Owen met his gaze, pausing a moment purely for effect. When he spoke, his voice was low.
“Because I am to understand that Richmond le Bec is in love with Henry’s bastard daughter,” he said. “If we can acquire the girl, we can not only control le Bec, but we can control Henry because he will undoubtedly be pained with a double stake in all of this. Not only will he be haunted with the knowledge that his daughter is our prisoner, but he will have to deal with the fact that his greatest knight will not lead the crown armies against the faction who holds his beloved hostage. Am I making myself clear?”
The color was gone from Hotspur’s face as he stared at Owen, feeling the shock of the situation as it penetrated deep into his veins. “Richmond loves the girl? But…. but you said she’s at Whitby. She’s a nun?”
“Richmond delivered her to the abbey sometime last week after the home where she was raised fell under siege. Presumably he moved her to Whitby for safety’s sake,” Owen poured his shaken companion more wine. “Apparently, Richmond has practically raised the girl. You are aware that he’s spent a good deal of his time at Lambourn, seat of the Earl of Berkshire.”
Henry nodded slowly, taking a healthy drink of alcohol. “William de Lohr and Richmond have been friends for many years. In fact, I visited years back and…,” he suddenly paused, his brow furrowed. “I do not understand. What does Lambourn have to do with Henry’s bastard daughter?”
“The girl was raised there by the earl and his wife. Her name is Arissa.”
Hotspur’s eyes opened with surprise. “Arissa de Lohr is Henry’s daughter?” he boomed. “God’s Teeth, I had no idea! All I can recall of her is a thin child with black hair and…. you say Richmond is in love with her?”
“Undoubtedly,” Owen watched Henry Percy’s reaction to the revelation, casting David a lingering glance before returning his focus to the English knight. Unwilling to give the man time to recover from his shock, he intended to drive his desires to the forefront and he rose from his chair, bringing his fist to bear on the old tabletop. “Help me, Hotspur. Help me obtain the girl and thereby guarantee Henry’s defeat. If we have her, we can drive England to her knees. There is no opportunity for failure, I tell you, but I need your support. Will you do this for the peace of England and Wales? One insignificant girl is all that will be compromised to assure two countries their right to live in harmony.”
Hotspur was staring at him, his dark eyes dull with the concept. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “If Richmond loves her, I cannot be a party to her misery.”
“Would you rather meet him on the field of battle?”
“I already told you I would not.”
Owen’s harsh manner subsided somewhat as his gaze lingered on Northumberland’s heir. After a moment, he relaxed into his chair once again and pondered the embers in the vizier. “Would you have him fight for your cause?”
Hotspur raised his eyebrows wearily. “That would be preferable, but he would never go against the crown. He and Henry are very fond of one another.”
“Would you wager to say that he loves his king more than the black-haired girl residing at Whitby?”
Owen’s subtly-phrased blackmail settled and Henry turned his astonished gaze to the Welsh prince, a heavy understanding of the man’s motives filling him. He scratched his stubbled chin as he pondered the statement. “Are you suggesting that I use the girl to force Richmond to fight for our cause?”
“I am told he would do anything for her.”
Henry Percy licked his lips in nervous thought. He was well aware of the time Richmond spent at Lambourn and it suddenly became clear to him as to why; he had been in love with the skinny little girl graced with a glorious mane of black hair, a girl he knew to be Henry’s daughter. Or mayhap Henry had sent him to Lambourn to watch over the girl and somewhere during the process Richmond discovered that he had fallen in love with the royal bastard. Whatever the case, it was abundantly clear that Owen spoke the truth. Richmond had spent the majority of the past eighteen years residing at Lambourn for no apparent reason… until now.
Hotspur held a good deal of love and respect for his friend. But his politics differed greatly from those of Richmond, and he had cemented a weak loyalty with Henry the very day Richard II had surrendered his crown. The Percys and their allies had been staunch supporters of Richard and it had been difficult to stomach their monarch’s defeat. But as a vow to assure England’s peace, he and his father had pledged support to Richard’s cousin, Henry, and for the past two years it had been a brittle alliance at best.
