by Anne Herries
‘Wait until you know what real hunger is,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘I must go, my dear. Please feel free to walk where you wish. You may come and help me if you feel strong enough.’
‘I am perfectly well,’ Melissa said. ‘Pray, tell me what I may do to be of service?’
‘Some of the men have gone hunting,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘When they return, we shall need to salt the meat so that it keeps longer. And there are fruits to be preserved for the winter. You may help with that, for we shall need all our resources if we are to resist a siege.’
‘Then, I shall come down when I have changed into suitable attire,’ Melissa said. ‘Please do not let me keep you, my lady.’
As Lady Gifford went out, Melissa summoned Agnes to help her change out of her best silk gown into a kirtle of Wilton and a tunic of worsted, which were less costly than her best clothes and would do for the chore of salting down the fresh meat.
Her thoughts were busy as she changed, because she knew that she had been given a temporary respite. If her father still lived he would be determined on her marriage—if not to the Marquis of Leominster to someone else. Unless he had been killed on the field of battle or was the subject of an act of attainder, he would never give up his plans for her.
More importantly, what had happened to Rob? He might hate her, but she loved him still and she did not care what became of her as long as she might know that he was safe.
‘I thank you for your support, Sir Robert of Melford,’ Henry Tudor said. He had not yet been crowned the King of England, but he had assumed its majesty. It was now within his power to grant favours to those who had served him well, and none had done better by him than this man. Rob had fought valiantly in the field, and was respected by all. ‘You shall have your rewards when I am truly King—but I would ask another service of you. There are lords in the north of England that I must either subdue or make peace with—namely Gifford and Leominster. They live no more than fifteen leagues apart. Subdue one and the other should fall—From the information my scurryers give me, I would say that Gifford will fall the easier. Control him first and he cannot come at your back when you have Leominster at your mercy.’
‘And what would you have me do with them, sire?’
‘Send Gifford to me unless he resists too long. Although I know him to be my enemy, he took no part in the battle. Therefore, I may imprison him in the Tower and pardon him in due course—if he will recant his loyalty to my enemies. Leominster will never give in. He will be tried and condemned to a just death—unless he dies in battle.’
‘It shall be as you wish,’ Rob said. ‘I shall leave as soon as my men may be made ready to march.’
‘Come to me when I am crowned,’ Henry said. ‘I would have loyal, brave men about me, Robert of Melford—and there are none braver I think.’
‘Thank you, sire.’
Rob took his leave. As he walked back towards the camp where his men were resting, he was thoughtful. They had all worked hard these past days. Although the battle of Bosworth had lasted no more than two hours, because of Henry Tudor’s brilliant stratagem—and perhaps Richard’s depleted forces—there had been skirmishes. Rob’s men had been sent to rout some of those who remained defiant and would not lay down their arms.
Rob had not expected that he would be released after one battle, however successful. Had King Richard not been caught in a difficult position it might have ended differently. After killing Henry’s standard bearer and unhorsing the knight, Sir John Cheney, who was a veritable giant, Richard had been lost in the melee, his horse shot from under him by the archers, perhaps helpless in the mud of the churned fields. If he had escaped to fight again, he could well have been victorious for the Stanleys might then have thrown in their fortunes with him. Instead, Lord Stanley had found the crown hanging on the thornbush and brought it to Henry Tudor, declaring him the king.
It would take a serious rebellion to dislodge Henry once he had the throne secure, Rob knew—and it was to this end that some of the more troublesome nobles were to be subdued. Some would fight and might lose all they owned as well as their lives. Others might negotiate and thereby save their lives, even if their lands were forfeit, for often something was saved for their sons.
‘Rob!’ Owain came towards him. ‘I have news that may interest you.’
‘What news, pray?’ Rob asked, his mind busy with plans for the task the King had given him. ‘We must make ready to leave by dawn for we have more work to do before we can go home.’
