“Before I punish you for your blatant disobedience and insubordination, tell me who you would have for your wife?”
Richmond did not say reply for a moment; Henry was greatly displeased and growing more irritated by the second. It was increasingly apparent that the time had come for Richmond to make his demands known. And he would delay no longer.
“I want that which you gave to me for safekeeping eighteen years ago, Henry. I want Arissa.”
Henry’s reaction was immediate; his eyes widened and his jaw swung open. He attempted to speak, but all that came forth from the great gaping mouth was something of a strangled cough. Licking his parched lips, he tried again.
“Arissa? God’s Blood, she’s a child!”
“She’s eighteen years old and a woman grown.”
Henry’s face turned an ugly shade of red. “Out of the question, Sir Richmond. She’s a novice nun, pledged to Whitby, and a princess of royal blood. She’s beyond your….”
“Give me Arissa or you can fight Hotspur by yourself.”
Richmond did not think it possible that Henry’s eyes could grow any wider; he was wrong. They bulged grotesquely and the king’s body stiffened in astonishment. Throughout the twisting and gasping, however, Richmond remained calm. He had to maintain his composure if he was to obtain his wants in the face of such outrageous shock.
“I mean every word, Henry. Give me Arissa or Northumberland can march on London with my blessing.”
Henry clenched and unclenched his meaty fists in agitation. “How dare you threaten me!”
Richmond watched his furious monarch quite impassively. “I am not threatening you. I am simply stating a fact. You want me for a very important task; I am more than willing to complete that task successfully if you are willing to pay for my services,” he shoved the chair out of the way that had been separating them; face to face, they glared at each other. “You gave Arissa to me at birth, instructing me to watch over her, care for her, protect her, and I have done so flawlessly. She has always been mine, Henry. What I am asking is nothing outlandish or impulsive. I simply want my due. I want her.”
Henry had to look away from Richmond lest he give in to his inclination to strangle the man. “I entrusted her protection and safety to you and nothing more. And now you intend to claim her like a… a prize?”
Richmond shook his head firmly. “Not a prize, Henry. I want her as my wife. I love the woman with all my heart.”
Somewhere in the midst of his tirade, a small seed of recollection burst forth, blooming into a garden of memories. As Richmond’s words settled, Henry found himself remembering the delicate black-haired woman he had loved so long ago, a woman he had worshiped with his words and emotions and body. A woman who tore his heart to pieces when she committed her life to a north Yorkshire abbey.
A good deal of bluster drained out of Henry as he found himself relieving pieces of broken memories. A certain touch, a stolen meal, a night of ecstasy. The same ecstasy that had resulted in a beautiful dark-haired daughter. The daughter Richmond had been assigned to protect.
“Oh, Richmond,” Henry’s voice was faint, his hand over his face in a gesture of disbelief and resignation. His hand came away from his brow and he grasped at the chair next to him as if the furniture could support his weakening body. “You love her?”
Richmond studied Henry intently, scrutinizing every move, every word. “I cannot remember when I haven’t loved her,” he said, his voice softening. “And she returns my love. But let me be clear; it wasn’t always like this. Only over the past two years have I been living every moment for the sound and sight and smell of the woman. I fought my feelings as long as I could but I can no longer deny them. How could I not have fallen in love with such beauty and sweetness?”
“She’s beautiful?” Henry turned to him inquisitively, immediately shaking his head with the foolishness of his question. “Of course she’s beautiful. Her mother was beautiful. I myself saw Arissa when she was eleven years old and even then she was beautiful.”
Richmond’s heart began to soften as he pictured Arissa in his mind, savoring every exquisite feature. “The angels are jealous of her beauty, Henry. A more magnificent creature has ever existed.”
Henry leaned on the chair a moment longer before lowering his body onto the supple cushions. His movements were slow, laced with defeat. The longer he pondered Ellyn and the result of their liaison, the more depressed he became.
