Virginia Henley (10 page)

Joanna’s eyes went quickly to his. “There’s trouble between Edward and Warwick, isn’t there? Men’s ambitions! I told Edward he would make a mortal enemy of Warwick if he offered Warwick’s daughters husbands from the hated Woodville tribe.”

Since Joanna seemed to know the King’s business, Roger was free to speak of it. “I suppose that is at the
bottom of it. Warwick wants no less than both the King’s brothers to marry his daughters.”

She replied, “It is a great wonder to me that Edward refused him; he is too easygoing.”

“Easygoing, perhaps, but a fool he is not. If Warwick got George for his son-in-law, the kingmaker would be at it again.”

Sir Neville was aghast. “You mean he would pull Edward from the throne and set up George as King?”

“Let us not even speak of treason,” warned Ravenspur.

“Warwick holds the North in the palm of his hand,” worried Joanna.

“That’s why I go north, madame. I have three strongholds. Ravenglass in the west, Ravensworth in the center, and Ravenscar in the east.”

“You wish the wedding that far north?” asked Joanna.

“Nay. The King goes to York shortly. I think York would be best,” he decided.

Joanna smiled complacently. York, Edward, and the King’s Court. How fitting!

Ravenspur turned to Sir Neville. “Allow yourself at least three days for the journey to York. I know you have ample men-at-arms, sir, but I will send thirty of my own men to assure safe escort.”

    Ravenspur departed at dawn, so when Roseanna came downstairs to break her fast, he and his men were long gone. She let her mother and her women, including Alice and Kate, chatter on incessantly about the wedding details. An air of such urgency had befallen the household that they even seemed to speak more rapidly; their brains were even ahead of their tongues as they planned for the wedding.

Roseanna was totally unconcerned with it all, for she had no intention of going through with these particular nuptials. She cast Sir Bryan a devastating smile and knew he would follow her out into the orchard.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been nearly mad. Jeffrey has kept me informed as best he could, but last night when I had to sit and listen to Ravenspur’s wedding plans, I almost committed murder.”

“Bryan, Ravenspur’s wedding plans and mine have nothing in common,” she assured him.

“You daydream, Roseanna. Your parents have agreed to it all,” he said miserably.

“Bryan, do you wish to marry me or not?” she demanded.

“You know I do!” he swore with fervor.

“Then we’ll elope!” she said, laughing.

“Run away?” he questioned. “Where? How?”

“We will make plans. What did you intend we should do?” she prompted.

“I—I didn’t think. It seemed so hopeless.”

“You mean you were going to let me go to him?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course not,” he hastened.

“We could go to your home at Marston Moor. Oh, I know! We’ll elope across the border. It’s easier to get married under Scottish law.”

“Yes, yes. Then I’ll go back into service with the King’s brother,” he said, as if just coming to that decision.

“Jeffrey will help us. Don’t trust a note with anyone else,” she cautioned, “not even Alice.”

“Roseanna—Ravenspur didn’t touch you, did he?”

She wondered what he would do if he knew she had
shared a bed with Ravenspur. Instantly, blushes suffused her neck and cheeks. She shook her head, and he was satisfied. Later, the errant thought came to her that Ravenspur wanted her, virgin or not; she wondered if the same could be said for Sir Bryan. She dismissed the thought as unmaidenly and vowed to put all thoughts of Ravenspur out of her mind permanently. But it proved to be more difficult than she had imagined, for it seemed that each night when sleep claimed her, Ravenspur was there, beckoning her, luring her, tempting her, and in her dreams she did not resist him. Of course, she had no control over her dreams, she reminded herself.

As Roseanna made her secret plans, she knew that the first thing they would need was money. She selected certain pieces of her jewelry to take into Nottingham to sell. She mustn’t go too soon or the goldsmith would recognize Joanna’s work, and he would have time to inform her mother that he had bought the pieces from her daughter. She patiently stood for hours while new gowns, underdresses, tunics, and tabards were designed and fitted. She tried not to take pleasure in the pale peacock silk with gray fox fur edging the sleeves, or in the mauve velvet embroidered with silver thread, for she knew she would have room to pack only one change of clothes for her furtive journey north.

She went to her brother’s chamber; she had a special request of him. “Jeffrey, I want some of your clothes.”

