by Robyn Carr
Marcella turned and left the chamber. It was Anne’s alone now, for Minerva was dead and Divina was gone. She did not join the family for the evening meal, and nothing was brought to her. She refused to go to the common room to dine with her mother and sister and face their jealous glares. Soon, they seemed to forget her again, for no one noticed that Anne continued to wear her old gowns. And that her mind was far, far away--to a place where there could be fighting, where there could be no winners. A battle between Dylan and Brennan.
How alike they are, she thought. These two men who wanted her, though on opposite sides, were both so proud, so hard in their convictions and steadfast in their loyalties. Both had asked for forgiveness when they had to abandon her to serve their leaders and lend arms to what they believed in. She had once thought Dylan unconcerned with the choice of king, that he did not care about those loyalties chosen for him by his family. But it could not be so. It was that other feud, the one between the Giffords and deFraynes, that did not interest him. When it came to his king, he was steadfast. Otherwise, he would not have asked her forgiveness. His secret note was his admission that he had joined the cause and had, by necessity, sacrificed his promises to her.
She knew the history of her country quite well, and she had not the faintest idea who was right, whose right it was to wear the crown. She knew that if Brennan was killed in some battle, her mother and sister would feast on her gowns and trinkets and send her away to a convent without delay. From the convent Dylan could rescue her. But she could not find it in her heart to wish for Brennan’s death, even if that meant a chance to have Dylan. Brennan had become her only ally, and her generosity was sincere.
In her lonely room she sometimes longed for Trenton, but she knew his alliance would be less available as he grew older, practiced his knightly skills, and turned his gaze toward his future. She longed for the presence of her father, though he could not help her. Or Minerva, who had deflected Marcella’s blows so deftly through Anne’s childhood that it was not until the old nurse died that Anne realized how little Marcella loved her. Her tears for Minerva were painful as this final truth dawned.
She could not have her father or brother, bring her old nurse back, or recapture the moment when Dylan had urged her to flee now. She was alone with one defense: Brennan’s power. It was a defense she was destined to learn to use.
***
On the first day of February, as Anne descended to the common room to partake of the evening meal, she found her mother and sister sitting before the fire. They were laughing together when they looked her way, and she was instantly envious. “I see you have learned your lesson well,” Divina said with sarcasm. “If you wear your poorest threads, perhaps the earl will flog us all and purchase you even more.”
“That is not why she dresses in threadbare working tunics,” Marcella explained. “It is because she knows her place when the earl is not present to chastise us for her appearance. Even though I lend to his cause a husband, three sons, and their knights, it is only to bed my youngest that stirs his blood.”
Anne felt the diamond marriage ring as she clenched her fists. “I thought to promote York was your cause as well, madam.”
“Indeed, daughter, and my cause would be better served if the earl reckoned with all that this family can do to aid him. We send one hundred knights, a number to be proud of, but he hungers mostly for your proper attire, making no mention of our strong arms.”
“He is more concerned with the condition of poor Anne’s gown than with the men who might be killed in the fighting,” Divina said angrily, as if Anne were responsible for this war.
“Then why did the men go?” Anne asked. “Surely not because the earl wishes to marry me and clothe me well.”
“Surely not,” Marcella said. “Yet his gratitude and gifts fall to you, as though you have performed some great task just by passing before his eyes. How did you manage to trap him?”
“I never met him before he asked for me,” Anne cried defensively. “Please, I did nothing to slight either of you.”
“Perhaps the wench did no more than smile at him from Father’s pavilion ... just before she bared her bosom.”
Divina’s remark cut like a knife. Anne glanced at her sister. Divina wore a costly gown that had been specially sewn to draw the eyes of eligible men to her generous bosom and narrow waist, for those were her most enviable assets. Divina, but a younger version of their mother, had a narrow face, sharp nose, weak chin, and pale, thin hair. Her voluptuous shape drew attention away from plain looks, but soon Divina would be worse than plain--her mouth had already begun to turn down in disappointment and anger as their mother’s did.
