Rose Victory - Eagle Series (22 page)

“Your lord, you say, squire
!”  Roydon grumbled at the boy, burying his longing.  At least he had the boy; that would have to be enough.  “Yet here I am, practically dying of thirst and not even a cup of water am I offered.”

Aguilus grinned and
turned away to get the earl some wine.

“You have grown lax in my absence and now I will have to do something about it.”  Roydon contemplated the boy
so seriously that Aguilus didn’t know what to think.  “Some sword practice, I think,” the earl murmured and then watched as his son’s face brightened with excitement.

“Sword practice with you, Father!  I mean with you, my lord?  Really?”
  Aguilus couldn’t keep still in his excitement.

“Yes, I need the exercise and you I see, have energy enough to spare.  We will go to the training field
and you can show me what Ivan has been teaching you.”

“I have learnt a lot, sir.  Sir Ivan says I
have good reflexes and that I have grown much stronger.  He has given me leave to call him Ivan when I am off duty, just like Uncle Stefan, I mean Sir Stefan.  It’s a bit confusing but I will get used to it all.  Can we get them to come with us now?  They said they were going to the courtyard and…”

Roydon smiled as he fo
llowed his son from the chamber. Just to think that he had missed the boy’s never ending chatter…

The earl of Eagle Rock arrived in the yard of the White Chapel shortly before midday.  He
was dressed in unrelieved black, as was his norm, except for the small embroidered Eagle Rock emblem on the left breast of his tunic.  Yet today the absence of colour struck a jarring note among the gaily dressed people waiting to witness the wedding ceremony. 

“Not many friends here, Roy.”

What Stefan said was true.  Roydon did not consider any of these people friends, acquaintances at best and so he kept his distance.  He did not make shallow, casual friendships.  His real friends were loyal and true, not back-stubbing courtiers, and their number could be counted on the fingers of two hands.  A few fellow noblemen and a handful of military men, but these were not available to attend his wedding.  Not that he would have asked them to, Roydon considered this a farce and the sooner it was over the better. 

“I wouldn’t be here either if I could help it.”  The earl replied shortly, looking up at the small
, white limestone building.  The midday sun reflected off the rare, tall, coloured glass windows as Roydon led the way towards the main entrance to the chapel.   

Deciding to wait outside rather than in the close confines of the
building, the earl stopped beneath one of the windows with his companions.  Dark, silent and with a totally expressionless face, he awaited the arrival of his bride.  Inside Roydon did not feel calm or relaxed, but he would run a gauntlet before he allowed these people to see his reluctance and distaste for this marriage.

Roydon looked down at his son who stood by his side and a tiny smile broke the hard contours of his lips.  The boy tried, unsuccessfully, to emulate his own stony countenance but his eyes kept darting around the yard; looks of surprise, awe and excitement chasin
g across his features.  Aguilus, as his squire, also dressed in black but over his dark attire he wore a tabard depicting his lord’s emblem, the twin of the symbol that graced the earl’s breast.  The soaring golden eagle, on the blue background with the mountain in the distance, matched exactly the colour of his eyes. 

On Roydon’s other side stood Stefan, with Ivan beside him.  Both had dressed soberly with black
chausses and dark green and blue tunics respectively.  Roydon noticed the curious and startled glances thrown their way when anyone noticed Aguilus’ resemblance to him, but no one come near them.  His dark forbidding countenance saw to that.  Nevertheless the subtle and not so subtle pointing and whisperings continued until the king arrived.

Henry, splendidly attir
ed in a bright blue, jewel studded tunic with a gold circlet on his brow, drew the attention of the crowd.  Amid fawning bows and curtseys, the king, surrounded by his bodyguards, walked towards the isolated group by the wall.  At a murmured command from the sovereign, Henry’s guards kept the people that followed the king at bay as he joined the earl.

“Your Majesty,” Roydon and his companions bowed deeply.

“Eagle, Sir Stefan,” Henry acknowledged the greeting then turned to stare at Aguilus, fascinated.  “It is uncanny, Eagle!  He would be a younger identical version of you, were it not for his singular eye colour.”

Roydon saw his son straighten his
back and pull back his shoulders.  “It’s a poor gift I have given the boy, Sire, with this great beak of mine.”

“Nonsense, the boy looks handsome enough in your colours.”

