Page 52 of The Rose at Twilight

“T AKE THE MEN BELOW with those others,” Sir Lionel ordered, adding to Gwilym, “We have a number of the Tudor’s men in the dungeons already. You can bear them company for a time until it has been made clear who is the master here.”

“Wait!” Alys cried. The men were being disarmed.

“What is it?” Sir Lionel said impatiently. “You do yourself no good by attempting to set your will against mine, Lady Alys.”

“I do no such thing, Sir Lionel,” she replied, thinking quickly.

“In faith, to set my will against a man so brave as to take on both the Tudor and his strongest knight in arms would be most foolhardy. But you are about to send my manservant with the others. Ian is only a lad, sir, and is loyal to none save myself. He serves me right well, however, for he has learned my ways. I pray you, allow him to remain with me.”

“He looks stout enough,” Sir Lionel said doubtfully, “and he bears a sword and dagger like any other soldier.”

“Only because our party was so small,” Alys insisted.

“He does not wear proper armor, sir, as you see, but only a leather brigandine and chausses.” She hoped he had not been privileged to see the rest of Sir Nicholas’s men, for most wore no more than that, trusting to speed rather than to heavy armor to protect them.

Gwilym and one other who had accompanied them wore metal breastplates, and it was to that fact that she pinned her hopes.

Sir Lionel was in a mood to be generous.

“Very well,” he said at last, “the lad may stay. He can stir these hall fires to life, so that when the servants return they can get on with preparing a meal. But mind that you do not displease me, lad,” he added, looking grimly at Ian.

“At the slightest offense I shall order you sliced to ribbons and fed to my dogs.”

Without so much as a glance at Alys, Ian nodded, pulling his fiery forelock and somehow looking even younger and more harmless than he had looked a moment before.

He moved swiftly to kneel by the fire, taking up a few chunks of wood and casting them onto the bed of banked embers, then stirring and poking industriously until the coals glowed bright and burst into flame beneath them.

Sir Lionel watched him, then, realizing that his men were also looking on, said sharply, “Go, take those others below.”

Gwilym, his voice sounding as though he controlled it only with strong effort, said, “I give my parole, sir, not to attempt to escape or to overpower you if you will allow me to remain here. I have promised my brother to look after his wife and the other women, and am loath to leave them to face you alone.”

“Are you now? Well, you’ve little choice in the matter, sirrah, and I tell you man to man, you’re a sight more likely to keep your head attached an you go with the others now.

I’ve a short temper, and the Lady Alys will be your brother’s wife only long enough for me to make her a widow, so you need not bother your head about any promises you’ve made to the man.

As to the others, they’ll be safe enough till we have use for them. ”

Madeline and Elva gasped, and Jonet reached out to grasp Alys’s arm, but Alys needed no such warning to keep her wits about her.

A chill had knotted the pit of her stomach at Sir Lionel’s casual mention of killing Nicholas, and she saw that Gwilym had stiffened his resistance against his captors’ efforts to push him from the hall.

Hoping that he and the other two still might manage to get the upper hand if she could divert Sir Lionel, she turned a calm face toward him and said, “What can you hope to gain by making me a widow, sir? You cannot believe the king will give me or my inheritance to a former Yorkist.”

He laughed. “’Tis no longer expedient to be a Yorkist of any sort, my lady. You see before you a staunch Lancastrian.”

“But you have imprisoned some of the king’s men below!”

“Aye, that too was expedient. But Harry Tudor understands these matters if you do not. These thirty years past, and more, men have won both women and property through just such tactics as these, and he will know how to reward my efforts on his behalf.”

“On his behalf!”

“Aye, for ’twill be easy enough in such uncertain times to assure him that the castle had been taken by that rascal Lovell—fool that he is in not knowing when a cause is lost—and that I have but rescued castle and lady, albeit not in sufficient time to save poor Sir Nick Merion.

The king, having accepted my oath of fealty, will admire my daring and allow me to keep the spoils of my victory.

Harry Tudor has said he cares only for spreading the wealth so that it does not accrue in one family.

He will have no objection to my taking you and yours unto myself. ”

“But why?” Alys asked. “You did not want me before. When I arrived in London you did not look at me; and, to my knowledge, you made no objection when our betrothal was set aside.”

