A Rose for Lancaster (The Tudor Rose Novella series)

by Christine Elaine Black

  “No, I prefer you to stay with me. I was angry when I thought Anne was your mistress, but I misjudged you.”

  “You wish me to stay?” He held me firm in his arms.

  I pressed my face into his neck and the clean, fresh scent of him enveloped my senses.

  “I need you.”

  “You’re sure,’ he whispered. His lean, strong fingers skimmed my hips, inflaming my desire.

  “Very sure.”

  Chapter Six

  ~ Giles ~ December 1486

  We sat close to one another in the great hall under the curious eyes of my kinsmen. Blanche leaned over to make conversation and to my amusement and delight she chatted and laughed with an easy grace and ready wit. The decision to move from Langley proved wise as my wife, growing with child, looked the image of health. The last few weeks in Somerset country, even as winter settled over us with a light touch, invigorated our senses and strengthened our tenuous marriage.

  Blanche and my sister made quick friends, and I joined them often, along with Robert, and we enjoyed the short days and long winter nights keeping good company together. Food and drink flowed in the weeks leading up to Christmas as the fragrant boughs of pine trees decorated the walls and tables, and our talk turned to planning the coming festivities. Anne took me aside to offer her opinion on the gift I should give my wife but I had the perfect presents. An expensive wool cloak lined with the finest ermine lay hidden in my rooms, along with a diamond set in a ring of gold. I waited to give these gifts to Blanche, imagining her surprise and eagerness to wear them.

  Murdo stayed in the shadows, my eyes and ears, diligently playing watchdog with unquestioning loyalty. As the night wore on he appeared at my side and I took this as a sign of his need to speak. At my signal he bowed low to reach my ear.

  “A message from the parish priest.” His voice, deep and serious, gave me pause. “Father Dominic is dead.”

  Blanche’s goblet fell from her hand to hit the stone floor with a ringing thud. The room went quiet.

  “Father Dominic, dead?” Blanche uttered the words; her bright eyes round with shock. The room hummed with a hundred voices concerned over Murdo’s message.

  “I’m afraid so, milady.”

  “When? How?”

  The depth of her interest and apparent shock surprised my liegeman into a reply. “They say he never fully recovered after an attack on the road from London.”

  Blanche pressed further. “Who attacked him?”

  “We cannot know for sure, but if we find out they will suffer. Father Dominic was a good man and well liked in these parts.”

  It saddened me to hear the priest died after a senseless attack.

  “Thieving bastards,” Murdo grumbled.

  “Surely he did not carry much coin?” Anne asked.

  “They took his robe and shoes, leaving him all but naked on the side of the road. If not for a farmer’s wife finding him and calling for help…” Murdo shook his head and reached for a drink. “And such a feeble old man at that.”

  “I will notify the sheriff. Mayhap, someone has knowledge. Robert and I will ride out tomorrow to the surrounding villages and ask questions.”

  Blanche reached for my arm, her face white as milk. “I must lie down, milord. I feel quite unwell.” She swooned and I swept her up, taking her to our rooms. Anne hurried along after us leaving Robert and Murdo to talk amongst our retainers.

  Blanche wept in my arms giving me cause for alarm. I worried for her and our unborn child. Anne soothed her, helping her into bed, providing the gentle care only a woman can offer.

  “Do you wish me to leave?” Anne asked. Blanche nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

  “But Giles must stay.”

  After the door closed and we were alone she stared at me with the look of a frightened animal.

  “Father Dominic came to see me a few weeks ago.”

  I took her hand to offer her comfort. “I did not know.”

  “It was not truly Father Dominic, but I swear to you I knew nothing of the attack.”

  “Who came to see you?” My wife’s body trembled and my mind to raced at her hesitation. A spy from London had been in my home, a murderer, a traitor to the crown. Our lives were at risk if this reached the king’s ear. “Blanche, I do not blame you. Tell me his name.”

  Her fingers shook even with my reassurance and for a moment she held my gaze. I raised her hands to my lips. “Trust me with this.”