‘I have learned that Lord Whitbread is badly injured and like to die of his wounds,’ Owain said. ‘There is a dispute over his lands, for Harold of Meresham is a bastard. Some say that they will go to the lady Melissa’s husband.’
‘She is married then?’ Rob felt the knife plunge into his heart. For hours at a time he had forgot her in the midst of battle, but she was always there at the back of his mind, waiting to plague him when he slept. She was proud and faithless, but the memory of their secret meetings, when she had given her kisses so sweetly, lingered still, and sometimes of late he had begun to wonder if he had misjudged her.
‘I do not know,’ Owain said. ‘If they married her to Leominster before he rode to join King Richard it may be that he will inherit—but if she is not wed—’ Owain frowned ‘—her father’s cousin, Gifford, would then have guardianship of her and might use her for his own ends. With King Richard dead, I do not know who will protect her fortune.’
‘She becomes Henry’s ward,’ Rob said, his mouth thinning to a grim line. ‘I have work to do, Owain, for I am to lay siege to Gifford and then Leominster…’ He frowned as something struck him. ‘You said her father’s cousin, Gifford—do you mean the Earl of Gifford?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Owain said, a hard expression in his eyes. ‘It was to the earl’s stronghold that they took her.’
Rob felt a foolish hope spring up anew in his breast, but he crushed it ruthlessly. There was nothing to hope for. She was proud and faithless, and he would be stupid to think otherwise.
‘It may be that we shall find her there,’ he said. ‘Unless she is with her husband—and if so it will not be long before she is a widow.’
‘If the King orders it so be it,’ Owain said. ‘I am with you, Rob, for if you go north I shall find my lady there somewhere…’
‘Aye, your lady,’ Rob said with a nod. ‘We shall release her from her captors if she be a prisoner—but if she is a wife then she must face the consequences. Her husband has been attained a traitor and will be brought to face the King’s justice.’
Owain looked at his face, seeing the hard welt of red that marred his masculine good looks. It was little wonder that he was bitter, but Owain knew him for a fair man and hoped that he would treat kindly with Melissa.
Melissa was tearing strips of white cloth for bandages. She had rolled several lengths and was wondering how much more would be needed when Lady Gifford came to her in the storeroom, which was situated at the back of the great hall, near to the scullery and kitchens.
‘Your uncle bade me tell you that he wishes us to gather in the hall,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘He has received notice from the King’s messenger that he is to surrender Gifford to His Majesty’s commander and he intends to make his wishes clear to us, Melissa.’
‘Will my uncle surrender?’ Melissa asked, her heart beating wildly. She was not sure which would be the best, for if a stranger came to the fortress there was no way of telling what would happen to them all.
‘I do not know,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘He told me to make ready for a siege, but now it seems that he is undecided. He may hope to make peace and bargain for his life and lands.’
‘But you and your son?’ Melissa asked, for the countess had a son of just seven years. ‘What will happen to you—all of us—if he does not fight?’
‘We must wait and see,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘If the King is merciful we shall be spared. I do not know this man he sends against us.’
‘By what
name is he called?’ Melissa asked.
‘He is called Sir Robert of Melford,’ the countess replied. ‘Apparently, he is well thought of by the King and is to be honoured for services given.’
‘Robert of Melford comes here?’ Melissa’s heart was racing wildly now. A part of her longed to see Rob again, and yet she was afraid—afraid of the coldness she might see in his eyes. Even so, she would rather be his captive than another’s, and deep inside her there was a small kernel of hope…hope that he might have learned to forgive her.
‘You know of this man?’
Melissa looked into her eyes, her head held high. ‘He is the man I would have married had I been free to choose,’ she said. ‘He loved me once, though no longer. My father tried to kill him and he has cause to hate me…’ She choked back a little sob. If only she had disobeyed her father and somehow run away with Rob—but she had been given no chance. Lord Whitbread had kept her close until the moment Rob was seen riding up to the castle, and he had waited behind the tapestry to rush out and take her lover prisoner if she had done other than he ordered.