“You are entirely serious about this?” his dull eyes met Richmond’s gaze, a fair eyebrow cocking gently for effect. “You will leave me to Hotspur’s mercy if I do not grant you Arissa?”
Richmond sighed, thinking that mayhap he had been too harsh, too demanding in his presentation. But he was determined to gain Arissa, no matter what. Henry had to know there was no room for negotiation.
“I am serious,” he replied softly. “Give me Arissa and I swear to you that Northumberland will remain your ally. You have my word as a knight.”
Henry scratched his chin, wearily. “Which brings me to another point. You are a mere knight, not even a baron or an earl. If Arissa were to marry, it would have to be to a man of higher rank.”
“So grant me a title. Have I not earned one for my years of service?”
Henry cast him a droll glance. “I did grant you one, you fool. If you marry Cecily you shall have a bloody earldom.”
“I do not want Cecily’s earldom. I want Arissa and lands of our own.”
Henry rolled his eyes sardonically, clapping a hand over his face and wiping at his perspiring forehead. “God’s Blood, I cannot believe you would take advantage of me this way. Threatening to throw me to the wolves if I do not grant your request.”
Richmond slowly took the chair opposite the king, his eyes soft and speculative. “I am not threatening you, Henry. But you want something from me, and I want something from you. We are bargaining to gain what we both desire.”
“Bargaining?” Henry snorted. “Hardly. You seem to hold the advantage.”
Richmond shook his head weakly, their confrontation leaving him drained. “Wrong again. You hold the advantage, ’else I would not be so determined to bargain,” he sighed heavily, with feeling. “You are my friend, Henry. I do not relish backing my friend into a corner with harsh demands and warnings of disservice. But for Arissa, I would do just that. You must understand how important she is to me.”
“And you must understand how important England is to me,” Henry’s voice was faint as he stared into the dying embers of the hearth, contemplating the turn of events. An inkling of an idea suddenly occurred to him and he glanced to Richmond, shrewdly. “I have a counterproposal, Richmond. I will dissolve your betrothal contract to Cecily, which will be no easy accomplishment, but I shall do it because I see your reasoning in the matter. Mayhap I shall offer her a groom of royal blood to offset the loss of Richmond le Bec and to fortify the crown’s relationship to Northumberland, as you have suggested.”
Richmond could sense a compromise coming; he had been involved in Henry’s circle long enough to know when the king was preparing to strike against a weaker, simpler adversary. Bearing that in mind, he braced himself when Henry took a long drink of wine, licking his lips before continuing.
“In addition to Arissa’s dowry to Whitby, I shall donate a sizable sum to release her from her contract to the church so that you will be free to marry her,” noting that Richmond’s expression remained even and constant, he cocked a stern eyebrow purely for effect. “And I shall grant you a barony so that my daughter will not be marrying a man beneath her station. But you must complete one particular task before I will do these things for you.”
Richmond drew in a long, steady breath. He had suspected as much. “Speak, then.”
Henry sat forward in his chair, his blue eye piercing and sharp. “You will determine the path Hotspur has chosen to follow. If he chooses to remain loyal to me, then you shall assist him in defeating Glendower. And if he has chosen to move ag
ainst me, then you shall destroy them both.”
Richmond pondered Henry’s counterproposal, not entirely unexpected or unreasonable. “You would have me complete this mission before I marry Arissa?”
Henry nodded, a sly expression creasing his features. “You want something from me, and I want something from you. I will agree to your demand for Arissa, but you must resolve Henry Percy’s standing and the Welsh rebellion before I will grant your wishes. The guarantee of Arissa at the conclusion of a mission well executed shall make you work harder in your endeavor, will it not?”
Richmond pondered his king a moment longer before rising wearily from his chair, moving to draw his fifth goblet of wine. Swirling the ruby liquid upon his tongue, he realized that Henry was playing the political game very well. The king was being forced to compromise by dissolving his betrothal with Cecily Percy; Richmond, in turn, would be compromising by delaying his nuptials to Arissa until the Hotspur situation was resolved.
