by Anne O'Brien
‘Ha! I swear Jane told me within a week!’
‘A witch’s prediction?’
‘No.’ The clasp of her hands on his soothed and reassured. ‘She’s skilled in reading the signs. But now I am sure. My body tells me. Three months, I would say.’
He turned her so that they were facing. ‘Since I can’t think of the words to say to you, I think I must kiss you.’ And did. Pouring into the meeting of lips all the tenderness and fierce possessiveness he felt for her and their unborn child.
‘You’ll have an heir before the end of the summer,’ she whispered when she could.
And then nothing would do but for him to take her to bed and repeat the relevant act all over again. Elizabeth felt she could never be happier. Surely the future would smile on them.
The future scowled in the form of a royal messenger, a hastily delivered document, driving Richard into immediate action.
‘Elizabeth. I have to go. There’s to be a battle and I’m summoned to join the Queen, in the name of the King, with any force I can muster.’ He was suddenly swamped with the logistics of travel with armed retainers over water-logged roads. Until he realised that Elizabeth had not replied. He looked up from the parchment. A deliberate smile. ‘I’ll not die, I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.’
‘You can’t know that. I’ll pray for your safety.’ Face strained, she walked to stand close. The little knot of anxiety that had been present since the first days of their marriage, and even after the bright glory of their love for each other, still remained firmly lodged, a piece of grit in a pearl. This was not the best of times to ask, but she knew she must. Selfish it might be, but there might never be another opportunity. Ask Lord Malinder, Jane had said, so she would. ‘Richard—will you tell me one thing before you go?’
‘Anything.’ He could not read the stillness in her face.
She bit her lip, could not meet his eyes for fear of what she might see there. ‘I know it’s foolish but—tell me about Gwladys. You never speak of her.’
She could sense his wariness. ‘What do you want to know?’
Elizabeth frowned. ‘Did you love her? Does she still hold a place in your heart?’
Of course. Carelessly, he had not thought, had not even considered the possibility. That Elizabeth, in her vulnerability when she had first arrived from Llanwardine, had lived with this fear that his heart remained in Gwladys’s keeping. Richard discarded the letter to draw her close, so that he might rest his brow against hers with a little sigh.
‘Did you love her?’ Elizabeth repeated.
‘Love her? No. I did not.’
‘I thought you loved her,’ Elizabeth stated gruffly, ‘loved her too much to love me. She was very beautiful.’
‘Elizabeth! Have I not said that I love you?’ Richard stroked her hair, letting it fall and curl through his fingers. ‘You need not fear Gwladys. She is not some wraith who demands my loyalty, who will haunt and step on the edge of your gown whenever you turn your back.’
‘I didn’t know. Gwladys seemed to be a for bid den subject.’
Elizabeth waited and he knew he would have to explain. So he did, as simply as he could, struggling to prevent the old hurt from re surfacing.
‘Gwladys was lovely beyond question. But any intimacies in marriage terrified her. She put up with my demands because she saw it as my right, but there was no joy in it for her. She shrank from me, hated every minute of it—which made me feel like an uncivilised bar barian. I tried to be gentle, considerate. It did not make much difference—I doubt the lady could see the difference between a seduction or a rape. She felt only relief if I did not come to her bed. My only consolation was that she would probably reject any man, no matter whose arms held her. But I was very young and there was always that doubt…that I was the problem.’
‘Oh.’ Elizabeth could think of nothing to soothe so deep and personal a wound. Her eyes darkened at the sadness and silently cursed the lovely Gwladys for the pain she had un wittingly inflicted. Then sharpened. ‘I remember. When you first took me to bed. When I flinched when you would have stroked my hair—or lack of it. I was embarrassed.’
