Justice of the Root

by Abby Gordon

  “I did,” he admitted, finally resting a hip on the edge. “But I realize now I was with the same few men daily. I really didn’t know what the others were doing. I certainly had idea how poorly Denby was doing with the boys. They had no idea what to do the first morning. Just flailed around with the sticks.” He waved his arms about to demonstrate and made her laugh. “I did have to dismiss two. They were bullies and tried to beat up two of the smallest. I’ve learned since that Denby let them set upon all the others. He encouraged it actually.”

  “That’s terrible,” Celeste exclaimed.

  “No discipline or control in any of them,” Edward elaborated. “But I think they’re coming along quite nicely. They’ve learned the first three sets for both offense and defense. Without too many knocks on the head,” he grinned at her.

  “Much improvement,” she smiled, then became serious. “Denby is brother to our cook, Bessie. She’s says he’s much aggrieved at being dismissed from the yard by you.”

  “Denby’s a bully much as those boys were,” Edward dismissed her concern. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re more like John than I realized,” she told him. “Shrugging off whatever I say because I’m his sister or your soon-to-be betrothed. Because I’m a woman I should stick to what I know best and not interfere with the affairs of men.”

  “Well, you don’t know much of training or arms,” he pointed out with a smile.

  “And you have no idea of the minds of the men around you,” she snapped back. “Denby has a grudge against you, Edward. How many others might feel the same way? Do you know? I’ll bet Denby does. Who can you trust to watch your back?” He stared at her and she pointed at him, waving her hand. “See? I know some of training and what men deal with. You think women don’t deal with small, jealous minds? We have to deal with each other and with the foolishness of men.”

  “Foolishness of men?” he snorted. “What are you speaking of?”

  Her sigh irritated him. “Edward,” she began softly. “Yes, women know and do different things than men. That doesn’t mean we are weak or stupid. We are the ones taking care of our homes, the gardens, the children. Can men do any of that? Do you know what it takes to ensure that a household is fed properly each day? Or to prepare for a winter that none starve? For that matter, who runs Talbor manor?”

  Edward considered her words and nodded. At her questions, he smiled. “No to all that. As for who is running Talbor? It depends on where. The cook has the kitchens. The steward and gardener run their areas.” He shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest. I doubt any man does.”

  “Yet I remember my first lessons with a knife,” she told him. “I practice nearly every day but Sunday. Both hands, offense and defense, as Sir Godfrey taught me when I was six and seven.”

  “Really?” Edward stared at her. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Aye,” she grinned at him. “So be careful how you anger me once we’re married.”

  Laughing, he reached out and drew her closer. “Oh, sweet,” he murmured. “I would disarm you oh, so carefully if you drew a blade on me.”

  “Really?” she whispered. “Or you could just not irritate me.”

  Chuckling, he stroked a hand down her side. “Can I kiss you now, sweetheart? I have been dreaming about kissing you.”

  “I wondered why you didn’t sooner,” she admitted.

  Edward decided only a foolish man would hesitate at that opening. And he did not consider himself a foolish man. Bracing the back of her head, he lowered his and enjoyed the heat of her mouth as her body leaned into his.

  ◆◆◆

  Mid-July

  Edward was too happy to pay attention to his half-brother’s comments. Standing on the top step of the main entrance to the Minster, a smiling archbishop beside him, all he knew was that finally Celeste would be his. The cheering of her procession had been growing for several moments. With eager eyes he stared at the gate. Holding his breath, he saw the first of the crowd spill around the corner ahead of the Blacks. And there she was, riding next to her father on her light brown mare. Wearing a pale blue gown that he knew would highlight her eyes as it seemed that even in the late summer sky joined in his joy.

  And hers, for her smile seemed to rival the sun as her eyes sought his. A lacy cap was pinned to her hair and seemed to cast a halo about her. Impatiently he waited as the horses stopped and the riders dismounted. He wanted to go down to lift her off her mare. To put his hands about her waist and feel her body slide down his. No, I can’t do that. Not here. Not in public. Not yet, and certainly not often. She would hate to be the subject of gossip like that. Perhaps the topic of indulgent conversation, but nothing bold.

