Lady of the Roses (8 page)

The priest straightened at this rude interruption, and when he saw our appearance, the pearls of sweat on our brows, the stains on our habits, he frowned deeply. “Sisters, you are a disgrace to your nunnery. What is the meaning of this—”

“Father, we heartily regret our unseemly conduct, but lives hang in the balance, and much else as well. Pray, tell us where they are!”

It took several precious moments of arguments and the evidence of the Duke of Buckingham’s missive bearing his seal, but, finally persuaded of the urgency of our mission, the priest led us outside. “They’ve only just arrived. They’re staying there, in town, and if you stand here, you can almost see the two-story building, behind the pasture with the horses, where they lodge for the night—” He pointed it out to us and gave us a shortcut to the inn. We mounted our palfreys and took off at a gallop.

DUSK WAS FALLING AS WE RODE INTO BARNET.
Torches had been lit in the village square, and men milled around with their horses, so preoccupied with their preparations that they barely noticed us. I fingered the pouch where I kept Duke Humphrey’s missive. It assured us of entry, and the thought gave me comfort as I drew up to a man-at-arms.

“We have urgent business with Sir John Neville,” I told him breathlessly. “Pray, take us to him immediately.” My heart pounded as I spoke Sir John’s name.

“I can show you his quarters, Sisters.”

He led us to a slender, two-story gabled building packed with soldiers. A sentry blocked our way. “They’re here to see Sir John Neville. Claim it’s urgent,” our man said.

“Says who?” the soldier demanded, his eyes scouring us.

I handed him Buckingham’s missive. “Make haste—lives are at stake!” I exclaimed as he turned it over slowly in his hands. It occurred to me that he couldn’t read, but after giving us another penetrating look, he returned the missive to me and called for someone to take us upstairs. A ruddy blond lad about my age answered the command.

“Follow him, Sisters,” the sentry said. The boy took the stairs two by two, and we rushed after him, Ursula in the lead.

I saw John before he realized we were there, and the sudden violent constriction in my heart stopped the breath in my lungs. He stood at a table, his wolfhound at his feet, his tawny head bent over a large map he was examining with a group of men, and his voice reached me, resonant with depth and authority. I froze in my steps. He looked up then and saw us. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The dog came to its feet and barked.

Three long months had passed since Tattershall Castle, every month feeling like a year, and though I would remember every detail of that night to my dying day, the realization struck me forcefully that Sir John must have forgotten. Even disguised as I was, to have him not know me was bitter. Bracing myself with the certainty of his indifference to me, I lifted my chin and followed the others into the chamber. A silence fell. The youth and Ursula turned to me.

“My lords,” I said, “we are sent by the Duke of Buckingham to warn you of an ambush prepared for you by Henry, Duke of Somerset, and Lord Egremont. They have come in force. The details are here in this missive, sent you by good Duke Humphrey, who wishes conciliation and to avoid bloodshed.” I held out the rolled parchment to John, and only then did I realize that I had been addressing him the entire time, and that his eyes had never left mine.

He knew me!

The dazed look of incredulity on his face gave way to awe, and his generous mouth broke into a broad smile, creasing his cheeks and dazzling me with his dimples. Joy sent a smile as wide as his to my own lips, and a surge of warmth flooded my whole body. The faces around us—the candles, the walls—blurred and receded, just as they had on the night of the dance, and again there was only the two of us in all the world, dancing to the music, the gorgeous, melodious music that was filled with fiery flowers falling from Heaven. I felt John willing me to him, and I had to fight the need that impelled me closer.

A man’s voice broke the magic holding me in its spell, and I realized Sir John Neville had made no move to take the missive I held out to him. “Well, then, let us see what welcome they have designed for us!” The man snatched the roll from me, broke the seal, and unfurled it. I turned my head and looked at him, feeling myself awaken as if from a dream. He was a large man, tall and strong, with broad shoulders and thick brown hair, dressed opulently in heavy scarlet velvet embroidered with the emblem of the ragged staff in rich silver and gold. Such a grand presence could only belong to John’s brother, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the most famous knight alive, admired and beloved by the common people, and clearly by Ursula, too, for she gazed at him utterly mesmerized.

