Page 56 of The Rose at Twilight

“Rumors set about by Harry himself, I do not doubt. He cannot shout them from the rooftops, for he does not know the truth and cannot chance a reappearance of either lad to make him a liar. He put off marrying Elizabeth, after all, whilst his men searched high and low for them, for he could scarcely declare her legitimate, or declare that his marriage would bind him to the throne, if they lived. Had he discovered them then, they would have disappeared forever, or he would have imprisoned them and abandoned the marriage. Neither course suited us then.”

“And now?”

“Now Harry hopes, with these vague rumors, to flush the boys from cover. But we’ve learned to ignore rumors.

I once heard the Duke of Clarence had searched for a babe to exchange for his newborn son, so that he might send Neddie to Ireland, to protect him.

Then it was rumored that Dickon had murdered his nephews, a rumor set about by men who, had they found them, would have used them to draw others to rebel against Dickon.

But such ruses did not succeed when Dickon was alive, and they will not now.

Not till we want Harry to know that a Plantagenet prince lives will we tell him so.

Perhaps, however, we can have a game with him in the meantime to learn more about how the Tudor mind does work. ”

Alys glanced nervously toward the window, her curiosity about what he meant to do warring with her rising trepidation. “Sir, you must go, but I do not know how you can get away now.”

“We go nowhere, lass. I confess, I’d like to look into a certain grave to see what its resident wears around his neck—Do not swoon!

I know I cannot. Not only Mother Church but the sweat that killed him does forbid it.

We’ll be safe until our way is clear, for I know places in this castle that I am certain your husband does not.

We cannot leave with his men outside the gates, and no doubt Sir Nicholas knows the secret of the bolt. ”

“Aye, perhaps,” she said with a sigh, knowing Ian might have told him, “but will those men below not tell him you are here?”

“They have no cause to know me, and my lads will not speak my name. Moreover, we will make them believe we have gone away. Or, we could kill them,” he added a little absently.

Alys did not care about Sir Lionel’s men.

Her concern, with Nicholas so near, was the corpse of Sir Lionel on the floor, for how she would explain its presence in her bedchamber she did not know.

A sound from the courtyard sent every other thought from her head.

“They are inside! Quick, sir, take the privy stair at the other end, for he will come up the tower steps.”

“I know. You will not tell him I have been here.”

“No, of course I will not. I am loyal to York, sir.”

“Aye, but husbands demand loyalty, too, lassie.”

“Of a different sort, sir. This is politics!”

He chuckled and turned to leave, then looked again at the corpse. “How will you explain that?”

She thought swiftly. “Give me your sword, and I will tell him I killed the knave myself, and that servants, or mayhap tenants, overcame the men below.”

“Never my sword, lass, but take my dagger and welcome, and may the falsehoods rise easily to your tongue. Oh, and, lassie,” he added with a delighted grin, “I recommend you put on something more becoming than that quilt to greet your lord and master.”

Not even waiting for the door to shut, she flew to search her coffers for something to wear, and without bothering with smock or petticoats, dragged on a wool skirt and bodice, lacing the latter with trembling fingers while she strained her ears for sounds from the gallery.

Remembering the dagger, she snatched it up and knelt by the body to smear blood on the blade.

They came silently, and when the door crashed back on its hinges, she looked up with a start to see her husband, his sword drawn, his face rigid with fear at what he might find, and Hugh close behind him on the threshold.

All other matters vanished from her mind.

Casting the dagger aside, she leapt up and ran to Nicholas, crying out his name.

She saw his face relax, and when he put his free arm around her, she could feel his relief.

Not till that moment did she realize how desperately she had yearned for his coming.

His soldier’s instincts swiftly reasserted themselves, and his gaze swiftly scanned the room.

Hugging her close, he said crisply, “Hugh, search about. I cannot believe the whole place is empty. Alys, where is Gwilym? Where are the soldiers Ian warned us of? And who the devil killed that bastard Everingham?”

“Please, sir, one question at a time,” she begged, trying to gather her wits.

Snuggling closer to him, taking comfort from the warmth of his body, she said, “I do not know what happened to his men.” That was the truth.

She had thought they were trussed up in the hall.

