by Abby Gordon
“Granda?” she called out, walking past Anna’s Castana. “Granda, I’ve come home.”
Stunned, the old man got to his feet as she paused. The mare whinnied, her head nudging her forward.
“Rose?” he breathed. “My little Rose?”
He stepped forward, once, twice and then was running to her, arms outstretched. She flew to him as Geoffrey followed.
Watching his Rose reunited with her grandfather and brother, Daffyd paused next to Anna. None of the three spoke as Godfrey held her face in his hands, weeping as did both his grandchildren. Embracing them both, the old man tilted his head to the darkening sky overhead, his mouth moving in prayers of thanksgiving. The York Roses stared in astonishment at the granddaughter they’d presumed dead for nearly eleven years.
“Daffyd?” Anna said softly.
Turning toward her, Daffyd realized two things. She had dismounted, as had Owain, the Frenchmen and all their company. And, as his cousin’s wife fingers brushed his face, he realized he was crying as well.
“She told me as we rode that Alicia taught her that facing the truth of our lives was the hardest to do,” he whispered. “Yet it was the most important thing of all. For without that truth, we were living with an empty purpose.”
“Aye,” Anna agreed, nodding. “Heaven knows it took me the longest time to accept. I was rather stubborn about it.”
“I hope Rose isn’t as stubborn,” Daffyd teased lightly.
“No one is as stubborn as my Anna,” Owain murmured, coming up to them and putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder.
“She’s had to be,” Daffyd stated, smiling at the Root. “And thank we all God for that. In the past and now she’s married to you.”
“Owain says he is worried about what I might learn of his childhood mischief when we reach Berwyn,” Anna commented with a smile.
“He and Griffin were much older so I don’t know much about their trouble making,” Daffyd told her.
Owain chuckled. “So he claims now.”
Godfrey, Rose and Geoffrey turned to face the Root. Beyond them, Daffyd could still see amazed wonder on the faces of the Roses. Only thirty? There are nearly five times that many at Berwyn.
“Root Anna has returned,” Godfrey stated, going on one knee with his granddaughter on his left and his grandson on his right.
The faithful Roses of York followed him. Right fists thumped chests as they stated their loyalty. Anna stepped forward alone and returned the pledge, going to Godfrey. Raising him to his feet, she smiled up at her grandfather’s man.
“Captain of the York Roses, it is my honor to meet the man my mother Root Celeste told me so much of.”
“Root Celeste, she remembered us,” he murmured, tears welling in his eyes.
“And spoke often of you and others,” Anna stated firmly so all could hear. “She,” Daffyd could hear the emotion, so rarely shown, in her voice. “She missed York even as she loved Catalan. She was so anticipating her return.”
“And now you come to us,” Godfrey replied. “As Root William promised his daughter would.”
“I have come home,” Anna confirmed.
“And not alone,” noted Godfrey, his gaze going to the two men beyond her.
“That’s us,” Owain said quietly, stepping forward and going to his wife. Daffyd stayed at his side.
“This is my husband, Owain ap Tudor ap Llewelyn, Baron of Corwen and my Shield. His cousin, Daffyd ap Powyn ap Llewelyn.”
The younger man saw Godfrey’s eyes narrow before he glanced at the Root.
“I dare to presume this young man will be speaking to me soon?”
“Oh, I believe he shall,” she smiled, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at Daffyd who smiled at Rose. “There are many adventures to tell, but first we must secure York.”
“Indeed, Lady,” Godfrey agreed, his eyes widening as the Frenchmen and Leicester joined them. He brought up his right fist as did his grandson. “Root Raoul, Heir Etienne and Heir Armand, welcome to York.”
“Captain,” they greeted him.
“Lord Leicester, we are honored to have the most loyal of earls come to York,” Godfrey bowed slightly.
“I am honored to meet the most loyal of York Roses,” Dudley replied, a hand to his heart as he nodded in return.
“Root Anna, what shall we do first?” Godfrey asked her.
