by Abby Gordon
“You’re safe now, Meggie,” she promised before glancing at Phillipe. “Bring her inside. Eoin, will you get Root Raoul, please? I will need his counsel.”
While that surprised Phillipe, as he carried Meggie to a stool by the fire, he understood. Root Anna would make the final decision, but there were things she was still learning. That she wanted the guidance of another Root was a maturity he didn’t think the York Roses would appreciate at first. Then again, the York Roses seem to have lost all sense of what being a Rose means. A few have tried to keep the true path, but the rest have been seriously led astray. As Meggie realized.
Root Anna poured a small cup of wine and brought it to the shivering Meggie.
“Here, drink,” she murmured, sitting in the chair nearest to her. “Catch your breath.”
Nodding Meggie sipped, then reached for the woman. “The Elders,” she whispered. “They’re plotting rebellion with the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland. They—”
“Sh,” Root Anna murmured with a smile. “That’s why I’m here. Sir Edward sent Sir Jasper to London.”
The Root caught the cup before it slipped from Meggie’s suddenly lax fingers.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed, swaying forward and back. “Then you’ve arrested them for treason?”
“They are secure in the cells where they chained Sir Edward for a fortnight,” Root Anna told her. “As is Edmund.”
Meggie trembled so much she nearly fell of the stool. Phillipe knelt next to her to hold her there. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
“They’ve told their lies,” she whispered. “No matter what any say, there are those who will believe them. Even with what I know.”
“And what do you know, Meggie?” Root Anna questioned, returning the cup. “Wait,” she held up a hand. “First, I know it will be difficult, but I must know what Edmund did to you when your father abandoned you to him.”
Pale and stricken, Meggie stared at her. Phillipe glanced at the Shield whose gaze went from his wife to the silent woman.
“Meggie, would it be easier if the Shield and Phillipe left us?” Root Anna suggested gently. “I would not embarrass you before them.”
“He didn’t rape me,” Meggie blurted out. “He tried. As my parents and uncle left us, I started praying as he tore my clothes. He threw me on the desk, but when he opened his cod piece, he…” She frowned at the Root and shook her head. “He couldn’t. I kept praying for the angels to save me and he couldn’t seem to—I didn’t understand what was happening.”
Phillipe exchanged an amused glance with the Shield and both men chuckled. Root Anna scowled at them.
“Would one of you gentlemen care to explain?” she demanded crossly.
“The angels did indeed protect her,” Owain told her. “Edmund was unable to perform as a man might have wanted.”
She blinked at him, glanced at Phillipe’s grin then understood. “Well, that’s a blessing at least,” she muttered, resting her hand on Meggie’s knee. “What did he do though?”
“He started slapping and punching me, telling me to stop praying,” she replied in a voice that trembled nearly as much as her body. “He made me do things to… to him. When he still couldn’t, couldn’t be a man,” she stumbled over the words. “He slapped me so hard my nose bled. He said I wasn’t a real woman because I didn’t know what to do the way Julia did.”
“Oh, no,” Root Anna told her, fingers squeezing gently. “Trust me, Meggie. He was not a real man. A real man does not treat a woman that way.”
“A real man doesn’t treat you that way,” Meggie shook her head. “In York, that is how men feel they can act.”
“Not any longer,” came the flat statement.
Phillipe saw the hope flare in Meggie’s eyes, before she saddened.
“He told me things as he hit me,” she whispered. “He meant to kill me but Elder Talbor said that if he did, it would look suspicious. That if both Julia and I died people would wonder and word might spread.”
“So Talbor came up with the plan to discredit you?” the Shield asked.
“He did, sir,” she nodded. “He said that that way, if I told anyone what Edmund had said to me, no one would believe me.”
“Tell me,” Root Anna ordered in a slightly hard voice. “What did he tell you that Talbor didn’t want believed if you spoke of them?”
“About the perversions of the Elders,” Meggie whispered. “I had heard whispers especially about Elder Gray, but I thought they were the words of jealous bitter people.”
