Justice of the Root

by Abby Gordon

  “You’re the government, sir, meaning no disrespect,” the man explained. “The king? He is Britain. We let nothing happen to Britain.”

  “I’m liking this Order of the Rose more and more,” Churchill commented with a tight grin to contain his excitement. He’d agreed to keep the secret and certainly would, even without the implied threat if the Roses thought he would reveal them. For him, just knowing about the Order was sufficient. “Oh, to be young and do what you do.”

  “You did quite a bit yourself, Sir. Both in the African war and in the trenches,” the Rose replied with a smile. “Exploits and courage worthy of a Rose. And that is a quote from the Root.”

  Beaming at the unexpected compliment, Churchill followed the man to the second car where Gloucester and Berwyn were already settling into the back seat.

  “And in the first car?” Churchill took a junior seat quite willingly opposite the royal duke.

  “The Root and my Heir are charged with the lives of their majesties. I will protect Gloucester,” Berwyn answered as they started forward. “The driver of the car carrying the king and queen is my younger son Sean. Roses in the cars before and immediately after.”

  “Quite right,” Churchill agreed before Chamberlain could comment. Trusting his sons with the King and Queen without hesitation. What an amazing thing. “Where are we off to then?”

  “You don’t like surprises, Winston?” Gloucester teased, a gleam in his eye.

  “Not normally, sir,” Churchill admitted, then grinned. “But I am actually looking forward to this one. This is the stuff I dreamt of as a boy. I always wondered if such things could be real and to find out it was happening all along? I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  “Wait until you see where we’re going,” Berwyn told him with a grin of anticipation.

  “Have you been there, sir?” Churchill asked Gloucester, glancing at the Prime Minister who still seemed to be trying to absorb what he’d been told and what was happening.

  “No, but I’m nearly as excited as the king,” the duke replied with an eager smile. “Quite a treat to be away with no one knowing.”

  “As when we left the palace,” Berwyn started to explain. “There will be some changes from protocol. The Root and Griffin will leave their car first, as I will leave this one first.” He smiled. “It would be hard to welcome you if we’re not outside before you.”

  “Imagine what their majesties will think of that,” Chamberlain murmured, shaking his head.

  “Oh, Griffin told them and the Duke yesterday,” Berwyn smiled as Gloucester chuckled. “His Majesty understood. He said the Queen quite liked the ceremony of it all.”

  “It will be something to remember,” the Royal Duke agreed.

  Taking in a breath, from his seat across from the king, Griffin felt on edge, the adrenaline rush his father had warned of pulsing through him, making him aware of every detail about him. They drove easily through London. It was unannounced travel and certainly no one would expect to see their king and queen in an unmarked car, let alone be followed by the royal duke and Prime Minister. None of the pedestrians glanced twice at them. Ten minutes later they pulled up to the archway in view of the Thames. The heavy iron gates were already swinging open so they didn’t need to slow down.

  “There they are,” his younger brother Sean noted from the front seat, nodding across the courtyard. When tasked with planning the day, Griffin had immediately summoned Sean to be with him. “Griff, Anna’s hopping.”

  Griffin chuckled, seeing the girl bouncing on her toes between his mother and grandmother. “She never keeps still. Even asleep she’s moving.”

  “Anna is your sister?” inquired the queen as the car slowed down.

  “She is, ma’am. The first girl born into the family in nearly a hundred years.”

  The car stopped in front of the trio. Griffin quickly exited, holding the door as wide as possible. Behind them the second vehicle stopped. His cousin Eoin came from the last car and opened the door to the rear.

  “The Root of Great Britain,” announced Griffin. “And his Heir.”

  The Baron of Corwen and Lord Berwyn stepped out and the Roses, nearly five hundred packed into the courtyard, thumped their right fists over their chests.

  “For the Rose,” echoed off the rafters.

  The Root and his Heir went to the platform to stand next to their wives with a suddenly motionless Anna between the women. Griffin would have sworn for three heartbeats that there was not a sound to be heard.