I returned my attention to John. He stood quite still, staring at me with a grin on his face. Even his hound seemed to wear a cheerful look as he wagged his tail.
No wonder he so enchanted me at Tattershall Castle,
I thought;
he smiles even as he stands in the thick of danger.

Warwick spoke at last. “We owe these good nuns our lives. Had they not risked theirs to get this warning to us, we would have been done for, I can assure you.” He passed the missive across the table to an older man in his fifties. This must be Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury, father to Warwick and John, and brother-by-marriage to yet another Richard in the Yorkist group—Richard, Duke of York. The years had turned his thick hair a startling hue of purest silver and etched his face with lines, but otherwise they had left few marks. With Salisbury’s compelling blue eyes, firm features, and a physique that spoke of power and ageless strength, it was clear to me where John derived his good looks. His father was the handsomest man I’d ever seen.

“Indeed,” Salisbury said, passing the missive to the next man. “I have no need to read further. Dick is quite right. They outnumber us three to one.”

“Those cowards Somerset and Egremont—ambush and murder are all they know. They’ve not fought fair once in their miserable lives.” Warwick spoke with a note of disgust that heightened the nasal quality of his voice.

“Never mind, son, we’ll foil them by plotting another route to London,” Salisbury replied. “Now, let us not keep these good sisters here any longer. They are tired, no doubt, and ready for supper and a bed for the night. Someone show them to the dining hall—”

“Aye, Father, I will,” John said, perhaps with a trifle too much enthusiasm.

His father raised an inquiring eyebrow as he watched his son lead us out.

WE WERE HOUSED IN A SMALL ROOM AT AN INN
across the street. John gave the innkeeper strict instructions on making us as comfortable as possible. Then, turning to me, he said, “Sister, may I have a word with you alone?”

Ignoring the shocked expression on the innkeeper’s face and Ursula’s knowing smile, I nodded my head and clasped my palms at my chest in proper nunlike fashion, as I had seen Sœur Madeleine do many times. Then I led the way into the small parlor at the end of the hall.

As soon as we were out of their sight, he seized my hand. I felt the contact like a burn, and my legs went so weak, I had to lean against the trestle table in order to keep upright. His hound settled comfortably on the reed mat and laid his head on his paws to watch us.

“My dearest lady Isobel, you cannot know what the sight of you means to me!” he said in a low tone. The touch of his hand was suddenly unbearable in its tenderness, and I had to force myself to concentrate on his words. “Ever since we met, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. But I thought you didn’t care—that there was no hope for me. By coming here tonight, you’ve changed everything…. Tell me I’m not wrong in believing you return my affection.”

“My lord, I cannot deny what I feel. But I fear you are wrong—there is no hope for us.”

“Why, Isobel? How can there not be hope for us when we love one another?”

Love one another.
My knees shook, and my hand trembled in his. Tears stung my eyes. “My dear lord, can you not see—how can you not see? Our love is doomed! You are a Neville, and I am the queen’s ward. She would never grant us permission to wed. So it matters not that I love you—because the world is as it is, and we cannot remake it to fit our desires.”

“You are wrong, Isobel!” He seized me by my shoulders. “We shall remake it. I will not let you go, queen or no queen!”

My pulse swam; I could barely breathe. “’Tis not merely the queen,” I managed. “Have you forgotten your father? He must approve, and why would he? I am the daughter of a Lancastrian knight, now firm in the grip of the queen herself. This is madness!” I tried to pull myself from him, but he tightened his hold.

“You don’t know my father. He will support us. He understands love. He cares for my happiness.”

“Oh, my lord, I want to believe, but I can’t! I won’t let myself hope. It only leads to sorrow.”

“Isobel,” John said in a different tone, one as firm and resolute as when he had spoken to the men gathered over the maps. “Take heart, and believe, as I believe.
It will be
. You’ll see.”

I shut my eyes as I struggled to compose myself. A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. “Now I must go,” I heard him say. “God keep you, Isobel, my love. I’ll see you in London.”