“What perversions?”
“They wanted young girls,” she whispered. “Or women who looked very young. Edmund,” she swallowed. “He told me things I still can’t believe.”
“What things, Meggie?”
Dark blue eyes met the Root’s steady eyes. “He said my father and uncle were sent by Elder Gray to Catalan. Because they would know Celeste and be sure she was dead.”
Phillipe inhaled sharply but the Root’s gaze never wavered.
“What else did he say, Meggie?” she asked quietly. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“My father and uncle,” the soft voice shook then steadied. “When the Primary asked where Anna Elizabeta was, no one stepped forward or spoke up. The Primary pulled a man forward and slit his throat. A second was brought forward and the knife put to him. Two girls stepped forward claiming to be Anna Elizabeta.”
“What?” gasped the Root. “Two?”
It was the first time Phillipe had seen her so shaken since Alicia had arrived with her after the massacre.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, covering her clenched hands on her lap. “He said two girls?”
“Yes,” Meggie nodded, certainty in her eyes as she lifted her face to him. “Because my father was given the smaller and my uncle the taller.”
“Given?” he echoed, scarcely able to breathe.
“They raped them. The smaller fought. She had a dagger hidden on her and stabbed my father in the arm. I’ve seen the scar. He hit her on the head with a rock and killed her.”
The Root burst from her chair, turned completely around and then reached for her husband with her hands outstretched.
“Owain,” she moaned.
“Anna? What is it?” the Shield murmured. “What does that mean?”
“Both of them,” she breathed as he held her close. “Not just Marianna. Maria as well.”
Phillipe moaned and whispered in French. Meggie’s gaze went from one to another.
“What? What is it?”
“My cousins,” the Root answered from the shelter of her husband’s embrace. “I wasn’t at the compound. My cousins took my place.”
“The courage of those two,” Phillipe shook his head in wonder. “And their parents to not claim them.”
“Grandpapa never told me,” Anna whispered. “Never said a word.” She looked from her husband to Phillipe. “Why? Why tell me only of Marianna? Why not tell me of Maria as well?”
The men shook their heads, unable to understand it either.
“What did he tell you, sweetheart?” Owain asked her gently. “I know you were in shock from everything, but perhaps he told you something you’ve forgotten? Something you didn’t realize?”
“He told me where the secrets were. He told me of the shelters and hidden rooms,” Anna stated. “He never mentioned Maria except how bravely she and Pedro fought…” her voice trailed off. “Oh, dear God.”
Her knees gave out and Owain quickly moved her to the chair. “What? What is it?”
Instead of answering, Anna reached for Meggie and took her hand. “Did Edmund say how he knew of this?”
“From his cousin who was told by a Primary so he could use it to make the Elders do what the Scions wanted,” Meggie replied.
“A Primary? In England?” Anna asked sharply.
“He didn’t say where he was from,” answered Meggie shaking her head.
“Anna, what
are you thinking?” Owain asked.
There was a knock on the door. “Come,” Anna called, turning her head.
Root Raoul appeared. Standing, she went to him and they began speaking rapidly. Phillipe recognized the language of the Roots and Primaries. Owain shook his head and crouched before Meggie.
“Your courage and strength have been remarkable,” he told her. “What you have told the Root is invaluable.”
“What are they discussing?” wondered Meggie.
“We’ll find out,” he smiled, eyes going to his wife as the Roots stood by the windows.
“Sir Owain,” Phillipe murmured. “You don’t suppose?”
The Shield turned a somber gaze to the Gascon Rose. “As the Lady has stated, we need more information before we can even begin to suppose.”
“Heir Etienne will need to be tied down,” he murmured.
“Aye,” agreed Owain as noise came from the stairs before Eoin could close the door.