Daffyd saw her smile, the glint in her eyes and glanced at Owain. His cousin seemed aware of all his wife’s plan and simply smiled back. He seems to enjoy all the trouble she stirs up.
“First, Captain, we find and free Sir Edward Talbor. The Queen was most anxious that we ensure his well-being.”
“We must ensure the Queen’s peace and contentment,” the Captain nodded. “Anything else, my Root?”
“I want to stop a wedding.”
“I believe there is such an event at the Minster tomorrow morn,” he replied with a smile of anticipation.
“And then, my Captain, we shall gather information,” she stated.
“Information, Root Anna?”
Daffyd saw the bewilderment on the faces of the nearest Roses. They don’t know that she will do all they expect and more, but she will be careful.
“One must have information and proof before delivering final Justice to villains,” the Root stated in a hard voice that could be heard by all. “And the Justice of the Root has returned to York.”
Knowing the need for silence, the Roses of York grinned and raised their fists in agreement.
Hearing the boot heels on the stones for the first time in two days, Edward closed his eyes and prayed. My death approaches. Please, God. Let it be a swift death for me. And if You can find favor in anything I’ve done in my life, please, one last request. That Celeste can escape and find some happiness in life.
“Oi,” a rough voice suddenly called from the door. “Are you Sir Edward?”
Opening his eyes, Edward saw a strange man staring at him through the bars.
“Who wants to know?”
The man turned his head. “There’s someone here. Bring the keys and be quick about it.”
“Who are you?” Edward demanded, preparing himself to fight if he needed.
“I’m George,” came the reply as quick footsteps were accompanied by the jangling of the keys.
A familiar face appeared and Edward’s breath caught. Hope sprang in his heart for the first time since he’d last drawn his sword.
“Jasper? Is it truly you?”
“Aye, Ned,” the older knight grinned back at him as the key rattled in the lock. “They’ve got you well locked up, don’t they?”
The lilt in his mentor’s voice made Edward laugh despite the past weeks.
“For some reason my father doesn’t trust me and he thought I might try to escape his hospitality,” he answered, rattling the chains.
The door swung open. Jasper stepped into the cell as Edward pushed himself to his feet and stumbled. The other two men caught him before he crashed into the dirty rushes.
“Easy now,” murmured Jasper as George unlocked the shackles. “We’ve got you now.”
“Father and Edmund said they’d killed you,” Edward whispered, tears in his eyes as he understood the men were there and not part of a dream.
“They didn’t even send men after me,” the other man assured him.
“Then you got through to London?” Hope beat stronger. Perhaps God is giving us the miracle without my life in sacrifice. “The queen knows what they’re plotting?”
“Aye, lad,” George assured him as they helped him out of the cell. “She knows. She was told during a Privy Council meeting. That was a rare sight to see.”
With his arms about their shoulders, they pulled him along the shadows of the cellars and up the steps to the courtyard. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Edward gazed around and judged it to be perhaps an hour before dawn. It still took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the still brighter light than he’d been exposed to for more than two
weeks. His gaze went from Jasper’s smiling if stern countenance to George. Edward saw the strange badge at the newcomer’s throat.
“What is that?” he asked. “Who do you serve?”
“This?” George smiled proudly as a man started unlocking the chains at Edward’s wrists and ankles. “This is the symbol of the Root of Catalan and York. The double-rose.”
“Doub –” Edward stared. His breath caught in his heart. Catalan and York? Did I hear him say that? “Double rose? How is that possible?”
“Your Sir Jasper arrived in London nine days ago with a message for Lord Raoul’s man at the Queen’s court,” George explained. “However, he didn’t give the message to the man.”
“I don’t understand,” Edward frowned as they pulled him along the shadows. In the distance, he saw four mounted men and three extra horses.
“Root Raoul was at court.”
“The Norman Root?” Edward glanced at him. Had things become so bad that the Roots had decided to intervene personally? Had they taken the unheard of step of going to a monarch? “Here? In England?”
“Aye. With his heir. The heir to the Gascon Root arrived a bit late.” George shrugged. “He said there were storms and the Root of Gascony has a broken leg and could not come. So there are four Roots here now.”