  “Edmund de la Pole.”

  It took all my effort not to throw the furniture across the room. The Pole family posed the biggest threat to Henry’s rule. As contenders for the throne their patriarch, the Earl of Lincoln, held a claim but reconciled after Bosworth and swore his oath to Henry.

  “What did he offer you?” I was no fool. A York man meeting in secret with my wife, both descended from kings, meant only one thing.

  “John de la Pole petitions the Holy See to annul our marriage.”

  “That conniving bastard,” I snapped.

  “They will winter in Ireland to gain supporters before moving against Henry.”

  “Pole is married.” I wrestled with the need to seek out the traitor and break his neck in person.

  “Edmund seeks a wife, not John.” Blanche fidgeted with the counterpane. “They use the clergy as a way of communication and traveling safely.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “What else?”

  “Lincoln seeks the support of Langley men. I cannot prevent him. The earl is their overlord.”

  “I must go to the king with this. Every moment we delay works against us. If he were to find out before we inform him it could mean a charge of treason. I leave at first light with Murdo.”

  Fear returned to Blanche’s face. “I’m sorry.”

  “We will catch Pole and his fellow traitors and put an end to their fruitless plans. But know this, Blanche, you’re my wife, you carry our babe, and I have no intention of losing you to another man.”

  ****

  I rode out with Murdo in the early morning mist, wearing a thin coat of mail over my layered garments and my best falchion hanging at my side. An eerie silence surrounded us, and as I glanced back the castle disappeared into the mist. We rode fast, stopping only to eat and rest the horses, sleeping in reputable establishments. With Pole’s men roaming the country in disguise, drumming up support for their cause, caution prevailed. I ached to start a fight with any loutish braggart to appease my anger but as ever my liegeman kept me from making a foolish decision.

  We arrived in London, bone tired, going straight to the king’s residence. Not well known, they held us at the guardhouse, but Murdo uttered a name to the sergeant who ordered a man to deliver a message to the king’s advisors. I prayed for word before long.

  Late into the night they ushered us through a narrow doorway and after many twists and turns we passed through another narrow door into a richly decorated room. Three well-dressed men stood together, a muster of concerned peacocks, none of them familiar but one nodded to Murdo and then looked at me. “Baron Somerset, you bring urgent news. Let us hear it.”

  “The king is in danger.” I cared not for who they were, only that I spill my news quickly.

  Their expressions grew wary. “How so?”

  “John de la Pole is planning to rally men and move against the king.” The men froze as though struck by a spell. Nothing moved except their eyes. I followed the direction of their gaze to a dark corner of the room where a woman stepped out from behind a screen.

  Murdo fell to his knees and I followed when the three peacocks did the same.

  The rustle of dark skirts neared and I saw a richly slippered foot pause beside me.

  “Stand up, and let me look at you.” I obeyed the woman and met her harsh gaze. “If danger threatens my Henry I must be the first to know.”

  I stood in the presence of the Countess of Derby and Richmond—a woman known for her unfailing dedication to her son, Henry Tudor, the King of Engl
and.

  “Tell me everything.” She signaled for wine and food and I spent the next hour with her and the three unnamed men recounting my wife’s story of Father Dominic and Edmund Pole. Throughout my tale her eyes stayed on my face and she kept a solemn manner. An odd feeling crept up my spine but I could not determine the reason.

  “You have done well, Somerset.” She turned to the men. “That snake, Pole, has been too eager to agree with us. I should have known he planned to make himself king. Henry must be told.”

  ****

  The king of England sat on a high-backed chair, surrounded by men and a number of grim-faced guards. I dropped to my knees, head bowed.

  “Get up.” Henry said, without ceremony. Mayhap, displeased to be roused from his bed late in the night. His mother stood behind him, her eyes glittering as he waited to hear my tale. Henry’s face tightened as he listened. It was no easy task to inform a king of the threat on his newly won throne. After my speech he stood up.

  “Where is Pole?” Henry asked no one in particular.