‘We must hope that he is not a vengeful man,’ Lady Gifford said, a little shiver running through her, for some men would use this opportunity to inflict a cruel punishment. ‘But come, Melissa. Your uncle is waiting.’
‘Should I not change my gown?’ She looked down at herself for her tunic was stained and she would have preferred to look her best—especially if Robert of Melford was admitted to the castle.
Lady Gifford shook her head impatiently. ‘No, come as you are. This is no time to be thinking of fripperies. We must not keep the earl waiting for whatever he decides to do may seal our fate one way or the other…and if this man is your enemy we may all suffer for it.’ She gave Melissa a look of dislike, abandoning all pretence of being the kindly woman she liked others to think her. ‘If we lose everything because of you…’ Her eyes were dark with malice. ‘Gifford belongs to my son. He is all that I have lived for—and one day he will be the master here. If your quarrels endanger that, you will be my enemy.’
‘The man I knew would not take a petty revenge on women and children,’ Melissa said. ‘He may despise me, but he is not like my father—or your husband.’
‘Let us hope for all our sakes that you are right!’
Melissa’s heart was thumping as she followed Lady Gifford down the stairs. For days they had been preparing for a siege, but now it looked as if her uncle might have decided to open his gates and let the King’s messenger in. If that man were truly Robert of Melford it meant that she would see him very soon. She had begun to believe that she might never see Rob again in this life and it was both thrilling and terrifying to know that he had come to subdue her uncle into submission.
What would he have to say to her?
Chapter Four
Rob halted his forces and looked at the fortified manor house that lay before them. It was strongly defended for it sat at the top of a rise and had stout walls surrounding the main buildings and courtyard, though there was no moat or drawbridge. Gifford had done away with the Keep of his ancestors and built himself a fine house, but it was more vulnerable than the castle that had once stood on this spot. The gate had been closed against him, but a battering ram would soon have that down and leave the courtyard open to him.
Rob still had nearly a hundred men that had been willing to follow him north on the new King’s business, though many had returned to their homes after Bosworth. It was the custom after a successful battle and Rob did not blame them, for there were still harvests to be gathered and many of his force had been drawn from simple country folk. Those who remained were trained fighting men and sufficient in number to take a fortress such as this. However, Rob had seen no signs of men massing on the battlements over the gates or along the walls. It seemed that the earl was giving consideration to the King’s demands.
Rob was surprised but pleased when he saw the white flag being hoisted above the gates. He had expected that Gifford would put up some kind of a fight, even though he knew his own force to be superior, for if his information were correct, Gifford had no more than sixty fighting men. Of course he might have mustered another hundred of the common folk to man the walls and throw stones at the attacking army, but it seemed that he had chosen otherwise.
As Rob watched, the gates opened and two riders came out to meet him carrying a white flag. He rode forward to speak with them alone, knowing that his archers were watching for treachery and had their arrows trained on the men coming to parley.
‘I speak for the Earl of Gifford,’ one of the men cried. ‘Why do you come in force to our gates, Robert of Melford? We have no quarrel with you or yours. Depart and leave us in peace this day.’
‘I am come on King Henry of England’s business,’ Rob replied. ‘Your master has the King’s commands. Lay down your arms and allow us into the fortress and there need be no blood shed, nor will your women be harmed or your buildings be torched.’
‘Do you give your solemn word as a man of honour that the women, children and old folk will be safe—and do you grant safe custody to the earl and his family?’
‘King Henry wishes to speak with the earl,’ Rob replied. ‘His wife and son will remain here as his bond. If he tries to escape on the journey to London, they will be taken to the Tower as the King’s prisoners.’
‘I shall return and give my master your terms,’ the steward said, and, turning, rode away.
