by Abby Gordon
“I didn’t know. And if I’d been privy to that information, I would have been sworn not to tell anyone,” Jasper added tartly.
“True,” Edward agreed with a nod, glancing at the group. “Well? Is she someone we can follow?”
He knew Jasper would know what he meant – was the lady a true Rose unlike the Elders. George didn’t know his meaning and jumped to take offense.
“Of course, she’s someone you can follow,” he snarled, leaning forward over the tub. “She’s the Root of York, you dumb-witted ass.”
“My apologies, George,” Edward said quickly. “It’s just,” he shook his head. “You’ve no idea what it’s been like for us up here. What it’s been like to realize –” His voice dwindled, and his eyes went to Jasper’s understanding face.
“I’ve told them a bit on the journey,” the knight told him. “I’m not sure they fully appreciated it. Anymore than we can comprehend what the Lady Anna has been through.” Jasper picked up the bucket. “Ready?”
“Aye,” Edward replied, gripping the edges of the tub and leveraging himself to his feet.
Instead of warm water as had been in the tub, the deluge that poured over him was icy as if fresh from the nearby stream.
“God’s Blood!” he exclaimed. “Will you freeze me to death?”
Appreciative laughter came from all around – including the light laughter of the three women. Embarrassed, Edward stepped quickly from the tub, reaching for the towel George extended. Rubbing himself dry, he quickly dressed in the borrowed clothes.
“It’s a rather good fit,” Jasper judged critically as Edward used the comb Miles gave him first in his hair and then on his beard. “You look more yourself now.”
“I feel more myself,” Edward confirmed, knowing what would make him whole.
“Not complete though?”
“What day is it?” he asked the knight, saw the tightening of his expression. “Jas, what day is it?”
“Her eighteenth birthday.”
“She’s not married to him yet.”
“Not yet, but Geoffrey says Edmund has been trying to get her alone. That the bastard has been bragging about consummating the marriage before they meet this morning.”
“What?” George grabbed Jasper’s arm. “He would rape her? An Elder’s daughter?”
“Aye, he would and he’s done it,” Jasper growled. “And Elder Black would do nothing for her despite all her protests to defend him.”
Edward nodded, his mind reeling at the thought of Celeste being raped, being the wife of – Jasper’s words came back to him. Consummating the marriage before the vows – sweet angels, that’s what we did. Smiling, he went with Jasper and George to join the Roots, the Shield and a man introduced as the Earl of Leicester.
Chapter Twenty
Cloaked and hooded in the pews, Edward glowered as the archbishop read from the Book of Common Prayer. He’d been told repeatedly to wait, that a plan was in place. And yet – there was his Celeste. His. About to be married to another man. To a Scion bastard who would kill her that moment if he knew the truth.
“— Therefore if any man can shewe any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
“I speak,” he called out, standing and stepping quickly past the shocked George.
“Get back here, lad,” the man belatedly tried to stop him.
George’s fingers grasped his cloak, but he tugged free.
In the vestibule, Anna sighed as she turned from where she’d been peering through the doors.
“So much for the original plan,” she commented, taking a step back. “Roses, no killing in the sanctuary. Especially the Elders.” Placing her right hand on the left hand her husband extended, she squared her shoulders. “Open the doors.”
Ignoring the mutters of those who had freed him, the shocked whispers of those in the pews as he strode down the center aisle, Edward kept his gaze on the man who would have what was his. Edmund sneered at him.
“Who are you to speak?” Suddenly he recognized him beyond the beard and strange clothes and glanced behind him to where the stunned Elders were turning to stare at Edward. “You need to flog his guards that let him escape.”
“They didn’t let me escape,” Edward replied, pausing between the front two benches. “I was freed. And this marriage, Archbishop, cannot take place.”