With a cold stab of reality, he realized that he hated Henry more than he loved Richmond. Although he did not take delight in betraying his friend, the opportunity to defeat the distrustful English monarch was worth the risk of Richmond’s hatred.
After several long moments of silent reflection, he sighed heavily and quaffed the last of the fine wine. “I would assume you have a plan?”
Owen fought off a smile, pleased beyond words that Henry Percy had finally chosen a path for his future. “Am I to take it that we are allies?”
Hotspur grunted, evading the question. “Tell me of your scheme to grab Henry by the throat.”
Owen glanced at David, silent words of victory filling the air between them. Hotspur was in their fold. As David pulled his stool closer to the table, Owen faced Hotspur with restrained joy.
“We must assume that Richmond has not remained with her at Whitby for one very good reason; the nuns will not allow him to stay. Moreover, I would wager that with the Welsh resistance and the rumors of your insurrection, Henry requires his power and wisdom in London. Therefore, it would be a safe assumption that the Lady Arissa is alone in Yorkshire while her beloved is embroiled in the politics of England. Which is where you play a part in all of this.”
Hotspur’s face was impassive. “I am listening.”
Owen paused a moment. “You will ride to Whitby bearing a forged missive from Henry demanding that his daughter be released to your custody. Certainly, no one will question the mighty Hotspur as he moves to accomplish the bidding of his king by escorting Henry’s bastard daughter to London.”
“For what purpose is she required in London?”
“Does it matter? She’s the king’s daughter and it is his prerogative to do with her as he pleases. Moreover, she’s not a nun and thereby not bound to the abbey by her vows. Based on Henry’s commanding directive and your powerful presence, she will be relinquished to your protection.”
Henry’s jaw ticked. “How can you be so sure?”
Owen shrugged. “The abbess cannot keep her if the King of England demands her temporary release. Technically, she has no legal right to hold her over the demands of her parent and I would wager a good deal on the fact that she would be unwilling to anger the king with a refusal.”
Hotspur drew in a long, harsh sigh, pondering his overall role in the Welsh prince’s scheme. A scheme that appeared to be safe enough, although he would not stake his life on the fact. Nothing in this world was ever safe. “And I will bring her here?”
Owen’s eyes glittered. His design was foolproof, providing one factor remained true; that Richmond le Bec was indeed in London. “Aye, my lord,” he replied softly, with confidence. “You will bring her here.”
On the snowy hills overlooking the weakened camp of the Welsh resistors, a lone wolf bayed into the crystal-clear evening sky. A thousand diamonds of light glittered across the black expanse, their light casting silver fingers on the gloom of evil that had settled over the western border of England.
The malevolent darkness that became a plan this night.
*
Richmond passed through the King’s Gate to the south side of Windsor, having completed his glorious procession through the Great Park in order to reach his destination. The massive bailey of Windsor was open and welcoming, soldiers and courtiers alike shouted their greeting to the mighty warrior. Ignoring the admiring throng, Richmond ordered his weary soldiers to
seek rest and food before they collapsed entirely.
Gavan dismounted beside Richmond, exhausted after the seven day march from Yorkshire. Stubbled and bordering on disheveled, Richmond raised his visor and wiped at his clammy brow as his eyes drew in the sight of The Earl Marshall’s Tower, towering four stories into the bright blue sky overhead. St. George’s Hall was directly to his right, a gallery he was most familiar with, but it merely warranted a passing glance as he loosened his gauntlets.
“I am intent on seeking Henry this moment,” he said, his voice rough with fatigue. “Retire to the knight’s quarters and wait for me.”
Gavan’s gaze was dull, wary. As if he did not trust Richmond to simply present his case in a rational manner; the man had been an emotional bundle for the past several days and Gavan was not at all sure that anything but a positive response on Henry’s part would be met with a sword through the gullet.
