"But you shall be a nun," Emma shook her head sadly. "No more suitors, no more parties, no more... no more anything. How can you give it all up so easily?"
Arissa shrugged. She, too, wondered how she was going to be able to relinquish all of the material delights that brought her such pleasure. Certainly she was being selfish in her thoughts, for it was an honor to devote one's life to God. But she was feeling particularly selfish on the eve of her eighteenth birthday.
"I shall simply have to," she said after a moment, forcing bravery that she did not feel. "Which is why Mother is throwing a grand party for my birthday. Mayhap I shall simply indulge myself until I cannot stand the sight of another sweet cake or the feel of another corset about my waist. Mayhap I shall make myself so sick of material delights that to retreat far from the sinful pleasures of life will come as a welcome blessing."
Neither lady believed her, but they said nothing. The thought of Arissa going away, never to return, left them feeling hollow and empty. Arissa could read their melancholy but she refused to allow it to settle.
"The de Beckets should be here this eve," she said brightly, struggling to divert the subject. "Emma, certainly you remember Ronald?"
Emma, emerging from her depressing thoughts, blinked thoughtfully. "Ronald de Becket? Isn't he the knight with the mole on the end his nose that makes him look like a troll?"
Before Arissa could respond, Penelope shook her head. "Nay, Emma, he’s the knight with the receding blond hair. Not un-handsome by any means."
Emma thought a moment. "Aye, I remember him. He kept scratching his arse the last he was here. I heard the men say he has saddle warts."
"Saddle warts?" Penelope looked puzzled.
Arissa cleared her throat delicately. "A most painful malady, the poor fellow. I understand they bleed and.... well, it is most painful to evacuate one's bowels."
Emma's face lit up with malicious humor and she crowed with laughter. "I have heard that they can grow as big as melons and then burst!"
Penelope made a horrified face as Arissa fought off the urge to join Emma's mirth. "Surely not, Emma. How awful."
Still snorting, Emma turned away from shore and forged deeper into the water, digging her toes into the silky mud. "Who else is coming?"
Arissa looked thoughtful. "Nearly every important house within twenty miles. The de Rydals, the Wendovers, the de Clares. Pen, don’t the Wendovers have a son?"
Penelope nodded. "He’s fostering in Durham. Daniel told me that Tad de Rydal has recently returned from Derby Castle."
"I understand he was serving the Earl of Leicester," Arissa mentioned. "I wonder why he has returned?"
"Who can say?" Penelope shrugged, picking at a blade of grass. "Will Richmond be here?"
The mere sound of his name was enough to knock the wind from Arissa. She swallowed hard, trying to control the quivering that had suddenly overtaken her hands. Unable to find a casual position for the appendages, she sat on them.
"My father seems to think so," her voice was quivering, too. She wondered if Penelope and Emma could detect it. "He’s been in London for several months, you know. I.... I have no way of knowing if he even received the invitation."
Emma was still sloshing about in the pond; only Penelope saw the trembling and observed the faint mottling around Arissa's cheeks. She always reacted in the same fashion when they spoke of Richmond le Bec. She'd been in love with the man for as long as any of them could remember.
"He shall be here," Penelope said softly. Richmond was a subject off limits to the usual taunts. It ran far deeper than Arissa would ever admit; in fact, she'd never admitted to anything at all. As of late, she'd tried her hardest to remain distant on the subject of the mighty knight, to assume a neutral manner when his name entered the conversation. But as hard as she tried, she was not always successful.
"I care not, truthfully," Arissa said as steadily as she could manage. "The man is a friend of my father's and sworn to the service of King Henry; he’s of no concern to me. Now, as I was saying, I believe the House of Harcourt will...."
"Aren't you the least bit awed by the man?" Penelope was not about to let her slip away so easily. "After all, he organized Henry's armies against his cousin Richard II and nearly single-handedly secured the throne for our king. 'Tis said that he and Sir Henry Percy of Northumberland are blood brothers. Doesn't his reputation impress you in the least?"
Arissa slanted her friend a wavering glance. "Of course not. Why should it?"
