The Everlasting Covenant

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The Everlasting Covenant Page 27

by Robyn Carr

“Nay, my lord. I swore to see it through and I will. I said I would be the king’s good secret man, and so I shall be. I vow this is only the beginning and there will not be a peaceful settlement until Warwick is dead.” There was a long silent pause. Anne imagined them looking at each other, their eyes deeply locked. “Tell my king that I remain loyal in his service.”

  “His brave and loyal man, sir. I will be called to arms for His Majesty while you sit close to Warwick’s forces. Should our plans go awry, see to Ayliffe, I beg you.”

  Again there was silence. “You do not know what you ask, my lord. I cannot--”

  “There are few whom I would trust,” Brennan said.

  There was a soft chuckle from Dylan. “You seem confident that I will live long enough. I will take it as a good sign, but one thing, my lord--tell at least one person that you have made this request of me, lest your ten thousand cut me down as I near the gate. Ayliffe, I know, is strong for the crown, and my reputation is set in another direction.”

  “Aye. We remember Towton and Saint Albans well. Rest assured, you would be admitted. Thank you, Dylan. I will carry your message to Edward’s household.”

  She imagined them shaking hands, but had she looked through a small crack in the door Anne would have seen something far more startling. The Earl of Ayliffe opened his arms and the men embraced fiercely, like committed friends who might be parting for the last time. She heard the chamber door open for Dylan’s departure.

  “My lord, I cannot leave without telling you this. It pains me deep and I pray you believe I have no personal stake in the news. I saw only a small faction of these rebels as they gathered for Warwick. Your son, Brainard Forbes, rides with Redesdale against the king.” Again there was a long silence. “I’m sorry.” Dylan’s voice came in a breath.

  “In a way,” Brennan said quietly, “he has been driven to it.” There was a soft rueful laugh. “How can I pity myself? The king’s own brother betrays him. Such is the world – our labor is painful, our rewards are few. Ride hard, Dylan. Go with God.”

  The chamber door was hardly closed when Anne came out of her small writing closet and ran into Brennan’s arms. He saw the path of tears on her cheeks. “You heard?”

  She nodded solemnly. “What does it mean, Brennan?”

  “It means, my dear Anne, that my king and my beloved Ayliffe are in severe jeopardy. I imagine we will see battle soon.”

  “Brennan, you must not go. Send troops, money, anything, but do not go to battle. Your life is more valuable than Ayliffe, than the king’s cause.”

  “Are you afraid for me, my love? I am flattered, but my first call is to protect my country and my home. All will be well, given time and good fortune.” He looked down into her frightened eyes. “At least you do not betray me. I will reward that loyalty someday.”

  She tore her gaze away. She could not let him see the conflict shining there.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After delivering the message about Robin of Redesdale to King Edward, Brennan Forbes quickly moved his family to the stout castle of Ayliffe and returned to his king with a large troop of men to join with Edward’s forces to drive back the rebels. Lord Forbes expected the confrontation to be brief and glorious for the crown, but he was never more wrong. Rebel forces, small and scattered factions of various armies that had been gathering steam over a year, surprised King Edward’s armies. There were executions and captives were taken: King Edward was a prisoner of George Neville, Archbishop of York.

  King Edward was not long unseated. Warwick had managed to eliminate some of his enemies, but in the end he could not raise an army without a king. Therefore, he grudgingly released his captive. Edward was yet king, but the countryside was in turmoil. It was far from over. There was more war to come.

  The respite after the king’s release was brief, and Lord Forbes was now fully conscious of the magnitude of the conflict. Upon his return to Ayliffe for replenished numbers of soldiers, horses, and ordnance, he made serious changes in his own household that he hoped could help Ayliffe sustain a long and difficult struggle. He sent Sloan to acquaintances in Calais, hopeful that the deputy there was King Edward’s man and would not fall in with Warwick. The much-used ruse of getting heirs away from their property brought the enormity of the trouble home to Anne – Sloan was being protected so as not to be killed in an overthrow and for the eventuality of returning and avenging his family’s loyalties. Male heirs were often executed; women were merely fined and ousted.