WE FOLLOWED A DIFFERENT ROUTE BACK TO LONDON.
My head was so filled with thoughts of John that I barely noticed the quacking geese and herds of bleating sheep that forced us to halt as they crossed the road, or our fellow travelers, merchants and farmers bearing their wares to market, beside us in the dismal rain. Here and there we passed a knight or noble lady with a retinue, and though I risked little chance of being recognized, I bowed my head until they passed. I felt as if I were borne back to Westminster in a cloud, so unnoticed were the puddles, ruts, and difficulties of the journey that had overwhelmed me only a few months earlier. Soon we were picking our way through London’s airless streets back to Westminster in time for supper, no one the wiser. In our chamber, we removed our travel-stained habits and bundled them into the bottom of my coffer.

“I don’t see any need to get word to good Duke Humphrey,” I said, thinking aloud as I shut the lid. “He’ll know soon enough of our success.” Somehow the quiet of our room seemed unbearable after the danger and the excitement of our mission. I knew I should be tired, but I didn’t feel it; I felt exhilarated. Kicking off my leather slippers, I sang the melody of the dance at Tattershall Castle and danced, circling and dipping, twirling my arms and moving my body languorously. Ursula watched, a look in her eyes I had not seen there before.

“You dance so beautifully, my dear lady. You make me think of a creature from an enchanted forest, a nymph…so lissome, so graceful.”

I blushed. “You are kind, Ursula. Always generous with your praise.”

“’Tis not flattery. ’Tis truth.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed in my shift, my head filled with thoughts of John as I had left him. “John should have arrived at the Erber by now,” I said, referring to the Salisbury residence in Dowgate. “I wonder what he’s doing.”

“Thinking of you.” She chuckled.

I grinned. Ursula had a way of getting to the heart of things. “Tomorrow he’ll come to the council meeting at Westminster and I’ll see him again,” I said dreamily. The thought sent a rush of heat through me, and I realized that time, far from healing my feelings for John, had inflamed them. “I don’t understand it, Ursula, but I ache all over when I think of him. I know ’tis this thing called ‘love,’ but I don’t know how or why…. Do you?”

“Love has confounded wiser heads than yours, dear Isobel. ’Tis in all my father’s writings, this mystery…. At least you have tasted it and know what it is. ’Tis a blessing, I suppose, though I wouldn’t want it for myself.”

“Have you never been in love, Ursula?”

“Can’t say that I have. There was a boy once. I thought he was nice enough. But I never felt as you do now—‘consumed,’ I’d call it. Happy and unhappy at the same time.”

“Consumed, aye, as by fire…and when I saw John there in that room—oh, Ursula! It was as if my whole being took flight and soared into his. And when I can’t see him, ’tis misery indeed…. If I get to wed him, I vow it won’t matter if we’re rich or poor, live long or short—I shall never ask for more!”

“That is a rash vow,” Ursula replied, crossing herself against the Devil. “I pray that you do marry, that you live long, and that you live happy—” She shook herself, as if to shed a thought, and then she said, “But these are great riches indeed, and it falls to few in this world to wed the one they love. You would be blessed indeed to have your heart’s desire.”

“Do you think it will ever be any different? That the world will ever change?”

“I daresay it will, but what comfort in that? ’Tis the now that counts…. Here’s something that matters. What you wear tonight—” She rose and went to my four gowns hanging on pegs in the corner of the room. “When I went to fetch water, I heard from Agatha the cook that there’s to be dancing in the great hall. The queen is back from Kent, and the castle is celebrating her return. So you shall have to dress.” She flipped through my gowns. “Not the lavender, ’tis too elegant and royal…Not the green, ’tis not festive enough…Aha! The claret velvet—” She drew it out from among the others and held it up for my inspection. Dusted with tiny crystals, the high-waisted gown had tight fitted sleeves and a plunging neckline trimmed with fox that was filled in with fine silver embroidery across the bosom to match the design on the broad belt.

I fingered the fur. “But fox is not in fashion, Ursula,” I said.

“It will be, m’dear, once you wear it,” she replied jauntily. “Lavender was not the rage until you chose it for your audience with the queen, and how many parti-colored gowns of black and silver were there before the ladies saw you in one? They copy everything you wear—have you not noticed? They’ve even stopped curling their hair, hoping to have it drape behind them like a heavy satin train as yours does. But in that they must fail, for no one else has such thick, glossy hair as you.”

