Justice of the Root

by Abby Gordon

  The queen had been quite kind. As had Lady Lettys and Lady Walsingham. Most of the rest had spurned her if the queen or Anna weren’t in the room. Wrapping her arms around her thin waist, Mary rested her forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the wind blew, and the rain beat steadily.

  Part of her wished desperately that Jonal Park had not been destroyed. As wretched as her life had been there, it had been familiar. She quite understood why Owain and Griffin had done it. Anna had been taken during an attack on the queen. By – Mary shivered, closing her eyes. By her own half-brothers. Anna had been stripped, tied up in the tower and whipped. Forced to take care of her, Mary had overheard her eldest brother Thomas order that she was to be starved. Unable to be a part of that, Mary had smuggled in what she could, not just after her brothers had whipped or beaten their captive, but whenever they left the manor.

  Somehow, they had found out. The last time they’d come in and caught her, fortunately after Anna had finished everything. Unfortunately, they had taken their fury out on her. They’d cut her clothes from her until she was only in her shift, tied her to the same iron rings in the wall and whipped her. Anna had pleaded with them not to, but they’d laughed at her, made crude references to a ‘Welsh whelp’, Owain Mary now knew, and forced her to watch. Mary had kept her gaze on the pale blue eyes filled with tears. And had found a strength in them.

  After, persuading her maid to help her tend to the lashings, Mary had collapsed in her bed, dressed but reluctant to leave what she thought was the safety of her room. The day had passed. Her maid had brought her a tray but hadn’t said a word. Mary trembled, wondering what her brothers had planned for her. What would they do now to Anna? The three men had repeatedly stated their intent to rape her and toss her from the tower if anyone tried to rescue her. Had Mary’s efforts pushed them to that? Distraught with fear for her new friend, and exhausted from her own treatment, Mary had worked herself into a near fever and collapsed on her bed as dark fell.

  No, no, no. I must stop this thinking of the past. The three of them are dead. They cannot harm me now. Anna and Owain will protect me. As Griffin said. Oh, Griffin! Why did Walsingham send you away? Why didn’t he even tell Anna? Chewing her bottom lip, Mary considered that. In addition to training her to defend herself and use a knife, Rose had explained the basics to her. The Order of the Rose had been founded by seven knights during the Second Crusade in response to the Sons of Scion, an extreme offshoot of the Knights Templar, that somehow survived the eradication of its founding order. While the Sons of Scion had mostly been in France and the German States, they had spread to England as the Root of York gained influence over the Crown and realm. Her brothers had been part of the Sons of Scion.

  Anna was the last living member of the branches of York and Catalan. Catalan. Mary closed her eyes as she imagined what Rose and others had described. Betrayed, the compound of the Catalan Root had fallen to the Sons of Scion who had joined with Spanish and Papal troops. The support staff and their families had been slaughtered. The Root crucified and forced to watch and his family, down to the babies, had been burned at the stake. The Sons of Scion had then hunted and killed every Catalan member they could find. The last, Marco, who had been in Tripoli during the massacre, had been Heir to Catalan. Returning to Europe, he had hunted the Primaries of Scion and their heirs, plus Spanish captains.

  A Gascon Rose had sent word that he thought he’d seen Marco in Sicily and he was headed to Rome. Somehow, Anna had eluded all attempts to restrain her and ridden from Rouen to Rome where her cousin had been captured trying to assassinate the Pope. Condemned for witchcraft and conspiracy against the Pope, he had been sentenced to burn at the stake. As the Heirs to Gascony and Normandy, with a hundred Roses behind them, prepared to storm the square in a hopeless attempt to save Marco, Anna had appeared on a roof. First sending an arrow with a parchment with a gold rose into her cousin’s shoulder, she had gotten his attention. He had shouted their family name, and she had returned the call, before sending a second arrow to his heart.

  To keep the enemy from that victory. Mary had not needed any of the Roses to explain that to her. Having seen the rest of her family burned alive, Mary could well imagine the woman’s determination not to lose another that way. To kill a cousin that way. To survive everything she has. And yet, she still loves. And is loved. Not just the adoration of the double-roses, but of a man like Sir Owain ap Llewellyn ap Tudor of Berwyn, newly made Baron of Corwen. What would it be like to have a man like him?