  Next, Brennan knew he would have to take many of his best men with him, leaving Sir Clifton as the highest ranking officer to remain to protect Ayliffe’s walls. Sir Cliff was brought into Brennan’s confidence and was instructed to beware of Brainard and keep the countess safe. The knight, proud of his new post, did not seem to realize he was the only one left; rather, he thought the earl had honored him.

  Through the fall and winter Brennan only visited his home. He and his army stayed mostly on the road, quelling this uprising in the south, that rioting in the north. He came home for new troops and all too brief rest for himself. Each time he returned, Anne begged him not to leave again.

  The summer of 1470 was hot and steaming. Apprehension and lack of information caused the tension to mount throughout Ayliffe’s walls. There were few whose confidence and courage could be considered dependable. Down to the last washwoman there were short tempers and nervous titters. The watchmen strained their eyes to survey the land accurately, and everything was in readiness to defend Ayliffe against a possible attack.

  The Countess of Ayliffe and her chief officer, Sir Clifton, moved through this frightening summer with a fortitude that neither of them quite felt. Anne often surveyed the troops with Sir Clifton in her husband’s stead. Her mind was turned away from household chores and toward castle duties. She began to manage her husband’s accounts, for she could read and cipher as well as he, and it was essential that Ayliffe remain the strong hold it had always been. As for Sir Clifton, he answered to no one but the countess. Together, through long days and many late-night conferences, they ruled the great demesne.

  She touched his arm once, partly out of respect and also because she was grateful to him. “I would be lost without you, Sir Cliff.”

  She did not seem to notice the hot light in his eyes, the trembling her meager touch caused. “By the grace of a most merciful God, my lady, you will never be lost.”

  Anne and Sir Clifton sustained themselves on rumors brought by monks and traveling merchants. They could not verify the truth without opening Ayliffe’s gates and sending out riders, a tactic that had been strictly forbidden by Lord Forbes. In mid-October of 1470 a messenger arrived, a remnant of the Ayliffe troop that had left with Brennan months before, to bring them the blackest news. Lord Forbes had ridden north with the king to drive back a rebel group, and during this sojourn, Warwick had landed with an army. The king and his ministers and advisers, among others, had been chased and had escaped by leaving the country.

  “Lord Forbes instructed us to ride hard for Ayliffe and bring you the word to keep the castle. He was alive when I last saw him, my lady.”

  Anne swooned against Sir Clifton, but she did not faint. She steadied herself with the help of Clifton’s strong and eager arm. For Brennan to lose and flee into exile after a year of fighting was almost more than she could bear. She feared she would never see her husband alive again.

  “And the devil, Warwick?” she asked.

  “He has taken mad King Henry from the tower and crowned him.”

  Anne knew in her heart that Ayliffe would be next. If Warwick had the power of the crown, he would quickly take all the greater holdings into his possession. Ayliffe sat northeast of London, close enough so that any troop of Warwick’s that was dispatched could reach them in two days, yet she felt as though she lived thousands of leagues away from the action. There were stories of riots all over the country, sometimes London was said to be in celebration because of the restoration of the pitiful, seni
le king, sometimes it was said that the city was being torn apart by rebels.

  Letters came slowly to Ayliffe. Quentin was killed while fighting for Edward’s cause in the south, leaving no heir. Bart took Raedelle on King Henry’s and Warwick’s behalf, finally close to a chance for quick power. And Trenton, Ayliffe’s and Edward’s loyal vassal still, pledged to unseat his own brother. Marcella wrote from Heathwick, her tone accusatory – Anne had turned brother against brother by making Trenton her protector. Anne shook her head in confusion. She had only meted out her mother’s many requests. Though she felt little loyalty for Bart and, indeed, was often worried by his ambition and lack of honor, there was still a deep ache in her heart as she dispatched one hundred of her best soldiers to aid Trenton.