“Shhh,” Marcella cautioned. “We mustn’t upset the future countess by calling her a wench. Please do not complain to the earl, my dear. Another lashing is not my desire.”
Anne knew the moment had come. Brennan had warned her. Though she could not understand their reasons, the fact was simple--her mother and sister resented her, possibly hated her. And they would victimize her and use her until she refused to allow it.
“It is a pity you hate me so well,” she said, her eyes dry and her posture proud. “You can be so cruel to me when Lord Forbes is absent that it will be impossible to be tricked by your courtesy when he returns. I thought I had a generous and forgiving heart until today, but I cannot find leniency now. I doubt I shall be able to forgive you.” She turned away and took two steps toward the stair. She turned back. “And you are correct – Lord Forbes treasures me far more than I deserve. I shall be the Countess of Ayliffe. I do hope you have no needs, or a desire to visit. I will find it difficult to succor this family that so despises me.”
They were silent as she slowly climbed the stairs. A young castlemaid was descending, and as she passed, Anne requested a tray of food and wine brought to her room. She had never before asked for any special treatment. It was plain that the only way she could exist among them was to play this role that had been assigned to her, a role she had never wanted.
She heard their whisperings as she approached her chamber. She pulled off her old gown and searched through her trunks for a new bedgown and chamber robe. She found satin slippers for her feet. And, although she had no appetite, she took her dinner in leisure at a small table before the fire. She did not rise as usual to her chores. The next day was Candlemas Day, and she dressed herself carefully in one of her new gowns.
Her mother came to her first, asking to be excused for her teasing remarks – asking Anne to remember her family. Anne could not possibly consider such hostile remarks as teasing, but excused her mother anyway. Marcella would be careful, if not kind, and she expected little more. Divina came next, appearing with reddened eyes and trembling lips. Her anguished apology came harder, but her fear of being abandoned by the earl’s influence was greater. Divina was terrified that she would be sent to live out her life with nuns.
As Anne went to mass she heard a murmur run through the keep and found many looking up to the sky and shielding their eyes. There appeared to be three suns shining there, and panicked castlefolk began to run to their huts to pray or murmur incantations, or to burn incense. Anne felt a shudder of horror run through her. A pain in her chest caused her to wonder if the devil had come to earth to finish them all for their wicked ways.
She fled to the chapel and knelt in prayer. O blessed Father in Heaven, Mother of God, though I have no right, I beg you keep them safe.
Both of them. She stayed on her knees through the morning, afraid to look again at the sky, afraid she would see it bleed.
Not very far away, Edward, the Duke of York, also saw the three suns. His soldiers were frightened. But he quickly shouted across the masses of panicked men that it was the sign of the Trinity, and God supported them and they would be victorious. He then led them into battle. And the blood was not in the sky, but on the land.
Chapter Five
The Gifford men returned to Raedelle with the high flush of victory on their c
heeks. Edward’s first battle for the crown took place at Mortimer’s Cross, only a day’s journey from the Gifford keep. The tower guard sent out the summons to open the gate to the returning soldiers when the standard of Gifford green was sighted. Their troop was reduced, but not by loss – they had left behind some of their best soldiers and knights with Ayliffe’s and Edward’s forces.
The women--Marcella, Divina, wives of knights, and servants--ran excitedly from the town and hall. Except for Anne – she lagged behind, looking at each man. Lord Gifford, who appeared tired and worn, but unhurt, slumped slightly in his saddle. Though he was just a bit older than Brennan, he appeared too old for such fighting, he seemed spent by the battle. Not so Sir Quentin, their mightiest, who sat high in his saddle, looking proud and elated. By his expression, he had finally proven himself in more than a contest. Bart, wearing a look of giddy excitement in addition to pride, must have also done well. But Trenton looked dazed. Perhaps, Anne thought, he is surprised that he survived.