  Sighing, Mary shook her head. I thought Griffin was a man like his brother. Somewhere inside, he is. Which makes it so difficult to understand why he deceived Anna? And why would Walsingham not tell her anything about it? That realization startled her. She’d learned enough about the Order to know that what the spymaster had done could get him killed by any Rose who realized the depth of his deception and disrespect to the Root. Well, the Queen would not like that.

  “Mary?” Owain’s voice called in the corridor.

  Hope warred with fear in her heart, Mary left the alcove and saw him standing outside the Queen’s still open door. He smiled.

  “The queen has said you may leave with Anna and me and stay at Berwyn until Griffin returns.”

  Relief filled her as the queen called him.

  “Thank her Majesty for me,” Mary said quickly. “I am most grateful for her kindness and generosity.”

  “I will,” he nodded. “Now, run tell Anna.”

  “I shall,” she grinned, feeling light-hearted for the first time since Griffin’s announcement.

  As they left the chambers of the Root, a young blonde woman came towards them.

  “Mary,” Lady Anna greeted her with a welcome smile. “All settled then?”

  The dark blue eyes sparkled as she nodded. “Her majesty has graciously said I may leave court with you and Sir Owain and stay with you at Berwyn until Griffin returns.”

  “Excellent,” beamed Anna, gesturing her to walk between the Heirs. “However, we are not going to Berwyn just yet. The Privy Council has started?”

  “It has, Lady Anna,” came the confirmation as she took her place. “Her Majesty seemed in a good mood.”

  “Not for long,” murmured Anna, glancing at Lord Raoul to her right. “Now, Jasper, I have questions for you.”

  “Hopefully I have the answers you want,” he replied.

  “Not the answers I want,” she shook her head. “The truth. Always give me the truth.”

  “Aye, Lady,” Jasper nodded, feeling hope.

  Walking along the Root, she lives!, Jasper sipped the wine, poured by an Heir. Can this be happening?

  “Who do you trust in York?” was her first.

  “Sir Godfrey,” he answered immediately. “He was captain of the Roses under Root William. A month after the Elders appointed by Root William had all died, their sons told him they were taking their fathers’ positions and he was being replaced as captain. He was threatened with the rapes of his wife and daughters and the death of them and his sons if he did aught they didn’t like.”

  “All of the current Elders did this?” she asked sharply, glancing to her right at Root Raoul.

  “They did, Lady Anna,” Jasper nodded. "Elder Gray told him. He has been their leader in the years since."

  “You trust only Sir Godfrey?” Root Raoul pressed. “Anyone else?”

  “His grandson, Geoffrey. The lad is only fifteen, but he has brought word several times to London to Jacques,” he replied, looking to the Norman for confirmation.

  “That is true, Lord,” Jacques added quickly, just behind Lord Etienne. “Geoffrey is sharp lad.”

  “He brought me word before I left that Elder Talbor –”

  “They are Elders no more,” Root Anna stated in a cold flat voice.

  “Talbor had denied Edward’s accusations of treason and accused his son in return,” Jasper corrected.

  “Would Talbor confine Edward or execute him quickly?” was her next worry.
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  “He might be inclined to kill him but his supposed bastard Edmund,” Jasper shook his head. “He likes to taunt people. Edmund will want Edward alive to know Celeste is another man’s wife.”

  “You don’t believe this Edmund is Talbor’s bastard,” she said, prompting for more information.

  “No, my lady. The day Edmund arrived and Edward was told he was to move from his chambers and lose the company, Sir Godfrey stated that the winter before Edward’s birth it was so cold and full of storms that few traveled. Talbor was not one of the few. And the night before, some of his men were in the Black Swan Inn. They called him Edmund Rich.”

  “Lady Anna?” The light voice behind them spoke in a startled but urgent voice.

  “What is it, Mary?” The Root glanced behind her at the slender blonde between the Heirs.

  “Edmund Rich,” she repeated, her eyes on Jasper. “That’s what they called him?”