He looked her up and down and grinned. “You forget, I’ve grown. My clothes would drown you.”

“Dolt! I mean clothes my size from when you were twelve or thirteen.”

“I’ll see if I can find where Kate has them stored. Come back tomorrow night for a dress rehearsal.”

As it turned out, the entire day was like a dress rehearsal for Roseanna. The material for the wedding gown had arrived, and even she had to admit that it was breathtaking. It was white satin with white roses embroidered overall. White on white. It was symbolic of the white rose of York.

Joanna designed the gown along traditional lines with a train and long-trailing sleeves. Roseanna stood for hours, turning this way and that as the gown was pinned, tucked, and sewn. When she finally removed it and handed it over to her mother’s sewing women, she felt a pang of regret that she would not be able to wear it on her wedding day, for it was truly exquisite. Later, in Jeffrey’s chamber she selected a linen shirt, a mulberry-colored doublet, and a pair of tight black hose. She quite looked forward to wearing the nonrestrictive hose for riding. She caught sight of Jeffrey’s cheeky grin as he asked, “But brat, whatever will you do about your hair and your—er, other female accoutrements?”

She snatched a velvet cap from the trunk. “I’m not passing myself off as a man; it will just be easier to travel this way.”

A low knock came on the door, and Jeffrey opened it for Sir Bryan. Roseanna turned to her brother. “Oh, bless you, Jeffrey. I’ll never forget your support and kindness to me. Bryan, what do you think? Should we travel by night and rest by day?”

“Nay, night-riding is fine for a short run, but my home is nearly seventy miles from here. We’ll rest easy there before we go to Scotland.”

“I think we should stay overnight at the abbeys where they take in travelers.”

“Well, it will be cheaper than inns. I haven’t much money,” he apologized.

“I have enough for the journey, Bryan. We’ll be all right.”

He took her hands and gazed at her with loving eyes. “You are a wonder. You risk everything for me.”

“And you do the same for me, Bryan.”

He enfolded her in his embrace. “How am I to wait until we are wed?” he whispered.

She lifted her half-parted mouth to his and wished he would not wait. She wished he were more reckless; then she realized that he put her first and that she must be grateful for it.

Jeffrey produced a ragged map, and the three of them pored over it for long minutes. Finally, after waiting for his decision, which didn’t come, Roseanna said, “We’ll stay at Welbeck Abbey the first night. That’s only twenty miles from here. That way we won’t have to go at first light. If we went very early, they would soon discover me gone and it would give them a full day to search for me. If we leave after the midday meal, they’ll think I’ve gone riding. By the time I have not returned, darkness will be nigh, and they won’t be able to search.”

The two young men exchanged glances. “You are marvelously devious, Roseanna,” said Jeffrey.

“Thank you,” she said, inordinately pleased with the compliment.

“If we can get to Selby Abbey by the next night, that’s only seventeen or eighteen miles from my home,” said Sir Bryan.

Jeffrey wore the doublet with the Black Bull badge of the Duke of Clarence on the sleeve. “When you take
service with George, I will join you,” he reaffirmed to Bryan.

“Why don’t you come with us?” asked Roseanna.

“Nay—whoever heard of three on an elopement?” he teased. “I’ll help take suspicion off Bryan. I’ll tell them he’s gone to London; then they’ll search south instead of north.”

She looked up at Sir Bryan and thought for the hundredth time that he was almost beautiful. He looked so open and honest, so sweet and gentle. “I think we should go day after tomorrow, if we are all in agreement.” The two knights once again exchanged significant looks as if congratulating each other; then all three offered their hands in a silent pledge.

    Roseanna in doublet and hose rode Zeus north and met Sir Bryan at Newark, as previously arranged. She had not worried unduly that she could bid no one goodbye, for she knew that once she was wed to Sir Bryan and it was a fait accompli, her family would forgive her and welcome her back into its bosom. Then she would pick up Mecca, the Arabian that the King had given her, and a few of the others that she had specially bred. It would be added income to keep on with the horse breeding.

Their hearts high with their daring adventure, they smiled into each other’s eyes every time they looked at each other. The pair of riders who looked like two youths from a distance caused no comment. They covered the twenty miles easily and arrived at Welbeck Abbey long before the gates were closed for the night. They saw to the feeding and watering of their own mounts and were given bread and cheese for their meal; then they were
assigned two cell-like rooms that were very small. Each had whitewashed walls and an iron cot.