“I would be more than happy to accompany you….”
Richmond cut him off. “Do as I say, Gavan. I have business to attend to and I would complete it alone.”
Gavan watched his liege march into the gaping entrance to the castle. Concerned for his mental state though he might be, his concerns were not strong enough to warrant the disobedient action of following him into the castle. Richmond could well handle Henry’s audience and did not require supervision. Moreover, Gavan was not in the position to supervise a fellow warrior’s emotions at the moment; he was quite consumed with sentiment of his own.
His dead wife and son were expecting him.
Leaving his second in command behind to disband the troops, Richmond made his way into the cool interior of Windsor. Taking the grand staircase to Henry’s suite of rooms, he marched past a collection of household guards as if their protecting presence was insignificant against his strength. He intended to seen Henry immediately and to hell with any delay or show of resistance.
Since the moment he had left Arissa, there had been nothing else to occupy his thoughts. He had lived, breathed and slept Arissa, feeling her soft body against him in his dreams only to awaken to a cold bed and an even colder heart. But the building desperation to reclaim her only served to fuel his determination to bargain with Henry; Gavan had been correct when he had advised him to play the political theater. And play he would.
Henry was certainly no amateur when it came to bureaucratic intrigue and the king was about to find out that Richmond le Bec was to be included as a viable player as well. For too long, Richmond had simply followed orders like a moronic simpleton, never voicing his opinion or opposition to anything his king suggested. But no more. He had played the role of Henry’s obedient dog long enough. If the king wanted his services against the Welsh resistance and Hotspur’s mutiny, then he would have to pay for it.
Henry IV, formerly Henry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, was in his private solar, embroiled in a game of chess with a lesser official of his court. Average of height and fair of coloring, he did not bothering looking up from the game board as the door to the solar creaked open. His master chamberlain cleared his throat carefully.
“Richmond le Bec has come, Sire,” the man said. “He demands audience with you immediately.”
Henry’s head came up from the board, his eyes wide with surprise. “Do not keep the man waiting. God’s Blood, let him in!” he waved his hands erratically at his game partner. “Out, Thomas, out. Everyone get out!”
The room became a flurry of activity as his courtiers rushed to do his bidding. Entering from a smaller door, Richmond caught a glimpse of the dandy horde as the collection quit the room. Without a second glance to the group of well-dressed men, he bowed crisply to his king.
“Richmond, thank God you have come,” Henry exclaimed, clapping a hand against Richmond’s metal-clad arm. “Where have you been?”
Richmond gazed at his king, genuinely fond of the man. “Taking your daughter to Whitby, Sire, to be with her mother,” he cocked a knowing eyebrow at the bit of information Henry had neglected to mention, but the king merely looked away. “Undoubtedly, you received my message regarding the circumstances of our rapid departure from Lambourn.”
Some of Henry’s excitement faded. “I was distressed to learn of Glendower’s discovery of Arissa’s identity. You were correct, of course, in removing her to the safety of the abbey if Owen is intent on capturing her. Furthermore, I do not fault you for informing her of her heritage; certainly she had a need to know with Owen’s men hounding her. But I do not believe I understand the full extent of Ovid de Rydal’s declaration of vengeance against her. Care to clarify?”
“Ovid’s vengeance is against me for having discouraged his arrogant son’s attentions towards Arissa,” Richmond corrected. “However, I am sure to have sealed an irrevocable rift between de Rydal and Lambourn; Tad de Rydal appeared at Whitby in an attempt to abduct Arissa and Gavan was forced to kill him. Apparently, the lad was trying to exact revenge against me by seizing her.”
“Vengeance for the ambush you were supposed to have orchestrated against him?” Henry shook his head. “Do you think it possible that Owen had a hand in the entrapment to somehow create a diversion for you while he set his sights on my daughter? Truly, Richmond, this is most confusing.”