  “Their Majesties, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth! His Royal Highness, the Duke of Gloucester!” he bellowed.

  The second the king’s head appeared in the doorway, those on the platform went down on one knee, heads bowed for a heartbeat before lifting. The Roses followed immediately in a wave around the courtyard. The king stepped from the car, moving aside so the queen could follow. From the second car, the Duke, prime minister and Churchill appeared. Griffin bit back a smile at the awed expression on Churchill’s face. Da called that one. The man is utterly enthralled by everything about the Order.

  Again, not a sound was heard as the moment was absorbed. The Root stood while everyone else remained kneeling.

  “Good afternoon, your majesties,” Corwen greeted them, coming forward. “It’s an honor to welcome you to the Thames center of the Order of the Roses of Great Britain.”

  As he closed the car door, Griffin saw the surprise and gratitude on the king’s face before he recovered himself and extended a hand. As the men shook hands, the cars quickly drove off to be parked.

  "Corwen, good to see you again,” the king replied as if they hadn’t just been in the car or before that the Palace. “Please, rise, all of you.” The Roses stood, eyes on the royal pair. “Having read the first volume of the history of the Order of the Rose in Great Britain, I believe the honor is ours.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Corwen replied, gesturing to the three women. “May I present my wife, daughter-in-law and granddaughter? Lady Mary, Lady Margaret and Lady Anna.”

  The three bobbed curtsies. Griffin bit back a grin at the excitement in his sister’s eyes as she lifted her head. The double-roses on her shoulder, smaller than his own, glinted in the pale winter sun.

  “Blue eyes,” the queen noted with pleasure. “Like the first Lady Anna?”

  “She’s the first to have the name since,” his father smiled at his daughter, a hand on her shoulder. “She’s our rambling Welsh rose.”

  “Lovely,” the queen smiled at her. “How are old are you, dear?”

  “Twelve, majesty,” Anna replied, eyes wide.

  “Same age as my Elizabeth. We must get you two together,” the queen decided, glancing at the king who nodded his agreement. The direct gaze went to Lady Berwyn. “Lady Margaret, I so enjoyed the first volume of the histories. I do hope you’ve finished the second.”

  “I have, ma’am,” smiled the fellow Scotswoman, as she extended a leather volume. “This is for you.”

  “Ah, lovely,” the queen crooned in delight, accepting it. A gloved hand brushed over the cover with its embossed scarlet and gold roses. “Do Griffin and Mary get married in this one?”

  “Not yet, ma’am. This focuses on York and the rebellion of the northern earls,” was the reply.

  The queen sighed, shaking her head. “She was a bit young but still, and he did become quite difficult.” A twinkle appeared in her eyes. “But then, he was a man and they do that sometimes, don’t they?”

  Anna giggled as her mother and grandmother chuckled. The Roses who had guarded the procession hurried from the garage. Sean stood next Griffin near the center of the platform.

  “They do indeed, ma’am.”

  Corwen cleared his throat and glanced at the king who chuckled. Griffin was fascinated by the change in the king. Everyone said the Duke of Windsor was the one with the common man touch, but I much prefer the way the king goes about things. You feel he understands and cares, will do what he can, yet you don’t
forget he’s king.

  “Majesty, it is a rare event for the Roses to be able to swear allegiance directly to our sovereign,” the Welsh baron addressed the king in a voice that rang out in the quiet courtyard. “Would you permit us the honor?”

  “Lord Corwen, the honor would be mine,” the king replied solemnly.

  With a gesture, Corwen indicated the king and queen stand where the trio had waited. Roses in the courtyard shifted in their places as the king gestured for his brother to join them. Quickly Gloucester strode up the two steps to the king’s left side. Chamberlain and Churchill were guided to a place at the front right corner, where they could see. In the front line stood the Root and his Lady, behind them Lord and Lady Berwyn with Griffin and Sean to their father’s right and Anna to her mother’s left. For a heartbeat no one moved.

  “Roses,” Berwyn’s deep voice echoed in the courtyard.

