Authors: Leslie Hachtel
Tamara smiled in relief. “Is that all? Of course you must marry, love. ‘Tis nothing to fear. A man would know himself to be blessed to have such a sweet and beautiful wife. You would, indeed, be a gift to any man. You are only unmarried as yet since your father has indulged you and allowed you to select your husband. Has his patience run thin?”
“You understand not. Henry has sent an edict demanding I marry a Spaniard to aid in the alliance.”
“Henry has done what?”
“I know not what I should do. I will not go to Spain with a man I have never even laid eyes upon. It is unthinkable. And he is certainly some hideous monster.”
Tamara stared into the distance for a moment. “No, love. It is not unthinkable. You have been lucky to have escaped the king’s notice for so long a time. But I do not blame you. I would feel the same. Perhaps we can find a solution so Henry does not win this battle.”
“What can we do? He is, after all, the king. And you of all people know his punishment for disobedience. I have even thought of taking my own life. I am so desperate.”
“What a wonderful idea!”
Dariana was shocked. “You wish me to die?” She could hardly utter the words. Her world had just dropped away and she was nearly breathless with the pain of it.
Tamara smiled. “No, love. You misunderstand my words. I would never wish for your demise. That is—not privately.”
Dariana gazed at her friend, confusion rampant in her thoughts. “I understand nothing you are saying. Do you love me so little?”
Tamara smiled again. “No, I love you so much. That is why you must die.”
She and Tamara spent two days formulating a plan that would seal her fate. It was simple. Dariana was sent home with an attitude of obedience. She was to act the perfect daughter while preparing for her departure. She was to tell no one, of course. Arouse no suspicions. There was much to do and precious little time.
Near the edge of the King’s Forest, yet well concealed, was an abandoned cottage that had once belonged to a caretaker. Since the forest was forbidden to all but the nobility and those they allowed to serve as keepers, few, if any, would pass nearby. The forest was reserved for the hunt; game was more plentiful in its depths. If she was careful, Dariana could take up residence there until it was deemed safe for her to reappear under some other identity. She would have to find some convincing masquerade to be above suspicion.
Tamara would meanwhile plant the seed that her husband’s niece might arrive in hopes of gaining a worthy mate. Or perhaps a nun from a nearby convent would visit. Still, Dariana knew her return was but a vain hope, considering the deception she was about to commit.
In the time allowed, the two spent each day together riding. Dariana had packed her belongings and appeared prepared for her inevitable journey, so her father did not object to the time she spent with Tamara. No one thought anything amiss since their devotion was known. Tamara had made no secret of the fact her dearest friend was being sent away. Happily, since the area between their homes was declared safe, they were permitted to ride within the confines of the adjoining lands without escort.
On their rides, they secreted provisions to furnish the small cottage in the forest. They would ride out, skirt the meadow, and then slip into the forest to deposit the bounty. They discovered a large kettle and a small table and chairs already present, as well as a strong rope cot. The cottage was happily in good repair. In a short time, it was supplied with a comfortable bed of furs, a stock of warm cloaks, woolen dresses, and cooking utensils. Lighting the hearth could prove dangerous in attracting unwanted attention, so they had prepared for the onslaught of the cold with additional clothing and blankets. Her father had taught her how to hunt for sport and Dariana had been adept with bow and arrow since she was a child. It was her weapon of choice, so those were supplied, along with several daggers. However, she didn’t give thought to how to prepare animals after hunting. Food had always appeared at proper times and not been a concern.
The excitement of planning made the truth of what they were doing less terrible. Dariana was committing an act that could cost her father’s life. The king would certainly demand retribution
should he ever discover the truth. And her friend was helping her. What would Tamara’s punishment be? Dariana tried desperately to convince herself this was the only solution to escape a heartless royal edict.
Tamara had a family retainer who had served her father and moved with her when she married. Humphrey adored his mistress and his loyalty was unassailable. He was chosen to share their secret. He could come and go without challenge and could easily deliver food and other necessities without arousing suspicion.