  Margaret Beaufort spoke first. “In Lincoln, gathering support I suspect.”

  The king narrowed his eyes in calculation. “He won’t make a move until spring. There is time to counter his plan. I will hold counsel in the morning.” He threw a quick look at me, “Be ready to attend at my summons, Somerset.”

  The guards showed me to a simple room in the farthest wing of the castle. I slept comfortably, dreaming of Blanche standing in the rose garden at Langley. For three days I waited with only Murdo for company but was not called. On the fourth day a guard arrived at my door and took me alone to the room where I first met the king’s mother.

  “Your wife is a York and the king believes her in danger while Pole plots against him.”

  A surge of anger coursed through me at the implication but I stayed calm. “She is with child and poses no threat to the crown. She alerted the king through me.”

  “You and I both know that Pole hopes to use her lineage to his advantage. Henry must be ready for any turn of events.”

  “God almighty, do not hurt my wife! I came willingly to the king with this information.”

  “She is in good hands.”

  The sly bastards had kept me hanging while they took Blanche into custody. “In good hands! By God, if she’s hurt in any way…”

  “You will do as you are bid and your wife will remain in our safekeeping. Do you not see the danger from Pole?”

  “I will protect her from Pole and his band of traitors.”

  The king’s mother laughed with scorn. “You are in the service of the king. He needs every available man. You will track the movements of the traitors, ready to fight when called upon.”

  “And my wife?”

  “Safe in the tower of London at my request.”

  “I must see her.” She hesitated, a strange look crossed her face, but her agreement filled me with relief. The king of England and his mother had me at their mercy. I had no choice but to fight Pole and his ambitions but I welcomed the chance to defeat the man who sought to destroy my marriage.

  ****

  The time allowed with Blanche proved hardly enough to say the words on my mind. I spent most of the time reassuring her of my eagerness to see her returned safely to Somerset castle.

  “They will kill me if Pole gains any ground.”

  “He won’t gain ground against Henry. The king musters his men. I travel to Ireland in disguise with Murdo to gather information on Pole’s plan.”

  “Disguise?” Did I trust my wife with information? She waited, her face a picture of innocence.

  “As a priest. The king’s mother suggested we use their method of deceit against them.”

  “How clever.”

  “This betrayal by Pole will put an end to him and his supporters. If we waiver against the king it means our death. Margaret Beaufort, the matriarch of my kin, expects my sword to guard Henry. If he dies, we die. Your presence in the tower speaks loudly enough.”

  Blanche place her hands over the small bump that announced her delicate state. “Giles,” she whispered, “the only matter of concern is our child. I want him to live no matter what happens to me.”

  “You carry a Beaufort and that guarantees your safety and comfort for now. As for the future, we can pray that Pole loses heart and runs to Europe.”

  An envious idea that Blanche preferred Edmund Pole for a husband entered my head, and if the Yorks won the fight I stood with my wife for the last time. I took her into my arms. “This may be goodbye for us.”

  It pleased me when she gasped, holding tight to me as though it pained to let go.

  “How much time do we have?”

  “One night. I bribed the guards and Murdo stays with them.”

  Beautiful brown eyes met mine. Soft pink lips parted to reveal pearly teeth as she bit her lower lip. “One night.”

  She took my hand and led me to her small bedchamber, swiftly removing my shirt and breeches. I watched as she undressed and stood in a flimsy sheath of fabric. The time for talk was over and we slid beneath the sheets, joined eagerly and for the first time I knew without a doubt that no other woman offered the joys and delights I found in Blanche’s bed. The night held numerous opportunities for physical discovery and we laughed, pleased at the way our bodies twined together, kissing and touching, making love without restraint, lifting the limits of past encounters to find new heights together as man and wife.

  As we lay exhausted but happy a flash of gold caught my notice.

  “You wear the ring I planned to give you at Christmastide.”

  A blush rose on her cheeks. “Anne asked Robert where you hid the ring and the fur cloak. She gave them to me the day they took me from Somerset. You should have heard her yelling at the king’s men.”

