Page 22 of The Rose at Twilight

A LYS SOON FOUND THAT Madeline was right.

Though their accommodations were comfortable, they were not allowed to leave the rooms allotted to them—a pair of small bedchambers, the sitting room, and a tiny stool closet.

They were waited upon by Elva Dean, a kindly maidservant of Madeline’s, who slept on a pallet in her bedchamber, and by two middle-aged menservants, who brought their meals and who were clearly their guards.

The first few days were not so bad, for the two young women found much to talk about.

Alys described her life at Middleham, Sheriff Hutton, and Drufield, and learned much in return about Devonshire.

She rather envied Madeline her early childhood, for it became clear that she had been greatly indulged by a devoted father and loving brothers.

That they continued to indulge her was just as clear.

Madeline regarded her present condition as a royal hostage with complacency, assuming it would soon be over.

That her father or her brothers might do anything to endanger her safety simply did not occur to her, so secure was her certainty that she was of primary importance to them.

Alys wondered what it would be like to know oneself so well beloved as that.

Madeline had not been so carefully educated as Alys, but she could read and write, and had been taught such domestic accomplishments as a husband would expect her to know.

She could play more skillfully than Alys could upon the virginal and lute, and she had spent considerable time in London, so she was able to tell Alys many interesting things about the city.

The second day, when they were sitting companionably by the sitting room window, watching yeomen march on the green, Madeline said suddenly, “I tell you, the Tudor is wise to have created his yeoman guard, for his reception in town was not at all what he must have wished. Father and I were there when he was met by the Lord Mayor and aldermen, all wearing scarlet robes. There were a great many citizens on horseback, too, and trumpets were blaring. There were a few cheers but no great outcry of delight, and while many people expressed the hope that he will bring peace to England, others expressed strong doubts that he can do so.”

“He does not know anything about being a king,” Alys said flatly, certain by now that she need not guard her tongue with Madeline. “He has no experience of government.”

“No, how can he? He lived in Wales, of all places, till he was fourteen, and then was carried off to Brittany by his uncle, Jasper Tudor, out of fear for his life if he remained. He cannot have learned much statecraft in Brittany, for surely they do everything differently there. One can only hope, I suppose, that he will acquire some good advisers.”

“But who?” Alys demanded. “One cannot doubt that by now he will have executed anyone who served Richard or Edward, and—”

“Ah, but he has not,” Madeline said. “’Tis said that he has kept most of them, declaring that they may continue in their positions until they give him reason to doubt their good faith.”

“Has he said so, in truth? How very odd.”

Madeline smiled. “’Twas good sense to set my father and my brothers to oversee collection of the royal rents in Devonshire.

They won’t betray his trust, and would not, even were I not his hostage, for they hope he can bring peace to England.

Doubtless, others want the same, so mayhap the king shows great wisdom. ”

“He cannot be very wise if he intends to wed with Elizabeth of York,” Alys retorted with a grimace.

Madeline chuckled. “He has not done so yet, nor has he repeated his vow to do so. At present, she is safely under the Lady Margaret’s thumb, where she can do him no harm.”

“When I was in the ladies’ chamber at Greenwich, Lady Margaret told Elizabeth that her mother was welcome to join her there.” Alys made no attempt to hide her amusement.

Madeline shuddered dramatically. “No one could envy poor Elizabeth with those two fighting to dominate her.”

“At present they appear to desire the same thing, however,” Alys said thoughtfully. “They both want her to marry the Tudor.”

“But first she must be declared legitimate.”

“Yes.” Alys looked at her new friend, and an expression of understanding passed between them of matters neither wanted to put into words.

Alys had told Madeline a great deal, but she had said nothing about what had happened at Wolveston, only that she had become ill, and that Jonet had, too, and that Sir Nicholas had brought her to London without her waiting woman.

She had not mentioned the dead youth with hair like sunlit gold, but she knew Madeline was thinking now, as she was, of possible ramifications if the Tudor were to declare the daughters of the House of York legitimate before the fate of their brothers was known.

She had no wish to dwell upon that mystery, however, for to do so was frightening, and just thinking about the princes reminded her of Neddie.