It was not unreasonable. He’d waited this long for Arissa; another few months, although an eternity, would not matter overly in the grand scheme of his life. But he was not entirely comfortable with the prospect of losing a valuable friend in the process. Henry Percy had no idea what was at stake.
After a moment, he sighed. “What will happen if I fail?”
“I have never known you to fail.”
“Nor have I. But for the sake of argument, we will suppose that I do. What then?”
Henry did not hesitate. “Then you get nothing. Arissa stays with her mother at Whitby, and I lose Wales.”
Richmond drained his cup, feeling warm and calm. Slamming the chalice to the table, he turned to face his king with all of the power and confidence he was experiencing. Arissa would be his; of that he had no doubt. No matter what.
“Hotspur will maintain his loyalty to the crown or I will destroy him. Any way I can.”
“And Wales?”
“The resistance shall meet a decisive end.”
Henry nodded, feeling a tremendous assurance as their mutual understanding settled. “I have the utmost faith in you, Richmond. I always have.”
Richmond quit the room without another word, leaving Henry alone to ponder the future. If he was lucky and Richmond was successful, he would still have a kingdom come the new year.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Arissa? Emma? Where are you?”
The soft but unmistakably sharp command echoed against the ancient stone walls. For the past two weeks, walls that had been accustomed to the prayers of the faithful or the strains of heavenly music had suddenly become witness to the shortcomings of two foolish young maidens unused to life in an isolated abbey. Sharp footfalls bounced off the scrubbed stone as a slight nun made her way down the corridor.
“Arissa? Emma?”
Her demand for response was met by the soft shuffle of clogged feet and Sister Repentia was not surprised when Arissa and Emma came bolting from a slender staircase, a winding flight that led to the loft high above. Nearly plowing the green-eyed nun over in their haste, Arissa and Emma skidded to an appalled, unsteady halt.
“Sister!” Arissa gasped. “Forgive us! We did not see you and….”
Sister Repentia cut off the beginnings of what would undoubtedly be a rambling explanation. As much as she loved her daughter, as much as the entire convent had come to love the sweet young woman, she could talk God himself off his mighty throne and Sister Repentia was unwilling to stand patiently through another insipid explication.
“There is no need for excuses, ladies,” she said breathlessly, a bit startled by their sudden appearance. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she straightened the kerchief that covered her daughter’s dark head as tendrils of silky black hair attempted to escape. “Vespers is upon us and you will not be late again. Be off with you.”
“But…. Sister!” Arissa protested as Emma hovered eagerly by her side. “We saw a great army approaching from the south!”
Sister Repentia sighed. Arissa and Emma spent a good deal of time in the loft when they weren’t moving about their chores, waiting for the reappearance of Richmond le Bec and his muscle-bound knight.
“You said the very same thing two days ago,” Sister Repentia said patiently. “And two days before that. You should have realized by now that the fog from the ocean oft appears dark on the horizon, like a tide of men,” before Arissa could protest, she shook her head sharply and directed the two young women into the corridor, towards the chapel. “Vespers, ladies. And then we will eat.”
Arissa was wise enough not to dispute the nun who had become an integral part of her life for the past two weeks. With Emma by her side, the three women made their way to the dimly-lit chapel, bowing their respect to God as they entered the sanctuary and moving for their assigned places. At the rear of the chapel, behind the novice nuns, Arissa and Emma dropped to their knees and made the sign of the cross about their head and shoulders.
Sister Repentia’s gaze lingered on the two kerchief-clad heads as they bowed in prayer. By the stone altar in the very front of the sparsely-furnished room, Sister Mary Ignatius was preparing to commence with the reading and Sister Repentia quickly moved for her assigned space.
But even as she made the sign of the cross over her slight body and knelt in reverence, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from lingering on Arissa and her young friend who had literally breathed life into the old abbey within the span of a few short days. A spirit the gloomy structure had lacked for decades, unmissed until now.