“On what grounds?” the robed man frowned. “The banns were read with no protest. Who are you to—”
“Because my father had me locked up in the manor of the Root.” He found the furious expression of his father and the Elders. At the thudding footsteps behind him, he turned his head and saw that Root Anna was changing her own plans as she proceeded down the aisle surrounded by her husband, the Roots and the Roses. “She’s not very happy with you about how her house was maintained.” Then back at the archbishop with a smile. “And before the banns were read between Celeste and Edmund they were read between Celeste and myself with the expectation that today I would be standing at the altar with her.”
“Those banns were dissolved,” the archbishop told him.
“Do you give divorces now as well as dispense marriages?” Edward threw back at him. He glanced at Celeste. Her pallor surprised him. The wide fearful eyes sought his face as if she were seeing a ghost. Thin. Dear God, she’s lost weight. One would think she’d been locked up and starved instead of myself. And she’s bruised. Perhaps she was locked up.
At the word that made a woman a pariah, Celeste weaved, her hand clutching at the young Joan at her side. Joan stared at Edward in astonishment.
“Divorce?” the girl whispered. “Edward, you weren’t married.”
He smiled at her, grateful for the opening she’d given him.
“Ah, but the banns are binding if consummated.”
Absolute silence descended in the Minster as the congregation heard his statement.
“Consummated?” Edmund repeated quietly, his gaze going from Edward to Celeste. “You whore!” Stepping toward her, he raised his fist.
“Wait a moment,” the archbishop intervened, flapping his hands for attention as he stepped forward, unwittingly blocking Edmund from venting his wrath on Celeste. “Sir Edward, am I to understand that you consummated your betrothal to Celeste?”
“I did,” he stated. “Before the eyes of God and according to the laws of the church and land, she is my wife.”
The archbishop and his deacon edged away from Celeste. Even Joan stared at her in shock and horror. Tears welled up in Celeste’s eyes as her lips trembled. With a sigh, she fainted. Jumping forward, Joan caught her before her head hit the stone steps.
“Well, that was well done,” Lady Anna commented from behind him.
Edward turned to look at her.
“I couldn’t let them take vows,” he insisted. “She was mine first. Did everyone really believe I would do nothing?”
“Edward, you could have done it in a way that didn’t publicly humiliate and shame her before York,” Anna scolded, her worried gaze going to the prone woman. “Is she all right? Did she harm herself?”
Joan glanced over her shoulder. “I think she just fainted, lady. She’s hardly eaten since Sir Edward frightened her with his wicked tales.”
“Indeed?” Anna’s voice took on a censuring tone. “Edward?”
“I didn’t –” Edward stopped himself as the narrowed eyes of his Root centered on him. He swallowed, looked at Celeste, then back at Anna. In frustration, he raised his hands palm up and let them fall at his sides. “There is simply no pleasing women. No matter what a man does, they always find something wrong with what you did.”
He saw nearly every man nodding, until Anna’s head turned and her gaze fell on them. Behind her, Owain, Dudley and the three Roots were choking on their laughter, eyes twinkling with appreciation for the humor.
Anna stepped forward. Owain was at her right with the Roots behind her. The Baron of Corw
en, Edward noticed, was still trying not to laugh, as were the men behind him.
“Archbishop, I think it fair to say that there will be no ceremony between Edmund and Celeste this day.”
“I quite agree, lady.” He frowned. “Who are you? You seem familiar but I’m quite sure I’ve never seen you.”
“Ah, my manners are seriously lacking,” Edward apologized. “May I, my lady?” he inquired of the cloaked woman. She nodded, stepping towards him and extending her hand. He took it and guided her to stand in front of the startled archbishop. “People of York, Roses of York,” he raised his voice so he could be heard in the far corners of the cathedral. “I have the honor of presenting our returned and rightful Root. This is the Lady Anna Elizabeta, daughter of Don Rodrigo of Catalan and the Lady Celeste Plantagenet of York.”
As he spoke, Anna pushed back her hood, then moved the cloak behind her shoulders. The red and gold threads shimmered in sun streaming through the stained glass of the altar. The rubies and topaz winked.
