Justice of the Root

by Abby Gordon

  “For the Rose.”

  “For the Rose.”

  He was outnumbered. He’d known that from the start. All he could do was pray that some who heard and saw were still true roses. That not all had been swayed by his so-called brother. He could see it in their faces. The jolt of understanding, the hidden emotions as they stayed silent. That he expected and could only hope that in the future they would act. If there was a future left in England for the Order of the Rose.

  When Edmund drew his sword, Edward grasped his and began the fight of his life. All that mattered was that he give Jasper as much time as possible. Each moment was precious to give him a lead against any followers. Jasper had to reach London and the Normandy Root’s man. Edward just prayed that the man would somehow be able to get the information to the queen. Mayhap her first minister. Edward had heard that William Cecil was a canny and loyal servant from even before Elizabeth had become queen. As two more men drew their weapons, Edward pulled his short dagger, knowing it would be only moments before the fight was over. Precious moments for Jasper to gain the stables, ready horses and leave.

  He didn’t care if he lived or died. He had lost Celeste so there was nothing to live for. He’d done his best to save the queen and the Order he loved so dying now didn’t matter.

  Wounding the lesser guards, Edward again faced off against Edmund. Someone tackled him from behind and he crashed onto the stone floor. Booted feet landed on his wrists and his weapons were wrested from his grasp. Edmund and another man grabbed his arms and pulled him up to his knees. To his left he saw a grinning Denby getting to his feet. As blood trickled from the cut on his forehead into his eyes, he stared up blurrily at his father.

  “You commit treason,” came the accusation.

  “It is not I but you and the other Elders who raise arms against the queen. You side with Westmoreland and Northumberland in rebellion,” he threw back. Beyond his father, he saw Geoffrey slip away behind the line of men watching. Go, lad, warn Jasper to hurry south. Raising his head, he straightened as much as possible. “You betray the queen. You betray the Order.”

  “Fool,” the Elder snarled, raising his gauntleted hand and crashing it alongside his temple. “Put him in chains and we’ll take him out the back. I don’t wish all of York to know my shame.”

  Taking the secondary stairs, Jasper froze at the shouting. When he heard the shouts, he turned, ready to run to the aid of his friend. Even as his hand grasped the hilt, he felt the pouch against his heart. Edward is doing this so I can leave unseen and unnoticed. If I go to him, there is none to warn the queen. Praying harder than he ever had, he raced down the steps and out the side door near the stables. Swiftly his horse was saddled, two packs of food attached to the saddle, along with a second mount with bags of fodder for the horses. Geoffrey suddenly appeared at his side.

  “Edward?” he asked, praying the younger man still lived.

  “He fought Edmund and others. The Elder has accused him of treason,” the youth panted, leaning against the horse. Tears filled his eyes. “Denby attacked him from the rear.”

  Jasper’s mind raced as fast as his heart thudded.

  “Tell the others to stay quiet. Say nothing to anyone,” he ordered in a low voice, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Make no move against the Elders. Secrecy is the only way we can stay alive to serve the queen.”

  Nodding, Geoffrey straightened and stepped back.

  “God speed.”

  “God be with us all,” Jasper murmured.

  Vaunting himself up, he gathered up the reins and moved out of the yard at a trot. He kept a steady pace beyond the gate to not garner attention but as soon as he was clear of York, he brushed his spurs against the flank.

  “Come, lad,” he murmured. “For the kingdom may rest on our pace.”

  As if understanding, the stallion galloped forward with smooth strides. On the lead, the gelding matched his pace.

  ◆◆◆

  London

  Safely at Whitehall, Rose stayed close to her lady, watching wide-eyed as a wild Owain had to be dragged from the bedroom by Griffin, Daffyd, George, Walsingham and others, even Robert Dudley had come to assist. It was Rose who held her lady’s hand as the Queen’s own physician examined her, stammering over his words that she was pregnant. It was Rose and Lady Ursula’s own maid who spent their days making the badges. The queen had said in one week’s time she would be acknowledging the brave deeds of Anna risking her life and the company’s rescue of her. When the queen had left them, Anna had turned to Rose.

