by Abby Gordon
Edward winced at the chill in her eyes. John pulled back, as if he suspected he’d pushed too far.
“I came with proof,” she stated. “And proof has been gathered for years by those I trust with my life.” Her icy blue eyes went to the Norman Root and two Heirs then scanned the congregation. “The Queen has given her permission that Justice in York regarding Roses may be rendered by me. That Justice shall be done to certain people. Whether others are included, depends on the next days. Have no fear, Roses. If you were truly trying to be a good and faithful Rose of York, then I shall understand, to a point,” she raised a hand in caution. “But, if you were eagerly currying favor and violating the code of the Order, then I will not be so understanding. Again, if you have knowledge, proof of activities since my grandfather’s time, then bring them to the manor of the Root. All families of the Elders will be brought and kept there as well. I want you where I can put my hands on you if necessary,” she muttered the last, with a glance at Edward and John.
She strode down the steps to walk down the center aisle with her husband at her side. The Roots and several double-roses surrounded them. Edward cuffed John’s shoulder.
“Idiot,” he growled. “She was in a fairly excellent mood until you started questioning her.”
“No,” Miles corrected. “She was in an excellent mood until you didn’t follow her orders to stay still in your seat.” He glanced at John. “I believe she told you to bring your sisters to the manor of the Root. I would follow her command. Quickly.”
“And what am I to do?” Edward wondered, feeling out of place at asking someone younger than he for direction.
“I believe she said she wanted families of the Elders at the manor. I suggest that you follow that. If you know of any family members not here, tell a double Rose where we can find them.”
“Meggie,” whispered Celeste, supported by Joan, joined them.
“Who is she?” Miles inquired.
“Our cousin. Uncle Charles cast her out for disgracing the family,” John scowled at his sister.
“I don’t believe any of that,” Edward protested. “Not considering who it was who spoke against her.”
“And that would be?” Miles asked.
“Edmund the bastard,” answered Edward.
“Ah,” the Londoner nodded. “Where is Meggie?”
“We do not know,” John insisted, his voice rising in frustration. “She shamed the family and was cast out weeks ago.”
“We’ve had nothing to do with her,” Joan confirmed. “At our father’s orders.”
“She’s probably dead anyway,” John said. “The weather has been quite cold at night.”
Snorting, Miles shook his head. “Oh, I’m not sure that will go over well at all with the Lady. She puts a high value on family taking care of each other.”
“I thought I saw her three weeks ago,” Celeste spoke up. “In the market square. She disappeared before I could be sure.”
“Well, come along, all of you,” Miles sighed. “The Lady can sort this out.” He frowned as he peered closer at Celeste’s face. “Who struck you?”
“My father,” she whispered. “Two days ago, when I voiced doubts about wedding Edmund.”
Miles grunted but only gestured for them to proceed down the aisle to where other family members were being gathered. Edward tried to get to Celeste, but she didn’t lift her head at his whisper. John and Joan heard him and sent withering glances his direction. Grinding his back teeth, he followed the family members outside and found his horse.
Chapter Twenty-One
Caught up in her own struggles, Celeste paid little attention to what happened around her. She mounted the mare she was told, stayed with the group and dismounted after they entered the walled courtyard of the Root’s manor. The entire time, she fretted with whether to tell the Root what she’d found in her father’s office. She had little doubt that the proof the Root already possessed would condemn all four Elders to their deaths. What worried Celeste was what else might be in the journals. Could she live with the guilt if she told of the hiding place and more were executed? No, the guilt would not be mine. I had no involvement in anything written. Certainly not with anything that happened when I was a child. Or Catalan.
Catalan. Wondering how the Root, then not quite ten, had survived, Celeste glanced about in search of the Lady. Many of those who had served Root William had gathered in the yard. Tears in their eyes they stretched their hands out to her. Sir Godfrey went to her side as she approached them. Celeste and the York Roses were startled when they knelt before her.
“You’ve returned,” one old man wept through his smile. “So many of us prayed for a miracle and, God be praised, you were delivered.”
Lady Anna glanced at Godfrey who smiled at the man. “This is David, Root Anna. He was the head stableman under Root William.”
“I know of you, David,” she exclaimed, reaching for the man with both hands and raising him up. “My mother spoke of you. You put her on her first pony. You taught her to ride.”
David’s tears flowed faster. “Lady Celeste was an accomplished rider. I was so devastated when—”
He broke down and the Root embraced him. “We shall return the Roses of York to as they were under my grandfather,” she told them, raising her voice so all could hear her. “I cannot do it alone. Will you help me?”
“Aye,” the old ones shouted, raising their right fists and thumping them on their chests.
“Death to the Rose,” shouted a woman, pushing through suddenly, shoving David to the side.
The attack was unexpected and even as the Shield moved, the woman’s blade slashed across the scarlet and gold silk of the Root’s stomacher. David tackled her as Root Anna stumbled into Godfrey. The other old ones surged forward, anger on their faces. Celeste was certain they would tear the woman’s limbs from her body and clutched at Joan’s hand.
“Don’t harm her,” Anna’s voice commanded.
