Without
another word, David quit the tent. Owen let him go, still focused on Arissa. He
felt rather guilty that he had not realized her ignorance of Ellyn's identity
and knelt beside her quaking body, wondering how he could possibly make
reparation for his lack of tact.
"I
apologize for your surprise, my lady," he said softly. "Had I known that
you were unaware of your mother's identity, I would not have been so callous.
Forgive me."
Arissa
did not reply, completely shaken and bordering on madness. From the very moment
she had gazed into Sister Repentia's eyes, there had been something uncannily
familiar about the woman. A puzzled inquiry of familiarity that had been
politely refuted. Suddenly, she felt foolish and sickened; if Sister Repentia
had wanted her to know, then she would have told her immediately. She would not
have allowed weeks to pass with nary a word of recognition. Instead, the link
had gone ignored. Just as the woman had ignored her since birth.
In
spite of the fact that she could not bring herself to hate the woman, it did
not prevent her from experiencing a barrage of violent emotions. Resentment,
anger, the agony of the unknown... Arissa felt the emotions building within her
chest, swirling into a hurricane of torrential feelings. She simply couldn't
believe that the woman had been intent on making a fool out of her.
"My
lady," Owen broke into her turbulent thoughts. "Might I help you to
rise? Come and sit by the vizier."
"Leave
her be, Owen," Hotspur's voice was tight as he interrupted. "Allow
her to recover her shock alone."
Owen
rose to unsteady feet, raking his fingers through his dark hair. "Had I
been aware that she was ignorant of Ellyn's identity, I certainly would not
have...."
"Why
did not you tell me Arissa was your cousin?" Hotspur cut him off, his dark
eyes stormy. "If you have been intent to betray me from the beginning, I
shall...."
Owen
shook his head sharply. "It has never been my intention to betray you,
Henry. I simply thought it best not to mention that the lady's mother is
David's older sister."
Hotspur's
jaw ticked unhappily, turning once more to linger on Arissa's lowered head.
"Not only is she Henry's bastard, but she’s your cousin as well?" he
shook his head, pondering the enormity of Arissa's station in life. "God's
Blood, Owen, she links the Welsh rebellion with the crown of England. Do not
you understand she could be the true instrument of peace?"
"All
too well. And I intend to utilize that instrument."
"Aye
- with threats and warnings. Not with understanding and good faith."
Owen
cocked an eyebrow. "Just as Henry has shown good faith in your
ability?" when Hotspur looked away, Owen drew in a deep breath and
returned his attention to his niece. "Have no fear, my friend. Arissa
shall be my guest until Richmond and Henry come to terms with the new order of
England and Wales. Her presence will work to our advantage, I promise
you."
Hotspur's
gaze lingered on Arissa a moment longer, an ugly mottle shading his cheeks. The
situation was deepening by the moment and he was not at all sure that allying
himself with Owen Glendower had been a wise decision. But it was done, and he
was forced to make the best of it. He had come too far to turn back.
Moving
for the tent flap, he jabbed a gloved finger at Owen. "Do not touch her.
And allow her time to recover before you inform her of the reasons for her
imprisonment," his jaw ticked a moment as he gazed between the Welsh
prince and the young girl on the floor. "I shall return for her, have no
doubt."
Alone
with his cousin, Owen reflected on the events that had led to this point in
time. Lives lost, wasted efforts exhausted. He mused that the emotional toll
had been far greater than the physical. As he at the young lady's dark head, it
would stand to reason that the emotional destruction was about to rise.
Higher,
yet.
***
Arissa
lost track of time as she huddled in Owen's tent, oblivious to all else but her
disorderly thoughts. She still was not completely rational when Hotspur removed
her from the shelter and took her to a small, warm tent lined with an abundance
of furs. She had allowed him to carry her across the snowy compound, thinking
his powerful embrace to feel a good deal like Richmond's and wishing that it
was.
Henry
managed to settle her nicely in the musty, warm tent, muttering something about
returning with a bit of food. But Arissa had ignored him for the most part,
still shaken with the news of Sister Repentia’s identity. Although she did not
blame Hotspur for her emotional state, he felt extremely guilty nonetheless and
quit the tent without another word. Knowing that whether or not he and Richmond
met on the field of battle as a result of their political differences, surely
they would do battle somewhere, somehow, for his transgressions against Arissa.
He was sure of it.
Even
as Hotspur wrestled with his guilt, Arissa forgot him the moment he left the
tent. In faith, it had not been difficult to understand the truth behind her
royal heritage; Richmond had taken the time to explain the facts, maintaining a
calm and tender atmosphere, and although she had been astonished with the concept,
she hadn't felt near the devastation or confusion that she was experiencing
now.
After
an eternity of sitting atop a pile of warm furs, attempting to calm herself,
she shifted a little and removed her hood, taking the time to note her
surroundings for the first time. She'd barely begun her observations when her
vision came to rest on an identical pair of pale green eyes, gazing at her from
the opposite side of the tent with the utmost apprehension.
Sister
Repentia sat huddled in the corner, obscured by a pile of furs and the dim shadows.
She stared at her daughter, and Arissa met her gaze with the same shocked
expression.
Truthfully,
she did not know how to react. It was obvious by the countenance on Sister
Repentia's face that she was aware that Arissa had been told her identity.
Arissa did not know how the woman knew, but she did. And the longer she gazed
into the familiar pale green eyes, the more unnatural fury gripped her.
"How
could you do this to me?" she suddenly hissed.
Sister
Repentia swallowed. "It.... it was never my intention to keep the truth
from you, Arissa. But the timing never seemed to be correct for my confession.