  It was November, a year after their struggle began, when word finally came that Brennan was alive, safely out of England and with Edward at the Hague. She had not even seen him since June. She greatly feared she would never hear his comforting voice again. When she was not walking the wall, commanding the men with Sir Clifton, her head was often bent in prayer. For her people she kept up a courageous and positive front, but there were two people who knew she was often afraid and wept for her husband’s safety: Sir Clifton and her friend Jane. To trust Jane to this degree was common for Anne after so many years, but it was only the wars and the fighting that brought her this close to Sir Cliff. She began to trust him, she certainly had no other man she could depend on as much. She did not, however, consider there could be danger in this trust. Sir Clifton struggled to conceal the fact that he was deeply in love with his lady, his countess. He tried to appear duty bound, but he prayed that Lord Forbes would not return to Ayliffe.

  As the winter winds began to descend on the countryside and doors were frozen shut, a troop bearing the banner for King Henry gathered outside Ayliffe’s gates. The residents and guards panicked, certain the day had finally come – Warwick would claim Ayliffe for King Henry. If Ayliffe, with her enormous garrison of warriors and powerful ordnance, was pulled into Warwick’s cause against their own lord, Brennan Forbes might never recover his home.

  Sir Clifton forbade his men to fire until a herald was heard. Anne thought he was acting out of resourcefulness and prudence, she was confident of his skill as a knight and his loyalty to Ayliffe. She did not know that he secretly hoped that Lord Forbes would be prevented from ever reclaiming his earldom. The gates were opened to a lone rider.

  Anne listened to the messenger, and a slow smile grew on her lips. How did God deliver her, in the darkest of days, after all she had done in defiance? The dispatched troop, sent from London to read the charges against King Edward and announce the restoration of King Henry, was led by the Duke of Clarence’s loyal servant, Lord deFrayne.

  She tugged on Clifton’s sleeve and whispered in his ear. A flicker of disappointment that Anne misread as suspicion crossed the knight’s eyes. “Open the gates,” she shouted. “Lord deFrayne brings word from Parliament. There will be no battle today.”

  She watched him enter her demesne. Her heart lurched like a ship on a stormy sea. She had not seen him in over three years. Over two years ago she had heard his voice in confidence with her husband. No one, not even Jane, knew that her tears and prayers were often for Dylan.

  He was more handsome than ever. His face was strong, his chin firm and held high, his arms had grown mighty. As a lad he had caused her heart to sail because of his good looks, but as a man, two and thirty years now, he was like a god. As he dismounted she filled her eyes with the sight of his powerful thighs, his magnificent hands, his steady and determined stride as he approached her.

  He unscrolled the vellum document and read the words, surely Warwick’s words, delivering the message to the people of England that Edward had been declared a bastard and deposed. King Henry would rule. She heard the moans of disappointment all around her as Dylan read, turning full circle to address them all. Behind him, still astride, were only forty of his men.

  Dylan finished reading the missive he had delivered and faced the Countess of Ayliffe. He held the parchment high, his hands locked into the top. He looked deeply into her eyes with a vague smile playing on his lips and, in a dramatic gesture, he slowly tore the announcement from Parliament down the middle, rending it into two equal pieces. Anne, understanding perfectly, grasped her skirts on each side and bowed low before Dylan. From behind him, his own men led a cheer for Edward that was quickly joined by the Ayliffe troops. Dylan’s days as a spy were nearly over. After sending word to the Earl of Warwick that he met no resistance at Ayliffe, he would hold the mighty estate until the return of Lord Forbes ... and his king, Edward.

  The Ayliffe gates were slammed closed behind Dylan’s troop and the bridge was raised. Dylan extended his hand to Sir Clifton. “Will you give this troop rest and food, sir? It appears we will be unable to return to London soon.”

  Sir Clifton was astounded. He not only had seen Dylan on more than one occasion, but he had heard a great deal about the man. Dylan’s prowess in tournaments and in battle were well known. “But ... I thought ... that is, my lord, you are said to be ... I thought you were for Lancaster?”

  Dylan smiled brightly. “As you were meant to believe, sir. How else do you think King Edward would know his brother’s and Warwick’s moves so well?”

  “You are ...?”

  “Surely my secret is safe here?” Dylan asked. “Until His Majesty comes home?”

