by Alexa Aston
“Aye.” He thought of his loveless union with Richessa, a woman whose inane chatter drove him to madness—when he could tolerate her presence. She had given birth twice to stillborn children. The midwife had told him after the last one that Richessa could no longer bear any more. Since his wife’s health had grown poor, Kit wondered how she had fared in his time away from England. As an only son, he would need to provide an heir for Brentwood.
If he could, he idly wondered if the charming Alys de Montfort might still be available. From time to time, he found himself musing over what happened to the budding beauty he had met when he first came to court. He had caught the de Montfort name when Devereux mentioned it and decided to inquire, hoping to appease his curiosity.
“You mentioned Lord Geoffrey de Montfort. Might he be father to Lady Alys de Montfort?”
“He is, indeed,” Devereux said. “Lord Geoffrey is inside now, meeting with the king, along with his cousin, Raynor. Both men participated in the signing of the latest treaty.”
“Lord Geoffrey is the best knight in all of England,” Fairfax proclaimed. “A warrior like no other and possessing a good heart and keen mind. Alys is his oldest daughter. She favors her mother, Merryn, in looks and has her mother’s healing ways. So you know her?”
Kit nodded. “I met Lady Alys briefly at court. Years ago, on the day the queen died.”
Devereux nodded solemnly. “God bless the good queen. Poor Alys took her death quite hard.”
“I did not see her at court after that event. Did she leave to foster elsewhere?”
“Nay, she returned home to Kinwick Castle,” Fairfax said. “She had been with the queen several years and was ready to come home. Lady Merryn knows much about herbs and healing. She has passed on her knowledge to Lady Alys through the years, and Alys’ reputation grows each year.”
“Do you visit Kinwick often?”
“Aye,” Devereux replied. “Both Elysande and Avelyn are close to their uncle and Lady Merryn. Lord Geoffrey’s sister, Lady Mary, lives at Sandbourne with us. Visits are made from our households on a regular basis. All the young cousins enjoy being with one another.”
Casually, he asked, “I wondered if—”
At that moment, the doors were thrown open. Men began pouring through them.
“It was nice meeting you, Emory,” Devereux said. “We must leave now and head for home with Lord Geoffrey and Lord Raynor. If you are ever nearby, stop in at Sandbourne.”
“Or at Shadowfaire,” added Fairfax, “now that we have a break in this nasty war.” He gave Kit a brusque nod. The two men joined up with two older noblemen, both still handsome for their ages and bearing the posture of seasoned knights. He wondered which of the two might be father to Lady Alys.
And if she had wed.
Kit had been about to ask that very question when the meeting with the king ended, interrupting their conversation. He watched as the group exited the hall and lingered as others ventured from the long meeting. Finally, he caught sight of his father and headed toward him.
“Christopher!” his father called in greeting, embracing him. “I did not know when to expect you.”
“I came on the ship that brought the duke back to London,” he explained.
He studied his father, noting that his beard had gone totally gray, as had most of his hair. New lines were etched into his face since Kit had last seen him.
“Come. We shall go to my chamber and speak in private.”
Kit followed his father as they wound their way through the gathered throngs and down crowded corridors before they reached the quiet of the large, airy chamber. His father offered him wine, which he refused.
Pouring himself a healthy amount, Godwin drained it and rested the cup on a table as he sat. He indicated for Kit to take the chair next to him.
“The king is old and tired,” his father began. “His health has only grown worse since you were last at court.”
“And what of Alice Perrers?” he asked.
A sour look crossed his father’s face. “She is still his mistress. Edward is heavily under that greedy woman’s influence.”
“What of the Black Prince? Has he recuperated?”
His father sighed. “He rallied some after returning from France, but now he only grows weaker as each day passes.” He hesitated. “I fear he will be the first Prince of Wales who won’t live long enough to become king.”
Kit shuddered. “But Prince Edward is a natural leader.”