  Again, everyone went on one knee, right hands fisted and over their hearts.

  “As a Rose of the realm, I swear fealty to the Crown of Great Britain. I pledge to devote my life to the protection and defense of the realm. To uphold the ideals of the Order of the Rose by living a good and honorable life. For the crown, for the realm, for the rose, I will give my last heartbeat, my last breath.”

  For a moment, the king visibly struggled to control his emotion. When he spoke, they could hear how he was moved. Tears glimmered in the queen’s and duke’s eyes.

  “I am honored beyond words to be your king. Thank you.”

  Griffin saw his father’s head turn toward him, the slight nod. Smiling, he raised his right fist.

  “For the Rose!”

  “For the Rose!” came the answering shout.

  “For the King!”

  “For the King!” rang through the courtyard, including Anna’s treble.

  “For the queen,” she whispered as the echoes died.

  Queen Elizabeth heard and nodded at the girl who beamed up at her.

  For a moment, there wasn’t a sound. Churchill glanced at Chamberlain who appeared as moved and impressed as he was. He leaned in slightly. “I think we can believe every word we’ve been told about them.”

  Swallowing, the Prime Minister nodded. “Indeed, and God help us all,” he whispered, dread in his voice.

  Act Two – Pawns of Fate

  Chapter Three – York, England, April 1569

  At first confused, then in shock, Edward Talbor listened to his father’s voice. The words took a moment to register.

  “Sir, I don’t understand,” he said in confusion. “What do you mean you’re taking away my company of Roses? That I’m to train the boys?”

  William Talbor, senior Elder of the York branch of the Order of the Rose, scowled at his son.

  “I didn’t think I was speaking in a language you didn’t know,” he snapped. “I don’t have to give you a reason. I give you orders and you obey them.”

  “Of course, Father,” Edward managed to reply, lifting dazed eyes to the glaring older man. “But usually I know your reasoning, your logic. You were so proud of the company a fortnight ago and how we bested the Earl of Northumberland’s guards at the tournament.”

  “I was,” came the response.

  “Again, I don’t understand. Why would you then take it from me?”

  “Your brother will be the captain of the company of York Roses.”

  Incredulity swept through Edward. Brother? His mother had died of smallpox seven years earlier. Both of his younger brothers and a younger sister had died with her. His father had not remarried. A chill crept into Edward’s blood. There was a gleam in his father’s dark blue eyes. A cruel greed. Choose your next words carefully.

  “My brother?” he echoed softly.

  “Aye,” William smiled with satisfaction. “Edmund. He’ll be arriving this evening.”

  “How old is Edmund?” Edward wondered, struggling to keep calm.

  “Just a few months younger than you,” replied his father, his attention already turning to the journal open on the table before him. “Oh, one more thing,” he continued, picking up a quill. “Move your things to the room your younger brothers occupied. I want Edmund to have your chambers. He deserves the best.”

  For a long moment, Edward simply stared at his father. A few months younger than me? He betrayed my mother while she was carrying me? So soon after their vows? And hid this from all for so long? How could he? How can he sit there so calmly at the scandal he will subject us to? Finally William realized his son hadn’t moved and glanced at him.

  “Was there something you wanted to say?”

  For a heartbeat, Edward was tempted, but saw that expression flicker across his father’s face again. Does he want me to contest this? Contest the installation of a bastard over me? His last legitimate son? Why is he doing this? Has he gone mad?

  “Edward?”

  “Nothing, Father,” he replied, swallowing his pride and anger. Anger would do nothing but cause trouble. What he needed was answers and those he would not get by riling his father. He also needed to talk to someone who might help him make sense of the madness and impending doom that seized him. “Of course, we must make sure Edmund feels welcome to the family. To York.” Standing he gave his father a small bow. “I’ll move my things at once and have someone prepare the room for his arrival.”

  Mollified, William smiled broadly and waved at the door.

  “Off you go, then.”