“You were not then such an heiress,” he said, “and I was taken up with establishing myself at court. Not until I discovered the vast worth of your father’s estate did I realize my error in not pressing my claim from the outset. I soon set about putting the matter to rights, however.”

A certain intensity in his expression sent a shiver up her spine.

She fought the thought forcing itself upon her, but it would not die.

“Roger,” she said, her voice breaking on the name.

Emotions that had not touched her at all when she had learned of his death touched her now, and there were tears in her eyes at the thought that, without knowing it, she might have provided motive for murder. “They called his death mysterious.”

“Not so mysterious,” he said casually, “if you but knew it.”

“You killed him.”

He did not deny it, nor did he say more about it. “Enough of this claptrap,” he said. “Get those men below, lads. And you send your women above, mistress. You will remain here with me.”

“No!” Madeline cried, stepping up beside Alys. “We will all remain together, Sir Lionel, or—Take your hands from me!” she shrieked when a soldier grabbed her by her arms from behind.

Gwilym bellowed a protest, struggled vehemently with his captors, and was knocked to the floor for his trouble.

Madeline turned white and went very still.

Alys said sharply, “Order that man to unhand her, Sir Lionel. I will not send my women away, for I do not trust your men to leave them in peace. Moreover, if you want to see supper on the table, you would do well to let my women attend to it. I see no sign of those servants you mentioned earlier.”

“They are below,” he said, “and will come when the others have been locked up. They are harmless enough, for they are more frightened of me than of a master they have never seen, so do not think they will aid you. But the women can stay and help. You are no doubt right about my men. Most have not had a woman in days, for we have been watching the roads for your party. I confess, I had hoped Sir Nick himself would bring you to me; but once I learned that Lovell has been making mischief hereabouts, I was not surprised to see your party limping in alone.”

Not long after the prisoners were led away, a few servants did appear, and with Ian’s help and that of Jonet and Elva, they began to prepare the evening meal.

Alys watched with increasing appreciation the way in which Ian avoided drawing the attention of Sir Lionel or his men.

He blended in with the other servants so well that were it not for his red hair, Alys herself would have been hard-pressed to pick him out.

The meal, when it was ready, was a trial, because Sir Lionel was by turns charming and surly, his clear intent to ingratiate himself with her foiled both by her own lack of response and by Madeline’s caustic comments.

Afterward, when Alys would have liked to withdraw to another room with the other women, he prevented her, saying abruptly that he would like some music.

“I am certain,” he said, attempting to speak more politely, “that you have been improving your skill upon the lute, mistress. I would hear the result of your efforts, if you please.”

The reminder of her humiliation at Elizabeth’s hands annoyed Alys and tempted her to say she did not have a lute with her, but she decided against it.

The lie was too easy to disprove, and the time might come when she would want him to believe a far more important one.

The less experience he had then of what little skill she possessed for deception, the better it would be for all of them.

She asked Ian to fetch her lute, and sat with it on a stool near the fire, plucking idly for a time.

The other women occupied themselves as they usually did after supper, except for Madeline, who sat with her hands folded in her lap, glaring by turn at Sir Lionel and his men.

“Madeline,” Alys said, after she had been idly playing for some time, “pray, fetch me that bit of parchment on which Sir Nicholas wrote musical notes for me to practice. ’Tis in the pack yonder by the fire, the one from which Ian took the lute.”

If Madeline thought the request an odd one, especially since Ian was nearer the pack than she was, she did not say so, and Alys was grateful for her silence.

Taking the parchment from her, Alys said in an undertone, “Do not be constantly challenging them with your eyes. ’Twill only make them the more alert.

We shall do ourselves more good by submitting wherever possible, so as to make them think us harmless. ”

“Speak louder, Lady Alys,” Sir Lionel commanded. “Your voice does please mine ear, and I would hear what you say to Mistress Fenlord.”

Alys, feeling warmth surge into her cheeks at having drawn his notice, hoped he would take the added color for maidenly blushes and said diffidently, “Please, sir, ’twas but female’s talk, not meant for masculine ears.”