“Not anymore. Our Prince of Wales is sick and old before his time. And his son, Richard, is much too young to assume the throne and rule. I fear the chaos that will follow the Black Prince’s death, especially if the present king passes near the same time.”
“Richard is but a boy, but he would be the rightful heir, Father. If what you say comes to pass and England finds herself without King Edward and the Black Prince, Richard must be crowned as our monarch.” Kit thought a moment, his knowledge of palace politics deep. “Yet I fear his uncle, the Duke of Lancaster, would try to control the boy.”
His father snorted. “Lancaster already controls enough as it is. Before he left to fight on the continent, none of his actions on behalf of his father proved to be honorable or successful. Now Lancaster has all but lost every possession of England’s in France and brought home to us a worthless truce, not worth the parchment it’s written upon.”
“I fear this pause in the action will only benefit the French.”
“I couldn’t agree more, my son. While England’s leadership crumbles around us, our war chests have emptied. Taxes will have to be raised in order to replenish them. And everyone throughout the land has grown tired of war. Meanwhile, the French only grow stronger and more fervent since they have won back so much territory in recent years.”
“What have you advised the king to do since the treasury is so dangerously low?”
His father shrugged. “It matters not what I say. I believe I am on my way out. The duke is surrounding the king with men loyal to him while he rids King Edward of his longtime advisers. I do not know how long a time I will remain at court.”
“Go home with me now, Father. Leave this nest of vipers,” Kit insisted. He worried about his father’s health more than the king’s. Besides the obvious aging his father’s face showed, Kit noticed a shortness of breath that concerned him.
“Nay. I will stay as long as I can and hope I am useful. But you should leave at once. Your mother and wife have both been ill as of late.”
“Mother is ill? What ails her? And Richessa?”
Kit tried to keep the alarm from his voice, but it upset him to hear such news. He had always been closer to his mother than his father. She had been much more than a parent to him—more like a trusted confidant, supporter, and wise mentor. A steady force in his life and the one person who loved him unconditionally, no matter how many mistakes he made and how often he had been sent back to Brentwood in shame.
His father waved a hand about. “I know not. Dawkin’s message to me only said both of them had been struck with something.”
It did not surprise him that his father had remained at court despite their steward notifying him of his wife’s illness. The couple tolerated one another, with no affection in their marriage. Long separations had only driven a wedge more tightly between them. His father reveled in his life at court; his mother preferred her life in the country. Kit was their only issue. After several lost babes, his mother had never produced another.
Though he never realized it before, Kit now thought that his own marriage echoed that of his parents’. A twinge of sadness pricked at him. He thought back to the two earls he had met only an hour ago. How each man spoke lovingly and longingly of returning home to his beloved wife.
Would he ever experience such a feeling?
He squared his shoulders. “With your permission, I will leave at once for Brentwood. I will write to you of Mother’s—and Richessa’s—health. I only wish you would accompany me.”
>
His father shook his head emphatically. “Nay, my boy. I’ll lap up whatever time I have left in the weak sunshine emitting from our king. I feel, for England’s sake, that I must remain in my position as long as possible, before Lancaster casts me aside and replaces me with one of the incompetent fools that he calls friend.”
Kit bid his father farewell, wondering if it would be the last time they would meet.
“Go with God, my son.”
Chapter 2
Kinwick Castle
Alys de Montfort watched her mother flit from one activity to another, an anxious air about her.
“Father will be home soon,” she said, hoping to calm her mother’s frenetic energy. “And he’ll be staying.”
The older woman paused and took a deep breath. “I know. Yet I cannot help but worry until he arrives safely.”
“He should be home sometime today according to the missive he sent.”
“Father’s coming home?”
She turned and saw her sister, Nan, standing in the doorway, a wide grin spreading across her face. The younger girl ran and hugged her mother tightly.
“Do you think Raynor might come with him?” Nan asked. “I want him to see me with my sword.”