“That’s three,” Edward corrected him as they reached the horses. “I don’t suppose you have any food or drink?”
“Miles, food and drink for Sir Edward,” George beckoned to a youth.
“Right here, sir,” he replied, handing him a small flask and a hunk of bread.
“Can you ride?” Jasper wondered as the younger man’s teeth bit down to tear a hunk of bread. Edward moaned slightly at the freshness. It was still warm from the oven. “We’ve a bit of a tight schedule to keep today.”
Edward tipped the flask and gulped twice to get as much as possible. “If it’s to see a Root and tell him what’s been happening in York, I can ride to hell and back.”
“That won’t be necessary,” his friend assured him, giving him a leg up onto the saddle before going to his own mount. “Eat as we go. Trust me, you’ll need to get used to it.”
“It would be three,” George agreed, continuing the conversation, also on his horse. He gestured into the trees. “However, the granddaughter of the Roots of York and Catalan has claimed her birthright. Or will,” he adjusted. “Once we join her.”
“York and Catalan are gone,” Edward replied, hoping they didn’t have to ride fast. He took a drink from the flask and closed his eyes as the cool water soothed his parched throat. “I read the reports myself.”
“No, lad,” George smiled as Edward took another bite. “The Lady Anna Elizabeta is the daughter of Don Rodrigo and the Lady Celeste. The last of both lines.”
Overcome, Edward nearly fell off his horse.
“Thank God,” he murmured. “Oh, thank merciful heavens. Everything has been worth it. All the risk, all the fear.” Taking a deep breath, he let his head fall back, eyes on the fading stars. “The Root has returned.”
“Aye, Sir Edward,” confirmed George, grinning broadly. “And she wants to see you quick as we can.”
“The Lady is not one to be kept waiting,” Jasper agreed.
The small group of men moved a trot along the path heading into the woods. Glancing back over his shoulder at the still silent manor, Edward turned towards Jasper.
“No alarm was raised,” he stated as they fell into walk side-by-side. George and Geoffrey were just ahead of them.
“What few guards there were are unconscious and tied up,” the knight replied.
“How did you know where they’d be holding me here and not at Talbor Manor?”
“The Root knew.” Jasper smiled. “And Geoffrey has been following Elder Talbor and Edmund since that day. How did he best you anyway?”
“Denby attacked me from behind,” Edward answered with a dark scowl. “There is no honor in my half-brother or those loyal to him.”
“Good news on that score,” Jasper told him. “Edmund is not your father’s son. He’s a bastard Richland of Jonal Park.”
At the names, Edward stiffened and turned stunned eyes to Jasper.
“Richland of Jonal Park? As in Thomas Richland who was here during the summer?”
“The same,” confirmed Jasper, a grim expression on his face.
“Then Westmoreland and Northumberland are not the only ones rebelling against the queen,” he whispered. God’s blood. Attack London from the east while the north is in revolt. By the time the Queen’s troops could defeat them, the north would be lost. “Have troops been sent? What is the plan?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jasper grinned. “The Richlands have been dealt with. I don’t think Edmund knows yet.”
“You’re not going to tell me the plans, are you?” Edward guessed.
“I think Lady Anna should have that pleasure,” replied Jasper with a chuckle.
“It’s real,” Edward murmured, still trying to believe it. “It’s not a dream. This is real?”
“It’s real,” a voice came from the shadows ahead. “God help us all.”
Edward reached for a sword he didn’t have as the man rode forward. Even in the gloom, the Yorkshire man could see the roses at the stranger’s collarbone.
“A Shield,” he managed, starting to believe what Jasper and George had been telling him. “A Root and a Shield?”
As the man drew nearer, riding between Edward and Jasper, a smile appeared. His right arm stretched out and clasped Edward’s forearm.
“Aye, Edward, a Root and a Shield,” rumbled a deep voice with a Welsh accent. “I’m Owain ap Llewellyn ap Tudor, Baron of Corwen. Come. Anna is waiting.” A smile twitched the corners of his mouth. “And she’s not feeling very patient.”
