The Rose at Twilight Read Free

“few men do. Your father will pass to his reward before morning, so if Roger is your eldest living brother, he will inherit, will he not? In Wales, where I come from, land is divided amongst all a man’s heirs, but that is not the case here in England.” He paused, eyebrows creasing thoughtfully. “’Tis a better way, this, for land is power and therefore better left undivided. Nonetheless, your brother will most likely be named in a bill of attainder if he lives, my lady. That means he will lose his civil rights and titles, and—”
    “I know what attainder means,” she snapped. “’Tis a sentence of death!”
    “Not always,” he said, “but until his fate is ascertained, I have orders to deliver you into the king’s wardship.”
    Alys stared at him, fighting to conceal her dismay. “I am to become the king’s ward?”
    “Aye, mistress.” He regarded her closely, as though he wondered if she would treat him to a display of feminine emotion.
    But Alys was made of sterner stuff than that and, despite her whirling thoughts, retained her calm demeanor. “Shall I be allowed to return to Wolveston Hazard when all is safe again?”
    “I do not know,” he said. “My orders are to see you safe to London, nothing more.”
    She was surprised. “You had specific orders regarding me? I had not realized my own importance, Master Merion, nor that the Tudor so much as knew of my existence.”
    “His grace, the king,” Merion said with gentle emphasis, “knows naught of you as yet, my lady. I was sent by Sir Robert Willoughby, who has been entrusted with seeing the Princess Elizabeth and young Edward of Warwick safe returned to London.”
    Alys nodded. So Elizabeth had told the Tudor’s men where to find her, and no doubt somehow had suggested to Sir Robert the desirability of her wardship. The Princess Elizabeth. How she would love that, Alys thought, to be acknowledged a princess again. “You have come from Sheriff Hutton then,” she said. “No doubt the princess expressed deep concern for my welfare.”
    His look sharpened, and she gave him full marks for insight. He said gravely, “She was distressed, my lady, for she believed that although you might not have been allowed to leave Drufield Manor at once when word reached Lord Drufield of a Tudor victory, your father would soon command your return to Wolveston Hazard, and she worried lest harm should befall you on your journey. My men and I were dispatched at once. We rode here first, since we might otherwise have missed you, and when I discovered the situation at the castle, I was glad we had done so. I trust there has been no sickness at Drufield.”
    “No.”
    Before either could say more, a youth on a light chestnut gelding drew in close to Merion. “Sir,” he said deferentially, “them clouds yonder be a-boiling up black and fiercelike again, I’m thinking. Best we get the ladies under cover.”
    Merion looked to the west where the clouds were indeed stirring ominously. He nodded. “We have pitched tents at the foot of the castle hill, my lady. We will take shelter there for the night and leave for London at sunup.”
    “Master Merion, I cannot—”
    “Beg pardon, m’lady,” said the young man at his side, “but he be Sir Nicholas Merion. My meistr be a knight banneret, his pennant tails cut off by the king hisself at Bosworth Field.”
    “Hush, Tom,” said Merion gently. “Lady Alys did not know.”
    The younger man looked indignantly at the banner snapping damply in the breeze, then back at his master, but something in Merion’s expression kept him from blurting his opinions aloud.
    “I thought,” Alys said, “that your banner was merely tattered, sir. For that matter, I suppose I thought it your master’s banner, not your own, for your spurs are muddied and look black rather than white or gold as any knight’s should be. I ask your pardon, however, if I have offended you.”
    “You have not,” he said. “I do not expect a