“A miracle,” several in the congregation gasped.
Edward’s gaze went to those in the front pews. As he predicted, their astonishment at his words to halt the ceremony was slowly turning to fury.
“Roses,” Lady Anna spoke. “Follow your orders.”
Promptly, the Roses who had infiltrated the cathedral moved to obey. They came from the side aisles, surrounding the Elders and key people Jasper, Godfrey and Edward had identified. Daffyd and Dickon strode up the steps of the altar and bound Edmund before he could react and resist their efforts. Leicester’s men took hold of several men who weren’t in the Order. Those men protested vigorously as they were dragged forward.
“We don’t answer to you,” one man shouted.
“Edward, who is this?”
“Squire Stonewick, Root Anna. His manor is ten miles to the north,” he replied.
“Squire Stonewick, this is the Earl of Leicester and the Baron of Corwen,” Anna introduced the noblemen, gesturing to the queen’s favorite and her husband. Murmurs rippled through the throng and she waited for silence to fall again. “They have been charged by the queen to root out treason in Yorkshire.” She smiled at the play on words. “Are there justices of York present?”
“We are two, Lady Anna,” a man spoke up, standing near the middle of the congregation. A second man stood to his right. “How may we assist their lords?”
“That I will leave to them,” Anna answered, smiling before turning solemnly to the Elders. “George.”
“Aye, my lady,” the stalwart man came forward.
“Tend to the Elders. At the Queen’s suggestion, I would that they be treated the way Sir Edward was.”
“I’ll see to it, Lady Anna,” George assured her with an understanding and wicked grin.
From the pews behind the Elders, a young man stepped out and approached, only to be stopped by Miles.
“Lady Anna, why do you act this way toward the Elders? They were charged by your grandfather to lead the Roses of York.”
Anna glanced at Edward who stepped to her side.
“John Black, my lady. Only son of Thomas, brother to Celeste and Joan.”
“Ah,” she murmured with nod. “John, they were not the ones charged by Root William. Their fathers were. Fathers who died within two years of my grandfather’s death despite no word of any ill health and they in the vigor of their years.”
Edward watched John’s face as the comprehension hit him. The younger man weaved slightly before he shook his head.
“Lady Anna, you accuse them of evil deeds,” John stated. “Tis hard to comprehend.”
“Aye, it would be. I imagine Celeste resisted the idea as well when Sir Edward told her.”
At her side, Edward stiffened.
“What proof is there?” John demanded, eyes glaring at her. “For such a sin to be laid bare in this holy place, there must be evidence that cannot be refuted.”
“There is evidence, John. However, this holy spot is not the place for its revelations, nor is it the time. Peace now,” she silenced his protest. “George, please remove the Elders to my house. Justices, I leave you to discuss things with the Earl and Baron. John, you will tend to your sisters and bring them to my house. I have much to do and learn and little time if we are to properly serve the queen’s purpose.”
“Bitch,” snarled Edmund, struggling now in the grip of Daffyd and Dickon. “You’ll be dead by sunset.”
Anna swirled in a swish of satins and silks as the Shield drew his sword and advanced to stand before his wife.
“I’ve been told that by men with the Richland name before,” Anna responded. “Each of them is dead.” Edmund’s eyes widened. “You hadn’t heard? Richard attacked the queen. Sir Mark and I were able to see her safely away although Richard took me captive.” Her hand rested on the muscular bicep of her husband’s left arm. “But one does not threaten harm to a Welshman’s woman, especially after threatening his cousin. Owain and his brother Griffin lead Roses of London to rescue me. Jonal Park is destroyed. Griffin killed Henry. I killed Richard for Justice in his killing of one sworn to me.”
“And Thomas?” Edmund demanded. “He was the best of us.”
“My lord husband fought and killed him for his treason against the queen.”
Edward saw how the information shook Edmund. It was in his eyes, the sudden worry in his expression.