  “I imagine she put the fear of God into them.”

  “She insisted Robert and Gerda accompany me on the journey to London.”

  “My sister is troublesome but fiercely loyal.”

  Blanche held out her slim hand for me to inspect the ring as it glinted in the firelight. “I like it very much, and the fur. Thank you.”

  “You will have many such fine jewels and furs once Pole is dealt with.”

  “Be careful, Giles. Promise me you will not be in harm’s way.”

  I held her until daybreak, knowing we may never meet again and I prayed for the king’s success, for if he fell from power we were all doomed to death.

  ****

  For many days I rode with Murdo disguised as a novitiate and he an elder cleric. No one questioned us, although we gained a few stares from curious villagers from time to time. We carried a little money but lived and ate frugally to keep up appearances. We complained bitterly of our lot on the boat ride to Ireland as the sea tossed us on wave after sickening wave. On land we fared better but on a few nights we lit a fire and slept outside when accommodation proved difficult to find. Sitting by the light of one such fire, I glanced at Murdo thoughtfully.

  “Go ahead, Sir Giles, ask me,” he ventured.

  We both knew the question. “The men, the peacocks at the king’s residence the night we told our story… you know them?”

  “Yes, I know them.”

  I pressed him further. “How? When?”

  “My wife is cousin to one of them.”

  “Nan? But those men are lords. Your wife is…”

  Murdo chuckled at my lack of diplomacy. “My wife is a simple woman but she is the daughter of a nobleman, albeit the eighth child born into a family of nine.”

  “And you are in the service of her cousin.”

  He reached for a stick and poked the fire. “I am in the service of the crown and in the service of your family.”

  “And what of your lineage, Murdo?” My suspicions rose with his calm manner.

  “My parents were minor nobles. My father fought with old king Henry’s men.”

  “What circumstances brought you to my side.” Murdo had trained me in
the art of fighting as a young boy. I hardly recalled a time without him by my side, a steady guiding presence.

  “Nan’s cousin arranged it. We dropped out of favor during Edward’s reign. I’d been in hiding but now as Henry Tudor sits upon the throne my fortunes improve.”

  “But why live at Somerset? My father was a drinker and a womanizer. Surely this noble cousin placed you in a poor situation.”

  “He had his reasons.”

  “What reasons?”

  “You.”

  “Who am I to such a man?” My head ached after a long day of travel but I itched to know the answer.

  “You were my concern. That’s all I know.”

  “Your concern?”

  “My wife’s cousin required we oversee your education. I found the proper tutors and mentors over the years to teach you the skills of a young lord.”

  “On the order of a man unknown to me? Did my father know of this?”

  “Your father cared for nothing but wine and wenches.”

  He spoke true. I could not fault Murdo on that point. “That does not explain a stranger’s interest in my education.”

  Murdo shrugged. “It is not for me to speculate. Nan and I looked after you well and the task is complete, now you are a man and married to the York woman.”

  “Why then do you stay?” All my life I trusted in Murdo and held no quarrel with him now. He smiled fondly.

  “I have not yet been told to leave. And Nan thinks of you as a son.”

  “And you?”

  “We share a bond, even if ‘tis not blood.”

  “This noble lord…his name?”

  Murdo hesitated. “Viscount Welles.”

  “Welles? For the sake of God, why is he interested in me?”

  “I am not privy to his reasons, Sir Giles. I merely do his bidding, but the task has been enjoyable over the years.”

  “Mayhap, my father and he were friends,” I speculated.

  “Perhaps.” Murdo said little more on the subject while I dwelled on the strange circumstances of my upbringing. As one of the Somerset bastards I’d led a privileged life but somehow I was different than the others. The exact nature of that difference remained unknown but the treatment I regarded as my due changed in light of this revelation. The exact details of my birth and infant years were a mystery. Why was the king’s uncle interested in my person? And more importantly, who truly was Sir Giles Beaufort, Baron of Somerset?