The Everlasting Covenant

by Robyn Carr

  She watched in sheer wonder as Edward’s death and the events that followed plummeted them all into a debacle worse than the decade before, when Warwick had temporarily captured the power he coveted. This time, however, there was no king hovering offshore to land with armies and right any wrongs. This time the heir to the throne was a twelve-year old boy.

  Richard of Gloucester did not attend the burial of his brother, but intercepted Anthony Woodville and Prince Edward en route to London. Anthony, Earl Rivers, and the other escorts were taken as prisoners, and the little prince was brought to the Tower for his protection. Elizabeth fled into sanctuary in Westminster with her other children, where Anne visited her secretly whenever possible. By June Clifton was among the eight boatloads of soldiers who went with Richard and Cardinal Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canterbury, to the sanctuary to take Elizabeth’s other son, ten-year-old Richard, into custody with his brother.

  By the end of June Earl Rivers had been executed without a trial, along with some of Edward’s other supporters. The little princes had not been allowed out of the Tower, and in churches throughout the city sermons were read about King Edward’s invalid marriage to Elizabeth. It was bandied about that Edward had previously pledged himself to Eleanor Butler and given her a child, the troth-plight was considered no less binding than marriage, and Edward’s sons were declared bastards. It was a favorite route to power. Yet again the conspiracy rose about legitimate versus illegitimate birth.

  Richard crowned himself. Among his faithful followers was Clifton, Lord Wressel.

  Queen Elizabeth, whom Anne had always found stronger than any other woman, wept copiously. “If only a mother could be allowed to see to her children. They should never take our children from us.”

  Anne thought of her own--Sloan still out of the country, Gage at Ayliffe, and Deirdre still with her at Westminster. Her letter, dated before the death of Edward, which sanctioned the marriage of Deirdre to Sir Justin deFrayne, was no longer valid. But within a week of Richard’s coronation, Anne was sent word from Trenton that Marcella was dead. Anne hid the letter and began making plans for a conspiracy that might anger Clifton enough to kill her.

  Richard’s coronation at Westminster was on the sixth day of July in 1483, but it was late August before Clifton was summoned to ride with Richard as an escort back to York. Anne asked permission to take Deirdre back to Ayliffe. Clifton left her a twenty-man escort, some silver, and approved her decision. He did not wish to look after a family. Richard needed him.

  “Perhaps when I join you at Ayliffe in the spring, I will be your lord,” he said pompously.

  “I have always named you my lord and husband, Clifton,” she said.

  “Do not even pretend you would be pleased, madam. I know you better than you think. Dare not interfere – that is my only warning.”

  When Clifton was gone, while Anne and Deirdre were packing, she crossed a few open palms with silver, sent messengers, bribed a priest, and calmly advised her escorts that she had just received word of her mother’s death and must settle Deirdre at Heathwick before returning to Ayliffe. Any one of them, she advised, who worried at Sir Clifton’s reaction to a change in plans, need not accompany her. She offered to hire escorts from London.

  “You are the Countess of Ayliffe,” said one. “It is by your order that we serve Sir Clifton.” All twenty agreed to accompany her to Heathwick. It was the first time since she married Clifton that she had tested his orders for his men, and she was exhilarated to find they were her men. It calmed her considerably during her dangerous plan.

  Deirdre, thinking only that they traveled to her dower demesne to settle her with her uncle Trenton, was downcast as they traveled. But when they entered the Heathwick gates and she saw Justin, her eyes swelled with tears of joy. She stifled a gasp of surprise, and a trembling hand rose to her lips. “Oh, Mother,” she murmured, “thank you.” And then, lifting her skirts, she ran into Justin’s open arms.

  There was more than one familiar face within the Heathwick courtyard. Dylan, who had been advised to send his nephew to Deirdre’s holding, had delivered him. He stood beside Sir Trenton Gifford in front of the hall, looking at her across the courtyard. He was too far away for Anne to read his eyes. She glanced at her daughter as Deirdre embraced and kissed her knight. The young couple stood looking at each other with the caressing eyes of lovers long parted. Daphne had been correct. They could not have been kept apart for long. She looked back at Dylan. What about us? she wanted to ask.

