"She’s
eighteen years old and a woman grown."
Henry's
face turned an ugly shade of red. "Out of the question, Sir Richmond. She’s
a novice nun, pledged to Whitby, and a princess of royal blood. She’s beyond
your...."
"Give
me Arissa or you can fight Hotspur by yourself."
Richmond
did not think it possible that Henry's eyes could grow any wider; he was wrong.
They bulged grotesquely and the king's body stiffened in astonishment.
Throughout the twisting and gasping, however, Richmond remained calm. He had to
maintain his composure if he was to obtain his wants in the face of such
outrageous shock.
"I
mean every word, Henry. Give me Arissa or Northumberland can march on London
with my blessing."
Henry
clenched and unclenched his meaty fists in agitation. "How dare you
threaten me!"
Richmond
watched his furious monarch quite impassively. "I am not threatening you.
I am simply stating a fact. You want me for a very important task; I am more
than willing to complete that task successfully if you are willing to pay for
my services," he shoved the chair out of the way that had been separating
them; face to face, they glared at each other. "You gave Arissa to me at
birth, instructing me to watch over her, care for her, protect her, and I have
done so flawlessly. She has always been mine, Henry. What I am asking is
nothing outlandish or impulsive. I simply want my due. I want
her
."
Henry
had to look away from Richmond lest he give in to his inclination to strangle
the man. "I entrusted her protection and safety to you and nothing more.
And now you intend to claim her like a... a prize?"
Richmond
shook his head firmly. "Not a prize, Henry. I want her as my wife. I love
the woman with all my heart."
Somewhere
in the midst of his tirade, a small seed of recollection burst forth, blooming
into a garden of memories. As Richmond's words settled, Henry found himself remembering
the delicate black-haired woman he had loved so long ago, a woman he had
worshiped with his words and emotions and body. A woman who tore his heart to
pieces when she committed her life to a north Yorkshire abbey.
A
good deal of bluster drained out of Henry as he found himself relieving pieces
of broken memories. A certain touch, a stolen meal, a night of ecstasy. The
same ecstasy that had resulted in a beautiful dark-haired daughter. The
daughter Richmond had been assigned to protect.
"Oh,
Richmond," Henry's voice was faint, his hand over his face in a gesture of
disbelief and resignation. His hand came away from his brow and he grasped at
the chair next to him as if the furniture could support his weakening body.
"You
love
her?"
Richmond
studied Henry intently, scrutinizing every move, every word. "I cannot
remember when I haven't loved her,” he said, his voice softening. “And she
returns my love. But let me be clear; it wasn’t always like this. Only over the
past two years have I been living every moment for the sound and sight and
smell of the woman. I fought my feelings as long as I could but I can no longer
deny them. How could I not have fallen in love with such beauty and
sweetness?"
"She’s
beautiful?" Henry turned to him inquisitively, immediately shaking his
head with the foolishness of his question. "Of course she’s beautiful. Her
mother was beautiful. I myself saw Arissa when she was eleven years old and
even then she was beautiful."
Richmond's
heart began to soften as he pictured Arissa in his mind, savoring every
exquisite feature. "The angels are jealous of her beauty, Henry. A more
magnificent creature has ever existed."
Henry
leaned on the chair a moment longer before lowering his body onto the supple
cushions. His movements were slow, laced with defeat. The longer he pondered
Ellyn and the result of their liaison, the more depressed he became.
"You
are entirely serious about this?" his dull eyes met Richmond’s gaze, a
fair eyebrow cocking gently for effect. "You will leave me to Hotspur's
mercy if I do not grant you Arissa?"
Richmond
sighed, thinking that mayhap he had been too harsh, too demanding in his
presentation. But he was determined to gain Arissa, no matter what. Henry had
to know there was no room for negotiation.
"I
am serious," he replied softly. "Give me Arissa and I swear to you
that Northumberland will remain your ally. You have my word as a knight."
Henry
scratched his chin, wearily. "Which brings me to another point. You are a
mere knight, not even a baron or an earl. If Arissa were to marry, it would
have to be a man of higher rank."
"So
grant me a title. Have I not earned one for my years of service?"
Henry
cast him a droll glance. "I did grant you one, you fool. If you marry
Cecily you shall have a bloody earldom."
"I
do not want Cecily's earldom. I want Arissa and lands of our own."
Henry
rolled his eyes sardonically, clapping a hand over his face and wiping at his
perspiring forehead. "God's Blood, I cannot believe you would take
advantage of me this way. Threatening to throw me to the wolves if I do not
grant your request."
Richmond
slowly took the chair opposite the king, his eyes soft and speculative. "I
am not threatening you, Henry. But you want something from me, and I want
something from you. We are bargaining to gain what we both desire."
"Bargaining?"
Henry snorted. "Hardly. You seem to hold the advantage."
Richmond
shook his head weakly, their confrontation leaving him drained. "Wrong
again. You hold the advantage, 'else I would not be so determined to
bargain," he sighed heavily, with feeling. "You are my friend, Henry.
I do not relish backing my friend into a corner with harsh demands and warnings
of disservice. But for Arissa, I would do just that. You must understand how
important she is to me."
"And
you must understand how important England is to me," Henry's voice was
faint as he stared into the dying embers of the hearth, contemplating the turn
of events. An inkling of an idea suddenly occurred to him and he glanced to
Richmond, shrewdly. "I have a counterproposal, Richmond. I will dissolve
your betrothal contract to Cecily, which will be no easy accomplishment, but I
shall do it because I see your reasoning in the matter. Mayhap I shall offer
her a groom of royal blood to offset the loss of Richmond le Bec and to fortify
the crown's relationship to Northumberland, as you have suggested."