On the last day, Dariana rode her horse to the edge of the stream. She dismounted and dropped her cloak, making certain it caught on the outcropping of rock. She tore a small bit of her riding habit and tangled it in the underbrush. Tamara had managed to secrete some cow’s blood from the kitchen and now Dariana liberally doused it on the cloak. Then, after kissing him on his soft nose, she slapped the horse on the rump and sent him toward home while she sought her refuge in the cottage.
Tamara later told her the result of her efforts; the worst had been feared. Her father had led a search and, after many hours, had been devastated when he came to the very spot they had intended him to find. There had been no choice but to arrive at the most obvious conclusion: his dearest daughter was dead. No doubt she had been thrown from her horse or some other terrible fate had overcome her. He would never know. The immutable fact was that she was gone. He was inconsolable.
When Dariana had not presented at court at the appointed time for her nuptials, the king sent an angry missive demanding her appearance. The earl’s response explaining her death did not satisfy Henry, who was clever enough in his own right to suspect there might be games afoot. As expected, men were dispatched to search for the disobedient girl, but they were not quiet in their work as they searched the earl’s lands and surrounding countryside, so their presence did not go undetected. When they neared her part of the forest, she heard them from a great distance away. Dariana was ready to escape if they came too near.
She waited, all senses alert, but it never occurred to anyone that a lady of the realm would take refuge in a rough cottage, so it went unmolested if not unseen. Dariana had been terrified of discovery and it took days for her to have a restful sleep for fear the king’s men would return and expose her.
Time passed and Tamara kept her promise, sending Humphrey with savory meats and cheeses, loaves of bread and clean clothing. Occasionally, when Tamara could sneak away, she would come to visit. Her presence was a comfort.
It was Dariana’s custom to wash in the nearby stream each morning, even when the autumn chill had made the bath not quite so welcoming and the frigid cold of winter had shortened her ritual to a few quick splashes. It struck her as strange that but a few miles down this very stream was where she had ‘died.’
Sometimes, over the winter months, she dared a small fire, gaining courage as she remained undiscovered. The first few weeks had been a nightmare. First, the loneliness threatened to envelop her. One evening, she sat down on the dirt floor and wept. Then boredom became the enemy. In the mornings, she would walk over the same ground, passing the same trees, until she wanted to cry out her frustration.
When Humphrey arrived one afternoon, she confessed her angst.
“What can I do to pass the time?” she asked. “I am bereft with lack of things to occupy me.”
Humphrey shrugged. “You could cook. It would give you some variety and keep you busy.”
“Cook?”
Humphrey laughed out loud. “Yes, my lady. That’s when you combine food and heat it.”
“I know what it means. I have simply never done it.”
Humphrey had taught her how to make simple dishes like stew. Today, Dariana made a warm broth, then thickened it with meat and whatever vegetables had been supplied. She would huddle in her cloak and draw in the warmth as the food cooked, savoring the delicious odors while the orange flames danced. After her confession to Humphrey, Tamara had thought to send books, so when the light allowed, Dariana could escape into other places, other times. She would think about her father and how patient he had been when he taught her to hunt. She would daydream about skimming across the meadow on her beloved horse, Moonshadow. Sometimes her heart ached for all she missed.
She had been well stocked and hunting hadn’t become a necessity yet, but she was prepared to contribute her own stores if
Tamara became at risk for discovery. And, as the time passed, she adjusted to the cold, the wet, and the other miseries.
It was on a sunny morning in early spring that Tamara appeared at the cottage bearing gifts of food and a new gown. Simple though it was, Dariana was thrilled with the garment, as her clothing was now worn.
“You are quite pleased with something this lovely morn. Pray, share your news with me as I am hungry for it.”
“The king is dead, long live the king.”
“I don’t understand. Henry is dead?”
“Aye, and his second son has succeeded him.”
“What means this? Will things be different? Mayhap better?”
“Well, certainly there will be no more of Henry VII’s tyranny. It seems, though, this new Henry wants nothing more than to please his father.”
“But you said his father was dead.”
