Rosamund (6 page)

“It is true,” Edmund Bolton said.

“You know?”
Henry Bolton was incredulous.

“Hugh was a modest man. While he was grateful to his friend for knighting him and the honor it entailed, he was landless. He thought it presumptuous for a man without property to use a title, and so he did not. But he had the right to do so, and our niece is Lady Rosamund, Henry,” Edmund Bolton concluded, staring hard at his youngest sibling.

Sir Owein turned back to Rosamund, whose face was a mixture of surprise and shock. “Your husband knew he faced his death, my lady. He wished you to be safe from those who might attempt to steal your rightful inheritance. So it was that he sent to the king and asked him to accept you as his ward with all the responsibilities it entailed. King Henry
has graciously agreed, and has sent me to bring you to his court. I have been told that your uncle Edmund Bolton will have the stewardship over Friarsgate in your absence. Is this satisfactory to you?”

Rosamund nodded slowly. “Aye, sir, it is. But why must I leave Friarsgate? It is my home, and I love it here.”

“Do you not wish to meet the king, my lady?” Sir Owein asked.

“Meet the king?”
she repeated. “I am to meet the king?”

“The king is placing you in the queen’s household for now, my lady. Eventually, when your period of mourning is over, a suitable husband will be chosen for you. It is then you will return home, my lady,” Sir Owein explained to the girl. “The queen is a gentle and good lady with daughters of her own. Princess Margaret is about your age, I would think. Princess Katherine, Prince Arthur’s wife, is now a widow, as are you, and then there is the Princess Mary, a most charming imp.”

“I have never been farther from Friarsgate than a few miles,” Rosamund said. “This place is all I know, sir. Could the king not leave me here to be as I have always been?”

“Your late husband, Sir Hugh, believed it better that you leave Friarsgate for a time,” Sir Owein replied. “You need not come alone, my lady. You may bring a servant with you.”

“There has been a mistake,” Henry Bolton finally spoke up. “My niece is in my charge, and so she has been since the deaths of her parents, my elder brother Guy and his wife. Hugh Cabot had no authority to give her wardship to the king. You must return to him and tell him this, Sir Owein. Rosamund is to wed with my son Henry.”

“I would never marry that snot-nosed brat,” Rosamund cried.

“Was not Sir Hugh Cabot Rosamund’s legal and lawful husband?” Owein Meredith asked them.

“He was,” Richard Bolton said. “I have in my possession the betrothal papers he gave to me when they were wed.”

The king’s man turned to Rosamund. “Do you remember a ceremony being performed, my lady? Before a priest?”

“We were wed on the twentieth day of October, by Father Bernard. I wore a gown of grass-green jersey. It was just before Hugh’s sixtieth
birthday. Aye, I remember my wedding day to Hugh Cabot. It was a happy day for me,” Rosamund said quietly.

“This being so, you have no authority, legal or otherwise, over your niece, Henry Bolton,” Owein Meredith said. “Her husband held the authority, and he has passed it to the king. The Lady Rosamund will return with me to Richmond and take her place in the queen’s household.”

“I . . . I . . . I shall go to the courts!” Henry Bolton sputtered angrily.

Owein Meredith was forced to laugh. “The king, sir, is the highest authority in the land, but if you wish to pursue the matter, you must do so,” he told him.

“When must I leave?” Rosamund asked the king’s man.

“Not until you are ready, my lady,” the knight assured her. “I realize that a lady decamping her household for another place needs time to gather her belongings, arrange her affairs, and pack. I am in no hurry to return south. Cumbrian springs are fair as long as the Scots don’t come over the border to pillage, but there is little danger of that now. The king has arranged a marriage between his eldest daughter, the lady Margaret, and the Scots king, James IV. You must take your time so you will be comfortable in your new life. And, of course, you will need horses as well as your servant. There is a great deal to be done, my lady. It will surely take several months before you are ready to depart. Perhaps we will leave in late summer or early autumn, eh? In the meantime I will send to the king to tell him of the death of his old friend and that his young widow is grateful to be in his royal charge.” Sir Owein smiled at Rosamund, and she saw that his teeth were even and white.