Rob rejoined his own ranks. He would prefer that Gifford surrendered for the sake of the women and children within the fortress, for otherwise many would suffer. He wondered if Melissa was still her uncle’s prisoner and his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing her very soon. If she was here, it might mean that she had not yet been wed to Leominster.
What should he care for that? He knew from her own lips that she considered him to be unworthy of being her husband and the sound of her laughter that day had burned deep into his mind, taunting him whenever he softened his heart towards her. She had lied when she said that she loved him, and he had believed her. He must remember that she lied easily! He would behave as an honourable knight, and treat her well—but she would never blind him with her smiles and kisses again.
Melissa saw her uncle in close conversation with his steward. Hale had just returned from a parley under the flag of truce, and she wondered what they were saying. She had been upstairs to change out of her working gown into a tunic and kirtle of green and gold. On her head she wore a frette of gold-work trellis, her hair hanging loose about her shoulders. If they were to surrender the fortress to Robert of Melford, she would look her best when he first saw her.
She saw that her uncle had sent the steward off on another errand and, after some hesitation, approached him.
‘What is happening, sir?’ she asked. ‘Are we to fight or surrender?’
‘I do not have enough men to win the struggle,’ the earl replied a little sourly. ‘Some of my men rode with Leominster while I lingered here. If your intended husband sends reinforcements we might hold out—but I think he means to defend his own stronghold and will not aid us. Therefore, for the sake of my son, my wife—and you, Melissa—I have decided that I must surrender. Mayhap if I pledge allegiance to the King, he will spare my lands to me.’
‘But can you in all honour pledge loyalty to a man you despise?’ Melissa asked with a little frown. She had heard her father and half brother speaking of their dislike of Henry Tudor, whom they considered an upstart, and she wondered how the earl would swallow such humiliation.
‘You know nothing of these things,’ Gifford said, and glared at her. ‘Go back to your sewing, niece, and leave this business to me.’
Melissa sensed that she had angered him without meaning to, and was not surprised when he suddenly ordered her to return to her chamber.
‘I have negotiated terms with this Robert of Melford,’ he went on. ‘It has been promised that the women and children will not suffer. But stay close
in your room until you are sent for, niece.’
‘Yes, uncle.’ Melissa walked from the great hall, her shoulders stiff with pride. It seemed that even though the plans for her betrothal had failed, she was still at her uncle’s bidding, still confined to her rooms as if she were a prisoner rather than a guest in his house.
She went upstairs to her chamber and took out her sewing as she had been bidden; she was feeling angry because her opinion had been dismissed as worthless. It was almost always so, she knew, for few women reached an influential position in life, unless they were queens or princesses, and sometimes not even then. Were any women valued and loved for themselves? Melissa asked herself a little bitterly. Or were they always considered merely a possession to be traded for power and wealth?
‘Does something ail you, my lady?’ Agnes asked, looking at her anxiously. She had heard the name of the King’s commander and felt uneasy lest her mistress take this chance to punish her. ‘May I do anything for you?’ If Melissa ever guessed that it was she who had betrayed her secret meetings with her lover, she would surely beat her!
‘You may take yourself from my sight until I send for you,’ Melissa said. ‘I have not forgotten or forgiven what you did to the Abbess, Agnes.’
‘I beg you to forgive me,’ Agnes said, throwing herself on her knees before Melissa. ‘Your father was my master and I did only as he ordered me. I was to watch you whatever you did and make sure that if you visited the Abbess while he was absent, she did not give you anything…’
‘He did not order you to poison my aunt…or did he?’ Melissa’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. ‘You swore to me it was an accident, but you lied, didn’t you? You went to my aunt’s chamber deliberately and you murdered her…’ Melissa’s blood ran cold as she looked at the girl in horror. ‘He sent you to spy on me…it was you who told him of my meetings with Rob! Oh, how dare you ask for mercy when you have betrayed me so many times? Go from my sight or I shall have you whipped.’