“Aye, my lord,” Edward agreed, nodding.
Around a curve, and he could see the small encampment. There were two smaller cook fires and a larger one in the center by the only tent. A black-clad woman emerged with two more women close behind her. Owain’s gelding trotted forward and he swung down next to her. In the firelight, Edward saw the double roses on her shoulder – rubies and topaz sparkled. Eagerly, he dismounted and rushed forward.
Before he’d taken five steps, he was surrounded by several men with drawn swords. Beyond the immediate circle, more men appeared, standing between him and the woman.
“Roses, stand easy,” called the woman.
Instantly, every blade was lowered. As the dark-haired woman approached, the Roses stepping aside as the waters had parted before Moses, Edward stared. He didn’t need to see the scarlet and gold roses on her shoulder. Or those on the collar bone of the man to her right. He’d grown up seeing portraits of the Root of York and his family. The Lady Anna had the clear, pale blue eyes of her mother and grandmother. And held herself the way Root William had in the last portrait of him, his wife and their three children.
“Sir Edward.”
Going to her, he dropped to his knees. “Lady Anna, I pledge you my sword, my loyalty, and my honor,” he vowed. “I shall live a true and noble life as befits a Rose of York. I shall ever uphold the laws of England, protect the weak and serve your house.”
A gentle hand touched his shoulder.
“Sir Edward, I pledge to live a good and noble life as befits the Root of York. I shall ask naught of you that would harm your honor. If our enemies strike you down, I shall avenge you.”
Staring up at her, Edward caught her hand and kissed the knuckles. She smiled.
“I imagine you’d like to wash and have a decent meal before we talk?” she suggested.
“Aye, Lady,” he agreed, gaining his feet. “I’m not in fit enough condition to be in the company of a lady, especially my Root.”
“Not at all,” she demurred. “Not when that condition is because of your loyalty to the Order and to the Queen. Sir Jasper gave us an idea of your size and it’s near to my brother by marriage.” Anna smiled. “Griffin
left some of his clothes when he sailed to France. I hope you don’t mind wearing another man’s clothing? Retrieving your own will need to wait a few hours.”
“Lady, if all I can do is wash the filth and stench in freezing water, I shall be delighted to wear whatever you bid me.”
“You’re very accommodating,” she replied, turning to a man to her left. “Daffyd?”
“Everything is ready, Root Anna.”
“I’ll leave you gentlemen to it then.”
Edward let Jasper and George guide him to the fire on the right. His head turned to keep his gaze on her, he stumbled, unable to take his eyes off the larger fire where Anna and Owain were joined by three men. Two wore the light blue rose of Normandy, while the third had the pale peach rose of Gascony on his shoulder.
“Four Roots,” he breathed. “Four. Here in York. Our Root has returned. She is alive.”
He was so stunned, he barely realized he’d been stripped until Jasper prodded him into the double barrel tub.
“Come on, then,” the knight prompted. “Unless you want to keep Root Anna waiting?”
“No, not at all.”
Eagerly, he climbed into the tub and snatched the brush and soap from George’s hands. The Londoner chuckled.
“I like this lad,” he commented, glancing at Jasper as Edward scrubbed himself.
“He’s a steady one,” returned Jasper. “More than most.”
Something in his friend’s voice had Edward turning his head.
“What is it? What are you not saying?”
“Not for me to say, Ned,” returned the older man. His gaze tracked the four Roots and the two lords with them. “Not that I’m certain of what is coming. Some plans are not for the likes of us.”
Dunking his head under the water, Edward came up and worked up a good lather with the soap before rubbing his scalp. Taking a deep breath, he went under again, working the suds free.
“What is she like? Our Root of York?” Edward asked when he came up again.
“Like nothing we could have expected,” Jasper told him.
“Did you know she was alive?” demanded Edward, washing himself again. Briefly, he wished he might be able to shave the beard but shrugged. Being clean mattered more. He couldn’t believe he’d taken his oath in such a condition. “Did you know and keep it from me?”