The old ones halted, amazing Celeste at their immediate obedience. All but David turned and stared as Anna straightened from Godfrey’s hold.
“No blood,” someone breathed. “How is this possible?”
“Because the Queen gave me a birthday present,” Anna replied, knuckles rapping at her stomach.
The two metallic thunks could be heard in the stillness. Two double-roses gripped the woman and David backed away as the Root approached. Celeste thought the older double-rose had been called George, who had taken the Elders from the Minster. The younger, who had spoken with them in the sanctuary, bore a resemblance but seemed too old to be a son.
“George, pull her left sleeve down. Bare her shoulder,” ordered Anna.
Without hesitation, George ripped the cloth. There were several gasps from those near enough to see.
“What is it?” Joan demanded in the silence. “I can’t see.”
“The crown of thorns,” someone nearer told them.
“Sons of Scion,” spat a double-rose near the families. “If you don’t want to sully your blade, Root Anna, the double-roses can take care of her. And any others who may have hidden in the walls.”
“My thanks, Dickon,” she smiled at him. “Would you lead ten men to check the left shoulder of all not wearing the double-roses?”
“Aye, Root Anna,” he agreed readily.
“Don’t harm them,” she cautioned with a knowing glance. “They may give us some information.”
“Not willingly,” he replied.
“No, but my lord Shield has assisted Walsingham and may know certain methods of persuasion.”
At her words, three men bolted for the gate. Three others rushed along the wall. Two women grabbed horses and tried to mount.
“Gate and wall cut them down,” Root Anna commanded. “Seize the women.”
Immediately, the double-roses nearest the gate drew their swords. They surrounded the three and killed them. Seeing that, as five double-roses drew their bows, the trio on the wall jumped over, their
screams cut short by rapid thudding. The women were grabbed and bound before being dragged to kneel with the attacker.
“Who are you?” Root Anna asked in a quiet voice Celeste could barely hear.
The three simply glared at her. Silence filled the courtyard for several heartbeats. Celeste held her breath wondering if the Root would draw her blade. How often had her father regaled them at dinner with tales of how the Roots could execute whomever they pleased on whatever charge? Or no charge at all? And these three, well, at least one, certainly had given the Root cause.
“George, are there more cells? Away from the men?”
“No, Lady Anna,” he replied, then he grinned at her. “But I saw a room near the cesspit. It has no windows and a door we could lock.”
The Shield chuckled. “George, you are vicious in my lady’s service.”
Unrepentant, the man’s grin widened at the Root’s expression of suppressed merriment.
“Put them in there,” she told him. “Dickon, select your men. David, will you go with him to ensure no one is missed?” She turned to the older man.
“I would be honored to assist the Rose,” he replied, bowing slightly before going to join the double-rose.
Celeste made up her mind and went to the man. Miles had told them to go to the nearest double-rose, and this Dickon was it.
“Beg pardon,” she said, ignoring John’s shocked call to return to them. “But I need to see the Root.”
The man gave her frown, glanced at the group she’d come from and seemed to recognize her as one of the suspected families.
“So do many people, miss,” he told her, gesturing to a nearby man. “Wait your turn.”
“It’s about Catalan,” she spoke quickly in a low voice before they could pull her away. “Please.”
“What would you know about it?” Dickon demanded, eyes narrowed.
“I know where information is. Root Anna said we were to come forward. Miles told us to find a double-rose—”
“Problem, Dickon?” Miles asked, joining them. “Mistress Black,” he greeted her. “Or is it Mistress Talbor?”
“It does not matter now,” she shook her head, ignoring his taunt. “I know where information on Catalan is.”
That erased the taunting from his expression. “I’ll take her, Dickon,” he stated calmly. “You go on with the search. I don’t know if I hope you find more Scion or not.”
“I’d like to take my fist to a few,” Dickon muttered.
“Well, they might try to run,” winked Miles, making the other man’s face brighten. “This way,” he told Celeste, gesturing after the path the Roots and others had taken to enter the main hall of the manor. “You better not be making anything up,” he warned her. “Especially about Catalan.”
“Considering the few words I read and what they might mean, I almost wish I had imagined it all,” she told him.
“Celeste,” Edward called, echoed by her brother.
“They seem concerned about you,” Miles observed, glancing over his shoulder although she did not.
“Where was their concern this past fortnight and more?” she wondered, avoiding a steaming pile of horse shit. “Edward accuses my father and uncle of treason but gives me no proof? Then threatens me with what Edmund might do to me if I became his wife? And my brother has been little better since Edmund arrived in York.”
“Is it true what they were saying?” Miles asked as they entered the main hall.
They could see the Roots and their party going up the steps to the next floor.
“What who were saying?” she asked.
“Sir Edward and your brother in the Minster. About your cousin and Edmund.”
As they neared the winding stairs, Celeste nodded. “My uncle was told something by Edmund that caused him to cast out my cousin Meggie the day her older sister’s body was found. But I had trouble believing what my father told me that night. I still do.”
“Something else to tell Lady Anna,” Miles suggested.
“She has so much to deal with,” Celeste protested, shaking her head. “I daren’t bother her with family troubles.”
“If it concerns Edmund Richland, it is more than—”
“What?” Celeste gasped. “What name did you give him?”