“That matters little. His father never approved of him in life, but Henry wishes dearly to make him proud from beyond the grave. He is set on bringing about a return to Camelot just as his father desired. There will be pomp and ceremony and tournaments. There will be pageantry and rich clothes and—I am positively green with envy at the thought of the courtiers reveling in their celebrations.”
“Why can you not attend? No one knows you aided my—death. You would be certain to be safe from any scandal or accusation. Why not travel to court and be part of the excitement? I can only imagine the coronation will be something to behold.”
“Oh, I dare not even dream of such a thing. My Robert is too old and I could not travel to court without him. I have come to love my husband dearly.”
“Well,
I
will go with you,” Dariana stated, partly in jest and more in vain hope.
“You know that is not possible, love.”
“I know. Tamara, tell me truly. Will I ever be able to return to my life as it was?”
“We can always hope. You must remember we committed an act against the crown and such things are not so easily forgiven.”
“I do so miss my father. Does he fare well?”
“As well as can be expected. I paid him a visit some months ago and—I won’t lie—he feels the lack of your presence. But he is safe.”
Dariana’s eyes filled with tears that burned down her cheeks. “I am so sorry I ran away. It might not have been so terrible a fate and perhaps I could have found some pleasure in life in Spain. Now, though, I have sealed my fate. Did I do right?”
Tamara embraced her friend, then wiped away her tears. “Do not cry. The time for doubt has long since passed. Sometimes the hardest part of life is living with our choices. Think you this way. You have your freedom. And such a price as you paid is naught compared to what it might have cost, married to a man in a foreign land, among strangers, whose tongue you do not understand. I was told that your intended was to be the marques de Flores. It is said he is a misshapen, ugly wretch who wields his power viciously and without conscience. His first wife perished under mysterious circumstances, leaving him very wealthy. Therefore, the last Henry sought his favor. I have heard he is demanding a replacement for you from the new king. Count yourself among the truly blessed that your sacrifices are small in comparison to a life with such a man as that.”
“You are right—I am ungrateful. You have risked so much for my sake and I am not unappreciative. Forgive me?”
“Of course. Now let me tell you more of this new Henry. A traveling bard who had just visited court took his ease with us and had much to say. In exchange, I filled his belly and now wonder who got the better of the bargain. He stripped the pantry bare.”
Dariana giggled. “Tell me all. What is the new Henry about? Does he, too, desire a stronger alliance with Spain? I would hate to think another might suffer my fate, or near fate.”
“Nay. Unlike his father, he is content that his own marriage to his brother’s widow, Catherine of Aragon, has sealed that bargain. I wonder, though, that he does not feel like the red-haired stepchild. His brother’s throne, his brother’s widow. But he seems bent on celebration.”
C
HAPTER
2
R
etribution! The word
exploded in Dariana’s brain like a battering ram. Fear coiled in her chest like a living thing and made it hard to draw breath. When she heard the first horseman coming, hooves pounding out her fate, she knew it was her end. She sprinted behind a thick tree and flattened her back against the hard wood. And waited for hands to reach out and drag her to hell. There was a sound almost as if someone had fallen to the ground, but the horse rode off.
Dariana’s breathing had barely slowed to normal before two more horses hammered in her direction. Her mind screamed that it had all been for naught. She held her breath and waited, terrified. The horses stopped a few feet from where she was concealed. Feet hit the earth as a rider dismounted. Dariana had to stifle the urge to cry out. She was shielded from them, but felt as vulnerable as a newborn babe.
The still-mounted man spoke. “Is he dead?”
There was another sound, like a boot kicking something solid. “Do you see him moving?” Dariana wished they were not out of her view.
“You said your aim was true.”
“As it was. We can claim the reward for this good day’s work.”
The man remounted and the two rode of, sending clots of mud sailing through the air in their wake. She inhaled deeply, lightheaded. If they had not come for her, what then? They had said he was dead. He? They were not from the king seeking her capture? She was safe? Dariana’s breath rushed from her chest and she fell back against the sturdy tree in relief. Its solid strength felt good.