Page 73 of The Rose at Twilight

“Aye, your grace, but we set a little trap, and they are no more danger to you.”

“Prisoners?”

“Aye, not one lost.”

“Good. Keep them safe till the battle is done, God willing, I shall deal with them then.”

“How goes it?” Hugh asked, moving to the parapet.

The king grimaced. “Had we not been at Bosworth, I might worry, for they are pressing the vanguard hard, but we have men in reserve today, so our position is stronger. We shall overcome them easily enough, but I tell you here and now that this is the last time I shall attend a battle. Having made the decision to keep to the rear, I ought to have known better than to come even so close as this. And do not think,” he added gravely, “that this decision is taken out of cowardice.”

“I do not,” Hugh said mildly.

“Others might, but we won the crown through being fortunate enough to slay the opposing leader. We must not give any more of mine enemies a similar opportunity.”

Alys was listening with but half an ear.

The moment the king had said the vanguard was having a hard time, she had rushed to look, to try to find Nicholas.

She could not do so, however, and though the battle was short, lasting but three hours in all, by the time it was over, she was nearly frantic with worry.

She had thought it ended when the king announced that a great many common soldiers and quite a few knights and gentlemen were taking flight across the river, but after that there were bursts of fierce fighting that seemed to go on forever.

Finally, with a sigh of relief, Hugh said, “They’ve planted your banner, your grace, and there is Nick’s golden wyvern, my lady. Yonder, coming toward us.”

“They would not wave his banner if he were dead,” Alys said, as much to hear the words as to invite reassurance.

She strained her eyes to see him, but even finding him, she could not make herself believe him safe until he came up the tower steps and she could fling herself at him and feel his arms close around her.

“You’ll get blood on your gown, but ’tis none of mine,” he said, hugging her.

Then, recalling the king’s presence, he set her aside and added, “We took few losses, your grace, and the boy-king was captured. It will not surprise you to learn that he is not Warwick but a youth who confesses to being known by many names, including the unlikely one of Lambert Simnel.”

“It matters not how he is called if he is not noble,” Henry said. “I shall make clear to one and all that he is no enemy of mine. Methinks I shall put him to work in the royal kitchens.”

Nicholas nodded but did not smile. “I have other news, your grace, that will not please you so much. Lincoln is dead.”

The king swore. “I wanted him alive. By the rood, I gave orders that he was to be taken alive so that we could get to the bottom of this conspiracy. Now, by God, we may never know it all. What of that rascal Lovell?”

Alys had not been able to take her eyes off Nicholas, and when the king asked the question, her gaze shot to the dagger at her husband’s side. The dog’s head was clearly visible. Amazed, she heard Nicholas admit that Lovell was not dead.

“He escaped, your grace, swam the river with a number of others, but most of the rebel force has fallen. At a guess, I would estimate four thousand dead, and many so full of arrows they look like hedgehogs. ’Tis not a pretty sight.”

“We will catch Lovell,” Henry said, “but now I want to see Lincoln’s corpse.

My yeomen will arrange it. You see to your wife.

As for Hugh Gower,” he added, “I mean to knight him when this is over, for Lady Alys’s warning was on the mark, and he was able to trap a few rebels who may prove useful to us. ”

A roar from below startled them all before they realized it was the army cheering Henry.

He turned and waved from the parapet, then moved toward the stairs, shouting for his yeoman guard and scarcely giving the others a chance to make their bows, but Alys did not wait for him to disappear around the first turn of the stair before demanding to know if Nicholas had really seen Lovell cross the river to safety.

“Aye,” he said with a guilty look, putting a hand to the dagger’s hilt.

“We nearly had him. There were men who would have chased him down, but in their heavy armor, I feared they might drown in the river, so I called them back. In sooth,” he added carelessly, “there was such a crowd of them taking flight that he might have drowned before he reached the other side.”

Alys did not need the stifled snort from Hugh to alert her. Giving her husband a straight look, she said, “Your men?”

“Aye, others might not have heeded me so quick.”

“The river is but two feet deep at the ford, sir, and your men wear only brigandines and other light armor.”

Nicholas shot a rueful look at Hugh, but the big man said, “He was a worthy foe, Nick, true to his liege lord.”

“Aye,” Nicholas said, looking at Alys, “and there were other reasons, as well.” The warmth in his eyes left her no doubt that he had let Lovell escape because of his love for her.

Then the warmth faded suddenly, and he turned back to Hugh with bleak sadness in his expression.

“Hugh,” he said, “Davy Hawkins fell defending Lovell’s retreat. He is dead.”

“Oh, no!” Alys cried. That news, added to all that had gone before, was too much too bear. She burst into tears, hugging herself, scarcely heeding when Nicholas drew her into his arms.