  Sir Clifton smiled in understanding. He was not too disappointed in the news. He did not wish to serve Warwick. Indeed, he felt privy to a royal conspiracy and was excited by the prospect. This was not Lord Forbes, come home to take Anne away from him. This was a young warrior sneaking behind the mighty Warwick’s back. And there remained the chance that the earl would never return. Sir Clifton hoped for a good, long winter ... with his countess. “Welcome, my lord. We are your grateful hosts.”

  In January Brainard rode on Ayliffe, carrying the Lancaster banner. He was met by an impressive emissary in Lord deFrayne, who rode out to greet him with a substantial troop at his back. Brainard was informed that the castle was already held for Lancaster and that the king’s strictest orders were that no one, friend or family, was to be permitted entry. Brainard foolishly launched an attack and was sent flying down the road by an army twenty times the strength of his own.

  Sir Clifton could not resist the urge to give chase, and took a force of two hundred knights in pursuit. He returned a day later, late at night, his cheeks flushed from excitement and the cold, and converged on the countess in the darkness of night to give his report.

  Anne sat in her bedchamber and listened patiently while Clifton told every detail of a two-day chase that drove Brainard far to the west. She nodded and smiled, more disgruntled than she dared let on. “You are my good servant, Sir Clifton,” she said. And, “We would surely be conquered without you.” He rambled on, and she patiently replied, “Lord Forbes will reward you well. Get thee food and rest, sir knight. I bless you for your bravery.” But still, he rambled on, taking more than an hour of her time, in the middle of the night when the fire had burned low. Before leaving he fell to his knees and kissed the palms of her hands, swearing to keep her safe always. She thought she would never get him out of her bedchamber. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she closed the door behind him and threw the bolt.

  The door from the common room slowly opened. Dylan stood shivering in his hastily donned chausses, wearing no shirt. He went to stand near the waning fire to warm himself. He looked over his shoulder at Anne and whispered, “Your good and stalwart knight not only interrupted my hard-earned pleasures – he nearly froze me to death.”

  “Come, my love, and let me warm you properly.”

  Dylan stirred up the fire for the benefit of the bedchamber and by the time he turned away from the hearth Anne was already in the bed with the quilt drawn back. He was pleased to accept her offered warmth. The winter had been good to them. They were careful not to look into each o
ther’s eyes when they were in the same room. Dylan rarely even dined with the countess, and kept quarters on the north side of the castle, far away and reserved for guests. During the days he kept his attention strictly focused on the knights and Sir Clifton, becoming close to the earl’s men and remaining a good comrade to his own. For all eyes he was merely a vassal of the earl’s and frankly uninterested in the countess. He was courteous, but distant. He even caused a little gossip by flirting with castlewomen, but he was cautious to stir no jealous, curious blood among the wenches. And late at night, almost every night, he crept through the halls to be let into Anne’s bedchamber by Jane.

  They lay back against the down pillows, the quilt drawn up high, and Dylan encircled her with his arms. “You have so many strong men who would die for you,” he teased.

  “And then I have you,” she countered, “forever sneaking around, appearing in so many disguises, and putting me at grave risk.”

  He laughed low in his throat and gave her a squeeze. “The wolf guards the hen. Sir Clifton would explode if he knew.” He turned his head and looked down at her. “You do know about Sir Clifton, do you not? You do not fool yourself ...”

  “I know,” she said. “I try to discourage him as politely as I can, but I do know, Dylan. Yet, what am I to do? Without him I would reside in danger.”

  “Just be careful, my Anne. Watch him. Do not allow your dependence on his strength to put you at any disadvantage.”

  “I will be careful. While he serves me loyally I can think of no reason to replace him with another. There seems to be no more able man in Ayliffe.”

  “Would that it could be I, Anne.”

  “Do you ever worry, Dylan--that we will be ... punished for this stolen pleasure?”

  “Punished? I worry that we will be caught, but punished by God? By the angels?” He kissed her forehead. “I have been deep in love with you for a dozen years, and somehow I cannot believe ‘tis the devil’s curse. I see it as a gift – the only truly important thing in my life. Do I delude myself?”

 

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