by Anne Herries
‘And I care even less,’ her brother snarled. ‘Because of you I may miss all the excitement. Father has heard that Henry Tudor is bringing an army from France. That is why he could not spare the time to escort you himself. He has received a summons to join the King. And I might have gone with him if it had not been for you.’
‘I am sorry to be such a trouble to you—but let me go to an Abbey and you may ride to join the King’s army.’
‘And earn my father’s displeasure? You would love that, sister.’ He glared at her. ‘Just remember that I do not have Father’s scruples concerning you, Melissa. If you were dead it would suit me very well…’
‘Yes, I know,’ Melissa replied. ‘But you have no need to fear me, Harold. Father would never disinherit you for me.’
‘Not for you,’ Harold said, eyes cold as they rested on her face. ‘But you might have a son…’
‘But my son would not bear his name,’ Melissa reminded him. ‘You are safe unless Father has a legitimate son, which he cannot unless he marries again.’
Harold shot a startled look at her. ‘You do not think he intends to take another wife?’
‘I have no idea, brother,’ Melissa said. ‘For your sake I hope not—but you can never be sure. Father is still a strong man and capable of giving his wife a son.’
‘What do you know?’ Harold demanded his eyes narrowed. ‘Have you heard something?’
‘Father would not tell me,’ Melissa said. ‘But it is a thought…’
‘He would not marry without telling me,’ Harold declared, but there was a frown on his face as they rode into the inn courtyard.
Melissa smiled inwardly. She had given her brother something else to think about, and perhaps he would forget about her…but even if she had the chance, she could not in all conscience run away.
Rob gave his horse to the young lad who came running, tossing him a small coin for his trouble. He was at the outskirts of Shrewsbury and meant only to eat something while his horse was rested. He had come alone, giving his men orders to meet him at the appointed place the following day, for he would pass the night at the house of Morgan of Hywell.
It was as he was crossing the inn yard that he saw the woman lingering at the edge of the woods he had just left. She had not seen him, but seemed furtive, as if she wanted to slip away and did not quite dare. For a moment he hesitated, and then walked swiftly towards her. It was dangerous in those woods for there were armed men everywhere.
‘Melissa? What are you doing here?’ he demanded, his voice harsh.
Melissa turned, her startled gaze on his face. ‘Oh, it is you,’ she said, and caught her breath on a sob. ‘I thought it was Harold…’
‘Your half brother is here?’
‘Yes, he is taking me to the north to my kinsman’s house. I…am to be married…’ Her eyes were wide, dark with longing as she looked at him. To be so close to him and yet unable to speak from her heart! If only Rhona were safe, she would beg him to take her away, now, before her brother could stop them!
‘I see…’ Rob’s expression hardened, ignoring the look of appeal in her eyes. ‘Then I wish you every happiness, lady.’ His mouth curled with bitterness and he was about to turn away, but she caught his sleeve, making him turn to look at her again. ‘What more would you have of me?’
‘I shall not be happy in this marriage for I can never love my husband. Surely you know that I shall only ever love one man?’
‘Indeed? How should I know that?’
She hesitated, ‘Sir…are you here alone?’
‘Yes, why do you ask?’ His eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘I am armed even if alone and your brother would not have the advantage of me now. They tied my arms that day I came to ask for you for I brought no weapons.’ He touched the sword that hung across his chest. ‘I am more than a match for Harold of Meresham!’
‘But he is not alone, for he has ten armed men.’ Melissa stopped because she had seen Harold come to the door of the inn to look for her. Her chance of escape had gone, if she had ever had one. She gave a little sob of fear, because alone Rob had no chance against her half brother and his men. Besides, if she went with Rob, her father would carry out his threat against her serving woman. She was bound as surely as if Harold had her in chains. ‘No, you are right—how should you know that I loved you? Except that had you loved me, you would not have believed me capable of what they did to you. Forget me, I will not be the cause of your death. My brother looks for me. I must go.’
