive away with her lying amongst the
wheat sacks and take her back to Richmond.
She
was vaguely aware of Emma's comforting voice, of the mother abbess' throaty
tone, but little else. The only matter of import was the fact that Richmond had
left her. Even when gentle hands forcibly removed her from the flat bed, she
was barely aware of their efforts.
Richmond
was gone, and he had taken her soul with him.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Henry
Percy was becoming quite familiar with Owen Glendower's hospitality. Even though
it was the dead of winter and there was scarce food to be found, Owen always
provided the very best that he had which, at the moment, included dried autumn
fruits and wedges of tart cheese.
But
Hotspur was not interested in the Welsh menu. Having ridden over miles of snow
and ice, he was interested in the topic of the proposed meeting. Owen had
indicated that he had the key to Henry's control; being a naturally curious man
with a dwindling loyalty for the English king, Hotspur was interested in Owen's
information. Through the year of fighting that had occurred between them in the
battle for Wales, Owen had always shown his penchant for honesty. A
characteristic, at the moment, Henry trusted more than his own king's.
Even
now, Owen and his cousin David sat across from Hotspur, making a weak attempt
at small talk and meaningless chatter. On his second goblet of smuggled French wine,
Henry moved to the heart of the summons.
"You
have not brought me here to speak of the intricacies of Byzantium glass,"
he said quietly. "What is it you would say, Owen?"
Owen's
pleasant expression held firm as he studied the mighty warrior before him; tall
and dark, he was Northumberland's heir. As Kings of the North, Owen knew he
would have powerful ally in the son of the Earl of Northumberland if he were
able to convince the man to side with him in his resistance against Henry.
By
Hotspur's body language, Owen was able to deduce that the man's patience was
thinly held. Setting his emptied pewter chalice to the table before him, he
drew in a deep breath as he collected his thoughts.
"I
will move to the point, then," he said, fixing Hotspur with a piercing
stare. "You are bordering on mutiny, my lord. Even though you have not
indicated as much, rumors to the effect have been rampant for months now and
the fact that the war on the border has all but stagnated is a good indication
of your indecision."
Hotspur's
gaze held even. Without waiting for the reply that he knew would not be
forthcoming, Owen continued. "I have received reliable information that
Henry's bastard daughter, a young lady he’s shown particular interest in, has
recently been sequestered at Whitby Abbey in Yorkshire. If we can obtain the
girl, I believe Henry can be controlled."
Henry
stared at him a moment before raising a droll eyebrow. "Is that why you
called me here? To inform me that we can control Henry if we are to hold his
bastard daughter hostage? Honestly, Owen, I forbid you to waste my time with
such nonsense."
Owen
shook his head. "I have simplified the matter a great deal, but it is far
more complex than that," he suddenly paused, a dull gleam coming to the
black eyes. After a moment, he lazily reached for the half-empty bottle of wine.
"What if I tell you we can undeniably defeat Henry if we hold the
girl?"
"I
would say you were mad."
Owen
smiled faintly, watching the garnet liquid as it spilled into his chalice.
"Tell me, my lord; if you rebel against Henry, who will lead his armies
against you and against me?"
Hotspur
drew in a long, vague breath. "Richmond le Bec, I suppose. He’s second
only to me in the chain of command; but you know that already, do you
not?"
"Would
you fight Richmond?"
Henry's
irritation with the conversation faded. After a long moment, he looked to his
hands. "The man is like a brother to me."
"But
would you fight him?"
Hotspur
pondered his gloved hands a moment longer. "'Twould not be pleasant task,
but one that I would engage in if necessary."
Owen
studied the man's expression, seeing the pain at the thought of waging battle
against le Bec. He quaffed deeply from his chalice. "Tell me this, if you
will; if Richmond le Bec was not leading Henry's armies, what chance would the
monarch have against your forces and mine?"
Hotspur
snorted softly. "Very little, I should think," sighing sharply, he
met Owen's gaze again in a return of weak annoyance. "What is this about,
Glendower?"
Owen
met his gaze, pausing a moment purely for effect. When he spoke, his voice was
low.
"Because
I am to understand that Richmond le Bec is in love with Henry's bastard
daughter,” he said. “If we can acquire the girl, we can not only control le
Bec, but we can control Henry because he will undoubtedly be pained with a
double stake in all of this. Not only will he be haunted with the knowledge
that his daughter is our prisoner, but he will have to deal with the fact that
his greatest knight will not lead the crown armies against the faction who
holds his beloved hostage. Am I making myself clear?"
The
color was gone from Hotspur's face as he stared at Owen, feeling the shock of
the situation as it penetrated deep into his veins. "Richmond loves the
girl? But.... but you said she’s at Whitby. She’s a nun?"