  Beaming, her left hand in her father’s as her right hand lifted her skirts, Celeste kept her eyes on Edward as they moved up the steps. Behind them came John and Joan, then Charles and Anelle with Julia and Meggie.

  Now, as Edward took her right hand and they pledged their troths to each other before the archbishop, as he slid a gold ring on her right hand, to be moved to her left in three weeks, Celeste could think of nothing but being his wife. I’ve never been so happy, yet I know that from this day forward, each morning will be better than the previous sunset. I am his.

  Chapter Seven London

  As the days passed and Anna became a Maid of Honor to the queen, Rose learned from both women. Neither treated her as other ladies did their maids. Her questions were listened to and they either answered or told her honestly they couldn’t speak of the subject. Just watching Anna was an education. And Rose felt something in her mind stirring, awakening. She wasn’t sure if she could call them dreams or memories which confused her. Why would she have memories of a fire? Of women screaming for her to run? Of a little boy reaching for her?

  Each night Rose fell asleep, exhausted from the day. She took care of the room, ensured Anna’s clothes were always prepared for whatever the Queen decided to do, plus Alicia was training her in blade and what the Frenchwoman called body defense. Anna sometimes joined in, easily overcoming Rose’s every effort, yet teaching her as well. What Rose enjoyed the most was when the other two faced each other. Those sessions were markedly different than when Rose was involved. Anna seemed to become a totally different person. The reticent Maid, uncertain of court life, became a whirlwind of legs and arms striking out as Alicia fended her off and struck back.

  After, sitting by the fire, the two would review the ‘sets’ of defense and offense then show Rose the movements for each. After a few days, Rose got up from her stool and, frowning as the image of an older man demonstrating appeared in her mind, began doing them. Slowly, she did each punch and kick, ducking and turning. Finished, she sat down, wondering what she’d done. The other two were quiet the entire time and now studied her.

  “What…” She looked at them, uncertain. “What did I just do?”

  “You did the forms of attack taught to Roses when they are young,” Anna replied. “There are two forms, attack and defense. Each has a dozen sets or groups of actions. You did each set for attack with near perfect form.”

  That stunned her and, hands trembling, she picked up her small glass of wine.

  “Rose, where are you from?” Alicia questioned, voice gentle and cautious.

  “London,” she responded automatically, then shook her head. “I think. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I’ve had dreams of living somewhere else. But when I mentioned them to my aunt, before I joined the palace staff at Windsor three years ago, she told me I was fantasizing and getting above myself. So I stopped telling her about them.”

  “What kind of dreams?” Anna wondered, picking up her wine cup.

  “Odd things. Of running about with a boy my size. We’d be near a stream, in a meadow of sheep. My parents would be there,” she smiled a little at the thought. “Da would pick me up and swing me around, then do the same for my brother while Ma laughed.”

  “That sounds like a nice dream to have,” commented A
nna with smile.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Rose admitted with a nod. “Even if it’s not real.”

  “Where are your parents?” Alicia asked.

  “Dead from the smallpox eight years ago. The one that nearly killed the queen,” Rose replied then frowned. “At least that’s what I thought until—”

  “Until?” prompted Anna, quick as always to note a hesitation.

  “The day you arrived. I was told to go to Sir Walsingham. He mentioned that my parents were part of the Order. I knew my uncle was a leaf, helping with information, but no one has ever told me about my parents. My aunt and uncle said I didn’t have a brother.”

  “After your parents died, who brought you to your uncle?” inquired Alicia.

  “I’m not sure,” Rose frowned, stumped at the question. “I think I might have been sick as well. Recovering, of course, but,” she wrapped her arms around herself as if chilled. “When I try to remember before then, all I see is a fire. Women screaming for us to run. My brother pulling at my hand. Then, it’s all cloudy, all smoky. And two men, one very much older than the other, are there. I know them both, but I can’t remember who they are now. The younger one holds me. I think we’re on a horse but,” she shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does to me,” whispered Anna. “Something happened to you, Rose. Something dreadful. Something that may have killed the women screaming. Your brother. Maybe even the older man.”