She ran away from him. Rob turned to look and saw that Harold of Meresham was at the inn door. He saw him take a rough hold of her arm and give her a shake and frowned. For a moment he was tempted to go after him and challenge him. He would like to plunge his sword deep into the blaggard’s heart, but Melissa’s words had warned him. He was alone and it was unlikely that Harold would meet him in single combat—and he could not afford to be wounded now. Nigh on two hundred men had promised to follow him, and Henry would need every man if he were to win his cause.
He turned away. He would walk into the town and seek out Morgan of Hywell. It was for this he had come—and Melissa was promised to marry another. She had gone to her brother willingly and therefore must be happy with the marriage, despite the way she had looked at him.
‘Who were you talking to?’ Harold asked as he hustled her inside the inn, his fingers digging into her soft upper arm. ‘And what were you doing outside the inn?’
‘I went out for some air, because my head aches,’ Melissa said. ‘I am feeling unwell…’ She gave a little sigh and sagged against him, knowing that she must hold his attention until Rob had time to leave. If Harold had seen him he would undoubtedly have killed him. ‘I think I must rest here for a few hours, Harold. I may be sickening for something.’
‘If this is one of your tricks…’ Harold glared at her. ‘Do not try my patience too far, Melissa. I would as soon break your neck as look at you!’
Melissa smiled. ‘I know that you have no love for me, brother—but my father wants this alliance with Leominster. I should take care if I were you.’
She did not know why, but the brief encounter with Rob had lifted her spirits. He was still angry, she had sensed that, but while she lived there was still hope that she might see him again—and perhaps one day she could tell him the truth and he would no longer hate her.
‘I am glad to see you, Robert of Melford,’ Morgan Hywell said, and took his hand. ‘Now that Henry has set foot on Welsh soil I shall give you my affinity. I was doubtful that he would come, but he has and I shall give him my support. You will stay with us this night?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Rob said. ‘It is good of you to offer, sir. I rode here in all haste as soon as the news arrived.’
‘I am glad to be with you at last,’ Morgan Hywell said. ‘And now, I would like you to meet the lady who orders my house for me—Mistress Alanna Davies. She is cousin to Owain Davies and was kinsman to the wife of Lord Whitbread.’
Alanna was a tall lady, quite stout and no longer young. She dressed in dark clothes and wore only a wimple to cover her hair—but Rob saw something in her face that seemed familiar, though he could not place it.
‘You are Owain Davies’ cousin, lady,’ he said. ‘He is with us in the cause and we are friends, for he once saved my life.’
‘I have not seen Owain for some years,’ Alanna said. ‘I was living then with my lady—but after she died I left the castle and came here…’
‘Whitbread threatened her and she was in fear of her life for some time,’ Morgan Hywell said. ‘But the years have passed and I daresay he has forgotten her.’
‘I have not forgot him or what he did to my lady,’ Alanna said. ‘But I must say no more for if he should hear gossip…’ She shook her head. ‘Come, I shall show you to your chamber, sir, because you will want to refresh yourself before we eat.’
Rob followed her upstairs. It was a substantial house, for Morgan of Hywell was a rich merchant and an important
man in his town, which was why he had not been prepared to offer his support until he was sure that Henry Tudor had come. Now that he had, he would bring at least thirty men to their cause.
‘I trust you will be comfortable here, sir?’
‘I thank you yes.’ Rob detained her as she would have left. ‘You may trust me, lady. What did Lord Whitbread do to Melissa’s mother?’
‘You know her?’ Alanna’s face was wistful. ‘I have oft wished to see her—but it was impossible. You see, he knew that I had seen him leave my lady’s chamber—and that I suspected what he had done.’ Her eyes were dark with remembered horror. ‘He beat her so badly that she died of her injuries. He told everyone that she died of a childbed fever, but it was not so—he murdered her.’