“Richland,” Miles repeated, frowning at her.
“Of Jonal Park? The eldest brother Thomas was here this summer.”
“You are going to be talking to the Root for quite a while,” decided Miles as they reached the top of the stairs and he saw a man with drawn sword standing outside a closed door. “Sir Daffyd, she says she knows where information about Catalan is. And more about Edmund and the Richlands.”
With a nod, the man knocked twice on the door, waited until apparently bidden to open it and spoke quietly to those in the room. Immediately he widened it, gesturing for her to enter. The door closed behind her and Celeste swallowed.
Standing before her were two Roots, two Heirs and a Shield.
“What would you know about Catalan?” Root Anna questioned her, moving to take the middle seat in the half-circle table.
“When I was a child, I was trying to hide from my aunt. I know it was wrong, that she was trying to raise me to be a lady and take care of the house, but that day, I didn’t want to listen to her. I hid in my father’s office, under the desk. She opened the door to look but didn’t see me. I was about to leave when I heard him returning. I knew I couldn’t go under the desk, so I hid in the curtains.” Trembling she took a deep breath. “He entered with my uncle. They spoke several moments. Elder Gray joined them, handing my father a pack of letters. I saw my father put them in a hiding place behind the tapestry.”
“Behind the tapestry?” echoed the Root of Normandy, exchanging a glance with the Root of York.
“Yes, my lord,” she nodded. “I remembered after Edward came to me and told me that our fathers, that the Elders were involved in treason. I couldn’t believe him. That angered him and he insisted it was true. That Sir Godfrey and Sir Jasper had suspected and now knew it to be true.”
“What proof did he give you?” Root Anna inquired. “Did you ask for any?”
“I did ask, my lady,” Celeste answered. “He seemed to think I should just take his word. His word accusing my father and uncle of treason? How could I? I tried to tell him that perhaps Sir Godfrey acted out of bitterness towards our fathers as they had removed him from his post as captain. I asked if that was not his reasoning in believing what I was certain were lies. That he acted out of spite toward his father and half-brother.”
“And his reaction?” York questioned.
“He insisted it was true.”
“Why do you now believe it to be true? Because of what happened today?” wondered Anna.
“Not because of today, my lady. I told Edward that my father had been urging me to break with him and marry Edmund. That enraged him further and he – he said vile things to me. About what my wedding night with Edmund would be like. He wanted to frighten me, and he did.”
“I’m sure he did that,” agreed Anna with a nod. “I don’t imagine any woman of sense would want to be with any Richland.”
Recalling all that Edmund had done to women in York, including her cousins, Celeste closed her eyes a moment and regained herself. “Then my father entered, and I told him I would marry Edmund. But then I did what my aunt told me no well-brought up lady did. I began to question my father. I thought about what I knew had happened, what Edward had told me.”
“I disagree with your aunt’s assessment of a well-brought up lady,” Root Anna commented.
“I knew I could get in trouble, but I felt compelled to know the truth. To find out for myself. The next day I went to Talbor manor to see Edward. I needed to speak with him, find out more. Geoffrey, Sir Godfrey’s grandson, would tell me nothing. I returned the next day and Sir Godfrey was with him. I tried to make it clear that we were not conspiring together, hoping he would find a way to see me, tell me more, but he
didn’t, and I was unable to leave Black Manor again. Until this morning, I had not seen Edward. More than two weeks without word and he humiliates me, shames me like that before all York. What kind of man does that to a woman he once claimed to love?” she demanded, anger coming to the fore. “Puts her through something like that? How could a man do that?”
The Shield coughed and glanced at his wife. Root Anna gave him a smile that made Celeste wonder how the Root of York had married a Welshman.
“What kind indeed,” murmured the Root, before focusing again on Celeste. “The hiding place in your father’s office?”
Nodding, Celeste continued. “As I could not find Edward nor anyone who would speak to me who wasn’t with Edmund and that I might trust, I thought more of what he’d said and remembered that day. Two days later, when my father had gone to a meeting of the Elders, I went into his office. I looked in the niche. There are dated journals and two small chests. I opened one from ten years ago. All I read was about him and Uncle Charles returning from Catalan—”
“Where are these journals?” the Root’s voice was hard, deep.
“In my father’s office behind the tapestry.”
“In a niche set in the wall?”
“Aye, my lady,” Celeste confirmed.
The Root of York sighed and glanced at the Root of Normandy.
“I feel like such a fool,” she murmured.
“You are new to being a Root,” he told her. “I feel like a bigger and older fool.”
Smiling, Anna called out. “Daffyd?”
Immediately the door opened. “Aye, lady?”
“Take Celeste to her father’s house. She needs to retrieve valuable information. You’ll need assistance. Armed assistance. Take at least three double-roses. Are Sir Jasper and Sir Godfrey about?”
“We’re here, Root Anna,” answered Godfrey’s voice, appearing an instant later.
“Excellent,” she smiled. “Etienne, Armand, you would know where to look, would you mind going to the former homes of the other three Elders with Sir Jasper and Sir Godfrey?”
The Heirs grinned. “Be delighted,” Etienne replied.