His lips twisted in wry pain. ‘And I thought—well, you can guess what I thought when it seemed you did not wish to be touched. I could not bear it again. I had known Gwladys for ever, since we were children, you see.’ Sliding his hands down her arms, Richard drew Elizabeth by the hand to sit with him in the window-seat where the sun gilded and warmed them both. ‘I thought we had a close friendship, certainly enough affection to pass for love in what was considered by our families as a desirable marriage. I was wrong. Even the friendship died. Gwladys gradually retired into her own world of embroidery and prayers. She fulfilled her duties as my wife and Lady of Ledenshall without question, but only what need demanded. After she quickened with my child—I no longer went to her bed. It was a relief for her and for me.’
Elizabeth bowed her head at the pain she had resurrected. ‘I am sorry to have raised the spectre.’
‘As I am sorry it troubled you. I suppose I should have told you long ago.’ Raising her chin with his hand, he gently wiped a suspicion of a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t fear her, Elizabeth. You have all my heart. My love and my respect. Do you still not know that?’
‘I do know it.’ Her smile was brilliant and he saw the leap of desire in her eyes. ‘I do not flinch from you, dear Richard!’
‘I am aware.’ She felt the rumble of a laugh deep in his chest as he pressed his lips against her temple. ‘As you should be aware, my Amazon—that you are more beautiful to me than any woman, past or future.’
The remaining sliver of ice in Elizabeth’s heart, that whisper of doubt that she was not worthy of his love, dissolved into joy. There was no one in Richard’s mind but her.
The day of Richard’s departure arrived. Elizabeth woke. It was still early with only enough grey light to create shadowed outlines in the still room. At some time in the night she had turned to Richard and his arm, although lax in sleep, was curved round her to hold her close. Her hand, which she had spread against his chest, made her aware of the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Turning her head gently so as not to wake him, she could make out the clean profile, the fan of dark lashes against his cheek, the ruffled fall of dark hair. Wished for the light to brighten so that she could see more clearly, could study his face without his being aware and fix this moment securely in her mind. Considered and then rejected the temptation to stroke the dark wave where it lay on the pillow. It mattered. Heart-breakingly it mattered. For today he would take his retainers and ride to inevitable battle in the name of the imprisoned king. Death or glory.
The darkness paled further. Elizabeth revelled in the warmth, his closeness, breathing in his scent, the imprint of his flesh on hers. Oh, how she loved him. And the miracle of it was that he loved her. And even more of a miracle that Gwladys no longer haunted her. The icy jealousy around her heart had quite melted away. Perhaps if King Henry was restored to his throne, then Richard could come home and they could try to live with some semblance of normality. But God knew when she would see him again. She could not even think of any other alternative. Unable to resist any longer, she lifted her hand to touch the silk of his hair, then with a finger to trace the outline of his lips. And felt them curve in response.
‘So you are awake,’ he murmured, turning his face into the soft angle between her neck and shoulder, pressing light kisses there.
‘Yes.’
‘I can hear you thinking.’
‘Only how much I love you,’ she murmured in delight that he was awake. ‘I shall miss you, dear Richard.’
Drawing her close to savour her smooth skin and the sharp perfume of herbs in her hair once again before he left her, Richard allowed himself to be steeped in her. Held her so that she might experience the strength of his desire for her once more. So that she stretched, sighing, as he slid so perfectly inside her. And Richard delibe
rately controlled the pace as they rocked together in the warm sanctuary that was their own. Gentle, tender, with none of the scorching passion that some times consumed them when they came together, it was a long, slow loving, to remain with them when the days and miles stretched between them. Until Elizabeth shuddered against him, driving him into his own dark surrender. Until both lay with heightened breathing, but content at the last.
She wrapped her arms around him as if she would still hold him, yet knowing that she must not. It was the burden of women to wait and fill their hands and minds so that they would not contemplate the dread outcome of battle.
As if he could read her mind, Richard pushed himself to his elbows so that he could look down into her face. His was serious, the lines strongly marked. ‘I need you to hold the castle for me, Elizabeth. In my name and that of my heir. To protect my people and my land. Will you do it?’
‘With all my heart, my dear love—’ A hammering at the door cut off her words.