‘May he rot in hell!’ Rob was angry. He knew that Melissa had often wished that she had known her mother, for she had told him as they walked together in the meadows: it had been a source of great grief to her. ‘One day he will pay for his many crimes, lady. I promise you that…’
‘I have often prayed that he might suffer for what he did,’ she said. ‘But I could do nothing…he would have killed me had I not run away. Perhaps I should have taken the child? I have often wished it, but then he would never have let me be.’
‘I thank you for telling me,’ Rob said. ‘I can tell you that your lady’s child is to be married, though I amnot sure that is of her own choosing…’ He could not shake the look he had seen in her eyes from his mind; it had begun to haunt him, for he had sensed that she was in distress.
Alanna nodded and went out, leaving him alone. He was thoughtful for he had remembered Melissa’s words. He had been too angry to listen to her at the time, but now they had come back to him.
You should know that I shall only ever love one man.
Had she meant to say that she loved him? Rob frowned as he thought it over. If she meant that…but he would be a fool to believe her. She had sworn that she loved him and would marry him—but then she had driven him away with words intended to cut him to the heart, as they had. Her father had not been in the room. If he had forbidden the marriage there had been nothing to stop her telling him so. He could recall her every word, remember the proud way she held her head, the coldness in her eyes as she told him that she did not wish to see him again.
Why would she have done that if she loved him?
‘Wait one moment, sir,’ Alanna came to him as he was about to mount his horse the next morning. ‘I have something I must tell you…’
‘Something you wish me to tell Owain perhaps?’
‘Yes. It would be best if he knew what I saw—though it is only a suspicion. I cannot swear to the truth of it, but I have thought…’ She raised her head, looking at Rob. ‘I know that I told you my lady was murdered—and it is true that he beat her. She sent me on an errand the next day, and when I returned he told me she was dead…but I think I may have seen her since then.’
‘Where?’
‘In the Isle of Ely, at the shrine of Saint Ethelreda,’ Alanna said. ‘It was Ethelreda who began the great Cathedral there and they say she has the power to work miracles. I went there with Morgan who made the pilgrimage to pray for his son…and a woman came up to me. She pressed a lily into my hand and then walked quickly away.’
‘Did you see her face? Did you know her?’
‘I did not notice her until she gave me the lily, but I recall that her head was clothed in shawls that covered her face and she was dressed shabbily. I thought nothing of it until later, and by that time she had disappeared—but that particular lily was always Elspeth’s favourite.’
‘And you thought it was her because of the lily?’
‘Yes, I began to believe so as I thought about it. I asked Morgan to make inquiries in the Isle of Ely and he has, but nothing has come of it.’
‘The evidence is slight.’ Rob frowned for it was unlikely that the woman could have been Melissa’s mother.
‘Yes. I have done nothing more for I thought I must have been mistaken—but I think Owain should know.’
‘Then I shall tell him,’ Rob said, and smiled at her. ‘This has lain on your conscience for years, has it not?’ She nodded. ‘Very well, you may rest easy, for I am sure that Owain will do what he can. He is very loyal to Melissa.’
‘And not only Melissa,’ Alanna said, standing back as Rob mounted his horse.
As he rode away, Rob wondered what she had meant by her last remark.
Melissa awoke from her dream. It had been so pleasant, for it was of the time when she had first met Rob. In those early days she had not thought of anything but the pleasure that came from seeing him smile at her.
He was so handsome, his eyes so bold and filled with laughter. She had never been teased and had hardly known how to respond to him, but she had loved him…she had loved him from the first.
She was sure that he had loved her then. They had walked together hand in hand, often saying nothing but just content to be together. Sometimes he had taken her up on his great horse and they had ridden for hours at a time, his arms about her, her head back against his chest…just as they had after he had saved her from those rogues.
A sob rose in her throat for she had felt his anger that day, and known that the gentle loving knight she had known was gone forever. In his place was a man with cold eyes who looked at her as if he hated her.
Yet she would still have begged for his help at Shrewsbury if she had not feared for his life and that of Rhona. And despite his anger, she believed that he would have given it—as he had that day in the forest.
The tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, because she had loved him so much, so very much…and now he hated her. She touched the small jade heart he had bought her at the fair, which she had hidden inside her gown next to her own heart. It was all she had left of the happiness that might have been hers…a trinket and her memories.
They were approaching their destination and unless she could think of some way to delay their journey, she would soon be the Marquis of Leominster’s wife!
Chapter Three
Henry Tudor had brought a force of more than two thousand men with him when he landed at Milford Haven on the 7th of August 1485. He sent out his messengers from the town of Haverfordwest, which he had occupied, appealing to the men of Wales on claim of descent from Cadwaller the one-time King of the Welsh.
Rob had raised a force of nearly two hundred strong, including archers, miners and men-at-arms. A few had failed but most came in in answer to his summons. They rode to greet Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, as he marched across the borders of Wales into England, his army swelling with growing numbers of men who flocked to his banner.
When he greeted Henry Tudor, the earls greeted him warmly. Robert of Melford had brought in a strong body of men and was therefore doubly welcome. Henry Tudor’s army was reinforced by the arrival of Gilbert Talbot with a force of five hundred men, which raised the numbers beyond four thousand. The struggle for the throne of England had begun.
Watching the huge body of men assemble, Rob was aware of a growing feeling of excitement. While Henry Tudor remained in France it had been merely been a dream, but now it had become a reality. War was imminent, for reports had reached them of the King’s efforts to raise men in his cause, but as yet many of the powerful lords had decided to sit on the fence and wait until they saw who seemed likely to win the coming struggle.
Owain found Rob when they were camped in the countryside around Leicester.
‘I have come as I promised.’
‘I had given you up,’ Rob said. ‘Where did you go?’
‘I had to discover what had happened to my lady,’ Owain replied. ‘She sent word by the priest that she was being forced to marry against her will. He left her message at the Abbey, and it was by chance that I went there to ask them something.’
‘Against her will?’ Rob’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are sure that it was against her will?’
‘They have taken her
north to Whitbread’s kinsman. She will be kept a prisoner at the home of the Earl of Gifford until she is wed to the Marquis of Leominster. But he will have brought his forces south to meet Richard and the wedding must be delayed until his return.’
‘Good grief! What kind of a man would give his daughter to that monster?’ Rob was horrified at the news for he knew of Leominster’s reputation.
‘A man who would let his bastard split your cheek to the bone and send you to your death with your hands bound behind your back.’ Owain answered him straight, his look unflinching even though such plain speech might cause offence.
Rob’s gaze narrowed. ‘Did she go willingly?’ She must have! For if she had not, why had she not begged him for help? She must have known that he would give it, despite all that had happened between them. He had helped her in the forest, and though he had been cold to her, he had delivered her safely to the Abbey. She had no reason not to trust him.
‘What choice had she?’ Owain said. ‘Do not blame her, sir. Whatever her father said to you, whatever her brother did, she had no hand in the punishment they inflicted on you.’
Rob’s expression did not change, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘You plead her case well, sir. I know you are loyal to her—but you saved my life. We shall not quarrel over this, for now is not the time for personal grudges.’
‘You speak truly, Robert of Melford,’ Owain said. ‘And I know that there is nothing either of us can do to save Melissa from her fate at this time—but when the war is won and Henry Tudor has his crown, I shall seek revenge for what has happened to her. At that time I shall ask for your help, though whether you will give it is for you to judge.’
Rob nodded, his expression harsh. Despite all the activity and preparation for war, there had hardly been a moment when he had not thought of Melissa and the revenge he would take against her father. He put a finger to the scar on his cheek, tracing the hard welt that had formed. He would be a fool to let down his guard, and yet the idea that Melissa had gone reluctantly to her wedding lingered in his mind. But if she had not wanted the marriage, why had she not asked him for his help at Shrewsbury? She had run to her brother when he came to look for her—why?