She knew he must be terrified to be a prisoner, and she could not even get a message to him.

She had tried after she had seen him once, walking on the Tower green with a guard.

He had looked small and so vulnerable that she had wanted to reassure him.

They were both in the enemy camp, after all, a dangerous position in any case, but even more so if yet another faction arose to support a Yorkist claim.

Alys did not confide her worries to Madeline, who seemed blithely unaware of the danger, nor did she say much to her about Sir Nicholas, answering questions briefly when they were asked, and mostly, she knew, making him sound like an avuncular sort of man who had looked after her, and even bullied her.

But though she did not speak of him, she thought about him often, telling herself one moment that he was only a Welshman, and one of the Tudor’s own, that he was ruthless and brusque, possessing none of the chivalrous qualities she had been taught to admire.

The next moment she would recall his dark curls, the way his gray eyes lit with laughter, and the sound of his voice the time she had awakened to hear him singing to her.

And when she remembered the touch of his hands on her body, the memory alone was like a gentle caress.

She felt an odd warmth, not just in her cheeks, but radiating all the way to her toes, making them curl in her shoes.

Having never acquired the habit of confiding her deeper feelings to anyone, she did not discuss these thoughts, her fears, or any odd sensations with Madeline.

On the tenth day of her stay in the Tower, the growing monotony of their daily routine was broken when the elder of their two guards opened the door with no more ceremony than the scrape of his key in the lock, poked his grizzled head through the aperture, and said with brisk kindness, “You’ve a visitor. ”

The door opened wider, and to Alys’s astonishment, she beheld Ian MacDougal standing beside the guard, bearing a covered basket and an expression of grim purpose. “I willna be but a few moments wi’ the lass,” he said to the guard. “I shall rap on the door when I be ready tae depart.”

Alys stared at him. His manner made him seem older than she remembered him, but once the door was shut behind him, Ian grinned, looking as boyish as usual, and said, “I was told tae mak’ yon guards look upon me as a bit of a stern fellow.”

“But how came you here?” Alys demanded, delighted to see him and stepping quickly forward to greet him.

He held out the basket to her. “I ha’ fresh white bread and berries, m’lady. The master did think ye’d be glad o’ them.”

“Goodness,” Madeline said, stepping up behind Alys so hastily that she caught her foot in her hem and nearly tripped, “I can smell the bread. It must be warm from the oven.”

“There be jam as weel,” Ian said, eyeing her with rather more approval than Alys thought was seemly.

“This lady is Mistress Fenlord,” she said firmly. “Ian is one of Sir Nicholas’s men. But you have not said why you are here, Ian. Surely, Sir Nicholas did not send you to me.”

“Aye, that he did,” Ian replied. “He ha’ thought ye were wi’ the Princess Elizabeth and when he coom tae hear that King Harry ha’ sent ye here instead, he recollected that ye’d nane o’ your ain servants by ye, and were fain tae learn how ye were bein’ treated.

He bethought hisself that ye’d require a waitin’ wooman, and sent me tae discover an that be so. ”

Alys was pleased to think she might have her own servant, but a second thought made her shake her head.

“Four of us living in these few small rooms would be too many. Mistress Fenlord’s Elva serves both of us easily enough for the present.

” Seeing his expression sharpen at mention of yet another female on the premises, Alys tried to imagine what his reaction would be if he saw Elva, who was comely enough but old enough to be his mother.

Quickly, lest her amusement show itself and either offend him or stir him to less acceptable liberties, she added, “What we really lack, Ian, is news from beyond these walls. What can you tell us? Is Sir Nicholas still with the court at Greenwich?”

“He is, but Harry ha’ set a date fer his crowning.

’Tis tae be the end o’ next month, and he’ll be coomin’ tae the Tower in a fortnight, like all English kings ha’ done afore their crowning.

The procession is tae be a grand one, they do say, from here tae Westminster Abbey, and the master will ride wi’ the king, and is tae be made a Knight o’ the Bath afore the grand ceremony. ”

“A Knight of the Bath?”