  “We have things to do,” she stated. “For at this court, I will announce myself as my mother’s daughter.”

  Lady Ursula had slipped away a few times to help, saying she was not telling Francis of the plan. “You’re the Root, Lady Anna,” she had smiled, eyes twinkling. “Besides, he and Danker are all agog over the papers brought from Jonal Park.”

  Yet the time was not spent all bent over at the hearth. Lady Mary visited and her training began. Rose encouraged her, even though the moves were bewildering to the younger girl. By the third day, tears in her eyes, Mary was spending all her time in Lady Anna’s chambers. That puzzled Rose at first, until Anna explained it.

  “The court think she’s a traitor as her brothers were.”

  “So unfair,” Rose muttered, looking at the girl trying to remember the next step in the first offense set. “She risked her life to help you.”

  “Angels are where we least expect them,” Anna murmured. “Oh, that was well done, Mary. Do it once more at that speed. Then again slightly faster. Your muscles are learning it.”

  Encouraged, Mary nodded and went into her crouch.

  Daffyd met his cousin’s glare with a calm expression. “No, Owain. The Roses of London and I will not enter the queen’s reception room except with Lady Anna.”

  “Walsingham wants—”

  “Walsingham is not a Root,” Daffyd stated firmly. “We have a Root in England. Who else is to protect her if not for Roses?”

  “She is well guarded in Whitehall,” Owain reminded him.

  “Aye, as was the queen outside it and that nearly cost Lady Anna her life,” Daffyd replied.

  Frustration radiated from the senior Welshman as he glanced about. First at his brother but Griffin shrugged and rolled his eyes. Then at George, Miles, Eoin, Dickon and the others.

  “We are protecting Lady Anna,” George vowed. “Root beats the spymaster in our game of chess.”

  The other men nodded firmly and Daffyd could hear Owain grinding his teeth.

  “On your own heads then,” he muttered. “Whatever Walsingham has you doing in future.”

  “We won’t be following him,” Miles stated. “We follow the Root. Wherever she goes, we will go as well.”

  “She’ll be coming to the room,” Owain tried again.

  “Aye,” Daffyd nodded. “And we’ll be around her to make sure she gets there safely.”

  Muttering a Welsh oath, Owain threw up his hands and walked out. George chuckled and slapped Daffyd on the back.

  “He took that better than I thought he would,” the man commented.

  “Walsingham will not be pleased,” Daffyd frowned.

  “We serve the Root,” George reminded him.

  “Aye,” agreed Daffyd, thinking of the slender maid who had barely left the rescued woman’s side. “We serve and follow her wherever she goes.”

  ​

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gazing at the buildings of London, Phillipe lounged against the railing of Heir Armand’s ship. He still couldn’t believe it. Alicia is dead. Armand had told him the night before, tears flooding his eyes. Armand had been partially trained by the Protector, who had had no problem with knocking the Heir to Gascony on his ass if he dropped his guard. My sister is dead. I am the last of our family. That she had died in the service of the double-root would have been what she wanted, although not in such a manner. Caught by a Son of Scion and her throat slit by him.
No, she would not have wanted that. But that Root Anna took Justice in such a manner, oh, how Alicia would have loved it. Root Anna can be ruthless when she must be. I guess all Roots must be. But now what do I do? I had no plans. Alicia and I once discussed returning to our father’s farm when Root Anna took her place. But I have no desire to go there alone.

  “Phillipe.”

  Turning, he straightened quickly from the rail at the man standing there. Jacques was the Root of Normandy’s man. For nearly a decade he had worked with the few York Roses that could be trusted.

  “Root Anna has requested you come to her,” Jacques told him.

  “I am at the Root’s service,” Phillipe replied in the ritual fashion.

  With a nod, Jacques turned for the gangplank. Not hesitating, Phillipe followed him along the pier to where a Gascon Rose held the reins for two horses. In silence, they mounted and trotted along the streets of London to the tavern of the Seven Roses.