“Nay, Child,” Merryn said. “Raynor will be anxious to return home to Beatrice and your cousins.”
“Then we need to go see them soon,” Nan proclaimed. “Raynor must watch me fight. Alys has been teaching me. I think I am getting quite good.”
Alys thought back to how Raynor had made wooden swords for her and Ancel when they were close to Nan’s age and how much fun the two of them had brandishing them about as Raynor cheered them on. She had kept up her own weapon practice over the years. Though not as skilled as a knight of the realm, Alys knew she could protect herself with a sword if she ever found herself in danger.
She decided to continue the sword lessons with Nan so that her sister would also grow up confident in her ability to defend herself.
“Would you like us to go out into the bailey and—”
“Oh, aye!” Nan ran from the room to retrieve her sword before Alys could even finish her sentence.
“Thank you for keeping her occupied, Alys,” her mother murmured. She sat in a chair and picked up the embroidery lying on the table next to her and aimlessly turned it over in her lap.
Alys went and dropped a kiss atop her mother’s head and then left to find her own wooden sword in order to duel with Nan.
Soon, she was caught up in instructing her sister, who had changed into what she termed her boy clothes. Alys had waited years for her mother to birth a girl child, but Nan preferred swordplay and riding to the womanly arts. Much to her mother’s disappointment, Nan showed no interest at all in herbs. In a way, Alys missed passing along to her little sister what she had learned about the healing power of herbs. She had assumed Nan would continue in the de Montfort women’s footsteps. At the same time, it gave Alys precious hours alone with her mother as they ground and pressed different herbs and visited the many tenants at Kinwick, addressing their multitude of ailments.
Alys swung her sword at her opponent, glad to see how fast Nan reacted to counter Alys’ moves. For a child of six, her sister had an innate sense of balance and a true feel for the weapon in her hand.
“Step to your left!” Gilbert called out as he stopped to study them. “You swing your sword with confidence, Lady Nan, but you need to be quicker on your feet.”
“I am quick, Sir Gilbert,” Nan retorted to their captain of the guard. “I just prefer the right.”
The knight came closer and watched them go at it a few minutes before he interrupted again.
“Lady Alys knows your preference,” he warned. “She will take advantage of you if you let her. You never want your opponent to know you favor one side over the other. Practice being equally skilled coming from both directions.”
Nan stopped and blew out a hard breath. “You are right, as always,” she admitted. She glanced at her sister. “Can we stop, Alys? I am tired.”
“My lord captain!”
They all looked up to the soldier stationed on the wall walk.
“Lord Geoffrey approaches,” he continued.
Gilbert waved in acknowledgement. He looked at Nan. “Best go in and find Lady Merryn and let her know your father will arrive soon.”
“And wash your face and change your clothes after you do so,” Alys called after her as Nan scampered away.
Her sister stopped and thrust out her tongue for an answer before running across the bailey toward the keep, her sword swinging by her side.
“She is a feisty one, our Lady Nan,” Gilbert said, shaking his head.
Alys laughed. “We all thought Hal was a terror at her age. Can you imagine what Nan will be like in a few years?”
“Master Hal is turning out just fine, my lady. All of you de Montfort children make your parents proud.”
“Thank you, Sir Gilbert. Coming from you, that’s high praise. If you will excuse me, I intend to ready myself for Father’s arrival whether Nan does or not.”
She hurried to her chamber to bathe her face and wash her hands before she changed into a fresh cotehardie of pale yellow. Her father always complimented her when she wore the color. Her braid had held up during their practice, so she left it in place and returned downstairs.
As she came outside into the warm sunshine, Alys saw her mother already waiting at the foot of the stairs, Nan beside her. Alys quickly made her way down to them and linked her arm through her mother’s. Merryn’s face was flushed with excitement and anticipation at her husband’s return.