Before Penelope could reply, Emma turned about and began to wade onto shore once again. "The man is a god. Too bad he’s so old."
"He’s not old!" Arissa said hotly, defending Richmond before she could control herself.
"Bartholomew says he’s thirty-nine," Emma wandered onto the grass and wiped the mud off her feet. "He might as well be one hundred."
Arissa lowered her gaze, toying with the icy clover beneath her hand. "My brother doesn't know everything. Richmond is ageless. He has remained the same in manner and appearance for as long as I can remember."
Penelope leaned back on her arms, eyeing her raven-haired friend. "I would wager to say I have never seen a more handsome man. Rich brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that makes me swoon simply to think on it. And, of course, being as tall as the sky certainly doesn't hurt," she winked at Emma. "Aye, I would say he was the image of a god. Only a god would be so fortunate."
Arissa did not reply; she did not want to think on Richmond le Bec. She'd spent the past several months attempting to forget him and a part of her hoped he would not come to the celebration on the morrow. But a major portion of her whispered desperate prayers that he would make an appearance, if only so she could gaze into his amazing face one last time before she was shut away from the world.
Even as she pledged to distance the man in hopes of complete abandonment, she knew it was a foolish venture. She had grown up living on the sight of Richmond, sustaining herself on his rich baritone voice and anticipating the moments when he would turn his incredible blue eyes on her fondly. Six years, eight years, twelve years old... she couldn't remember when Richmond le Bec hadn't been an integral part of her daily existence. She couldn't remember when she hadn't loved him.
As Arissa lost herself in thoughts of Richmond le Bec, a lanky, aged knight came marching across the dead winter grass. His lined face was grim.
"Have you no idea what time it is?" he demanded.
The three women jumped. Penelope was startled into a sitting position, her eyes wide at the man.
"It's... it's, uh...," she turned helplessly to Arissa and Emma, who were quickly regaining their feet.
"It's time for the nooning meal," the knight said sternly, resting his large fists on his hips. "God's Truth, Penelope, if I hadn't fathered you myself, I would swear you'd been born without a brain."
Penelope rose to her feet, her gaze sheepish. "We lost track of time."
He rolled his eyes, beseeching the gods for patience. "And if I hear that excuse one more time, I swear I shall do something drastic to the lot of you," he pointed a gloved finger at the fortress. "Inside. Now."
Penelope brushed off her surcoat and scampered past her father. Emma followed in close pursuit, while only Arissa seemed unfazed by the knight's anger. She smiled pleasantly at him.
"Good day to you, Sir Carlton," she said, trying to ease his fury. "How goes the preparations for my party?"
Sir Carlton de Long gazed at his little mistress, wondering how his daughter was going to survive when the Lady Arissa left to join the cloister next month. The two had been inseparable since three years of age, long enough to form an unbreakable attachment. He, too, would miss her terribly. She was a bright, wonderful bit of sunshine.
"Running smoothly, my lady," he offered her the customary elbow. Arissa took his arm and he began to lead her towards the keep. "Your mother has gone to great lengths to make it the grandest celebration in these parts for years to come."
Several
feet ahead of them, Penelope and Emma walked arm in arm, casting baleful glances at Arissa. With her sweet nature, men were naturally eating out her hand and her companions were understandably jealous of her talent; they always managed to find trouble whereas Arissa seemed to possess the power to soothe the savage beast.
Arissa was acutely aware of their pouting looks and stuck her tongue out at them, twice, while Carlton's attention was diverted. The more she antagonized them, the angrier they became and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. By the time they reached the massive entrance to the bailey, Penelope and Emma were prepared to throttle her and Arissa braced herself for the barrage of temperamental insults.
But the revenge of Emma and Penelope would have to wait; high atop the battlements, shouts abound from the sentries, distracting the women. All straining ears and eyes, they turned their attention to the commotion at hand.
A party was swiftly approaching, it was announced, bearing Henry's banners of lions and leopards. Carlton, still clutching Arissa, stared up at the sentries as if he had not understood their words.
"Henry is approaching?" he demanded for clarification.