“Lady Anna,” Celeste called out before she appeared, her arms full. “We found—” The satchels fell to the floor. “Meggie? Oh, praise God,” she cried out, running to her cousin. Holding her close, she rocked back and forth. “We were looking for you as we rode. Geoffrey went with us. We were hoping that if you saw us, you’d come out, but we couldn’t find you.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, Meggie, I feared you were dead.”
“You didn’t believe what they said?” Meggie whispered, clinging to her.
“No. I could have believed it of Julia, but not you. Never you.” Celeste lifted her head, staring at the face so similar. “You sensed what he was like from the beginning and knew to be afraid of him. And the Richland. I should have believed you this summer.”
“This summer?” Root Anna inquired.
“Aye, Lady Anna,” Celeste confirmed, turning to her but keeping an arm around her cousin. “Thomas Richland and squires of the north came with little warning for what my father called a feast fit for Duke Norfolk.”
“The Richlands have attached themselves to Norfolk at court,” Sir Daffyd commented from the doorway, the fallen bags in his hands.
Root Anna and Shield Owain inhaled sharply and looked at each other.
“The evidence we would need for that,” she murmured.
“If it exists,” her husband replied quietly. “He is a cunning and cautious man.”
“Even the most cunning and cautious can become complacent,” she observed with a smile. “It takes time though. Which means we must first ensure the Queen is protected at all times.”
“And we break the Sons of Scion codes,” he finished with a sigh. “Of all the times for Walsingham to send Griffin off.”
His wife scowled. “Perhaps I should run about the garden? Phillipe found Meggie there. Who knows what I might find?”
“What are you finding?” Etienne questioned, entering with Armand as they carried in chests.
Anna swallowed and glanced at Raoul whose uncertain expression surprised those who knew him.
“Daffyd, please ensure we are not disturbed,” Root Anna requested.
“Of course, my Root,” he replied, stepping into the hall with Eoin and closing the door.
“What is it?” Celeste whispered, suddenly glancing at Meggie. “What are you doing here, Meggie?”
“Celeste, where is the journal you read that drove you to talk to me?” Root Anna asked.
“Heir Etienne has it in his chest,” she replied. “I put it in last because I thought you’d want to see it first.”
“Anna,” the Norman Heir frowned as she went to him. “What is it? What have you learned?”
“Open the chest,” she answered.
Setting it at the end of the table, he flipped the buckles of the straps and opened it. Anna picked up the top two, glanced at the spines and put the one in her left hand back. Opening it, she turned the pages quickly, eyes at the top of the parchment. Inhaling, she suddenly clenched her jaw and looked at Root Raoul.
“Charles and I have returned from Catalan,” she read.
“What?” demanded Armand, putting his burden down and coming to her other side.
“The gullible Catalan Root let us in and all the Spanish and Papal soldiers dressed as English,” she continued. “Celeste was there, wearing the cursed scarlet rose on her shoulder. Her husband stood beside her, wearing double roses on his collarbone. She made him her Shield! Much good it did her although he was difficult to subdue. Several Spanish fell under his sword. Finally, after nearly half our numbers were dead or wounded, we had the Catalan Root and his family. The Primaries delighted in…” she gagged as the Heirs put supportive hands on her shoulders. “They castrated him,” she wept, closing her eyes at the thought.
Raoul choked back his emotions. “Continue,” he told her, voice rough.
“Then their soldiers built a crude cross and bound him to it so he would be forced to watch his branch die around him and he would be the last. The problem was in making sure we had the girl. No one would come forward when we asked where Anna Elizabeta was. So, the Primary of Perpignan grabbed a man crudely dressed and slit his throat. He grabbed a second and two girls stepped forward. Both insisted they were Anna Elizabeta. No one in the family said a word. One with brown eyes seemed too young. The other with green eyes seemed too old. Charles took the younger as he likes those. They don’t usually fight too much. This one did. She had a hidden knife and stabbed him in the arm. He grabbed a rock and bashed it against her head.”
Anna looked across the room at Meggie who moaned in Celeste’s arms.