At the king’s words, Aguilus seemed to swell even more.  He would burst with pride in a moment if this continued, thought Roydon, as he laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.  “He is a good boy, Sire.”

“Yes, we have met.”  Henry smiled as he remembered the boy’s outspoken defence of his father as he started to turn away.

“How is Princess Elizabeth, Sire?”  Aguilus asked quickly before the king left.

The earl turned an icy, cold look on his squire
that clearly conveyed the fact that he should not have spoken, let alone questioned the king.  The gasp from Sir Ivan confirmed the fact; Stefan just grinned.  “I am sorry, Sire,” Roydon excused his son’s faux pas.  “
My squire
,” the earl emphasized, “should know better than to speak without permission,” he glared at Aguilus.  “He will be reminded of his manners shortly.”

The
king, at first taken aback by the boy’s forwardness, now smiled at the earl.  “Do not punish the boy, Eagle.  He is like a breath of fresh air.  Much like my Elizabeth, a hoyden that one,” he mused affectionately.  “The Princess is fine, Aguilus,” Henry addressed the squire.  “I thank you for your concern.”

This time Aguilus glanced at his lord for permission before speaking and at the curt nod, he spoke his voice contrite.  “I am sorry
for speaking out, Sire, but I am glad that the Princess is well.”

The
king nodded and turned away.  “Come along, Eagle.  It’s time to take our places; your bride is on her way.”

“If I must,” the reluctance in Roydon’s voice came across loud and clear.

Henry raised an eyebrow at him, all amusement and good humour suddenly in abeyance.  “My lord?”

“I am here at your behest,
Sire, I gave you my word.  It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, but you will go through with it all the same.”  The steel in the
king’s voice would easily have cut through one of the thick wooden practice posts.  “Come.”  Without waiting to see if his vassal followed, Henry started for the chapel entrance.

Roydon waited at the fo
ot of the altar; in front of him stood the king’s chaplain, ready to start the ceremony as soon as the bride arrived.  Several paces behind the earl and to the side sat the king on a lone backless chair, beside him stood the Gibel delegation.  The main body of the chapel was filled with as many of the courtiers and their ladies as that small building could accommodate.  The only open space left, apart from that at the foot of the altar, was a narrow passage down the middle of the chapel from doorway to altar.  Three paces behind the earl and to the forefront of the crowd stood Sir Stefan and Ivan with Aguilus between them.

Roydon had walked straight
up to the altar steps, without a single glance to left or right.  Now he stood facing front refusing to acknowledge either the mass of people or the arrival of his bride.

“She is veiled,
Roy,” Stefan stepped up to him, obviously not wanting his friend to be caught unawares.  “Otherwise the lady seems sound of limb.  Tall though,” he whispered.

The earl shrugged, “Even if she is ugly as hell beneath that veil, it still does not matter.”  He just hoped that the woman would not snub his son.  He preferred peace in his household
, but if she refused Aguilus then she would discover who ruled in his castle, be she a princess or not.  Roydon straightened his stance, hand on his sword hilt, he waited as silence gradually enveloped the chapel and Stefan stepped back to his previous position.

Still the earl refused to turn around.  He waited until he felt, more than saw, someone pause by his side.  Only then did he turn his head.  Stefan had been
right; the lady was tall, and curvaceous.  Dressed in a dark gold velvet over-dress, a cream lace veil covered her face and also fell from the top of her head and down her back.

His bride stood beside him and Roydon could not see a single inch of her. 
Now he understood Stefan’s comment. Apparently the lady had two arms and two legs under all that cloth, and a head, surely there must be something holding up the veil?  Was the woman diseased or marked that she had to be covered like this? Roydon asked himself as he unsuccessfully tried to see through the lace, to the face beyond.

Then one of the bride’s attendants came forward, her intention obvious as she lifted the bottom of the facial veil.  But the servant was too short, unless the lady bent down or the attendant stood on a stool, she would never be able to lift the veil over the lady’s head.

Roydon faced his bride impatiently.  Protocol or no protocol, he refused to stand here all day.  Stepping in front of the servant, he easily lifted the veil and flung it over the lady’s head.  Unfortunately the thing had not been secured in any way and the whole thing slipped down her back to the floor.