  With a smile, Edward turned, walked to the door and left the room. Careful to quietly close the door behind him, he smiled at the two men standing opposite the Elder’s office. I don’t know them. As a prickly sensation raced up and down his spine, he forced himself to walk in a normal manner toward the winding staircase to the first floor.

  After giving the orders for his things to be moved and the room cleaned, Edward strode out of the manor into the training courtyard. Glancing about, he saw the two he was looking for and went to join them near the well. Sir Jasper had been the first to train him. Sir Godfrey had trained Sir Jasper. The older man might look frail and his scarlet rose was faded to pink, but few wanted to face him in training unless they had a friend on their side.

  “How are things, Ned?” Sir Jasper asked easily, offering him the dipper.

  Edward shook his head. “Jas, Godfrey, there will be a new captain for the Roses.”

  To his surprise, the words didn’t seem new to the pair who exchanged resigned glances.

  “I was hoping it wasn’t true,” sighed Godfrey, sinking down to sit on the stone wall about the well.

  “You knew?” Edward hissed. “And didn’t tell me?”

  “Here is not the place,” Jasper warned, clapping a hand on Edward’s shoulder.

  Furious, Edward shook him off and glared. “How could you not –”

  “There are people watching you,” murmured the senior knight, raising the dipper to his mouth.

  Inhaling sharply, Edward swallowed back the sharp retort.

  “Aye,” he said in a louder voice. “I could do with a long ride. I’ll beat you again to the orchard and back if you want to race.”

  An approving expression glinted in Jasper’s brown eyes as Godfrey grinned.

  “Lad, he won’t do that again,” he chortled.

  “Not hardly,” agreed Jasper, putting the ladle back in the bucket. “After so much rain, the horses could founder too easily.”

  The three men walked to the stables where alert grooms were already readying their mounts. Though his thoughts were racing furiously about in his mind, Edward kept quiet until the three were in the saddle and riding through the gate.

  “What do –”

  “Not yet,” Jasper said tightly, nodding at the man they passed.

  “But—”

  “For the love of Christ, Ned,” the knight groaned, spurring his horse faster and forcing Edward to be silent.

  With a glare, Godfrey followed, leaving Edward behind. Now fuming at this treatment from two men he’d known
since he could walk, he urged his eager mount to a gallop. The stallion leapt forward and quickly closed the gap.

  “Whenever you’re ready to talk, then, sir knight,” he invited with an acid edge to his tone.

  “God’s blood,” Jasper sighed. “Ned, you’re the best fighter in the shire but I swear you’ve sometimes less sense than a goose at sunrise.”

  Stung by the insult, Edward clenched his jaw and sat in silence. Godfrey shook his head. “The man outside the wall wasn’t ours. Half the men inside the walls are not Roses. Nearly twice that many in York are not Roses.”

  “Not Roses?” frowned Edward, staring between his horse’s ears as he considered that. Now that he mentions it, there have been quite a few men I don’t recognize the past fortnight. His gaze darted to the two waiting men. “The tournament,” he murmured. “Since the tournament, they’ve been coming.” A reason for that came to him and he grinned. “They saw how well the Roses fought and want to train with us.”

  “So close,” sighed Godfrey, shaking his head. “He’s too close to what’s happening, Jas. We daren’t tell him the truth.”

  “And if we don’t?” Jasper countered with a scowl. “I’m willing to bet that when the Elder told him about the bastard, he damned near lost his temper.”

  Clenching his teeth at well the man knew him, Edward glared at him, then reviewed what they had said. “Wait,” he held up a hand. “Are you telling me all these new men and the bastard coming are not because of the tournament but for some other reason? What do you know that the Elders do not? Why have you not told them?”

  Godfrey muttered under his breath. “Well, you might as well tell him everything now, Jasper. Although the way he can’t keep his mouth shut, we’ll all be dead by sundown.”

  “If you’re involved in some treason, I want naught to do with either of you,” Edward stated, gathering his reins to turn his mount.

  Immediately both men drew their swords and held them at his throat. He didn’t move and was thankful his horse stood still between the others. Shocked, he could only stare at Jasper.