“Oh, Ursula,” I said, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. “You’re so good to me.”

“Aye, claret velvet tonight, and your hair loose, dusted with crystals and pearls.” She paused to study me for a moment. “There’s one thing I’ll never understand. How can you eat so much and remain as slender as you do?”

I looked down at myself. It was true that I enjoyed a good appetite.

“’Tis unjust, my dear…absolutely unjust,” she sighed.

Ursula must have done an exceptionally splendid job of dressing me, for I attracted more than my customary share of attention as I took my seat in the great hall, between two young knights. They vied for my attention throughout the evening so that supper became an occasion of marked gaiety for me. After we had finished eating, a lion from the Tower menagerie performed for us by leaping through rings of fire as he was led around the hall by a Gypsy man, to the
oohs
and
aahs
of the crowd. Minstrels arrived in the gallery, and the hall filled with music. Jewels dazzled as noble lords and ladies rose to dance. I danced with both knights, and another came to claim a rondel, and then several more followed. Finally weary, I would have refused any more requests, but no sooner had I found my seat again than Somerset appeared before me.

“My lady?” He bowed.

I rose stiffly and gave him my hand, touching his so lightly, it might have rested on air.

“You look particularly lovely this evening,” he said as he led me to the center of the hall. “But, then, you seem to gain in beauty even as we gaze. Like a rose opening to the sun.”

“You are mistaken, my lord,” I said as we moved to the music. “Perhaps you have partaken too much of the fine wine served tonight.”

“’Tis not just my opinion, but that of many others. I am indeed fortunate to have partnered with you, for it seems half the hall wishes to dance with you.”

“There is a shortage of ladies this evening, Your Grace.”

“You are too modest.” He twirled me under his arm and I passed with ease around him, for he was a surprisingly graceful dancer despite his height and powerful build. “Are you enjoying the entertainment?”

“’Tis royal enough,” I replied noncommittally, passing under his arm in the opposite direction.

“You should. The festivities are for you, by my command.”

“Not for the queen?”

Aware he’d been reckless enough with his comments, he did not reply.

As innocently as I could manage, I said, “You have been absent from court recently. I hope you were not indisposed?”

One corner of his mouth lifted, and he gave a small laugh. “Not indisposed, and gone merely for a day. I had urgent business to attend out of town.”

Aye, ambush and murder,
I thought. “I trust it went well?”

“Not as well as I had hoped. So you missed me? That is encouraging.”

As I danced, my glance moved across the hall and caught the queen. She was watching us. “My lord, the queen’s eyes are on you. And there’s nothing encouraging in them.”

He stiffened. Silently I rejoiced. In his fear of the queen lay my only protection, for I knew without a doubt that had I not been her ward, and had he not been her lover, the rake would have ravished me long before this. “I suggest we end this dance, as I am feeling quite dizzy of a sudden, Your Grace.”

He escorted me back to my seat. “Fear not, my lady,” he said under his breath as we parted between a bow and a curtsey. “There will be other chances.”

Late that night a page came to our door to inform me that the queen had summoned me to her apartments. It was after Vespers, and Ursula and I were both preparing for bed, but I dressed quickly, with some apprehension.

“What would the queen wish with me at this late hour?” I fretted.

“Maybe ’tis nothing, merely a whim,” she said, hoping to comfort me.

“I hope it’s not jealousy over Somerset. I shall tell her the truth, then. Mayhap she’ll restrain him, and I shall be done with the matter.” Absorbed by my thoughts, I turned left out of my chamber and left again into the short, narrow passageway that opened into the main corridor. The hall was silent, empty, and dark, lit only by a single torch. I hurried along, but I never reached the main corridor, for Somerset leapt out of the shadows. Taken by surprise, I shrank back with a gasp. I didn’t like the look on his face.

Suppressing my fear, I lifted my chin. “My lord Somerset, pray let me pass. The queen has sent for me.”

He didn’t move. “It wasn’t the queen who sent for you, Isobel.” He bent his face down to my lips, and I smelled his wine-soaked breath.

“My lord!” I cried, pushing him away.