‘My lord, my lord…’ Such was the tone, and the voice very young, that Richard leapt from the bed, stopping only to snatch a robe for modesty’s sake before he opened the door to one of the kitchen lads.
‘Master Beggard sent me, my lord.’ The child was out of breath, his eyes wide with shock and excitement. ‘He says to come at once. We are beset.’
‘Beset? What’s wrong?’
‘A force, my lord. Master Beggard says to tell his lordship it’s not friendly, by God!’
‘Did he now? Tell him I’m on my way.’ The lad sped off.
‘What is it?’ Elizabeth asked anxiously, suddenly remembering a previous occasion when Richard had been summoned from her side to the tragedy of Lewis.
‘I don’t know. But I soon shall.’
The battlement walk provided a perfect vantage point from which to view the problem. Richard leaned beside his commander with narrowed eyes. Before the castle, already deploying around the walls in both directions, was a considerable force of men-at-arms and archers. Baggage wagons could be seen where a camp was being set up. There was no pretence at taking the in habitants of the castle by surprise. Orders were shouted, curses floated on the damp air, as men jostled and manoeuvred equipment into place or unloaded baggage animals. It was a formidable force, prepared to stay.
‘A siege, my lord?’ Richard felt an echo of the amazement in Simon’s voice.
‘Must be. They’re digging in.’
Robert joined them, alerted by the commotion and the growing noise.
‘Visitors. And not with good intentions towards us.’ His laugh was sharp, humourless. ‘Who in God’s name would set up a siege in February, and when the situation between York and Lancaster is at so crucial a juncture?’
‘I don’t know.’ Richard scanned the scene again, taking in the other obvious omission. ‘What do you notice, Rob?’
‘Apart from a large, well-organised force intent on taking your castle?’
‘Look at them!’
‘Ah!’ Robert nodded. ‘Faceless and nameless.’
But it was Simon Beggard who spoke the thought. ‘There’s no livery, my lord. No standards, no pennons, no herald—or not that I can see. We don’t know who comes against us.’
‘And, I wager, we’re to be deliberately kept in ignorance,’ Richard replied. ‘So who would come against us in this manner? It’ll take them months to reduce us to surrender. We’re well stocked with provisions and our water supply is secure. What in God’s name are they thinking of? They must know I won’t negotiate.’
‘Well, there’s your answer.’ Robert pointed to the road where horses approached, slowly, ponderously, dragging heavy wheels behind them. ‘Whoever it is has no intention of negotiating terms with you either.’ The horses dragged behind them four large cannon. ‘You’ve a powerful enemy, Richard,’ he stated. ‘Someone who intends to blast a hole in your castle wall and simply walk through.’
Richard watched as the cannon were dragged into position, their purpose horrifyingly apparent. Someone, hiding behind deliberate anonymity, intended to destroy the castle wall. And since no herald summoned them with traditional courtesy to a parley before the attack began, the besiegers were not interested in offering terms of surrender.
The in habitants of Ledenshall were soon rattled by the first crash of a cannon ball. Followed by another and then another. An hour later the stone work was beginning to suffer damage. The final outcome could not have been more obvious.
‘So what do we do?’ Robert demanded, unaware of the grey coating to his red brows. ‘We can’t just sit here and wait to be battered into sub mission.’
Richard saw the outcome etched clearly in his mind. The wall would gradually sink and collapse under the barrage, vertical crevasses opening wide. The Malinder men-at-arms would fight to the bitter end to defend Ledenshall, of that he had no doubt, but ultimately? Surrender. Capture. Death.
‘We are pinned here like rats in a trap with terriers waiting for the chance to snap our necks in two,’ he observed dispassionately.
There was no way out of Ledenshall without meeting deadly resistance.
Apart, that is, from the easily over looked, completely overgrown postern gate.
On Richard’s orders, the men met around the table in the Great Hall. He could have drawn his detailed plan of action into the dust on the surface before him.