Nan defiantly looked up at Alys, her little, wooden sword still in hand. She hadn’t changed into female attire. “Father loves me as I am,” she declared. The child wrinkled her nose and turned back, awaiting the horses whose hooves could now be heard thundering nearby.
Alys squeezed her mother’s arm. She glanced as their longtime servant, Tilda, came and stood on Merryn’s other side.
At that moment, she sighted the returning party as they rounded the corner into the inner bailey and galloped toward them. Her heart swelled with pride seeing her father at its head. The king had great admiration for Geoffrey de Montfort, having once asked years ago for Geoffrey to serve on his royal council. Her father refused to do so, wanting to remain at Kinwick and raise his family far from the scheming courtiers in London. As a compromise, the monarch had called upon the nobleman to serve him in times of need, which was why Geoffrey had been gone to Belgium on the king’s business the past few months. Her mother had shared that knowledge with her, stressing for her to keep his whereabouts to herself since the diplomatic mission required the utmost secrecy.
Though now graying at the temples, her father was still a handsome man at two score, tall and broad-shouldered. Alys saw he only had eyes for his adored wife as he drew near.
Geoffrey de Montfort leapt from his saddle and strode toward his wife, a satisfied smile playing about his lips. He cupped his wife’s face in his large palms, drinking her in before kissing her soundly.
Alys chuckled to herself. She had grown used to her parents’ open affection for one another. She delighted in the fact that they loved each other after so many years of marriage, as well as respected one another.
Seeing their warm embrace, Alys felt a twinge of envy at what they had together. She wondered if she would ever know a great love such as theirs.
Without meaning to, her thoughts flashed as they had so often over the years to Kit Emory, Richessa Giffard’s betrothed, the only man she’d ever experienced any longing for. She pushed aside his image as her brother, Ancel, came toward her and wrapped her in a bear hug. As squire to Lord Hardwin, her twin had accompanied the nobleman to France. She had said countless prayers to the Virgin Mary to keep Ancel safe as the two countries warred against one another. Having him back on English soil and at Kinwick brought sweet relief.
Glancing over his shoulder, Alys saw that Hal and
Edward also headed their way. Happiness at having all three of her brothers present filled her.
“I have missed you, Alys de Montfort,” her twin said, twirling her about before he set her down and released her.
“It was good of Lord Hardwin to let all three of you come home for a visit. Mother will be thrilled to have all her ducklings under one roof.”
Her father finally pulled away from his lengthy kiss, thanks to Nan tugging on him. “I see you are dressed for battle, my little lady.” He looked to Alys. “I’m sure you have done an excellent job of teaching your sister swordplay while I have been gone.”
He hugged Nan, who squealed in delight, and then enfolded Alys in his embrace. “You look lovely as the sunshine, Daughter. But tell me. Was your mother her usual whirlwind while I was gone?”
Alys laughed. Anytime her father went away on the king’s business, her mother kept everyone on the straight and narrow. The keep was cleaned from top to bottom. The ledgers were scrutinized and any corrections needed promptly made. Extra candles would be fashioned, and the workers would have their tasks inspected more closely than by any man with the Countess of Kinwick in charge.
“Mother did an excellent job while you were away, but she missed you dreadfully. We all did, Father. Kinwick isn’t Kinwick without your presence.”
He kissed her cheek. “Then I shall plan to stay and give everyone a break from her tyrannical rule,” he teased.
Alys greeted Hal and Edward. “You are sprouting like a weed, Hal,” she told him. “I know Ancel was not nearly as tall at one and ten as you are.”
“What about me?” Edward demanded. “Was Ancel as tall as I am? I am nine, you know.”
She laughed at the eagerness of her youngest brother. “Of course, I know your age, Edward. I have known you since you left Mother’s womb. I’ve rocked you and swaddled you and sung to you.”
“And taught me about swordplay,” the boy added solemnly. “You are a good sister to me, Alys.”
She ruffled his hair fondly. “And you are the best of brothers, Edward.”