  Anne’s reunion with Dylan was sedate. He bowed from the waist and she curtsied. She embraced Trenton, grateful that the reunion with her brother gave an excuse for her sentimental tears. They walked into the hall together, Anne between these two knights who were once enemies.

  “This took great courage, Anne,” Dylan said. “I was afraid you would not be able to succeed.”

  “I have not had success yet,” she said, laughing nervously. When they were all seated before a warm hearth and the servants were out of earshot, she began to explain what must take place. “What we shall witness at Heathwick shall be called a celebration of a reunion. I obtained a royal sanction for their marriage from King Edward and Queen Elizabeth.” Trenton leaned forward in surprise. “That’s right – before the king died and Richard crowned himself. I placed a few careful pieces of silver with a priest in London who will swear that he called the banns and performed the wedding last February. Trenton, I hope your priest will perform a secret ceremony now to make the matter right. Later, your castlefolk may help them celebrate with a late wedding feast, but we must all get used to the idea that they were wed before the king died.”

  Dylan smiled. “God’s blood, but you’re clever!”

  Anne shuddered. “We had best get these young people wedded and bedded before Sir Clifton finds out what I’ve done. All the cleverness in the world will not hold his anger at bay for long.”

  “Where is the hearty knight now?” Trenton asked.

  “With King Richard in York.”

  “At the bastard’s right hand,” Trenton grumbled. He paused to await the service of three goblets of dark red wine delivered by a castle maid.

  “You do not support this reign?” Anne asked in a whisper when the maid had gone.

  “Few do, Anne,” Trenton said. “Dylan and I have had several hours in which to discuss this atrocity. Richard still thinks Dylan his loyal servant, but there are many close to the king who are dissenters. It is for the princes that we hold back.” Trenton glanced around. “Buckingham is not for Richard. If need be, he will lead a rebellion.”

  “Clifton is at the king’s right hand.”

  “I am at his left,” Dylan said. “For now.”

  “I saw you at the coronation,” Anne nearly gasped. “You ...”

  “I carried his robes away from the archbishop, yes. Where did you expect me to be?”

  “Oh, Dylan, again? This is dangerous work!”

  “Aye,” Dylan said. “When has it been otherwise?” He lifted his goblet toward Trenton. “There are good and brave people to work together on this conspiracy.”

  Trenton returned the salute, and Anne was suddenly filled with happiness. “You are allies now,” she murmured.

  “We have been allies for a long time, Anne,” Trenton said. “It has been a spoken alliance for only a short time, but it was formed when I brought our mother here, to Heathwick. It was then that I understood and finally knew whom to blame.” He looked away in discomfort. “You will take our mother’s chamber while you’re here. All of her things, her letters and clothes and jewels, will need to be dispersed. Read some of the letters, Anne.”

  “And now you engage in a dangerous conspiracy,” she whispered to her brother. She could not bear to think that some rebellion against the king might cost her both Trenton and Dylan. “Be careful,” she said, knowing better than to try to change the minds of either of them.

  “What of Ayliffe, Anne?” Trenton asked.

  “Clif
ton’s labor is to convince Richard to defer Brainard’s title to him. Under the order of widowhood, given me by Lord Forbes before his death, Brainard could not inherit the earldom while I live. Clifton hopes to share title with me and bequeath it to Sloan.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps he will succeed.”

  “You must stay here then,” Trenton said. “Ayliffe is not worth the cost of your life, and I do not believe Clifton values you.”

  Anne smiled at her brother. “Gage is at Ayliffe, Trenton.”

  “We could fetch him ...”

  “I must await Sloan,” she said Before Trenton could respond, she shook her head. “Nay, I will not abandon my children. Most especially to Clifton. When they are settled away from Ayliffe, then I will consider such a move.” She glanced at Dylan, and seeing his proud smile, her eyes became misty. She had to tear her eyes away, but too late, for Trenton had seen the exchange. He stood.