  “Aye, lady,” he frowned, his gaze going behind her to the young woman next to the man the Root had introduced as her husband’s cousin Daffyd. Gray eyes. It can’t be her. It’s impossible. “That’s what I said.”

  Mary’s eyes were on Jasper. “Eyes as blue as mine? Hair the color of a chestnut’s shell? A thin scar from his left eye to his jaw?”

  At each description, Jasper felt his blood chill. Slowly he nodded. “Aye, that’s the man.”

  “Lady Anna, Edmund Rich is a bastard,” Mary said firmly. “But he is a bastard of Jonal Park, not York.”

  Both Roots stopped immediately and turned to face her.

  “You’re certain of this?” Raoul asked.

  “He’s the bastard of my father’s brother,” Mary told him. “Edmund went north just before Easter and did not return to Jonal Park. He had a company of fifty men with him. Thomas traveled this summer to see him and came back well pleased.”

  “Fifty men,” murmured Anna. “Sir Jasper, how many Roses in York did you say there are?”

  “That I am certain of?” he clarified. “Thirty, Lady Anna. And there are twice the bastard’s number in York beyond his company that I suspect are in with him.”

  Root Anna stood quietly, a slight frown on her forehead. “Daffyd, have you heard anything over the Seven Roses?”

  “The papers recovered from Jonal Park are mostly in code. Danker has made little progress with them,” he answered readily. “But given the numbers there and the explosion, plus what Lady Mary said about the stores in the hidden tunnels…” his voice trailed off, his hands spreading before him.

  Nodding, Root Anna lifted her chin to meet the gaze of the Norman lord. “I’m rather glad you stayed, oncle.”

  “Repayment for Burgundy,” he murmured with a smile.

  “I still owe you much more,” she replied warmly, resuming her pace. “So, Sir Jasper, if Edmund insists on keeping Edward alive, where would they most likely put him?”

  “Put him?” Jasper frowned. “At Talbor Manor of course.”

  “Too many who might free him would be there,” Anna countered. “Where would he be isolated and forgotten?”

  “Ah,” he understood her meaning. “True. The manor of the Root has been mostly abandoned except for a few old servants since Grannie Alinor –”

  “Excuse me?” she snapped out, whirling on him.

  “I thought you knew,” Jasper whispered. “Our grandmothers were sisters.”

  “What?” She stepped back and Raoul’s hands caught her shoulders even as his eyes narrowed at the York Rose.

  He nodded, smiling a little. “Ursula and I –”

  Comprehension flared in her eyes as she reached for him. “You were there? With her when word of Catalan came?”

  Not hiding his grief, Jasper nodded as he held her hand. “I was. I carried her to her room as we waited for the physician. I didn’t leave her until—”

  “Ah, ma petite,” murmured Raoul, kissing her temple. “You still have family.”

  “I do,” Anna whispered, tears filling her eyes. She held his hands, gently squeezing his fingers. “We’ll have much to talk about, cousin Jasper.”

  Smiling, Jasper nodded, making his gaze stay on her face. That she would so openly claim him held promise, but did that mean she didn’t know the rest? Jasper decided to wait and see what happened. Nothing could distract from stopping the rebellion and saving Edward.

  As they continued down the halls, Jasper thought there was a lightness to Root Anna’s expression. It means that much to her to have a relative? It’s not even a close one, but it is as Godfrey told Edward. In the darkest of times, family, however we come to have them, get us through. If not, we find common purpose in the Rose.

  Pausing at the guarded door, Jasper listened as the Roots persuaded the Chamberlain to admit them. Understanding more of what Lord Etienne meant when he’d told him to eat and drink while he could, the York Rose put the cup down and swiftly ate the bread and cheese. The Heirs nodded and grinned at him.

  “Wait until you meet the Shield,” Etienne told him. “Between them they can defeat anything in their path.”

  “The Shield?” Jasper breathed, his eyes flying to his Root. “Lady? You have a Shield?”

  The Chamberlain had agreed to go to the queen with their request and Anna turned to him with a smile.

  “Aye, Sir Jasper,” she replied. “My husband. Sir Owain ap Llewellyn ap Tudor, Baron of Corwen.”