“You must bide a while with us, sir,” Rosamund said to him. “You have traveled a long distance, and have yet again a long distance to return. Rest yourself and your beastie for a bit before you go.”

“I shall, my lady, and you have my thanks for your hospitality.”

“Prepare a room for our guest,” Rosamund ordered a servant. Then she signaled that more wine be served. She could see her uncle Henry was already well in his cups while Henry the younger had fallen asleep by her chair beneath the table. She looked at Sir Owein and asked in a soft
voice, “Am I really safe from him?” nodding to Henry Bolton. “He cannot force me to wed his odious little son?”

“Nay, lady, he cannot,” the king’s man said softly. “It is my understanding that your late husband wished otherwise. Normally I should not be privy to a communiqué between the king and a correspondent, but his majesty wanted me to have a clear understanding of the situation here at Friarsgate so I would not unwittingly or unknowingly circumvent your husband’s wishes.”

Tears sprang to Rosamund’s amber eyes. “He was such a good man, my Hugh,” she said. “My uncle never considered that when he married me to him. His only interest was to protect Friarsgate until he had a son he might foist on me. My first husband was also his son, you know. I hardly remember John. Do you think there are many widows of thirteen, for I shall be thirteen in a few weeks, who have outlived two husbands and are still virgins?”

Owein Meredith choked upon his wine at this revelation. He struggled to regain his breath as a fit of coughing overtook him. Then he burst out laughing, and he laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. About him those seated at the high board stared, surprised. When he finally regained control over himself he managed to say, “The wine went down the wrong way.”

“But your laughter?” Richard Bolton inquired, curious.

“Something the Lady Rosamund said. I doubt anyone else should be amused, but her words struck me humorously,” he explained, not wanting to repeat what his young and ingenuous hostess had just said. Her uncles might not find it amusing at all. He looked closely at Rosamund. She was hardly a woman, but then neither was she a child. Her skin was like cream, smooth and fair, with no blemish, the faintest touch of rose in her cheeks. Her amber eyes were fringed with dark lashes. Her hair was a rich auburn in color, parted in the center, a rather flat coiffure with a braid down the back. She had a straight little nose within her oval face, and a mouth that was inclined to be generous, the lower lip fuller than the upper.

“Why do you stare at me so?” Rosamund asked him.

“Because I find you very pretty, my lady,” he answered her frankly.

Rosamund colored. She had never received a compliment from a handsome man. Oh, Hugh had always told her she would be a beauty one day, but Hugh loved her. She was like his child. “Thank you,” she replied shyly. “Should a lady at court express gratitude for a compliment, sir?” she next inquired of him, curious.

“A lady at court would acknowledge such acclaim with a gracious nod of her head, but say naught,” he told her with a small smile. She was a very charming girl, he thought, and quite unaffected. Then he continued, “But if the praise were from someone the lady did not favor she would ignore it and turn away.”

“Will they understand me at court, Sir Owein?”

“I understand you,” he said.

“But certainly my Cumbrian accent will not be comprehended by some,” Rosamund fretted.

“While I am with you,” he said, “I will help you to smooth the north from your speech, lady.”

“And you will correct my manners if I do what would not be done at court?” She eyed him anxiously. “I do not want to disgrace myself or my family’s good name.”

“I will gladly tutor you, lady, in all you need to know,” he promised her. “And will you trust me when I tell you we must leave Friarsgate and go south? I will give you time, lady, but I realize it will be difficult for you to leave. Will you trust me to know the right time?” He gave her an encouraging smile.

“We will not go too soon?” she queried him nervously.

“I think September is a good month in which to travel south,” he replied, again smiling. She was afraid. Of course she was, having never been more than a few miles from her home. It would be an adventure, but Rosamund Bolton didn’t look like a girl who would welcome adventure easily. She was a solid girl. A practical girl, as he had already observed.

“Then I will put my trust in you, sir knight,” Rosamund answered him finally. “But will the king not expect you back sooner than the autumn?”