While Anne stood back, Marcella and Divina ran to the men. She strained her eyes, but did not see Brennan. Behind the dismounting troop of two dozen knights, she noticed serfs or commoners seated on or lying across horses with their heads down. Prisoners. They were prisoners. Six of them, far to the rear of the troop. Ferris stood before her, looking down at her with distinct sadness in his eyes. She stared up at her father, afraid to breathe. Had it happened? “Brennan?” she asked in a whisper.
“In the best of health, child. A powerful soldier, Lord Forbes. Would that I had his strength, his cunning.”
“Papa, where is he? Why has he not come?”
“He is with Edward, lass. Where we should be.” Marcella’s joyful shriek rose from the crowd of knights and horses as she threw her arms around Bart’s neck and embraced him enthusiastically. Quentin, still astride, laughed at his mother’s excitement. Trenton looked away. Anne glanced around her father’s bulky form to see the object of such passionate joy.
“Edward was victorious?” she asked, still uncertain about what was happening all around her.
“Anne,” Ferris said, frowning. “For his life, do not look at him! For his life! For yours!”
Perplexed, she studied her father’s face, his anguished eyes.
“DeFraynes!” Marcella shouted with joy. “What better gift could you bring me?”
“Oh Father, no,” Anne said, beginning to tremble.
“Have a care, child. His life, yours, and mine, all rest on caution now. If you give any secret away, he will only die faster and we will suffer greatly.”
Terrified of her own feelings, Anne looked at the ground. She could feel the heat of blood rush to her head, covering her face to the roots of her hair – her heart began to pound. She clutched her shaking fingers together so that if anyone noticed her, they would think she hung her head in disappointment that her betrothed had not returned with the others. Fortunately, Marcella and the others were busy inspecting the catch. “What can be done?” Anne asked quietly.
“For now, very little. I have to think. I would not have allowed this much to happen, but I have little control over my sons now. And they knew how this would please their mother.”
“And Brennan?” she asked weakly.
Ferris shook his head. “Lord Forbes is not opposed to the taking of hostages among the defeated, but this odd, personal zeal offends him. Edward called to spare the common soldiers and execute the lords. Few enough of Henry’s nobles survived the battle. These men should have been restrained with Edward’s forces, not brought here as prizes of war.”
“Perhaps she will ransom them,” Anne said hopefully.
“That possibility, though remote, is why I have returned with my sons. We should not have left Lord Forbes. Certainly not for this farce.”
Anne warily looked up at her father. She felt the weakest hold on her control, but she longed to see Ferris’s expression. “I would have thought you would bare my back for this sin.”
A rueful smile spread across his face. “For the sin of being a woman? Of being good in your heart?” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “There is very little I can still do, Anne. Do not let anyone know what you feel. Not now. They do not understand.”
“But you do, Father. How can it be so?”
“Do not question small mercies, I have never been in favor of senseless plunder. Fair battle will see me fight, otherwise will be dealt with otherwise. How did I fail to teach this to my sons?”
“Why do you have no better control over them? Why do they do this for madam?” she asked.
“Perhaps my sons think they do this thing for all of us, Anne,” he said quietly. “When your mother has her mind set ...” He paused for a moment. “Anne, hear me, though this is difficult for you now. Lord Forbes is your single hope. He is the only one who can keep you safe. If, through some miracle, young Dylan can escape with his life, it is still only Lord Forbes who can save you. Do you understand?”
She nodded weakly. For her sake, for Dylan’s, the only possible answer was marriage to the earl.
“Will Edward win his crown?” she asked.
“Almost certainly. King Henry is held hostage and Edward’s armies are invincible.”
***
Raedelle squires had begun to pull destriers from the returning knights, and a large group of laughing, ecstatic people who had been gathered around the captive hostages started to disperse. Bart passed by with two badly injured men wearing the deFrayne blue livery embroidered with red roses for the Lancaster house. These two unfortunates were lying on their bellies, across saddleless horses, their dangling hands tied at the wrists, stained with blood. He paused before his father and sister, his chin proudly jutted out, his chest full and high. Ferris squeezed Anne’s arm as if to give strength. Bart grasped one captive man by the hair to lift his head and show his face. It was the eldest deFrayne, Sir Wayland, either dead or near dead. Bart smiled as if to take credit for finally besting the man whose back he had attacked at the tournament. He gave a sharp nod, then passed on.