  “A fire?” Rose stared at her, reeling at the thought. “My family might have been killed in a fire? But why can’t I remember?”

  “Sometimes things happen,” Alicia spoke in a calm voice. “And we don’t want to think about them. We don’t want to remember them. Either because of something that happened to us or was done to us or something we did.”

  Rose trembled. “You mean, the fire that killed my family might have been on purpose? But why?”

  “That I cannot and will not even begin to speculate on,” replied Alicia, glancing at Anna. “Should we ask him?”

  “You think he would answer?” scoffed Anna, shaking her head.

  “Ask who?” Rose asked quickly, although she was already guessing in her mind.

  “Walsingham,” Alicia said in a flat voice.

  “He tells no one his secrets,” sighed Rose, shoulders slumping.

  “When the time comes, though, I will ask him who you are, Rose,” Anna stated. “And believe me, he will tell me.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Rose told her, though deeply touched at the conviction in her voice. “The queen is the one we need to guard.”

  “Spoken like a true Rose,” Alicia quipped, setting her cup down. “And we should all get to bed. Sunrise will come soon enough. Anna, you have another dance lesson tomorrow.”

  Rose caught the smile and the delight in the blue eyes and bit back the giggle. Anna enjoyed dance lessons. Not only because they put the queen, who was an amazing dancer, in a better mood, but because the queen usually had her Welsh cousins in attendance. And Sir Owain normally partnered Anna.

  Curled up on their pallets before the fire, Rose shifted her head to see Alicia staring at the flames. There was a shifting on the bed and a sigh. Reassured Anna was asleep, Rose whispered.

  “Alicia, Sir Owain is known at court.”

  The woman’s eyes immediately flew to Rose’s face. “Known for what, little Rose?”

  “He normally pays more attention to women with husbands and gives little notice to unwed maids.”

  Understanding showed on her face as she considered that. “What else do you know of him? And his attentions?”

  “The husbands are never able to catch him or discredit him to the queen. The queen laughs at them when they try.”

  “Has he ever been in the company of the Queen’s Maids this much?”

  “I was at Windsor before here cleaning after the court left. I’ve only been in Whitehall at the same time as the queen not quite a year, but I’ve not seen him in their company this much. Or in so many dancing lessons.”

  “I see,” murmured Alicia. “Who is he mostly in the company of?”

  “His brother and cousin. Sir Walsingham. Lord Dudley does think highly of him.”

  “Mm,” Alicia hummed. “Rose, tomorrow we start to learn more about Sir Owain ap Llewellyn ap Tudor of Berwyn, his brother and his cousin.

  “He is thirty-two. His brother Griffin is younger by four years and their cousin Daffyd is younger by four more years.”

  “Excellent,” smiled Alicia. “I’ll start teaching you more tomorrow.”

  Smiling, Rose drew the blanket over her shoulders and closed her eyes.

  The next day, Rose’s education truly began. Mostly under the tutelage of Alicia, she learned to move in near silence along the corridors, the easiest ways to tell if someone was lying to her, little hints that there was more to what a person was saying. All Rose was certain were new, but then something in her memory would scratch at her mind. Or is it? Why am I suddenly questioning everything I thought I knew? And why can’t I remember? In the evening, when Anna would often be in attendance on the queen, Alicia taught her French and was as pleased with her progress in that as everything else.

  A week later, Alicia returned to the room with a smile on her face.

  “Come quickly, Rose. The queen has gone riding.”

  “Are we going about the corridors then?” Rose asked, obediently rising from the stool. The French book was in her hands.

  “Oh, no,” Alicia smiled, shaking her head.

  Rose went to the cupboard, putting the book safely among the others.

  “Where are we going then?”