Richmond
could sense a compromise coming; he had been involved in Henry's circle long
enough to know when the king was preparing to strike against a weaker, simpler
adversary. Bearing that in mind, he braced himself when Henry took a long drink
of wine, licking his lips before continuing.
"In
addition to Arissa's dowry to Whitby, I shall donate a sizable sum to release
her from her contract to the church so that you will be free to marry
her," noting that Richmond's expression remained even and constant, he
cocked a stern eyebrow purely for effect. "And I shall grant you a barony
so that my daughter will not be marrying a man beneath her station. But you
must complete one particular task before I will do these things for you."
Richmond
drew in a long, steady breath. He had suspected as much. "Speak,
then."
Henry
sat forward in his chair, his blue eye piercing and sharp. "You will
determine the path Hotspur has chosen to follow. If he chooses to remain loyal
to me, then you shall assist him in defeating Glendower. And if has chosen to
move against me, then you shall destroy them both."
Richmond
pondered Henry's counterproposal, not entire unexpected or unreasonable. "You
would have me complete this mission before I marry Arissa?"
Henry
nodded, a sly expression creasing his features. "You want something from
me, and I want something from you. I will agree to your demand for Arissa, but
you must resolve Henry Percy's standing and the Welsh rebellion before I will
grant your wishes. The guarantee of Arissa at the conclusion of a mission well
executed shall make you work harder in your endeavor, will it not?"
Richmond
pondered his king a moment longer before rising wearily from his chair, moving
to draw his fifth goblet of wine. Swirling the ruby liquid upon his tongue, he
realized that Henry was playing the political game very well. The king was
being forced to compromise by dissolving his betrothal with Cecily Percy; Richmond,
in turn, would be compromising by delaying his nuptials to Arissa until the
Hotspur situation was resolved.
It
was not unreasonable. He'd waited this long for Arissa; another few months,
although an eternity, would not matter overly in the grand scheme of his life.
But he was not entirely comfortable with the prospect of losing a valuable
friend in the process. Henry Percy had no idea what was at stake.
After
a moment, he sighed. "What will happen if I fail?"
"I
have never known you to fail."
"Nor
have I. But for the sake of argument, we will suppose that I do. What
then?"
Henry
did not hesitate. "Then you get nothing. Arissa stays with her mother at
Whitby, and I lose Wales."
Richmond
drained his cup, feeling warm and calm. Slamming the chalice to the table, he
turned to face his king with all of the power and confidence he was experiencing.
Arissa would be his; of that he had no doubt. No matter what.
"Hotspur
will maintain his loyalty to the crown or I will destroy him. Any way I
can."
"And
Wales?"
"The
resistance shall meet a decisive end."
Henry
nodded, feeling a tremendous assurance as their mutual understanding settled.
"I have the utmost faith in you, Richmond. I always have."
Richmond
quit the room without another word, leaving Henry alone to ponder the future.
If he was lucky and Richmond was successful, he would still have a kingdom come
the new year.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
"Arissa?
Emma? Where are you?"
The
soft but unmistakably sharp command echoed against the ancient stone walls. For
the past two weeks, walls that had been accustomed to the prayers of the faithful
or the strains of heavenly music had suddenly become witness to the
shortcomings of two foolish young maidens unused to life in an isolated abbey.
Sharp footfalls bounced off the scrubbed stone as a slight nun made her way
down the corridor.
"Arissa?
Emma?"
Her
demand for response was met by the soft shuffle of clogged feet and Sister
Repentia was not surprised when Arissa and Emma came bolting from a slender
staircase, a winding flight that led to the loft high above. Nearly plowing the
green-eyed nun over in their haste, Arissa and Emma skidded to an appalled,
unsteady halt.
"Sister!"
Arissa gasped. "Forgive us! We did not see you and...."
Sister
Repentia cut off the beginnings of what would undoubtedly be a rambling
explanation. As much as she loved her daughter, as much as the entire convent
had come to love the sweet young woman, she could talk God himself off his
mighty throne and Sister Repentia was unwilling to stand patiently through
another insipid explication.
"There
is no need for excuses, ladies," she said breathlessly, a bit startled by
their sudden appearance. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she
straightened the kerchief that covered her daughter's dark head as tendrils of
silky black hair attempted to escape. "Vespers is upon us and you will not
be late again. Be off with you."
"But....
Sister!" Arissa protested as Emma hovered eagerly by her side. "We
saw a great army approaching from the south!"
Sister
Repentia sighed. Arissa and Emma spent a good deal of time in the loft when
they weren't moving about their chores, waiting for the reappearance of
Richmond le Bec and his muscle-bound knight.
"You
said the very same thing two days ago,” Sister Repentia said patiently. “And
two days before that. You should have realized by now that the fog from the
ocean oft appears dark on the horizon, like a tide of men," before Arissa
could protest, she shook her head sharply and directed the two young women into
the corridor, towards the chapel. "Vespers, ladies. And then we will
eat."
Arissa
was wise enough not to dispute the nun who had become an integral part of her
life for the past two weeks. With Emma by her side, the three women made their
way to the dimly-lit chapel, bowing their respect to God as they entered the
sanctuary and moving for their assigned places. At the rear of the chapel,
behind the novice nuns, Arissa and Emma dropped to their knees and made the
sign of the cross about their head and shoulders.
Sister
Repentia's gaze lingered on the two kerchief-clad heads as they bowed in
prayer. By the stone altar in the very front of the sparsely-furnished room,
Sister Mary Ignatius was preparing to commence with the reading and Sister
Repentia quickly moved for her assigned space.
But
even as she made the sign of the cross over her slight body and knelt in
reverence, she couldn't stop her thoughts from lingering on Arissa and her
young friend who had literally breathed life into the old abbey within the span
of a few short days. A spirit the gloomy structure had lacked for decades,
unmissed until now.