“Put the deFraynes in the keep, tied, and stoutly locked in,” Marcella instructed.
Next came Quentin, pulling the reins of two palfreys. These two captured soldiers were obviously of the deFrayne troop, but unknown to Anne She could not tell if they were hurt. Their hands were tied behind them and they balanced precariously on the horses’ backs. Quentin, though pleased, did not gloat. “Worry not, sister, your betrothed fared the battle well. He will arrive soon. He received the duke’s honors for his skills.”
She nodded at Quentin, attempting to smile, if not for his good wishes, then as a distraction. No one must suspect that the capture of these men distressed her.
Finally, Trenton, still a fuzzy-faced youth younger than Dylan by several years, pulled his two palfreys past. Dylan kept his eyes focused straight ahead. A large purple lump disfigured his forehead – dried blood from his nose stained his growth of blond beard. He did not so much as glance her way, and she felt Ferris squeeze her arm again. “Trenton?” she asked quietly. “You are unhurt?”
“Aye,” he said, pausing before her. She tried to see Dylan from the corner of her eye while she focused on Trenton’s face. “Lord Forbes was magnificent, Anne. He was commended by Edward and will hold a high place in his court. You would have been proud.” He paused and a deep blush rose to his cheeks. “He lent me no small amount of aid.”
“I am glad you were not hurt.”
Trenton nodded, obviously relieved himself, then pulled the palfreys past. She glanced quickly at Dylan’s hard eyes. She saw that blood from some wound stained his chausses on the thighs, marked his tied hands, and soiled his tunic. It was dark and old. Whatever had bled had stopped. His blue eyes glittered with hatred, his jaw muscles tensed as he ground his teeth. She saw his courage, and the futility of it all.
Marcella followed the palfreys, snapping her orders. The captured soldiers could be tied in the stable, separated from their young lords by a substanti
al distance, for surely they would attempt to rescue the deFraynes. Wayland and Dylan were to be kept in the castle, tied, behind locked doors, guarded. A different sentry would be posted every several hours. Then they would be executed, quartered, and sent in pieces to Heathwick Castle. Anne listened and shuddered. Marcella laughed happily. Divina followed her mother, also laughing.
Soon the servants and others had also departed the courtyard and the steeds had been led away for currying. She was alone with her father.
“Wayland will disappoint them,” Ferris said. “He will not live through the night. Wayland’s injuries were earned in fair battle, despite what Bart would imply with his cocky behavior. He was unable to even that score, though he would let everyone think he had.”
“All the same,” Anne said, “Wayland’s head will ride a pike somewhere. Here?”
“Not if Lord Forbes arrives. It was a grave and pitiful moment--Lord Forbes’s passion was needed elsewhere and he had not the time to take these Gifford brats to task for this. He was consumed with Edward and his needs. He did, however, tell them sternly that he considered this act to be foolhardy and wasteful.”
“It has long been said that the deFraynes would do this to us. Papa, I must know if it is so, truly so. Would the deFrayne men take our young Trenton, bind him, execute him ...” She couldn’t finish. She couldn’t even bear the thought of what they planned for Dylan.
“Aye, they would have, under the command of their father, Lord deFrayne,” Ferris replied, his eyes focused on some distant point straight ahead, not looking at his daughter. “No more. Lord deFrayne fell in battle, and Lady Daphne has the respect of all her sons. ‘Tis not in her nature to commit such atrocities.”
“Do you know her?”
“I did once, before she wed Lord deFrayne. Although she was bidden to support her husband’s decisions, whether or not she approved, unless she has greatly changed, she would not sanction an act such as this.” He turned and looked at Anne. “Your courage and wisdom will be tested as never before. Do not doubt me when I tell you that no other member of this family will take pity on you as I do. Do not let them know your heart. It will go worse for Dylan ... and you.”