Owein Meredith laughed. “Nay, lass, he will not. I am just one of the
king’s many servants. I am known to be loyal and reliable with any task given me. They know at court that I will return when I have completed my duties. I am hardly important in the scheme of things, my lady.”

“A knight is not important?” She was puzzled.

Around the table her uncles listened as carefully as did the girl, except for Henry Bolton, who was already in his usual evening drunken stupor. Both Edmund and Richard Bolton, while relieved that Rosamund had been rendered safe from Henry, wondered if Hugh had indeed made the right decision for Rosamund by putting her in the wardship of virtual strangers. They leaned forward to catch Sir Owein’s every word.

“Like your late husband, lady, I am only a younger son. The youngest, in fact. My mother died giving me life. My father died when I was thirteen. My family is Welsh mostly. I served as a page to Jasper Tudor, the king’s uncle, from the time I was six years old, then as his squire. I was knighted after the battle of Stoke.”

“How old were you then?” Edmund asked.

“I was past fifteen,” came the answer.

Edmund caught Richard’s eye at this revelation. They silently agreed that they were impressed by this quiet, seemingly gentle man who had been sent to escort Rosamund to court.

“You will certainly be tired by now, sir,” Rosamund said, remembering her duties as chatelaine. “One of the servants will escort you to your chamber. You are most welcome at Friarsgate.” She turned from him and spoke to a large serving man. “Take my uncle to his chamber now, Peter. Then come back and put my young cousin to bed.” She arose from the table. “Sirs, I will leave you to your wine. My day has been a long and sad one.” Curtsying, Rosamund quietly departed the hall.

“She prayed the night by her husband’s bier,” Edmund noted to Sir Owein.

“She is a good Christian girl,” Richard chimed up.

“She is very young to know her duty so well,” the king’s man observed. “She is thirteen?”

“On the last day of this month,” Edmund replied.

“The king’s mother was six months gone with child and widowed at
thirteen,” Sir Owein remarked. “The Lady Margaret is an amazing woman. I imagine she was very much like your niece at that age.”

“She has no experience of the world,” Edmund said.

“Has she been educated at all?” the knight asked him. “Those who do the best at court are those who are well-schooled.”

“Hugh taught her to read and to write. Father Bernard taught her church Latin. Her knowledge of mathematics is excellent. She keeps all the accounts for Friarsgate, and has done so for the past two years,” Edmund explained. “She is probably more educated than most country lasses, sir. What does she lack?”

“I will teach her French and proper Latin,” Sir Owein said. “Can she play a musical instrument? The court loves music. Young Prince Henry is most adept at composing both music and words. He is an amazing young boy. His father meant for him to be the Archbishop of Canterbury one day. Now with Prince Arthur’s passing, he will be king. Not that the king teaches the lad how to rule. He has, perhaps, too tight a hold over his throne and his son.” Then Sir Owein flushed. “I become garrulous with your excellent wine, sirs. I should find my bed.” He rose and followed the servant assigned him from the hall.

The two brothers refilled their own cups from the pitcher on the table and sat in silence for a time. Then Richard said, “How much of what Hugh plotted did you know, Edmund?”

“Not a great deal,” Edmund admitted. “He told me he had a highly placed friend, and he would make a will placing Rosamund into the care of his friend. He said with her beauty and the Friarsgate inheritance, his friend would probably make an excellent marriage for our niece. That such a marriage would add luster to our name. I had no idea that his
friend
was the king. When he realized that he would probably not recover, he sent a message south. I think he meant to tell me, but he died so unexpectedly.”

“You did not expect him to die?” Richard was puzzled.

“Yes! Yes! But not quite when he died,” Edmund answered. “Rosamund believes there was foul play, but I could find no real evidence of it. Still, the coincidence of Henry’s arrival and Hugh’s death is to be considered.
Henry came to get Hugh to place Rosamund back into his
tender
care. I do not think he was pleased to find Rosamund so outspoken. He would have blamed Hugh.”