  “I thought she would be in the palace with the Queen,” he commented as they halted.

  “No, she’s reviewing the tapestries.”

  “The tapestries are here?” That startled Phillipe. Each branch had its lineage sewn into special cloth woven for that purpose. They were only handled by Roots and those who updated them with deaths and births. Normally they were kept in a specific room in the primary home of the Root. “Here and not in York?”

  “Oui,” Jacques nodded. “Lady Alinor took them when she left York and left them to Walsingham. Sir Francis brought them here. Only a few people have the key to the room.”

  “So, I would hope,” murmured Phillipe as he followed him into the main room.

  “Hal,” Jacques hailed the man behind the bar. “Taking over for George, are you?”

  “Aye,” nodded the old man who grinned as he glanced up to the ceiling. “He’s appointed hisself guard to the Lady.”

  “She does have a husband, doesn’t she?” Phillipe wondered. “And named him her Shield?”

  “Oh, aye,” Hal confirmed. “But George figures with as much trouble as the Lady has gotten into since she arrived in England another sword is always a good thing.”

  Having been around the Lady all her life, Phillipe chuckled. “Very wise indeed. Root Anna can get into trouble by turning around twice. I even saw her manage just looking around a room.”

  “You knew the Lady before?” Hal asked eagerly, leaning forward. Other men looked toward them. “What was she like?”

  “Probably very much like she still is,” answered Phillipe. “Dedicated, determined and a very special lady in every way.”

  “Aye, that she is,” nodded Hal.

  “Who are you?” the nearest man wondered.

  “This is Phillipe,” Jacques told them. “Brother to Alicia.”

  Immediately every face sobered and grief showed as many crossed themselves.

  “Bravest woman and true,” someone murmured.

  “We never would have been able to get into Jonal Park without her,” another stated.

  “Her and Rose,” corrected one.

  “Aye,” Hal sighed with a nod, extending his hand. “It’s an honor to meet the brother of so honorable and courageous a woman.”

  Deeply moved, Phillipe shook his hand. There were light, quick footsteps on the stairs, followed by heavier ones. Even as the French Roses turned, the English ones stood. Anna appeared as a voice behind her complained.

  “Could you at least slow down slightly? Or walk instead of run?”

  She started to laugh then saw Phillipe. Humor turned to joy which turned to sorrow.

  “Phillipe,” she whispered, running to him with her arms outstretched. “Mon frere.”

  Holding her close as he had after Rome, Phillipe rested his cheek on the top of her head as the man behind her appeared. Light brown eyes narrowed at the man holding his wife, for the rubies and topaz gleamed from his collarbone, not the base of his neck. Behind the Shield came another man with the double-roses at his throat. His eyes immediately widened.

  “Sir Owain?” he murmured.

  “This is Alicia’s brother,” the Shield replied calmly, although his expression strongly urged the man to release his wife.

  Daringly, Phillipe kissed the top of Anna’s head and tilted her chin up to see her face. Rare tears streaked her cheeks and filled her eyes.

  “Don’t cry for her,” he whispered. “She wouldn’t want that.”

  “I cry for me,” she told him. “Because I am without her and despite the joy and wonder in my life, I feel her loss with every beat of my heart.”

  “Tell me,” he requested, his gaze going from her to the two men who had followed her. The Shield, and the second man was probably the George mentioned. “Tell me about her last days.”

  “I will,” she promised, taking his hand and glancing at Hal. “Will you send up food and drink?”

  “To the Tapestry Room?” he protested, eyes wide.

  “I’m the Root,” she reminded him pertly. “If I want to bathe in the room, I can do so.”

  “Yes, Lady,” Hal murmured, still plainly shocked.

  Managing not to laugh, Phillipe let her pull him towards her husband.

  “Owain, this is –”

  The man was already extending his hand. “Alicia’s brother and therefore mine,” he stated firmly. His hand was taken and he was pulled into a rough embrace. “Her courage and her strength shall turn into legend that all English Roses know what valor is.”

  “Merci,” whispered Phillipe.