“There were servants. They might have overcome his men while he was here with me. As for him, why, he … Oh, Nicholas, he killed Roger, and he was going to kill you! And he … he tried to force me … to … to ravish me!”

“Ah, sweetheart, no!” He looked grimly at the corpse, and she knew from his grim expression that if Sir Lionel were somehow to rise from the dead he would be struck down again and right swiftly. Then she saw Hugh’s face.

“Mistress Hawkins,” he said with dangerous calm. “Where is she, my lady? Did that villain dare to harm a hair of her head? Or any of the others?” he added as an obvious afterthought.

“I do not know, sir, but I think not. He ordered them all taken below and locked in with Gwilym and the other men when he discovered that I had dared to send Ian for help.”

Nicholas released her and went to the corpse, examining it perfunctorily before stooping to pick up the dagger. Alys held her breath and watched him closely when he examined it.

“This is no lady’s weapon,” he said, looking over its twenty-four-inch length. “How came you by this, mi calon ?”

“It … it was his,” she said hastily, without thinking, gesturing toward the corpse.

Then, wildly, she looked at Sir Lionel, unable to recall if he carried a dagger of his own.

His right side was uppermost. There was no sheath.

She sighed with relief and shifted her gaze more confidently to Nicholas.

He was frowning, looking at the dagger’s gilded hilt, then back at the dead man. “Odd,” he said. “I thought Everingham’s device was a bear. This engraving looks more like a wolf.”

Alys stiffened. Lovell’s device was a dog.

How like the viscount, she thought, to have the stupid thing engraved on his weapons.

Giving thanks that he had not decided to have his arms engraved there as well, she kept silent, unable to trust her tongue, and was glad when Hugh’s voice broke the silence.

“I will go below,” he said, “and see to freeing the others.”

“Take men with you,” Nicholas said, “and send a pair to get that corpse out of here. He did not lay siege to this place alone, Hugh. Where the devil are his men?”

Hugh shrugged and left, but Alys realized with shock that Lovell’s men must have taken their trussed Shrove Tuesday birds to their secret refuge. She prayed that if they had done so the action would not prove their own undoing. Nicholas, in searching for the men, might well flush out Lovell.

Fighting to keep silent, not wanting to lie to him again, or stir suspicions that might otherwise lie dormant, knowing there was no way she could keep him from searching the castle if he chose to do so, she still prayed he would not.

Her relationship with him had grown stronger, but she knew the discovery of Lovell at Wolveston could only weaken the fragile bond between them.

He was thinking, turning the dagger over idly in his hands. She hoped he would not cut himself, and the thought reminded her that she had not been the only one recently in danger.

“I am glad you came home safely,” she said.

“Must you return soon to the king, or can you linger here for a time?” Her emotions in the brief moment before he replied were in a tangle.

She wanted him there, beside her, sleeping in her bed.

But the danger to Lovell with Nicholas at Wolveston was unbearable to contemplate.

For the viscount to get away would be nearly impossible while Nicholas and his men remained.

Nicholas said, “The king enters York in two days’ time, and we have had word of trouble rising in Birmingham—the Staffords, just as the rumors we heard suggested.

When I leave here, my men and I will join the royal forces there.

The king will remain in York through St. George’s Day.

He is skeptical of the city’s loyalty but means to accord its citizens all honor.

I’d like to be there, but I doubt I can return soon enough.

Harry remains in York only a few days, then retraces his path southward.

I am promised to meet him at Nottingham Castle the end of the month. ”

“But you will return here first!” she exclaimed. “In faith, sir, you cannot mean to abandon us here.”

His look was direct. “I do not know what I intend, madam. Originally, I had meant to take you back to London, but now I am not so sure. There is unrest throughout the kingdom, and I do not know that I can be at hand in the capital to keep my eye on you. God knows, you show a distressing talent for landing in the briars when left to your own devices. You have given me no cause to believe I can safely leave you with the court.”

“But I—”

“We won’t discuss it now,” he said, looking toward the door.

Footsteps could be heard from the gallery, and a moment later, two of his men entered and began to attend to Sir Lionel’s corpse. Alys was glad to see it removed.

“We will have a proper service for him,” she said grimly, “though I doubt if his soul has sped its way to heaven.”