  “The men of the court are all at the training yard,” Alicia answered. “I want to get a better measure of this Welsh knight.”

  “I’ve heard he’s a very good fighter,” Rose offered as they left the room.

  Pausing to lock the door, Alicia nodded. “Aye, I’ve heard though that he has a way about him that the English lords don’t like.”

  “Because they can’t beat him?” guessed the younger woman.

  “Very good, Rose,” Alicia approved. “Often when something ill is said of a person it is because the speaker is jealous or bitter at them. Question the motive for both good and bad comments.”

  “Except about the Queen,” Rose said stoutly.

  “Always except about the Queen,” laughed Alicia. “Especially around Anna.”

  “And except about Anna,” stated Rose loyally. She was rapidly concluding that the Lady Anna was nearly as perfect as the Queen.

  “Anna has said both good and bad about people,” Alicia reminded her as they headed down the last corridor to the outside door.

  “Yes, but she’s not jealous or bitter about them. It’s as if,” Rose frowned, tipping her head to the side. “Somehow she’s able to take her feelings out of her opinion about them.”

  “She tries very hard to do that,” confirmed Alicia as Rose opened the door. “In most situations, she succeeds.”

  “When does she not?” wondered Rose. “I’ve not seen that happen.”

  “It hasn’t happened here,” Alicia replied quietly.

  “When does it happen?” pressed Rose.

  “Watch and listen,” advised Alicia. “Let me know when you think it’s happened and we’ll discuss it further.”

  Those answers no longer frustrated Rose. Now she laughed.

  “I thought you might say that.”

  The three Welsh cousins were there along with many lords, gentlemen and guards. As the queen was riding, informality ruled and many outer garments were discarded as the exercise warmed muscles. Rose had never seen any man not fully dressed and now she could only stare about her. The light linen shirts were often sweat soaked, clinging to muscles.

  Alicia had no such problems. Grasping Rose’s wrist as they went around the wall, she muttered at what she saw.

  “Watch there. Wrong grip. It’ll go – flying,” s
he smiled in satisfaction as the Earl of Leicester sent his opponent’s sword into the air. “And see the next? He needs to shift his feet faster. Hold his body still. A clever opponent can tell where you’re going to strike.”

  Rose absorbed those along with everything else and saw how Alicia could glance at a pair and note the strengths and weaknesses of each. And then they were near the Welsh cousins. A sword and shorter blade in his hands, Owain was facing off against his brother and cousin. Rose stared, not at the brothers, but at the youngest. Red hair darkened by sweat, his dark eyes focused on his cousin, Daffyd lunged, muscles rippling along his back.

  “Excellent,” Alicia murmured even as Owain easily parried with his short sword.

  “But it didn’t go through,” Rose replied, keeping her voice as low.

  “Sir Owain has nearly a decade more experience and a slightly longer reach. Sir Daffyd is probably further at the same age because Sir Owain seems to have passed along what he has learned. I like that.”

  “Why?” whispered the girl, trying to watch with the same appraisal, but all she could think of was the play of muscles as he moved.

  “Because it shows that Sir Owain wants those around him to be the best they can be. He’s not concerned with them being better than him.” A crooked smile quirked the older woman’s mouth. “Which would be difficult. I’ve seen only a special few who would be able to best him. And he’s a good teacher.”

  “Or Sir Daffyd is a good student,” Rose felt moved to say as Owain spoke briefly in Welsh and his cousin replied.

  “Indeed,” agreed Alicia with a nod. “I would say he is an excellent student.”

  Sir Griffin lunged. His brother countered with a sudden twist, spinning and the younger man’s sword went flying over Daffyd’s head to land near the women. While Griffin scowled at his brother, Daffyd chuckled and came to retrieve the sword.

  “Alicia, isn’t it?” he spoke, noticing them. “With the Lady Anna Elizabeta?”

  “I serve her,” Alicia replied with a nod.

  The dark brown eyes went to the slight figure next to her. “And you are?”