‘We’re in danger.’ He let his gaze rest on each face. No point in pre tending otherwise, but his voice was calm, his manner exuding confidence. When a missile thwacked against the first-floor level of the keep above their heads, he did not even flinch. ‘If we sit here, we shall be at worst dead, at best prisoners. This is my plan. We’ll make use of the postern—at the first hint of dawn when men are at their most susceptible. Rob, you and Simon will remain here and keep up the re sistance, for what good it is, as if we were all still trapped. Begin a fire attack to draw all attention and open the main gates as if a sortie is planned. It’ll distract attention from the ditch by the copse where the postern opens out.’
Richard waited until he had received a reluctant nod of acceptance from Robert. ‘It’s my intention to get the women out of here. There’s no indication that we shall be granted free passage if the wall falls, so I think we must presume that we shall not. I’ll deliver the women to safety—and then I shall ride to my estates to collect an armed force. Then I’ll return to raise the siege. Four, five days at the most, by my reckoning.’
‘Where will you get horses?’ Robert asked.
‘At the inn in the village—again our only hope. I’ll try to get a man out during the hours of darkness to give notice of our needs.’
‘What about me?’ David asked. His fingers tightened into fists on the table, his dark eyes fixed on Richard, part challenge, part plea.
‘Of course.’ Richard had already taken the pride of the de Lacy heir into consideration. How to get him out of danger without denying his abilities? ‘You will disguise yourself as a peasant and will come with me. I’ll need some support if we’re to get the women away.’
David nodded, a quick smile, the disguise appealing to his sense of adventure. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Good lad! I thought you might argue the point. Now I’ll go and break the news!’
‘I won’t go! I won’t leave you here!’ In the solar Elizabeth faced him, full of ripe fury that he should send her away.
‘I am not asking you, Elizabeth.’ He set his jaw, tried for calm. He had expected this, had he not? ‘This is an order. And you are not leaving me here. I am coming with you.’
It had no noticeable effect. ‘I’ll not be shuffled off to safety. I’ll stay with you and fight against whoever dares to attack our home. Against whoever dares to put your life in danger.’ Despite everything, he had to admire her battle spirit, but now was not the time.
‘Listen, my foolish one.’ He dragged her away from the vulnerable window opening to the centre of the room and forced her to sit and listen, keeping hold of her hands
. ‘Look at me and listen.’ He waited until she did so, only then aware of the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. ‘We don’t know the purpose of this attack. We don’t know that the usual rules apply because there appear to be no rules, that if I am prepared to negotiate or even surrender, you’ll be allowed to go free. We can’t hold out in de finitely against their fire power. Someone is very determined on our defeat, so I expect no quarter. This plan—it will be a near-run thing, but I think the balance is on our side. I have to know that you are safe. Once you are removed from here and in a place of safety, then that is one less problem on my mind. I have my men to consider and my people at Ledenshall. If nothing else, think of that.’
His words were clear and simply stated. They cut cleanly to Elizabeth’s brain, to her conscience, through the underlying uncertainty and the fear. And of course he had not said anything that she had not worked out for herself. But she could not give in. Could not leave him to whatever fate held for him.
Richard saw her refusal written in her face.
‘I love you, Elizabeth—you are my life. Your safety is always, will always be, my greatest concern.’ He grasped her shoulders and shook her gently. ‘And if some thing should happen to me, and God grant that it does not, the child you carry will ensure the continuation of the Malinder in heritance.’ How could she stand against so stark a truth? ‘I’ll leave you some where in safety and then collect a force from my own tenants so that I can return and raise the siege. It’s the only way—the obvious way. You have to see the sense of it.’
And she did. ‘I am afraid,’ she admitted as she leaned against him for a moment, her forehead against his shoulder.
‘I know. But you are also very brave. You will do exactly what needs to be done. As a Malinder and a de Lacy.’
He could not have said better. Now she looked up, face pale but determined. ‘Tell me what I need to do.’
‘I need to take you some where safe. I haven’t decided where…’
