by Abby Gordon
“It’s not our treason,” Jasper said quietly. “But that of others. Treason against the Queen and England. Treason against the Order.”
“And you haven’t told the Elders about it?” Edward demanded. “God’s Blood, Jas, why—” Realization struck him and he nearly fell out of the saddle. Which, considering the swords were both a handspan from him would not have been the best response. “You think my father and the other Elders are involved in some plot against the Queen? How dare you?”
“For months, we believed there was a conspiracy and we were not sure how much they were involved,” Jasper explained. “At least, that’s what we thought until the influx of men into York.”
“For what purpose?”
Raising his eyes to heaven for patience, Godfrey shook his head. “Lad, you’ve a good heart. You’re the most instinctive fighter I’ve ever seen. If you learn to use your brain a bit more, you’ll be better than even Heir Henry was and only Jasper has come close to him that I’ve clapped me eyes on. But, you’re too damn impulsive and you’ve no control over your mouth,” came the scathing remarks after the compliment.
Godfrey was one of the few alive who could speak of the Root of York and his Heir from personal knowledge and not stories. His condemnation stung even as Edward scowled. They treated him as if he were a boy holding onto his wooden sword. The company of York was known throughout northern England as one of the best. Suddenly he straightened, turning his head from one to the other.
“I didn’t say anything about who was taking the company,” he pointed out. “Nor did I say anything about him being a bastard. Or did you mean that as a general term?” Despite wallowing in his self-pity, Edward still caught the alarmed expressions on their faces. “What? What is it? And how do you know anything about it?”
“Because we don’t stay holed up in the manor like a precious object,” Godfrey pointed out. “We go out and mix with the men.”
“You just told me that –”
“Will ye shut up and listen?” Godfrey growled. “The new men are all from the same company. Or at least all seem to know each other. They won’t talk to anyone from York about their captain or where they served before they came here.”
“And their captain is with them?” Edward questioned. “What is he called?”
“Edmund,” Godfrey answered. “I’ve not heard him called more than that.”
“Rich,” Jasper supplied. “Edmund Rich.”
Edward’s stomach twisted and he bowed his head.
“Edmund is the name my father gave to the half-brother of mine arriving this evening,” he told them. “I have been removed from my room of oldest son and captain of the company because of a bastard brother only a few months younger than myself.”
“A few months?” Godfrey asked, a sharp edge in his voice.
“That’s what my father said,” Edward replied dully.
“The winter before you were born the weather was so bad few traveled anywhere. If my memory is correct, Elder Talbor was not one of them,” Godfrey replied with a glance that stated his recall was without fault. “However,” he cautioned when Edward’s face brightened. “We cannot say that to any we do not trust.”
“Aye,” Jasper agreed with a sad sigh. “All we can do is what we can to protect the people.”
“That will be difficult after this evening when my bastard brother arrives,” Edward said bitterly. “Father has ordered a feast prepared and much fanfare.”
“Then you need to be extremely careful,” cautioned Jasper. “Do not let them think for even a heartbeat that you do not welcome him joyfully. They can suspect or even think you a fool for being delighted to have a brother again, but if they think you will do anything against them, anything to stop them from their plans, then your life will be forfeit.”
“You think my father will kill his last legitimate son?” Edward demanded, furious and frightened at such a thought.
“I think it very possible,” answered Jasper with a nod. “You must be careful, Ned. For your life now hangs by a thread.”
Even as his stomach twisted more, Edward shuddered at the idea of his father going that far. He didn’t want to believe such a thing.
“Why?” he whispered. “And why bring all these strange men to York?”
“I have ideas on that,” Jasper allowed. “But nothing to say to anyone. Godfrey?”
“Aye,” the old man responded. “I’ll send Geoffrey this evening. The feasting should distract people enough.”
“Send Geoffrey where?” Edward frowned.
“Not yet,” Jasper cautioned. “If you don’t know, then your expression cannot get you in trouble. Practice controlling your emotions, your face, Ned.”