  “If you will excuse me, I should visit the priest and set the cookery to work on a feast. We will have this done in a few hours.” He leaned down and kissed his sister’s cheek. “Convince her to stay here, Dylan,” he said before leaving.

  A long silence separated them after Trenton left the room. They looked at each other. He was the first to break the silence. “A dozen years ago it would not have taken us this long to be in each other’s arms.”

  “That was a long time ago, Dylan. Other arms welcome you now. You are free to marry. You should do so.”

  “Would it help your case with Sir Cliff if I married?” he asked. “My Anne ...”

  “We have children in trouble,” she said quickly, avoiding the subject of his many women. “Our problems are much larger than you think. Sir Clifton is close to the king and he is jealous of you, Dylan. I know very well what he intends. Unless our new king compensates him mightily, giving him the earldom, there are a great many people he must eliminate to obtain it. He will surely go first to Brainard so that he can assume the title through the failure of heir, through me. Then you will be confronted, and the reasons are clear only to Clifton. I believe he would like never again to see you in the same room with Sloan and Gage.”

  Dylan leaned his elbows on spread knees, sighed, and looked down at the floor. “I can almost understand,” he said solemnly.

  She went on, “I imagine I will be the last to go.” She laughed ruefully. “Clifton may even allow me old age – I have long been a property he has been proud to own.”

  She continued, “But it is becoming terrible, Dylan. In the beginning Clifton was true to his word, content to stand at my side and oversee Ayliffe. But in the end you were right about him. I should have seen it when you did – I could have prevented much hardship. I should have abandoned Ayliffe and fled into sanctuary with Trenton. Undoubtedly the children would be safer were they not tied to that inheritance. It took a dozen years but suddenly Clifton realized what he wanted. It was not I, it was my power over Ayliffe. He asked me, quite recently, if I really thought he would be content to be my lackey forever. You may believe this – his ambition is far more dangerous to me and my children than his jealous guardianship ever was. Dylan,” she said quietly, her eyes regretful, “he knows about Sloan. He forced me to admit the truth.”

  Dylan visibly winced as if in pain. She could tell it was all becoming clear to him then.

  “I could not help it, Dylan, please believe that. I tried to protect my son ... our son.”

  “Of course,” he murmured. “I met the boy. He resembles me to some degree.”

  “As Gage resembles Sloan.” She shook her head. “It has all caught up with us at last. Now we must see to the children. If they are to get their due, I must put their welfare ahead of my own, ahead of yours.”

  “Yes,” he quietly agreed.

  “If I am to help the boys, you must take responsibility for Deirdre, with Trenton. Send some of your own here to fortify Heathwick, if necessary. After today, there is nothing more I can do for my daughter. Deirdre must be kept safe from Clifton. I will go back to Ayliffe and do what I can for my sons.”

  “Anne, it is foolish to go back there now.”

  “Don’t you see I have no choice? If I don’t return, Clifton can work against me through my sons. He still has much influence over Sloan – Sloan has not seen Clifton in a long time. He would only remember his faithful teacher and would be hard pressed to believe that Clifton misuses his power. And Gage needs me.”

  “Have you any idea what Clifton might do to you, to Gage, if he becomes angry?”

  She smiled confidently. “Until he manages to convince his king to bestow some honor on him, Clifton cannot really hurt me. He controls my soldiers for me, true, but they are still mine. Ayliffe is the only place I am truly safe, for many are still loyal to me there. Here, behind Deirdre’s wall, Clifton could bring a force of thousands to liberate me ... he could accuse my brother or you of holding me hostage ... but at Ayliffe, I can still gainsay his authority, as long as I am careful never to act in treason against King Richard. Nay, Dylan, Ayliffe is still safer than any path of flight.”

  Dylan leaned forward, closer to her. “Let me help you, Anne. Let me get Gage to a safehouse. You would be safe there as well – letters could be written to Sloan ...”

  Help. She almost choked at the sound. “I know you wish to see your sons safe, Dylan, but it is better if I go to Ayliffe and see to that myself. You need not concern yourself for now. If I need more help, I will get word to you somehow.”