The sentries, hawk-eyed and seasoned, peered sharply at the southern horizon. Arissa wait with bated breath for their reply, hardly aware when Penelope and Emma joined her.
"Nay, my lord," one of the men finally shouted down to them. "Richmond le Bec!"
Richmond. Arissa's heart leapt into her throat; she must have swayed with shock, for she could feel Penelope's hand against her back in a steadying gesture. Carlton, oblivious to her surprise, turned to the three young ladies with a wide grin.
"How grand! Lord William will be pleased indeed," he brushed past the women, having apparently forgotten why he had been escorting them to the castle in the first place.
Arissa heard his footfalls fade; her focus was riveted to the road that led from Lambourn into the green countryside beyond. In the distance, she could decipher a tiny group, black figures flying minuscule banners.
Around her, the bailey was swarming with soldiers and servants in preparation for le Bec's mighty column. But Arissa was completely ignorant of the activity; all that mattered was Richmond's imminent approach, drawing closer with each passing moment. She hadn't seen him in nearly six months; she giddily wondered if he had changed. She couldn't imagine that he was any different, or that she would love him any less.
Arissa had always loved him; a wasted effort, but one she could not control. With the impending circumstance of the cloister lingering in her mind, she wondered how she was ever going to forget the man. She couldn't remember ever being without him.... how was she supposed to cleave all memory, all feeling, as if she were severing a limb?
Staring at the advancing party, she knew there was no other choice but to amputate quickly. She had to sever him, all of him, and do it before she lost her nerve. 'Twould be less painful if she were to do it rapidly... but how?
Unsteadily, she turned away from the half-open portcullis and began to wander back toward the castle. How indeed? Unaware of Penelope and Emma's shadowing presence, she began to plan exactly how to rid herself of the mighty Richmond le Bec. For the sake of her mental faculties, she had no other choice. She simply couldn't spend the rest of her life fantasizing over the object of a young maiden's adoration.
Be firm, she told herself forcefully. No unsolicited smiles, speak to him only if necessary. Remain polite but aloof. And, by all means, no games! Richmond had a fondness for games and would spend hours with Arissa and her sister, Regine, playing cards or indulging in a round of Hot Cockles. He made her love him all the more with his gentle smile and deep laughter when he allowed her and Regine to best him.
Still immersed in her thoughts, she was hardly aware when the massive structure of Lambourn allowed her to pass deep into the safety of its innards. Penelope's mother, the Lady Maxine, met the three young ladies in the foyer.
"The nooning meal will not wait," she clapped her hands sharply and beckoned to her daughter and friends. "In the hall, ladies."
"Richmond le Bec is approaching," Penelope told her mother. "Would it not be polite to wait for him?"
"Lord William is already partaking of the meal. Richmond will be welcome when he arrives," Maxine turned her gaze to Arissa. "My lady, your mother wishes for you to greet Sir Richmond in her stead. She’s indisposed at the moment and asks that you take him in hand."
Arissa swallowed hard, fighting the urge to deny the request. How could she forget him if she were forced to greet him? She did not respond immediately and Lady Maxine peered closely at her.
"Are you feeling well, my lady? You look rather pale."
Arissa swallowed again. "I.... nay, I am not feeling at all well. Maxine, would you please greet Richmond in my stead? I must.... rest."
Maxine did not hesitate; Arissa's delicate health was well-known and not to be trifled with. "Of course, my lady. We cannot have the guest of honor ill at her own party. Go and rest; I shall tend to Sir Richmond."
Arissa did not linger. She moved past Penelope and Emma, making a break for the flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the castle. By the time she hit the second step, she was running.
Anything to put distance between her confusion and Richmond.
* * *
Seated atop a magnificent coal-hued charger, Sir Richmond le Bec drank in the sight of Lambourn castle. A well-designed Norman bastion, he felt as if he were coming home again. God only knew, he'd spent a good portion of his adult life within the old walls.
As the edifice loomed closer, he couldn't help but feel a stab of sorrow. 'Twould most likely be his last visit for a very long time and he was grieved by the thought. For eighteen years Lambourn had been a part of his existence, always on his thoughts, always in his prayers. For eighteen years it had been a physical part of him as much as an arm or a leg or a lung.