“I am,” he protested.
“You’re irritated at the thought that Godfrey’s fifteen-year-old grandson might know more than you do,” smiled Jasper.
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” demanded Edward. Especially considering the boy is soft in the head and can barely be trusted with the simplest of tasks. But then, why would Godfrey send him anywhere? That makes no sense. Then again, none of this is making sense.
“Stop being all ‘lord of the manor’,” Godfrey scolded him. “Try being a bit more humble. As things stand now, most of the Roses won’t be upset at you being supplanted by a bastard. You’re a good leader in a tournament, but you act like you’re superior to them in every way. And you’re not, boy.” Curling his lip, Godfrey leaned from his saddle and jabbed a bony finger at Edward’s chest.
“What do you mean the men won’t mind?” Edward began to protest vehemently. They wouldn’t be upset by a replacement? What the hell?
“You think you’re better than them. That you’re too good to drink with them,” Godfrey stated flatly. “Hell, boy, even John Black goes to the Black Swan once a week to buy an ale for the men there.”
Edward stared at him in shock, then tried to press his cause another way.
“Well, when their skills drop, they’ll want me back,” he said petulantly.
“Skills? Bah. If Root William still lived, most of those who wear the scarlet rose wouldn’t be considered worthy.” Straightening, the man snorted. “Most of them would piss their pants if they had to fight a Root. Or an Heir. They certainly wouldn’t be able to hold their own against a Norman or Gascon Rose.”
“What?” Edward protested furiously, his back stiffening. “The York Roses—”
“Spend most of their days waving a sword around or cantering about the countryside,” Jasper cut him off. “They don’t train the way the other branches do. Not even close,” he sighed.
“And whose fault is that?” Edward fired back. “If we’re not real Roses, then why didn’t you train us to be? You were captain of the company. You were in charge of training.” He turned on Godfrey. “Why didn’t you—”
“Because I was told if I did, I’d be killed,” the old man stated bluntly. “A man does what he can for honor, but honor cannot be remembered if all who remember honor are dead.”
“Who threatened to kill you?” Edward breathed. “Who would have been able to?”
“The sons of the original Elders,” Godfrey told him, nodding at the shock on Edward’s face. “Aye, lad. A month after the death of the last of the Elders appointed by Root William, their sons came to me. They said they were taking up their fathers’ offices and had new duties for me. I was removed from my post as captain of the York Roses. I was no longer allowed to train York Roses. If I did or said anything in protest or that they didn’t like, my wife would be raped by the four of them, along with my two daughters, then they and my two sons would be killed before me. And to ensure their dying faces were the last I saw, hot pokers would be put in my eyes.”
Mouth open, Edward stared at him in horror. That the man spoke the truth he did not doubt. It was in his every word, the pain in his eyes, the throbbing in his voice. There was a fire at Sir Godfrey’s house ten years ago while he traveled. His family was killed. All dead but Geoffre
y.
And in that moment, Edward took a step in a direction he never would have thought possible. His father had been part of that threat. That horrible promise. And now it seemed he’d murdered the family of the former captain. Bowing his head, he struggled with what he’d learned. Then realized there was no struggle. He either denounced the two of them to his father and the Elders of York or he stood for the words he’d been taught and believed in since he’d first picked up a sword – to live an honorable life as befitted a Rose of York.
Lifting his head, he met Godfrey’s proud face. I don’t want to be like my father. When I die, I want to have lived my life like this man.
“What do you want me to do?” Edward asked simply in a subdued voice. What they had told him shocked him to the core and rocked the very foundation of his life. “Tell me and I will do it.”
The skepticism in the brown eyes was understandable, but it still stung. Edward would have to prove himself. Not with heroics and grand gestures but in subtle ways that could prove much more difficult. And dangerous.
“It won’t be easy, lad,” Godfrey warned. “Every bit of pride you have? Swallow it even if you choke on it. Your father is knocking you down in the hopes that you’ll strike back, say or do something that will give him an excuse.”