“Isobel, you grow lovelier every day. Court agrees with you. Come, my sweet, why do you play coy? I swear your mouth is made for love.”

“I understand you not, my lord.”

“I think you do.”

In a tone of ice, I said, “My lord, your attention is most unwelcome. Surely you do not wish me to tell the queen that you accosted me thus? It would place you in a most difficult position. Now…let go of my arm.”

He removed his hand. “Isobel, let’s stop these games. Be truthful with yourself. You have a passion for life. You dine with appetite, dance with exuberance—wait until you know of love! And let me be the one to teach you, my beauty! I vow you shall not tire of it—we’re made for one another, Isobel. Though you play the proper damsel, you’re as reckless and wild as I am, and you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“Pray, my lord, if we must be truthful, let me speak plain. There may be many at court who desire you, but I am not one of them.”

His soft expression vanished; his eyes narrowed and he gave a laugh, mean, harsh, full of menace. “That will change when you are wed to a man three times your age with rotten teeth who farts as he sticks his prick into you—”

“You have a foul way with words, my lord.”

“Perhaps, but you agreed we would speak plain. After you have tasted him, you’ll be only too glad to rush into my arms, I warrant.”

“I shall refuse my consent to such a match. The queen has given her word that I may do so, and it is my legal right.”

He laughed. “Ah, my dear little innocent from the priory, take heed. When the price is right, there are ways to acquire a maiden’s consent…rape, for example, and the humiliation of being with child—a bastard, no less.”

“You wouldn’t—you couldn’t do such a thing—”

“That, and more, if I pleased. You see, my dear lady Isobel, I don’t need your consent. I can take you now, if I choose to—”

I backed away.

“But I won’t, unless I am driven to it.” His eyes fixed on my bosom. “I have no wish to see such a beautiful body as yours wasted by childbearing. Therefore, I shall be patient awhile longer. I would rather have you panting for me.”

“That day will never come!”

“Heed my words, Isobel. As to the match, I lie not. There is indeed such a man lusting for you. At the moment, I am all that stands between you and marriage to the old lout. You see, I have advised the queen that his price is too low, but a few choice words from me and she will relent, I assure you. You would have no choice but to accept, my lovely lady Isobel.”

I stared at him, unable to breathe.

“Give it thought, Isobel,” he hissed in my ear. “Him or me. Which will it be?”

“Neither,” I replied, seething. “I’ll tell the queen I have changed my mind and wish to enter a nunnery.”

He threw me an indulgent smile. “She dreams of riches when she looks at you. Do you think she would agree to rob her own purse?”

“Even a queen can’t refuse God,” I said with more conviction than I felt.

He burst into uncontrollable laughter. “You have much to learn about the world, Isobel.” Bowing low, still laughing, he left me. I stood alone in the shadowy hallway, shivering, his laughter echoing in my ears.

CHURCH BELLS TOLLED THE HOURS OF THE NIGHT.
I heard every chime, and every breath Ursula took as she lay on the pallet on the floor. Slowly the gray, fitful light of morning broke the heavy darkness. A rooster crowed; birds burst into song; the castle stirred. Ursula opened her eyes. She sat up, startled.

“Lady dear, what are you doing sitting on your bed in your gown? Did you not sleep? What happened with the queen?”

“I never saw the queen, Ursula.”

I related the events of the night. She seized my hand. “You must seek Sir John Neville as soon as he gets here. Go break fast in the hall. I’ll stand watch in the courtyard and get word to you as soon as he arrives. Do you have a token I can give him, if I get the chance?”

I unclasped my mother’s ruby crucifix from around my neck. “Take this! I wore it when I saw him in Barnet.”

Halfway through breakfast, Ursula approached my bench and gave me a curtsey, her eyes alight. I excused myself to those at the table and followed her into the garden, my heart hammering. “Where is he?” I whispered. “What did he say? Did you give him my token?”

“Aye, indeed. He noticed me the minute he rode into the courtyard, and his eyes told me to approach. The groom took his horse, and he went to the fountain and pretended to adjust his boot. I bent to pat his hound and slipped him your cross. He knew it right away. As he took it, he gave me instructions to have you meet him in St. Paul’s at the hour of nine.”