But that time was drawing to a close. His mission, entrusted to him eighteen years ago, was coming to a conclusion as the New Year rapidly approached. He honestly did not know how he was going to continue with his existence once Lambourn had faded into the recesses of his mind; all of this, the keep, its occupants, its day-to-day continuance, was a portion of his soul.
The bridge was down, welcoming him warmly and sharpening his sense of sorrow. Several soldiers called out to him as he entered the massive bailey, but he did not respond. He was used to the adoration, the respect. Forcing his gloomy thoughts aside, he dismounted his snappish charger and was immediately met by the Lady Maxine de Long.
"My lord Richmond," she dipped in a practiced curtsy. "We are blessed once again with your presence."
He passed a rapid gaze over Lady Maude de Lohr's woman. "'Tis good to be back. Where's William?"
"Lord de Lohr is in the gallery involved in the nooning meal," Maxine replied. "He commands you to join him immediately."
Richmond nodded absently, moving to his steed and unfastening his saddlebags before the groom led the animal away. "I have been gone for quite some time. I trust all has been well."
"For the most part, my lord," Maxine nodded. "Lord William and Lady Maude have enjoyed good health, as have Lady Regine and Master Bartholomew."
He focused on her for the first time. "What of Lady Arissa?"
"She’s suffered two rather severe bouts with the cough," Maxine replied, offering a helpless shrug. "She’s quite fond of the outdoors, as you know. She managed to catch the chill more than once and it settled in her chest."
Richmond felt himself softening, hoping his change in demeanor was not obvious. "'Tis of no surprise. She insists on sticking to the woods to collect her silly flowers. I cannot count the times I have nearly frozen solid acting as her escort on such occasions. One of these days, she’s going to catch her death."
"That is what the physic seems to think," Maxine replied. "He’s told Lady Maude that Arissa's lungs are terribly weakened. She may not be fortunate enough to recover the next time."
Richmond st
ared at her a moment. Then, mayhap a bit more subdued, he focused on the familiar castle once again. "William is expecting me," he said quietly.
Maxine watched him stroll across the compound. Being female, it was only natural that she respond to Richmond le Bec's physical qualities; the man was positively striking. To gaze upon his male beauty was to experience a giddy fluttering of the heart; being married did not mean she was immune. She, too, appreciated a fine-looking man.
* * *
William de Lohr, a massive man of rotund girth, was well into his trencher by the time Richmond arrived. He greeted his friend warmly and pulled out a chair for him to sit. While the servants rushed about in their eagerness to serve the great knight, William put a meaty hand on his shoulder.
"Six months you have been gone," he said in his typical overbearing manner. "Six damnable months. I thought you had forgotten us."
Richmond cocked a dark eyebrow, bringing a hunk of bread to his lips. "Hardly. I have been with Henry, as you well know. There has been quite a bit happening in London."
William snorted, giving Richmond a shake so that the bread missed his mouth and ended up scraping his cheek. "I know, I know. The damn Welsh are increasing their rebellious pressure. But Henry has you and young Henry Percy to defend his holdings. Surely the threat is not terribly severe."
Richmond brushed at the crumbs on his cheek and tried again. "Hotspur is in Wales as we speak. God's Teeth, the man has more responsibilities than I do, if such a thing is possible. He, nor I, needs the added burden of the growing Welsh rebellion. I was rather hoping to retire from this madness at my age."
William removed his hand from Richmond's shoulder and returned to his trencher over-filled with mutton. "Retire from your destiny? Pure foolishness, I say. Owen Glendower's days are limited with Hotspur and Richmond le Bec leading the fight. England shall undoubtedly triumph."
Richmond did not say anything. A man of few words and limited expression, he concentrated on his meal. In truth, he was simply happy to be back at Lambourn and took the opportunity to fill his empty belly with food and soothe his weary body with fine ale. William, being a glutton of unbelievable proportions, reputably served the very best food and drink in all of Southern England.
Timeless Tales of Honor Page 36