Roseanna knew Sir Bryan would not come to her. A monastery filled with monks was not conducive to romance. She fell asleep anticipating the adventure that would be theirs on the morrow. She could hardly wait!

As the steel-gray light of day dawned, her heart sank: it was raining. When she looked outside, she realized that
raining
was not the precise word for it. It was coming down in bucketfuls and the air was icy, making her shiver and shrink into her cloak.

Sir Bryan was hesitant. “Perhaps we shouldn’t venture out in such cursed weather.”

“Don’t say
cursed
Keep thinking luck is with us. Don’t worry about me,” she said on a cheerful note, “I’ll keep up.”

The day was as dismal as it had promised to be, and the whole of the landscape was the color of a drowned rat. The rain kept on against a sky of lead. Sir Bryan’s horse seemed to flag in the afternoon. Roseanna knew Zeus could stand a faster pace, but Bryan’s horse did not have the stamina, and she schooled Zeus to the slower speed.

The rain had soaked entirely through their clothing hours before and was now doing its damnedest to seep into their bones. The horses and the riders were all weary, hungry, and low in spirit when they finally rode into the yard of Selby Abbey. There was such a crush of men and horses there ahead of them that they were immediately alerted. They dismounted and sheltered their horses for a few minutes and saw that the travelers were mostly King’s men on their way to York.

Roseanna pulled the velvet cap low and kept her head
down. Then she saw a badge with a raven on it and knew some of the men must be Ravenspur’s. “We cannot stay here,” she told Bryan desperately.

“’Tis filled anyway. I doubt if we’ll make it to York tonight. The gates would be closed even if my mount could make it.”

“Here’s money. You’ll have to buy it some food and let it rest a little. Then we’ll press on until we come to an inn. Zeus will have to wait. I don’t want any of these men to recognize me.”

She leaned against one of the abbey’s outbuildings, knowing she had never been so cold and miserable in her life. Was it only yesterday that running away had seemed such a high adventure? In less than twenty-four hours it had turned into a nightmare. The very elements were against them. She shook herself mentally. Thinking that way brought defeat. A thing could be savored all the more if it was hard won.

When they led their mounts from the abbey courtyard, the light that was left in the day was fading quickly. Roseanna wondered if Sir Bryan was feeling as dispirited as she herself was. They galloped the Great North Road in silence and occasionally other riders passed them by at a faster gallop. Just outside York was a large hostelry known as The Fighting Cocks. They stabled their horses and paid for feed, then gave them a good rubdown before they even thought of themselves. The stables were filled to capacity, and they knew the inn would be crowded. The innkeeper shook his head at their request for rooms but took pity on their drenched and sorry condition and told them they could get warm in the common room and probably get a bite to eat. The common room was busy with men eating and drinking, dicing, and laughing. The
atmosphere was thick with smoke and cooking odors, but it was dry and warm.

“Are you all right, love?” asked Bryan, his face pale with dark circles beneath his eyes.

She nodded her head, too weary to speak.

“I’ll go and get food for us. I’ll try to push my way to the front of the crowd.”

“I’ll sit here in the corner,” she murmured wearily, hoping no one would notice that she was a female. Her eyelids began to close in the smoky warmth. Suddenly an outside door was thrown open, and half a dozen fully armed men strode into the room. The tallest man swept off his cloak. The rain ran from it and pooled onto the floor. Roseanna shrank back in alarm. It was Ravenspur!

Six men-at-arms surrounded Sir Bryan as he approached her with a steaming dish of mutton stew.

“Sir Bryan,” boomed Ravenspur, “I thank you for escorting Lady Roseanna to me. I see you have kept her safe.”

Sir Bryan opened his mouth, saw the mailed fists of the men-at-arms poised over their sword hilts, and stammered, “Y-yes, my lord.”

Roseanna, looking for all the world like a small drowned cat, took a defiant step forward. “He was not escorting me to you, Ravenspur!”

“Really?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone, his heavy brows slanting upward. “What other explanation could there be, pray? Think well on your answer, for his life may depend on it.”