  “A Root and Shield,” he murmured, eyes briefly closing in prayer. “Prayers answered, indeed.”

  “Her Majesty will see you,” the chamberlain intoned, his expression indicating his distaste for interrupting a privy meeting.

  Waiting behind the others, Jasper quickly found the Shield – a large man in sober greens and browns with the double-roses on his collarbone. Next to a man in black Jasper knew. Walsingham is here. Excellent. Now to note his reaction at being caught in his duplicity.

  The queen’s reaction to the rebellion was what he had hoped for during the long ride. Fury and immediate action demanded from her lord lieutenant. What startled Jasper was Walsingham’s recalcitrance towards the Root and the way she gave him no choice in the matter. That was reassuring on one level, but concerning on a deeper, private level.

  Rose stepped forward at the Root’s glance and received her instructions. This is not right. This is not what was supposed to happen. The Shield’s reaction to the Root’s determination to reach York so swiftly surprised him. Has she been ill? Injured?

  As the privy meeting floundered to an end, members walked about murmuring to each other while at the head of the table near the queen, several men discussed what to do. Jasper kept to the background, letting Jacques describe the communication between York and the Roots of France. His gaze on the spymaster caught every expression that flitted across his face before he managed to hide it.

  “And who is this man, this weary traveler?” the queen finally asked, gesturing at him. “My thanks to you, sir, for bringing this news so swiftly to us.”

  Having no choice but to step forward, Jasper left the doorway and went to the queen, removing his cap and kneeling before her. His ears caught Walsingham’s hiss.

  “I am Sir Jasper of York, majesty,” he told her. “Sir Edward Talbor risked much to provide a distraction that I could get away with the message.”

  “Our thanks will certainly be to him once Lady Anna secures his freedom,” the Queen decided. “It is reassuring to know that in times of betrayal, there are good and loyal Englishmen still in the realm.”

  “Always, majesty,” he vowed, lifting his head and meeting her assessing gaze. “There are many loyal to you in York, but they are afraid and have been led astray by those who deceived them.”

  “Not to worry, Sir Jasper,” the queen assured him. “I trust Lady Anna to set things right.”

  Jasper smiled. “I have that faith as well, majesty.”

  “Indeed. Now, why do you keep glancing at Sir Walsingham?”

  His eyes widened as Lady Anna chuckled. “The queen m
isses little, Sir Jasper. I would like to know that as well.”

  Getting to his feet, Jasper faced the spymaster. “Well, Francis?” he asked softly. “Who would you want to judge this? Queen or Root?”

  “Queen or Root?” both women echoed in demanding tones.

  Elizabeth Tudor had caught the whispers between Owain and Walsingham before Anna and Raoul had been announced. Tension there. Walsingham does not like having an actual Root, for all the effort he made to see her safely here.

  Everyone had seen his reaction when she demanded to know how many Roses he needed in London. Ah, my friend, you have become a bit too lofty and the Lady Root will not stand for that. Better to be reduced slightly by her than by me though. You I do not think she will kill unless I give permission.

  Now, at Sir Jasper’s question, the queen faced the decision of whose word came first.

  “Lady Anna?”

  “Majesty.” While very much still the Root, Anna’s tone and expression made clear to all that she would follow the Queen’s word without question.

  Ah, the strides you’ve made since that first walk in the garden. Confidence without arrogance. A fine line to walk if one is not queen.

  “I’ll let you hear the gentlemen speak first. I trust you to tell me all when it’s over. And that all will still be alive,” the queen stated.

  Anna’s lips twitched as she nodded. “As you command, Majesty. May we use the next room?”

  “Of course. Sir Mark,” the queen glanced at her senior guard. “Clear the outside room.”

  “Thank you, majesty,” Anna replied, as Sir Mark nodded and left. “Sir Francis? Cousin?”

  “Cousin?” the queen’s head turned. “How is this?”

  “Our grandmothers were sisters,” Anna explained with a smile. “I’m not as alone as I thought.”

  The queen nodded even as she caught the concern on Walsingham’s expression before he smoothed his features. Owain touched his wife’s sleeve.