The first thing that the earl saw made him catch his breath.  Long, golden hair curled and flowed down her back
to her waist.  Roydon knew that hair, had imagined it, dreamt of it for ten long years.  The earl shook his head, he must be mad.  It was just hair.  He stepped back, but still he hesitated a moment before he could bring himself to look at his bride’s face.

He
had
just gone insane.  Stubborn chin, generous mouth, smooth dusky skin and beautiful golden eyes that were now sparkling with inner joy.  Roydon fell back a step, dazed, this could not be happening.  He closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again she still stood there.  It seemed impossible and yet…  The earl raised a tentative hand and brushed it lightly, gently against the lady’s smooth cheek.

The moment he touch
ed her, the emptiness that had been his constant companion for so long, disappeared.  Roydon felt the deep loneliness within him gradually being replaced with a feeling of well-being, of satisfaction, and then a deep joy engulfed him as he drunk in the sight of his Lady.  Black, gleaming eyes sought bright golden ones and time seemed to hesitate.  Roydon’s lips formed the words that clamoured to be shouted from the battlements, yet were delivered as barely a thought on his lips.  “Mine! 
Mine
!”

The answ
er, just as silent, just as profound, echoed from his bride’s lips.  “
Yours
!”

The earl of Eagle Rock stepped slightly back from his bride; a deep contentment etched on his proud features.  He had found his Eagle Lady!

Roydon felt a hand on his arm and he dragged his eyes away from his lady.  “Roy, are you alright?”  Stefan’s concerned gaze studied him.  “You have been staring at the bride for a while now and the priest is getting impatient,” he whispered.

“I am well, Stef.”  Roydon smiled at his friend, a deep
contentment in his eyes that Stefan had not seen in a long time.  “Have you seen my lady?”

“No, from here it’s
…”  Stefan’s words dried on his lips, as the lady in question turned towards them.  “Good Lord…Roy!  Her eyes…!”

“She is my son’s mother, my lady from the mountain, Stef,” the quiet satisfaction in the earl’s voice brought a lump to the knight’s throat.

“But how?” Stefan murmured, totally at a loss.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.  She is mine now.”  Roydon turned back to
Lady Roslyn. Was that even her name?  He saw her gaze resting lovingly on Aguilus.  He saw both pain and pride in her eyes and longing, so much longing.  No more, he determined.

Excited whispers erupted from the crowd, and the
king half rose from his seat in alarmed disbelief, as Roydon walked away from the altar.  Henry fell back in his chair in tentative relief when the earl stopped in front of his son and crouched down.

The boy looked at him with the same puzzled expression
on his face as most of the people in the chapel wore.  “My lord?”

“The lady, Aguilus, look at her eyes.”  Roydon spoke softly, for the boy’s ears only.

“She has golden eyes.”  Aguilus looked back at his father enquiringly.  “Are they like mine, sir?” 

“They are exactly like yours, son.”  Roydon paused, letting his hand rest on the boy’s shoulder.  “She is your mother.”

“Mother?”  His eyes huge and unblinking, Aguilus stared at his father, hope struggling against uncertainty in his gaze. 

“Come.”  Roydon rose to his feet, his hand firmly on the boy’s shoulder, he drew him towards the altar and his mother.

The murmurs and comments escalated from the crowd as the earl set the boy in front of his bride.  “He is making the woman accept his bastard!”

“Poor woman!”

“Good for Eagle Rock, he starts as he means to go on!”

“That will show the woman her place!”

Lady Roslyn did not speak; she just cupped her son’s face in the palm of her hand.  The tenderness and love in her eyes said it all as she looked into the golden eyes staring shyly up at her.

“We must continue, my lord.”   The priest’s voice silenced the crowd and drew the earl’s attention.

Roydon gave a quick nod as he arranged Aguilus facing the altar in front of him and his bride, his hand still rested on the boy’s shoulder.  “You may proceed.”  He smiled when Roslyn also placed her hand on their son’s other shoulder.  Aguilus, he observed achingly, was almost bursting with pride and joy.

“My lord!  This is not seemly,” the priest pointed at Aguilus, a frown of disapproval on his face.

“This is my son and he stays right where he is.”  Roydon’s dark gaze bore into the priest.  “If you have any objections, clear them with the king,” the determination in his voice strongly suggested that he would not back down.

The priest’s eyes quickly sought out the
king’s person, who tapped his fingers on his knee in apparent impatience.  “Your Majesty, I cannot…”