Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga)

by Diana Rubino

  Her heart quickened at the thought of how they had first met, and married. How he had handed her one perfect rose, and seemed to be the perfect knight, whom she had then dreamed about until their paths had once again crossed….

  As they strode to the lists to see how things were progressing in the tourney, she was sure no man there could hold a candle to the man she was blessed to now call husband.

  The tournament had just ended, and the victorious knights were being lionized by their ladies.

  "Do you mind if I just have a word with the winners, and then see where Richard has got to?"

  "Not at all, Husband. Enjoy yourself, I shall go over to the butts and try my hand there."

  "Do you fancy hawking once I've found the Duke?"

  She smiled. "Nothing could be a finer sight than the two of you with your prized birds. I'd love to."

  "Very well. I shall meet you over by the bridge in say, half an hour?"

  "Aye, perfect."

  He stooped to give her a warm kiss which promise more delights to come, and strode off to help the winner remove his dented armor.

  Denys enjoyed her archery practice, and was just about to go join her husband and their noble guest to go hawking in the royal forest with their noble falcons, when a sudden prickle up and down her spine caused her to flinch, sending the normally true arrow so wide it missed the butt altogether.

  Suddenly a stunned gasp knifed through the harmonious sounds echoing through the sylvan glade. Servitors began scurrying about aimlessly as a horse galloped away with a messenger bearing the royal standard.

  The surroundings silenced. Heads bowed. Some began to openly weep.

  Denys dropped her bow, gathered her skirts, and ran towards the gatehouse, where Richard and Valentine were standing on the drawbridge.

  Approaching them, she could see Valentine's face was white with shock, and tears shone in his eyes as he embraced Richard.

  "My God, what has happened?" She put an arm around Richard's shoulders and hugged him to her. "What is it, Richard?"

  Richard pulled out of her grasp and put a hand to his head as if to ward off a pounding headache.

  "The King is dead, Denys," Valentine said, his voice coming from far away, trembling with emotion.

  Richard turned away, shaking his head, and she felt his sense of shock and disbelief, for it was also her own.

  "Which king?" she blurted, but she knew deep down in her heart… No other king's death would cause such grief.

  "Our King, King Edward," Valentine replied patiently.

  No. Not Uncle Ned! Her protector, her confidant, the closest thing she'd ever had to a father. The news stunned every nerve in her body.

  "Oh, Richard, I am so sorry. We all loved him so very much." First young Edmund, killed so long ago in battle. Then George, his middle brother. That had been bad enough. But now? The kingdom without Uncle Ned? Oh, God save them. God save them all.

  "How?" she gasped, fearing the worst.

  Valentine looked sharply at her. "Nay, ‘twas no treachery or murder. His fondness for high living was at last his undoing."

  Richard bowed his head and said something inaudible to Valentine then.

  Without turning back, he crossed the drawbridge to the inner courtyard.

  Valentine started after him but Denys grabbed his sleeve.

  "Where are you going?"

  "He wants to talk to me privately. It must be about this."

  Valentine bent over and picked up the message that had slipped out of Richard's hands. It was from Lord Hastings, a lifelong enemy of the Woodvilles.

  "‘The King has left all to your protection, goods, heir, realm,'" Valentine read aloud.

  Denys stared. "Richard is to be the Lord Protector? Then bless him, and his whole family."

  "‘Secure the person of our sovereign Lord Edward the Fifth and get you to London.'"

  "Sovereign. The poor child. Edward is just a boy."

  "Aye, indeed. And don't think his enemies don't know it all too well."

  "What can we do?"

  "Your sentiments do you great credit my dear, and in time, I am sure you too will be called upon to lend aid and comfort. I'm sure Richard has something in mind. Just be patient."

  "But he won't be thinking straight. The grief, such a terrible loss like a bolt from the blue…" She shook her head pityingly.

  Valentine cuffed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and said hoarsely, "Which is why I must go with him. One of us must be sensible enough to do what is needful for all concerned, both the dead, and the living. I must go, my love."

  With a light kiss to Denys' cheek, and a stroke of her silvery hair, he caught up with his dearest friend and walked with him through the courtyard.

  Still too stunned to move, Denys could only pray. Fear tormented her through her grief. Oh, God, she begged, please watch over these men. They are the most dear to me in the world. Nay, they're all I have left now.

  Thoughts of Uncle Ned swirled through her head with no pattern or design. It had been he who had made her whole hateful childhood as an orphan being raised by Elizabeth and the ambitious Woodville clan bearable.

  She could recall Uncle Ned warming her hands on cold winter days our hunting, marching home from battle, turning and blowing her a kiss.