“I took the one with green eyes. She spat at me, cursed at me and said that one day justice would be hers. Laughing, I slapped her and gave her to Perpignan.” Trembling, Anna put the book on the table. “He took her with him that day.”
For a long moment, no one moved. Even as Etienne turned and stepped toward the door, Anna and Armand spun and tackled him, dragging him to the floor. He fought like a wild man even as his father and the Shield tried to separate the trio. Phillipe stood before the Black cousins to protect them from the fray. Hearing the noise, Daffyd opened the door and roared at the sight. Charging in, he pulled Etienne off Anna, getting knocked into the wall for his trouble. But it gave Armand the chance to twist one of Etienne’s arms behind him and pin him to the floor facedown.
Raoul knelt on the floor, whispering to his son. “Don’t, my son. Don’t do this.”
“She was mine. She is mine, Papa,” he shouted.
“After so long, what are the chances she is alive?” Raoul countered.
“If Grandpapa had told me, I could have told you and –” Anna wept in her husband's arms.
“We could have rescued her,” Etienne finished in a growl.
“Odds are she was not alive when they left the valley,” Raoul told his son quietly. “Why would a Primary keep her alive?”
“Because he thought she was me,” Anna breathed, head whipping around. “As long as everyone thought she was me, she was valuable.”
Etienne stared at her. “And now that you’ve come forward as the Root –”
Armand finished. “When word reaches the Primary, they’ll kill her.”
“Or try to ransom her,” Owain added quietly.
“That is possible,” Raoul agreed. His anger and grief as deep as the younger three, the elder Root managed to maintain more control. “You cannot charge into his chateau, swords drawn, to rescue her,” he told them.
“Why not?” Anna demanded, head turning and glaring at him.
“You want me to give you a reason?” Owain asked her mildly.
Disgruntled, she sighed. Etienne muttered in several languages.
“You need more information than what the Elder wrote,” his father spoke.
“He won’t give us anything,” Armand commented. “Not once he realizes we know.”
“Then we make him tell us,” Etienne snarled.
“He won’t,” Celeste spoke softly. “Unless you guarantee hi
s life. His position.”
“That I cannot do,” Anna sighed. “And he will know that as well.”
Listening, putting pieces together, Celeste realized that her father had been at the Catalan massacre. That two girls claimed to be Anna. Both were raped, one was killed and the other taken. The Heirs would plan a rescue no matter the risk. But they knew her father wouldn’t tell them anything else because he knew what it meant to them. And the York Root had no intention of letting him live.
Nausea overwhelmed her and she rushed out of the room.
“Celeste?” Meggie called.
“I’ll go after her,” Root Anna decided. “I need some air and a walk.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“This is quite impossible and improper,” ranted Joan. “I won’t stand for being treated like this.”
Alerted by one of the double-roses, Mary stood at the door with Rose at her side. On a cot in a corner, Ellie Gray huddled with her children while the newly arrived and bewildered Anelle Black sat next to the fire, her eyes dull from shock. John Black stood near the narrow window as far from the others as he could get. He clearly was insulted that he’d been put in a room with women and children.
“You haven’t been mistreated,” Mary said in a mild tone.
“I’m being confined like a common criminal,” Joan shrieked at her, causing Ellie to wince and the little girl to sob in fear. Joan whirled on the woman. “Oh, shut that whining brat up, will you?”
“You sound more like the brat,” Rose commented. “Geoff, is she always like this?” she asked her brother.
“Oh, it can get much worse,” he answered with a grin. “She’s known for her tantrums. They’re so bad that her father wasn’t able to get a single man in the shire to agree to marry her. No matter her dowry. That and she’s lazy. Everyone knows she refuses to help Celeste run the manor in anyway. Joan is absolutely spoiled rotten to the core.”
“Why you evil, trickster little idiot!” Joan screeched, charging across the room.
Rose held up her skirts and kicked out as soon as Joan was near, her foot landing in her stomach. Wailing, the girl rolled on the floor as if she’d been cut in two.