  “I want you safe! I want you--”

  “You have other women whose safety should be your concern. You--”

  “Other women?” he questioned. She was afraid to look at his eyes. “The women you saw me with at court? Women convenient to keep Sir Clifton’s jealous fits from harming you?” She looked back at him, her heart pounding.

  “Don’t ...,” she quietly entreated.

  “Don’t? Anne, tell me your heart! Tell me now!”

  “You ask too much ... my children. ... I do not hold you to foolish promises made when you were a lad, foolish ...”

  “And what of promises made as a man? What of promises made when I held my second son and I swore that I would never believe you loved me no more?”

  She looked into his penetrating gaze, speechless. She looked hard. Was it still there? After all they had been through? She opened her mouth to speak, to shout, I love you still; I need you more than ever! Give me hope, love!

  The door to the hall opened and a castlemaid peeked in. “Ma’am? Milady? ‘Is lordship says come to the chapel when ye can, ma’am. ‘E says come.”

  Anne recovered herself with some difficulty. “Thank you. We’re coming.” She shook her head and stood, still trembling.

  Dylan touched her arm tentatively. “My Anne ...”

  “Let us get these children wedded and bedded, my lord,” she said, her voice shaking. “We’ll have time to sort out whatever difficulties remain after this weighty chore is done.”

  His deep turquoise gaze held her. He gave her arm a slight squeeze. “Rest assured, madam,” he promised.

  Anne could not suppress the longing in her own breast as she stood witness with Dylan to the quick ceremony in the church. Later, at the feast in the hall, they were attended by castlefolk, knights and archers. There had been no time to plan a celebration, but that did not dim the happiness of the bride. A few pigs and calves were slaughtered, wine and ale were liberally served, and finally, as nightfall was upon them, Anne helped her daughter prepare for the nuptial bed. Deirdre was beset by all the sentimental tears of a young bride, and Anne found it difficult to play the part of the stronger, wiser matron. She knew exactly what her daughter was feeling.

  “This is not the kind of wedding your father would have wished you to have,” Anne said with sentimental sadness.

  Deirdre paused in her undressing and looked into her mother’s eyes. “He would have approved of my husband, wouldn’t he, Mother?” she asked.

  Her eyes glazed with unshed tears.
If you were my daughter, I would want you to have a man such as Dylan deFrayne. What more approval could Brennan give? She nodded. “He was a good man, Deirdre. He loved you more than anything. And he was more than wise – he was compassionate and forgiving. Yea, he would hold your happiness above all other considerations. Even now, I believe he smiles on you.” She looked down for a moment, then raised her eyes again to her daughter’s face. “Deirdre, I was not a perfect wife to your father, but please believe me--I did love him. I loved him deeply.”

  “Why does Sir Cliff wish me ill?” she asked, as if she had not heard Anne’s near confession.

  “He is a hard man to please,” Anne said solemnly, averting her gaze. Because of me, she almost said. It was on her lips. She could not explain all the reasons, some jealousy, some greed, some simple overindulgence. But she knew he had become dangerous. “Do not worry about Sir Cliff now, let us prepare you for your husband.”

  As she saw her daughter readied for Justin, Anne was driven back in time. Small snatches of memories blended with her daughter’s present happiness. She longed to tell Deirdre how her marriage to Justin finally played out a legacy of love, but she knew it was not the right time.

  When Justin arrived in the small chamber amidst shouts from the men in the hall below, Anne felt a brief temptation to play the mother, to warn him to be only good to her all her life, to love her gently, to protect her for the rest of their lives together. The look in the young man’s eyes stilled her tongue, for he was much as Dylan had been at two and twenty – ready, eager, and brave. And Deirdre loved him.

  Trenton had directed Anne to her mother’s chamber for the night and she stood nearby when he told Dylan where to take his rest. The celebrating went on in the hall below. In the chamber Anne used, Marcella’s belongings were stacked in chests and bundles in a corner. There was no one else to see to these personal effects – Trenton had done nothing about the jewels, letters, and gowns. Anne thought the time as good as any and began sorting through Marcella’s things to try to direct her mind away from her daughter’s bedding and her own envy.