“So, what will you with me?” he finally asked. “You have no proof I was part of their plans and treason.”
“No?” she murmured, raising one slim dark brow. “Yet, here you are. Far from Jonal Park, pretending to be what and who you are not.”
Alarm flared in the blue eyes and he struggled anew. Anna shook her head.
“Daffyd, Dickon, take him also to my house. Do with him as George does to the Elders.”
“Aye, Root Anna,” they replied, dragging the man from the altar.
George and his men were already hauling the bound Elders out a side door. Owain sheathed his sword and turned to his wife.
“You are enjoying this almost too much,” he told her.
“And so are you,” she smiled up at him. “You especially liked that bit about harming a Welshman’s woman.”
“Of course,” he agreed readily, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Quickly realizing that the Root was not wasting anytime in asserting her authority, Edward held himself ready as her gaze swept the area. Her eyes landed on the archbishop who had been slowly retreating toward his private chamber. His acolytes and deacon were around him.
“Ah, archbishop,” she addressed him, halting his steps. “His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury, expressed his concern for your health and asked me to give you this message.” She reached into a skirt pocket and withdrew a small scroll. “Sir Edward?”
“My lady,” Edward murmured, taking the parchment and going to the cluster of clergymen. Handing it to the pale man, he returned to the Root’s side.
“John, will you and your men stay with the archbishop to ensure his protection?” Anna’s gaze went to the five Roses waiting nearby.
“Lady,” the man replied, going to the archbishop and neatly separating him from the other robed clergy.
Immediate business tended to, Anna went to where Celeste was stirring, supported by her sister. Edward started to follow but Owain held him back.
“Given what you said previously, the sight of you might set her off again,” the baron said quietly.
“She’s mine,” Edward hissed, trying to twist out of the older man’s grasp.
And found himself nearly jerked off his feet as the Shield snarled in his face.
“You publicly humiliated and shamed her before all of York and four Roots. I’m surprised her brother hasn’t challenged you.”
“A tempting thought, my lord,” John stated from a step away. He glared at Edward. “But I know it would take one more trained than I. I best serve my sisters by staying alive, especially if the charges against o
ur father are even more than what Lady Anna has stated.”
The baron released Edward with a slight shove and studied the younger man.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“I am just turned twenty-one, my lord,” John told him, glancing at his sisters. Celeste was sitting up, supported by Joan, murmuring quietly to Lady Anna. The brown eyes went to the man’s badge of rank then lifted to his face, worry shadowing them. “The Elders were involved with treason against the realm, weren’t they?”
“So, it is believed,” conceded the baron as the Earl of Leicester joined them.
With a groan, John heaved in a great breath. “Then their lands and properties are attainted. We have nothing but what we wear.” He nodded a greeting to the senior nobleman. “Will her majesty be merciful towards the families, do you think, sir? We had no knowledge of their acts.”
“I am here to render judgment on those of York, not those in the Order,” the Earl told him. “Her majesty has decreed that the Roses will be judged and sentenced by Lady Anna as the Root of England and Wales.”
For a moment, neither Edward nor John reacted, then the younger shuddered.
“That means the Justice of the Root,” he whispered, turning pale. “Death.”
“Have you done aught to deserve that?” the baron wondered.
“Naught but follow and obey my father and the other Elders,” John answered. “Like so many others, I had no knowledge of their plans. I don’t know if the Root will believe that but –”
“I will look for proof, John Black,” Root Anna told him in a cool voice as she returned to her husband’s side. Side discussions and murmuring halted as everyone turned to her, wondering what she would say. She continued at a louder volume so all could hear her. “I don’t know how things have been done in York since the death of my grandfather, but a Root of the Order of the Rose does not render Justice without reason. Without purpose. If any have proof of guilt or innocence, bring it to the manor of the Root. I want everything possible before I decide on further Justice.”
“Further Justice?” John echoed, leaning forward. “Then you’ve decided for some?”