"Richmond
delivered her to the abbey sometime last week after the home she where she was
raised fell under siege. Presumably he moved her to Whitby for safety's
sake," Owen poured his shaken companion more wine. "Apparently,
Richmond has practically raised the girl. You are aware that he’s spent a good
deal of his time at Lambourn, seat of the Earl of Berkshire."
Henry
nodded slowly, taking a healthy drink of alcohol. "William de Lohr and
Richmond have been friends for many years. In fact, I visited years back and...,"
he suddenly paused, his brow furrowed. "I do not understand. What does
Lambourn have to do with Henry's bastard daughter?"
"The
girl was raised there by the earl and his wife. Her name is Arissa."
Hotspur's
eyes opened with surprise. "Arissa de Lohr is
Henry's
daughter?" he boomed. "God's Teeth, I had no idea! All I can recall
of her is a thin child with black hair and.... you say Richmond is in love with
her?"
"Undoubtedly,"
Owen watched Henry Percy's reaction to the revelation, casting David a
lingering glance before returning his focus to the English knight. Unwilling to
give the man time to recover his shock, he intended to drive his desires to the
forefront and he rose from his chair, bringing his fist to bear on the old
tabletop. "Help me, Hotspur. Help me obtain the girl and thereby guarantee
Henry's defeat. If we have her, we can drive England to her knees. There is no
opportunity for failure, I tell you, but I need your support. Will you do this
for the peace of England and Wales? One insignificant girl is all that will be
compromised to assure two countries their right to live in harmony."
Hotspur
was staring at him, his dark eyes dull with the concept. After a moment, he
sighed heavily. "If Richmond loves her, I cannot be a party to her
misery."
"Would
you rather meet him on the field of battle?"
"I
already told you I would not."
Owen's
harsh manner subsided somewhat as his gaze lingered on Northumberland's heir.
After a moment, he relaxed into his chair once again and pondered the embers in
the vizier. "Would you have him fight for your cause?"
Hotspur
raised his eyebrows wearily. "That would be preferable, but he would never
go against the crown. He and Henry are very fond of one another."
"Would
you wager to say that he loves his king more than the black-haired girl
residing at Whitby?"
Owen's
subtly-phrased blackmail settled and Henry turned his astonished gaze to the
Welsh prince, a heavy understanding of the man's motives filling him. He
scratched his stubbled chin as he pondered the statement. "Are you
suggesting that I use the girl to force Richmond to fight for our cause?"
"I
am told he would do anything for her."
Henry
Percy licked his lips in nervous thought. He was well aware of the time
Richmond spent at Lambourn and it suddenly became clear to him as to why; he
had been in love with the skinny little girl graced with a glorious mane of
black hair, a girl he knew to be Henry's daughter. Or mayhap Henry had sent him
to Lambourn to watch over the girl and somewhere during the process Richmond
discovered that he had fallen in love with the royal bastard. Whatever the
case, it was abundantly clear that Owen spoke the truth. Richmond had spent the
majority of the past eighteen years residing at Lambourn for no apparent reason...
until now.
Hotspur
held a good deal of love and respect for his friend. But his politics differed
greatly from those of Richmond, and he had cemented a weak loyalty with Henry
the very day Richard II had surrendered his crown. The Percys and their allies
had been staunch supporters of Richard and it had been difficult to stomach
their monarch's defeat. But as a vow to assure England's peace, he and his
father had pledged support to Richard's cousin, Henry, and for the past two
years it had been a brittle alliance at best.
With
a cold stab of reality, he realized hated Henry more than he loved Richmond.
Although he did not take delight in betraying his friend, the opportunity to
defeat the distrustful English monarch was worth the risk of Richmond's hatred.
After
several long moments of silent reflection, he sighed heavily and quaffed the
last of the fine wine. "I would assume you have a plan?"
Owen
fought off a smile, pleased beyond words that Henry Percy had finally chosen a
path for his future. "Am I to take it that we are allies?"
Hotspur
grunted, evading the question. "Tell me of your scheme to grab Henry by
the throat."
Owen
glanced at David, silent words of victory filling the air between them. Hotspur
was in their fold. As David pulled his stool closer to the table, Owen faced
Hotspur with restrained joy.
"We
must assume that Richmond has not remained at with her at Whitby for one very
good reason; the nuns will not allow him to stay. Moreover, I would wager that
with the Welsh resistance and the rumors of your insurrection, Henry requires
his power and wisdom in London. Therefore, it would be a safe assumption that
the Lady Arissa is alone in Yorkshire while her beloved is embroiled in the
politics of England. Which is where you play a part in all of this."
Hotspur's
face was impassive. "I am listening."
Owen
paused a moment. "You will ride to Whitby bearing a forged missive from
Henry demanding that his daughter be released to your custody. Certainly, no
one will question the mighty Hotspur as he moves to accomplish the bidding of
his king by escorting Henry's bastard daughter to London."