Laughter had come again, as had beauty and bright opinions of the world in general. Even though the mother abbess had tried to discourage such interaction in the beginning, afraid the addition of the two lively young women would upset the delicate balance of her abbey, it was apparent that the aura emanating from Arissa and Emma had worked in harmony with the holy atmosphere of the godly fortress.
A measure of vigor began to infiltrate their lives, the meaning of life that a few of the older nuns had forgotten existed. As the holy women of the order taught Arissa and Emma about life at the abbey, they in turn received an updated education on what it meant to be young and happy and full of hope.
Arissa had never attempted to deny her relationship with Richmond le Bec and it was obviously from the day she had arrived at the abbey that she was desperately attached to the man. It did not seem to matter that he was twice her years, an aging knight who was rapidly approaching the winter of life. The only matter of concern for Arissa seemed to be when he would return to marry her, and she had taken to expressing the joy of endless love to all who would listen. Expressing her glee to women who had never experienced such feelings and who had quickly become consumed with the intriguing concept.
With haste, the mother abbess had put a stop to Arissa’s stories of undying devotion lest her nuns find themselves confused and willing to explore such areas that were better left unventured. Even so, Arissa had never made any secret of the fact that she was not destined to join the cloister and looked forward to the day when Richmond le Bec would return for her.
The foolish fantasies of a young maiden’s mind? Mayhap, Sister Repentia thought. But, somehow, she realized she would not be at all surprised should Richmond le Bec reappeared at their door one day.
Sister Mary Ignatius finished the reading and the entire congregation rose to praise God in song. As the hymn commenced, Sister Repentia found her gaze wandering to her daughter and her young companion. It was odd how the two of them seemed to have physically matured over the past two weeks; with the simple fare provided, Emma had slimmed considerably, dropping a good deal of the weight she had carried on her short frame. What emerged was a beautiful figure, full of bustline and slender of waist, and her face had refined to a beautiful oval shape. In fact, as Emma rapidly approached her seventeenth birthday, Sister Repentia realized a very beautiful woman was surfacing before her eyes.
Arissa had matured as well. Rather delicate and frail upon arrival, she seemed to
have increased in vigor and the rosiness gracing her exquisite cheeks was a constant phenomenon. Even now, swathed in the simple gray frock and kerchief worn by all new pledges, there was no beauty on earth that could compare with her. She seemed to gain a certain strength from the chores that she was required to accomplish, churning butter and scrubbing floors. The more she exerted herself in a controlled fashion, the healthier her glow.
Sister Repentia had been told of her frequent bouts with chill and of her breathing attacks, and she had been led to believe that Arissa had led a fairly easy life due to these afflictions. But with the exercise and food and routine of the abbey, she seemed to have flourished into an extremely healthy specimen. Even though Arissa professed her dislike for the abbey, mayhap it had been good for her in a manner to which she was unaware; although her spirit had been dampened by her longing for le Bec, her body had thrived nonetheless.
Sister Repentia was barely aware when Vespers was concluded. She had been consumed with reviewing the days since Arissa had arrived, marveling at the change that had occurred within the confines of Whitby’s holy order. As the nuns filtered from the chapel in anticipation of the evening meal, a lamb stew Sister Repentia had been simmering all afternoon, the slight nun hurried from the chapel ahead of the throng to prepare the gallery for the feast.
Behind her, she heard the soft footfalls of clogged feet. Her novice helpers scurried after her like eager pups.
“We could smell the lamb stew up in the loft,” Emma said eagerly, licking her lips and tucking stray blond hair back into her kerchief. “It has been over a week since we have had stew.”
Sister Repentia marched into the gallery without replying to Emma’s enthusiastic statement. “Set out the bowls and the bread, please.”
Arissa and Emma immediately moved to do the sister’s bidding. Helping her with kitchen chores had been part of their daily routine for the past two weeks and for young women who had grown up relatively pampered and well-removed from mundane chores, they enjoyed the satisfaction of manual labor a good deal.