I had hoped that we would come to know one another better and...."
"You
made a fool of me!" Arissa exploded, leaping to her feet. She tore at the
cloak, ripping it free and tossing it to the frozen ground as she faced her
mother with a degree of resentment never before witnessed. "You let me go
on thinking that you were my friend when, in fact, you were my... my
mother
!
Sweet St. Jude, did you have a laugh at my expense when you retired at night,
thinking of the silly young girl who was living her daily existence in complete
ignorance of your identity?"
Sister
Repentia shook her head, her breathing coming in harsh gasps. The reaction
Arissa was experiencing had been her greatest fear; no understanding, no
compassion, no love. Only hatred and fury. Only rejection.
When
her brother had come to her as she wait in the wagon, she had not been overly
surprised to see him. The reunion had been brief and comforting as he
apologized for their parents actions those years ago that had driven a very
young girl into the heart of London, desperate to escape the parental hatred.
Through
the sometimes-awkward conversation and timid peace, she did not elaborate to
David regarding her life in London and was quite surprised when he mentioned
his knowledge of Arissa's parentage. Although he did not mention the reason
behind Arissa's visit to Wales, she suspected correctly that it had something to
do with the Welsh's resistance against Henry and actually began to fear for her
daughter's life. Somewhat humiliated that her brother had discovered her liaison
with the English king, she further wondered if the Welsh rebels were intent on
harming her, too.
But
her fear for Arissa's safety and her own well-being quickly turned to horror of
another sort when she became aware that Owen, a cousin she hadn't seen in some
time, had taken it upon himself to inform Arissa of her mother's identity. Gazing
into her daughter's face, she realized it was a horror well justified.
"You
must believe me, Arissa. I never intended to deceive you," her voice was
pleading. "But the time was never right for me to tell you of our
relationship. Can't you understand?"
"Then
when would it be right? Now? In five years, ten years? Never? But, of course,
you never wanted me in the first place so why would you even think to tell me
of your true identity? Mayhap you did not want me to know the mother who had
willingly given up her child in the face of such overwhelming shame."
Sister
Repentia rose, unsteadily. Her pale green eyes were wide with gut-wrenching
sorrow as she listened to her daughter rave. Slowly, she pulled away the
protective wimple that had perpetually concealed her head from the corrupt
world of Sin. Black, silky hair, mussed and untamed, spilled well past her
shoulders.
"Is
that what you have been lead to believe? That I never wanted you?" she
shook her head, her action laced with remorse. "My God, Arissa, I loved
you more than life itself. But it was necessary to place you in protective
custody, away from those who would do you harm. Being the king's bastard
entitled you to more than your share of enemies, but being borne from a woman
married to a man not your father entitled you to the hatred of a shamed husband
as well."
Arissa
stared at the woman, her anguish maintaining a constant level as she observed
Sister Repentia's complete features for the first time; she'd never seen the
woman without her wimple to cover thick lengths of glorious black hair.
Richmond had been correct when he told her that she favored her mother; they
were identical.
But
as she gazed at her mother, the woman's words took hold and Arissa found
herself contemplating the meaning, the edge of her furor reduced by her
uncertainty. "But.... if I was the king's child, then why couldn't he
protect me? Why was it necessary to send me away?"
"Henry
was not the king at that time - Richard was," Sister Repentia said softly.
"Furthermore, Henry was married to Mary Bohun. It was unfortunate for us
that we happened to fall in love, resulting in your birth. And it was
imperative that we did what was necessary to assure you a full, unhindered
life. We had to remove you from the bowels of political intrigue and
hatred."
Arissa's
uncertainty was gaining hold. But her resentment was still a powerful force.
"You loved Henry?"
Sister
Repentia smiled tremulously in remembrance. "As you love Richmond."
An
entirely new light was cast onto Arissa's arena. If the woman had loved Henry
as much as she loved Richmond, then it had been a powerful love indeed. A love
strong enough to warrant sacrifice for the safety and happiness of another.
She
continued to gaze at her mother, the pain of abandonment and separation in her
eyes. "And you loved me?" She found she needed to know. .
Sister
Repentia's eyes filled with tears, her smiled fading. "Enough to sacrifice
my life for you," she whispered, allowing her tears to fall as her naked
pain became evident. "You see, my husband had vowed vengeance upon both of
us. The only solution was to send you away to assume a secret identity,
shielded from the rage of a dishonored husband. And my only alternative was to
commit myself to the one place my husband could not harm me."
"An
abbey?" Arissa echoed.
Sister
Repentia nodded, wiping at her damp cheeks. "Henry was already married and
there was no possibility that we could ever be together. Whitby became my
refuge, my strength, my rock of faith until such time as you came to join me.
Although you and I were separated at birth, Henry had promised me that you
would join me in the cloister when you became of age. I lived on that
promise."
Arissa
lowered her gaze, feeling her mother's pain as it mingled with her own. The
woman had waited for the day when Arissa would join her, but Arissa had ignored
the reverence of the abbey by declaring her love for a man, a man who would
rescue her from the sheltered existence of Whitby. Unknowingly, she had
completely disregarded her mother's joy.
If
only she had known. She found she simply could not maintain her fury any
longer. There was no longer the need.
After
a moment, she shook her head, returning her attention to the black-haired woman.
"No wonder you never told me of your identity. With my anticipation for
Richmond's return expressed on a daily basis, I can understand your
reluctance."
Sister
Repentia sighed heavily, relieved that Arissa was calming and coming to
understand the sacrifice, the pain, the daily anguish that had constituted her
life for the past eighteen years. But even if they were coming to understand
one another, they had barely scratched the surface of the entire circumstance.