  “And this is George,” Anna introduced him, smiling at the stocky man. “If Owain is not with me, George is.”

  “Ah, to keep you out of trouble,” Phillipe teased, shaking the man’s hand.

  “You know her well,” grinned Owain.

  “I could tell you stories,” murmured the Gascon.

  “Hush,” laughed Anna, rolling her eyes. “Upstairs, all of you.”

  She started up the stairs and the three men followed her. Phillipe couldn’t resist.

  “Just keep her away from pigs.”

  “That wasn’t me,” she retorted, rounding the curve to the third level. “That was Armand.”

  “The Heir of my Root would never do anything so undignified,” Phillipe protested with a laugh.

  “Ah,” she scoffed.

  “I’m rather curious now,” George murmured. “An unseen part of our Lady.”

  “I was the youngest and simply trying to keep up with the boys,” she insisted.

  “Where was Alicia when you were playing with pigs?” asked her husband, glancing at the grinning Phillipe.

  “Training with the Gascon Roses,” answered Anna going into the room. “She wasn’t with me every moment.”

  “And those moments you probably got in trouble,” her husband guessed with a grin.

  Laughing, she winked at him. Following the Shield, Phillipe glanced around the room. Covering the walls were the unfurled tapestries of the most recent five generations of six branches. Nearest the door to the left was the black draped one of the lost Tuscany branch. A young woman was working on the Catalan branch, changing the black thread for Anna to gold. Near her, a young man bearing a resemblance to the Shield had stood at Anna’s entrance.

  “You’re not changing the thread yourself, Anna?” Phillipe teased.

  Owain choked back laughter, then roared at her groan. Clapping the Gascon on the shoulder, he winked at his wife. “He knows you, sweet.”

  “He caught me tossing a cloth into the middens when I was twelve,” she laughed, then tapped the woman on the shoulder. “Rose, this is Phillipe. Alicia’s brother.”

  Tears filled the grey eyes, turning them to liquid silver. Carefully putting the needle down, she stood. Hands extended, she walked to him.

  “Alicia was like my big sister,” she whispered, holding his hands. “She taught me to be a Rose. She taught me of courage and honor. Not just to speak the words but to live them.”

  “Merci,” whispered P
hillipe, gently squeezing her fingers. “It means much to know how she was loved.”

  “This is my cousin, Daffyd,” the Shield introduced.

  “I could see the family semblance,” he replied as they shook hands.

  Behind them, Hal and another man came in with trays of food and drink. The Gascon could see they still weren’t sure about so many being so near the tapestries. Anna sat down with the Shield at one end. Rose guided Phillipe to sit next to Anna. George closed the door behind the men before sitting down across from Anna.

  “Tell me,” he whispered as the plates were passed and ale poured.

  “I was riding with the Queen,” she started, voice soft. “Castana whinnied and I saw shadows rising in the trees. I jumped from my saddle to drag the queen from hers.”

  “You tackled the queen?” Phillipe stared.

  “Oui,” she nodded. “An arrow hit her saddle, then mine.”

  “So, was it an attack on the queen or you?” he wondered.

  “We’re not sure of that,” Owain grumbled.

  “But Walsingham is doing everything possible to determine,” Daffyd added.

  “I got the queen on the guard’s horse and he gave me his sword as they came from the trees,” Anna continued.

  “How many?” Phillipe asked.

  “Six,” she scowled.

  “Three too many,” he commented.

  “Aye,” she sighed. “I got two off their horses, but one got behind me and hit me on the head.”

  “I had told the queen a little of the Order,” Owain picked up the story, his hand covering his wife’s. “She sent Eoin, a cousin of Daffyd’s on his father’s side, to find myself and my brother Griffin.”

  “You were acting oddly for several moments before that,” Daffyd remembered, glancing at his older cousin. “And as we searched for her.”

  “Really?” Anna frowned.

  “Something to discuss when we reach Wales,” Owain shook his head. “We called the Roses as we ran to Whitehall.”

  George chuckled. “The guards thought we were invading. Forty some men with swords racing like madmen directly towards the queen.”