  Oh, what she'd lost. What the kingdom had lost! Dear, beloved Uncle. Tall, blond, strong. The King they'd called the Golden Boy. King Edward of the House of York.

  God help us all.

  Denys was finally able to turn and face the moat, sunlight glinting off the water, lapping at the castle wall. All was hushed; no one spoke. She heard a sob in the distance.

  But no one could find the words. On bended knees, she clasped her hands in prayer. Her tears spilled over into the moat.

  A duck glided by. The sun slid across the sky, stretching the shadows. A breeze played through the leaves. Time and nature carried on. Nothing paused because their King had left them. The kingdom had to carry on as well. She believed in Richard and his most trusted councilor, and counselor. Valentine, her husband.

  She'd always told Uncle Ned her problems. Now he belonged to the heavens, and to him she prayed. "Uncle, please watch over them. Please rule from above, guide them, let them not fall into enemy hands. Oh, Uncle, I miss you..."

  She sobbed into her clasped hands for a time, until she felt a sudden warmth upon her. A wispy cloud had wafted away, and now the sun's warmed her. She was sure he had heard her prayer, and it was him comforting her as always. And giving her the courage to go on.

  She rose to her knees, dusted her gown, and with a straight back refusing to bow to grief any longer, she strode back to the keep with her head held high.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "I still don't want to believe he's gone, Valentine," she admitted to her husband later that evening.

  At last the castle had settled down for the night, and Richard had retired to his chambers for some much needed rest, Denys had shut the solar door and turned to face her husband.

  "I know. I can't either." "What is going to happen to England now?"

  "You saw the message, Dove."

  But despite his matter of fact tone, his eyes were darting all over the room and he shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable.

  "Yes, but what does it all mean? For England? For us?"

  His voice was rushed, his tone impatient. "They need Richard in London immediately. Parliament made him Lord Protector. Edward has been dead nearly a week, and until Richard gets there in person, we have no real ruler.

  "This is extremely dangerous. As Prince Edward is the son of Elizabeth Woodville, you know what will happen should Elizabeth and her family begin wielding their influence over the boy."

  Her brows drew downwards. "Surely Prince Edward has divers--councilors--anti-Woodville councilors--monitoring Elizabeth's every move. They wouldn't let Elizabeth anywhere near the council chambers, would they?"

  "Oh, God, I hope not." He gathered her into his arms, and s
aid quietly, "But all the more reason why we must go."

  "We?"

  "Richard wants me there in London, Dove."

  "Whatever for? You are not part of the royal household as I am through the Queen, and though I know your friendship—" But she was babbling, and she knew it. Had known from the moment Richard had stepped out of her embrace this afternoon what was about to be asked of her.

  "He wants me to be his chief advisor. He knows his own personal shortcomings and he admits he fears he will make a disaster of it all. He's asked for my help." He broke their embrace and gave her an uneasy smile.

  She took a deep breath, and nodded. "I understand. As you say, he's spent the day dispatching messages to the four corners of the kingdom to try to deal with all of these matters, and you've no doubt left provision for all your lands in case the Scots should decide to become aggressive once more. Were it not for that, I am sure Richard would be halfway to London by now. But Valentine, this is so, well, so enormous an undertaking."

  "Worry not, darling. This is nowhere near as dangerous as going to war. But having spent so much of my life in battle, I am all the more determined to avoid bloodshed if possible. Diplomacy is where I intended to excel."

  "Can I come with you?"

  He shook his head. "Time is of the essence. I must take my leave immediately. It would be unfair to expect you to keep up with the pace. Have your favorite belongings packed and follow me with the retinue I have arranged for you in a few days' time."

  "I am afraid, Valentine," she admitted in a small voice, gripping his hand, but not daring to meet his eyes.

  He gave her a warm smile. "Do not be, my love. Have faith in my abilities. Oh, my Lord Father would be so proud! I'm finally going to oversee something bigger than Yorkshire." His voice held a slight quiver.

  She looked up at him and saw him quickly cuff away a tear. She said not another word about the matter, and left him alone with the memory of his father.

  There wasn't more she could do. It had all been decided. Like most women, she must sit and wait on the will of God—and the men who now ruled England. Richard, Duke of Gloucester, her uncle by marriage and the nearest thing she had ever had to a brother. And Valentine, his most trusted friend, and her husband.

  Shaking her head at the pity and wonder of it all, she headed for the chapel, where they were keeping an all-night prayer vigil for the departed King. She could at least do that while Valentine was occupied with matters of state.

  She only hoped he would not be too late to her bed, for who knew when they would see one another again…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Denys' fears proved all too true, for Valentine did not come to her bed that night, but joined Richard in the prayer vigil just as she was about to head to their chamber.