“I thought that earlier,” Edward admitted slowly with a nod. “The expression in his eyes when he told me. I didn’t understand it.”
“Were you alone?” Jasper asked.
“We were,” confirmed Edward, glancing at him. “Alone in his office.”
“Don’t do that anymore,” advised Godfrey. “Never be alone with him or any of the other Elders. Nor with this brother when he comes.”
Understanding brought a rare deep fear. “Then they could twist my words. Or strike me down.”
“Precisely,” Godfrey nodded as he turned his horse to return to York. “When an announcement is made, as it probably will be during the feast, this evening, wish your brother well, mayhap joke about looking forward to teaching boys who won’t have ale headaches in the morning. Whatever you do, show no bitterness.”
Edward nodded. “Will you both be there?” he asked, gaze going from one to the other. “I’ll need you there. Tonight. It won’t be easy. Almost everything I’ve wanted in life has been taken from me.”
“It happens, lad,” sighed Godfrey, then gestured at Jasper. “But at those times, you remember what matters and it helps.”
“What is that?” Edward asked hopefully.
“Family. Even one person to have something in common with helps.”
“I don’t have that anymore,” sighed Edward despondently as the realization sunk in. My father has betrayed not only the Order and possibly the Crown, but his own son. Why?
“Not by blood,” Jasper said quietly. “But by the Rose we are bound together in common purpose.”
“The Rose,” whispered Edward, lifting his head and meeting their understanding expressions.
“Aye, lad,” Godfrey nodded with a grin. “In the Rose, for the Rose, we have purpose.”
“And what purpose is that?” he wondered, struggling to keep faith.
“To do what is right. To have honor and deal honorably towards others,” Godfrey replied in a voice that rang with conviction. “And if that means we have to trick and deceive every Son of Scion to discover what they’re up to—”
“What?” Edward gaped at him.
“Well, who the bloody hell do you think is doing all this?” Godfrey stared at him. “Jasper, how much ale has he had today?”
“I hadn’t thought it was that much to addle his wits like this,” the knight shrugged.
“Do you –” Edward paused, gathered himself and blurted the words out before he could stop himself. The enemy of the Order for centuries. How? Why? What in God’s name am I to do about this? “You truly think the Elders are working with the Sons of Scion?”
“It’s very likely, Ned,” Jasper said quietly. “Another reason for you to be very careful.”
“I will,” agreed Edward quickly, feeling cold in his bones. “And the men? The Roses of York? Those Father and the Elders suspect of divided loyalty will be marked as well as I and you two. What can we do for them?”
Godfrey stared at him for several moments, then finally nodded. “He might just live long enough to be a man after all.”
Chuckling lightly, Jasper clapped Edward’s shoulder, nearly knocking him from the saddle. “He needs some work, but I think he will as well.”
As a testament to how much he’d matured in only the time of their ride, Edward kept his mouth shut instead of giving what would have been a sharp retort, and simply nodded.
Chapter Four
London
Standing outside the great man’s door, Rose hesitated. Why would Walsingham want to see me? How does a man like him even know about me? Well, he probably knows about everyone, every Rose and their family at least, but what would he want with me? I haven’t done anything, anything wrong at least.
The door suddenly opened and with a startled gasp, she jumped back. Swallowing, she raised her eyes along the black-clad torso and met the dark eyes.
“Were you going to stand in the corridor all day?” The spymaster demanded in a slightly cross voice. “Anyone could see you. Get inside quickly, girl,” he ordered, stepping aside so she could move past him. She scurried into the room. “Never stand outside a door longer than you need to. Remember that,” he told her, closing the door. Striding to the table before the fireplace, he continued. “You never know who could be watching. Stand still and someone might realize your purpose. Unless, of course,” he smiled over his shoulder. “Your purpose it to make them think one door is your mission when it’s actually something else.”