He said over her head to Hugh, “Take a couple of stout lads and see to his burial, will you?”

“We’ll take him back with us,” Hugh said. “My lass will want him buried at home.” He shot a measuring look at Nicholas from under his brows. “There is naught to be gained by making a song here about the man’s loyalties, I’m thinking.”

“I agree,” Nicholas said. He smoothed Alys’s hair from her damp cheeks, and bent to kiss her eyelids, for once not caring whether anyone else was near. “Do as you think best, Hugh.”

“Then I am for Wolveston when we are done here.”

“We will both go,” Nicholas said quietly. “I will commit my lady to the king’s care. She will be safe with him.”

“No,” Alys said, straightening abruptly. “I go with you.”

“You cannot,” Nicholas said. “’Tis far too dangerous. Every rebel who escaped death here today will be fleeing back to the north. Go on ahead, Hugh, I will be with you shortly.”

Alys paid no heed to Hugh’s going. “I will be safe with you,” she said, giving Nicholas look for look.

Seeing by his expression that he still meant to forbid her, she said in fierce desperation, “My daughter is at Wolveston, sir. I will not stay away a moment longer than I must, do what you will. If need be, I will ride there alone after you have gone on ahead!”

“By God, madam,” he snapped, “do not try me too far. I swear to you now that if my daughter ever shows a fraction of her mother’s impudence, I will know my duty!”

“If you ever lay a hand on her, Nicholas, so help me—”

“I do likewise swear, my love,” he added much more gently, stilling her protests with a finger against her lips, “that if she ever shows a similar fraction of your courage, I shall reward her with gold coins, just as Gwilym rewards our young archers.”

Relaxing, touched by his words, Alys kissed the finger pressing against her lips, then smiled at him through her tears and said, “I do love you so much, Nicholas ap Dafydd. One day, I promise you, I will give you another son, no matter how many daughters we must have in the meantime.”

He grinned. “I do not doubt you, sweetheart, but I confess I find the thought of so many daughters downright terrifying.”

“Aye, it is,” she agreed, letting her gaze drift toward the river again. She was sorry that she had, for the sight of all the carnage below brought the tears to her eyes again. “Oh, Nicholas, what a dreadful world to bring children into!”

“Not so dreadful, sweetheart,” he said calmly. “’Tis a fine, bright world, and growing finer by the day. We’ve a king on the throne who means to stay there. As to plots and counterplots, we shall soon see an end to them all.”

Slowly she drew the medallion from her bodice and showed it to him. “Davy brought this, Nicholas, from Lovell. He said I was to give it to the queen dowager if the rebellion went amiss.”

He said quietly, “And will you take it to her?”

She stared at him in surprise. “You do not forbid me?”

“You must choose for yourself, my love.”

“But that is a dreadful choice,” she whispered.

“’Tis proof he lives, Nicholas. That is why Elizabeth Woodville supported the rebels, and why Lincoln never declared himself the heir.

Simnel was but a puppet, sir, a token, so they need not risk exposing the prince to danger.

I think, from what Lovell once said, that they named him on our wedding day, on Simnel Sunday.

And now he is to serve in Henry’s kitchens, poor little boy. ”

“At least he won’t lose his head,” Nicholas said dryly.

“But what am I to do about the medallion?”

“You need not make your choice all in a moment,” he said.

“There is time to ponder it before we return to London. So come now, sweetheart, no more tears. If you rust the plates of this brigandine, I shall never get out of it, and I promise I mean to do that as soon as I can, so I can show you how much I love you.”

She gave a watery chuckle. “You had better wait until we get home, sir, if you do not want to display your weakness for me before your men. Oh, Nicholas,” she added with a rueful sigh, “you must think me mad to have rushed to the Tudor’s rescue and yet be sobbing now for rebel losses.”

“No,” he said. “You have learned to care about individuals, my love, not merely to support one cause blindly over another. ’Tis a good lesson, I think. Would that others might learn it.”

“In faith, sir,” she said, brushing the tears from her cheeks, “I believe you learned that lesson before I did.”

“I have learned many lessons, mi calon ,” he said, putting an arm around her and urging her toward the tower steps.

“I have learned that one may value true loyalty in one’s enemies as much as in one’s comrades-in-arms, and I have learned that love is a strength, not a weakness.

And in truth, my love, I do trust that over the years that lie ahead of us, there will be many more such lessons for us both to learn.

But for the present, the battles of the white rose against the red being over, I want nothing more than to find Hugh and the others, and take you home to bed. ”

Putting her arm around his waist, Alys smiled up at him, and they went down the stone steps of the tower together, and out into the sunlit churchyard.