  She had no idea what time he got to bed, but by the time she realized he was there, he was already swinging his long legs out of the bed.

  "Good morning, Husband."

  "And to you, sweet Wife."

  She hoped she would get more than mere words, but Valentine was a man on a mission. Stopping only long enough to perform his toilet and look over his scanty luggage one last time, he kissed her on the brow and headed down to the great hall to break his fast.

  Denys watched him leave the room silently. She knew she could have lured him into tarrying with her for a time, but had decided in the end that it was unworthy of her.

  Great matters of state were at stake here. She shouldn't waste Valentines time with nonsense just because she was feeling insecure.

  As he had said last evening, she had to have faith in him. And Richard above all. Edward had been a great king, born to rule, though the Yorkist succession had been by no means certain and won at great and very bloody cost on both sides.

  Richard had been his most trusted ally, and Valentine Richard's. All would be well. Many might dislike the Woodvilles, but there was no doubt the blood of kings ran in Richard's veins. Nor any doubt about young Edward and his brother. King Edward had been more fortunate than many kings of yore; he had left a profusion of heirs.

  In fact, there were too many possible claimants for the throne. That was the problem….

  Please God, not another civil war for the succession, she prayed. Anything but that. She had so little left now, but what she has was that much more precious, and would be that much more devastating a loss should any harm come to Richard or Valentine.

  Denys got out of bed abruptly, and began to scrub her face with cold water. She was not going to let her thoughts tend that way, nor seem anything less than brave and confident that all would be well. Above all, she would not let Valentine or Richard see her tears.

  Her life in Elizabeth Woodville's household had trained her well for dissimulation. She held her head high as she sat between Richard and her husband, and even managed to partake of some new bread and a coddled egg without choking.

  Suddenly she felt her husband's eyes upon her. "It's time, my dear."

  "I know. I'll walk you out."

  "I might just go upstairs for a moment to see if I've left anything behind," he suggested softly.

  She blushed, and Richard now rose too and stepped away.

  "Oh, er, yes, if you like, but really, it's fine. I understand, darling, really I do. You have to go, and Richard is waiting."

  "Aye, my lady, that he is."

  "Then go. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can stop worrying, and act for everyone's benefit," she reasoned, though inwardly she wanted to beg him not to leave.

  He stroked her veil, and one silvery strand of her hair. "Thank you, my dear, for being so brave. I know how hard this must be. Edward was like a father to you, and now—"

  "Don't say it, or you shall see me less than brave."

  He shook his head. "Never. Trust in me and our men, and all will be well. But come, I have a word or two to say in private to my dearest wife."

  He took her by the hand, and whisked her out of the great hall and down the corridor to the small chamber he used for the castle's records and library of books.

  In fact he said little, just bending to bestow upon her a kiss that almost made her weep. It was full of passion and longing, and the promise of the most wonderful delights, yet it almost felt like a final farewell.

  At last he broke off his kisses and caresses, and leaned his forehead against hers for a brief moment, as if he couldn't bear to tear himself away.

  As the silence began to stretch, Denys whispered, "Take care of yourself, my Lord. May God protect and keep you always. And be on the side of the righteous."

  "Amen to that." He stood up straight and crossed himself. "So now, my dear, it's time for you to get ready for your journey as well. I will send you word from the south just as soon as I know it is safe for you to venture to join us. Be careful, and trust no one other than our own known allies."

  "I shall be ever watchful, dearest."

  He nodded, satisfied, and gave her one last warm kiss. "I'll see you soon. Try not to fret." She gave a shaky laugh.

  He grinned ruefully. "Well, I did say try." Then he stood upright again, and turned. "How do I look?" he asked over his shoulder.

  She took in the light chain mail and colorful surcoat bearing his arms. "Every inch the warrior."

  "Good, I was rather hoping for that effect," he teased in an affected drawl.

  She smiled in spite of herself. "Shoo, you great peacock."

  "I'm going now, my dear, but I'll be preening for you again in no time. And as for a pea, well, giant marrow, more like."

  She slapped him playfully on the arm. "Oh, off with you, then. I can see from your bawdy talk you're more fit for the ale house than your lady's company, so adieu, my fine knight."

  He bent for one more smacking kiss, then took her head and strode out to the courtyard. He issued some last minute instructions to the estate steward and castellan, and then put his foot into the stirrup of his waiting charger.

  He swung into the saddle with an e
ase which Denys never ceased to admire, as if he and the horse were one.

  Richard was already sitting astride his mount, and now gave the signal for everyone to get ready to ride.

  "Fare thee well, Dove," he called.

  "And you, Richard. Go with God. I shall see you soon, and pray for everyone in your family from now until we next meet."

  "Your family too," he reminded her gently, with an odd look in his eyes.