“Of course, sir,” she whispered, having no idea what he was talking about. Uncertain, she bobbed a curtsey and waited for him to tell her what to do. Maybe Lady Walsingham needs a new maid? Their child is nearly two. Perhaps he wants me to go to his country home?
“A visitor will be arriving this evening,” Walsingham told her, sitting in the chair to the right of the hearth. “The lady and her attendant will be your charge. I expect you to take excellent care of them and do what they require of you.”
“Me, sir?” Rose breathed, hardly able to believe it. A special mission? From Walsingham himself?
“You think you can manage that?” he queried, his dark brows meeting over his nose. “And not tell anyone? This must be kept secret.”
“Oh, yes, sir,” she replied eagerly, nodding several times. “I can handle it, sir.”
“Good,” he replied, satisfaction in his voice. “Your parents served the Order and I am certain you will to the best of your ability.”
“I will, sir,” Rose answered, biting her lip at the mention of her parents. Her memories were so hazy and confused. At least, I thought they died of the smallpox. Did they die serving the Order? Or protecting someone?
“Excellent,” Walsingham approved as he got to his feet. “Come with me. I’ll show you the room they’ll be in for a few days.”
Rose stepped quickly out of his way as he went straight for the door. Opening it, he waited for her to hurry past him, then locked it behind him. Striding confidently down the corridor, he didn’t seem to look about him. Catching up to him though, Rose saw that his eyes were ever moving, ever searching the shadows of the alcoves. She tried to follow his example as they continued to the outer edges of the castle, where the newest to court were housed until their rank and position more firmly determined their permanent quarters.
Odd. From what he said, I thought the lady was important and her room would be closer to his, or nearer the ranked floors. Why so far from everyone? Rose frowned, trying to remember everything she’d heard lately from the other maids, but the gossip gave her nothing that explained this. Unless Walsingham doesn’t want her to be seen. Why would that be?
As they reached the fourth floor, Walsingham withdrew a ring of three ke
ys from his pouch, removed one and returned the ring to its hiding place. At the last door, he swiftly entered the room, gestured for her to follow and closed the door.
A quick glance told Rose it was a very basic room for a low-ranking visitor. Two narrow windows were opposite the door with a fireplace with two folded pallets and a table to the left and a canopied bed to the right. Just to the left of the door was a cupboard with a single door and two drawers below it.
“She will be here for perhaps three or four days,” Walsingham stated.
Rose watched him closely and with some surprise. The always in control spymaster seemed nervous. Something about this lady bothers him. Is she an enemy of the Order? Is that why she is so far away? No, Sir Walsingham would never bring a threat to the Order, or especially the Queen, into Whitehall. Then what?
“Yes, sir,” Rose nodded.
“She is not to leave the room, is that understood?” Walsingham frowned at her.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, nodding again but not sure how she was expected to force a lady to stay where she didn’t want to be.
“Excellent,” he seemed satisfied with that. “Food and wood should be delivered shortly. I’ve arranged for wood daily. The hall boy and maid will run orders for food and empty the chamber pot when you put it outside. And someone will bring your things from your place in the attics,” he informed her, handing her the key. “Do not leave this room until she arrives. Let no one else in. You are in charge of keeping this room safe. Is that quite understood, Rose?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied with a nod and quick curtsey as he turned to leave.
“Lock the door behind me,” he ordered, closing the door.
As soon as it thudded, she rushed to the door, turning the key in the lock. Pressing her back against the oak, Rose caught her breath. I’m really going to be part of the Order! Will won’t be able to strut about so much. Remembering all of what had been said, she sighed. Well, maybe eventually I’ll be able to tell someone. Grinning, she hugged herself. Sometimes the best part of a secret was simply knowing it. After all, if it’s talked about, it’s not a secret. It’s much more special to be one of the few who know about it. Of course, I’ve no idea who the lady and her attendant are or where they’re from, but Sir Walsingham trusts me to take care of them. And so I shall!