Richmond stared at his king a moment, thinking what he could not manage to say. Far more confusing than you know. Emitting a weary sigh, he removed his helm and set it upon a rich cherrywood table. “I was only able to give you a brief explanation of the circumstances in my missive and, to be truthful, I do not wish to delve into the details leading up to the skirmish involving Goring Hall at this moment. For now, Arissa is safe and that is the only matter of import. Truthfully, there are concerns far more significant we must discuss.”
Henry accepted his statement without question. “Indeed there is,” he gestured to a hide-covered chair. “Remove some of your armor and sit. You must be exhausted.”
Richmond ignored the indication to relax, instead, moving for the decanter of Venetian glass that graced a lovely silver tray. Pouring a hefty quantity of wine into a silver goblet, he drank deeply before pouring himself a second serving. Henry watched him a moment, his sharp movements and stiff countenance, knowing that the man had been through a great deal in the past week. Still, it was unnerving to see that Richmond was not his usual even-tempered self.
“Has so much happened over the last several days that you would become edgy and coarse? Towards me, no less?” Henry made a muted attempt at humor, moving to acquire his customary chair.
Richmond downed his third goblet of wine, unwilling to drag his purpose out over frivolous conversation. Short of patience with the lack of rest, he started on his fourth cup of wine.
“What’s all of this I hear about Hotspur?”
Henry stared at the stiff, proud back of his mighty vassal. If rumors were correct, the last of his two most powerful vassals. After a moment, he sighed faintly.
“I am afraid I angered him with my expression of displeasure in the fact that Owen Glendower has managed to capture three of my fortresses against Hotspur’s defenses,” he replied quietly. “I believe he’s intent to turn against me, Richmond. Against us. Therefore, I need you to help ease the situation by marrying Cecily and then riding for the border to inform Henry of your new relationship. I believe you are my best hope for maintaining Northumberland’s alliance.”
Richmond finished his fourth cup of wine, setting the chalice to the table and feeling the fortifying warmth coursing through his veins. Drawing in a deep breath for courage, he turned to his king.
“And if my efforts to retain Hotspur’s loyalties falter, then you would have me lead your armies against him?”
Henry nodded slowly. “If all else fails. I do not relish going to war against Northumberland, Richmond. Without Percy’s support, England will once again be divided.”
Richmond did not say anything for a moment, moving to scratch his scalp in a weary gesture. “You are suggesting, then, that the success of
a united England depends on me?”
“You are my last, best hope.”
The statement issued by a desperate monarch was exactly what Richmond wanted to hear. Henry needed him. And he wanted something from Henry.
The game had begun.
“I will do this for you, Henry,” he said softly, feeling the fine wine bolster his bravery and determination. Focusing on Henry’s blue eyes, he leaned his considerable weight against the hide-covered chair opposite his king. “But you will do something for me in return.”
Henry met his gaze a moment before cocking a slow eyebrow. “No request you have ever issued has gone ungranted. What would you have?”
Richmond’s jaw ticked a moment as he thought quickly, arranging his priorities. After a moment, he stood away from the chair. “There is no guarantee that Hotspur will remain loyal to you if I wed his sister. I realize that you consider a marriage to Cecily Percy a valuable reward for my years of service, but I must be honest when I say that I have no desire to marry the woman and, frankly, it is a weak power play by the crown at best. Were you truly determined to fortify the alliance between Northumberland and the crown, you would wed one of your relatives to the woman.”
Henry did not appear pleased in the least that Richmond was contesting his match. “And I disagree. If I did not believe it to be a strengthening maneuver I would not have suggested it.”
Richmond met his gaze, steadily. He was not about to back down, to fold into submission as he so often did to Henry’s will. This time, Henry would find himself bowing to the conviction of another, or Northumberland would run amuck with Richmond’s blessing.
“I shall not marry her,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “I have another in mind for my wife.”
Henry’s rising anger banked, taking on an edge of curiosity. For as long as he and Richmond had been friends, he’d rarely known the man to express an interest in a woman, much less one he desired to wed. Still fixed on his mighty warrior, he folded his hands deliberately.