ALYS SAW NICHOLAS TWIST In the saddle, his sword out and up to thrust. The savage who had jumped at him from the tree crashed lifeless to the ground, and in minutes the fracas was over. Nicholas leapt from his horse and ran to untie Alys, while the other horsemen herded the surviving Irishmen back into the clearing. The leader glared at her.
“I doubted ye was at one with his lordship, papers or no.”
“What papers?” Sir Nicholas demanded, pulling her upright.
Alys waited to be sure she could stand before she replied, “I came to find you, Nicholas. I must speak privately with you.”
“What papers?” he repeated implacably.
“The darlin’ wench bears one wi’ our blessed Lovell’s own device on the seal,” the helpful Irishman said, sneering.
Imperatively, Nicholas held out his hand.
“Please, sir, I came to find you,” she said, standing her ground. “I have news that I cannot give to anyone else. I swear to you, the letter I carry was not given me as a safe-passage.”
For a moment, she feared he would insist that she explain herself then and there, but at last, with a glance at the men around them, he grunted and took her by the arm. “Come with me,” he said, “but this tale of yours had better be a good one.”
Alone, away from the others, she showed him the letter, explained how she had come by it, and expressed the fears that had possessed her as a result of what Davy had said about the king. She did not tell him about the medallion she carried, tucked inside her bodice, for whatever else he might accept, she knew he would not tolerate the news that she was to take it to the dowager queen if the rebellion failed. To her surprise, Nicholas believed everything she did tell him, and did not question or scold her. Instead, he called to Hugh to join them.
“I thought the battle might have begun already,” she said as they watched Hugh’s approach. “I never expected to encounter you so far from Newark.”
“I am believed to know more than most about this part of the country,” he said with an ironic smile. “The king sent us to guard the east bank of the Trent hereabouts, and one of my lads saw you taken. He did not know it was you, only that a party of riders had been attacked, and we had to find a ford before we could get to you. Hugh,” he said when the giant joined them, “my lady has cause to think the rebels will make killing Henry their first task. Lovell’s messenger told her they meant to find the king no matter where he hid. Sounds as if they know he means to keep to the rear.” Alys noted that Nicholas had not named the messenger, although she had told him the man was Davy Hawkins.
Hugh nodded thoughtfully. “By what we make out, they are heading south, so Harry was right that Newark is the most likely place to meet them. What will we do with this lot?” He glanced uneasily at Alys. “We’ve no way to look after prisoners.”
Nicholas also looked at her. “Set them loose,” he said, “without their weapons. If this is the best that Lovell and Lincoln have to command, a few more will not worry us. As for you, madam, you go straight back to Wolveston.”
Alys opened her mouth to protest, but Hugh spoke first. “There are like to be more of these louts betwixt here and there, Nick, and we cannot spare men to accompany her. As it is, we can use the three she brought with her.”
“What would you have me do, man, present her to the king? I can scarcely leave her on her own somewhere along the way.”
Hugh chuckled. “Why not take her to Harry? Appears to me that she could not be anywhere safer now that we know the danger, and she will be much better off with us than with only young Ian and those other two lads to look out for her.”
“I shall have something to say to them,” Nicholas said.
“Ian did only what you told him to do, sir,” Alys said. “You told him to serve me, and he has served me well.”
“I will show you what well served means once this business is over and done, my love. Your information may save the king, but Harry himself won’t be able to protect you from me after this escapade. Of all the damn fool things to have done—”
Hugh interrupted him. “Ought we not to be going, Nick? The lord knows when the fighting will begin, but I’d not count on having more than the night to see us to Newark.”
Alys was grateful for the interruption, but it did not spare her from hearing all that Nicholas meant to say to her. She had cause in the next half hour to regret all the times she had wished he would speak to her more when his men were around.
“You might have been killed by those villains,” he snapped once they were mounted.
“But I was not,” she replied, “and had I not screamed when I did, you might have been killed.”
“Had you not been there at all,” he retorted grimly, “I would never have crossed the river.”
“Now, Nick,” Hugh said behind them, “the mistress has no good cause to love our Harry, and yet did she come, all on her own, to warn him of the evil afoot against him.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the company behind them, which consoled Alys but did not seem to affect Nicholas.
“What she did was reckless,” he said to Hugh, “and I mean to make certain she never does such a damn fool thing again!”
A man shouted from behind, “Takes a brave lass to risk her life to save her king!” Cheers followed, and more shouts.
Alys glanced at Nicholas. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He said no more, but she thought he still looked ominously grim.
They crossed to the Lincolnshire side of the river, where they encountered royal forces, but they saw no more sign of the enemy, and it was late when they approached Newark. They could see the glow of myriad torches and campfires on both sides of the river, and well into the forest. There were signs of men and horses as far to the south and west as the eye could see, for it was at Newark that the river Trent changed its course, flowing from west to east now, instead of south to north. Nicholas ordered his men to make camp in an open space that proved to be a newly harvested crocus field north of the town.
“I’ve no notion where we might find Harry tonight,” he told Hugh. “He could be anywhere betwixt here and Loughborough. We will see the royal banners more easily at first light, and we will fight better, when we must, if we have rested.” Turning to Alys, he said, “I’ve no tent for you, lass, but I have furs and blankets. You will sleep with me.”
The men tended their horses and made a hasty, cold meal before making up their beds on the ground, where Alys found that the matted remains of crocus plants provided a soft mattress. She knew that only the flowers were harvested for their saffron centers, used for dyes and the flavoring of foods.
Nicholas still seemed forbidding, and watching him in the light from a scattering of stars and a waning moon, Alys wondered what he was thinking and if he was still angry. She had felt no fear, even when he had promised retribution for her recklessness. His reproaches had lacked their customary sharpness. While she munched cold meat and bread, and drank the ale he gave her in a horn mug he carried with him, she caught his gaze upon her more than once. When he saw her watching, he looked away, but the expression in his eyes before he did made her spirits rise. His demeanor seemed stern, but the look was not. She could not define the expression exactly, but there was no harshness, only tenderness and curiosity—an odd combination, she thought.
By the time she crawled into the camp bed beside him, with her heavy cloak and his brigandine spread beneath the covers to protect them from dampness, she was encouraged enough to speak to him. “Nicholas,” she whispered.
“Aye, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. She breathed more easily, hearing the word. “I feared you were still angry.”
“You frightened the wits out of me,” he said, sliding an arm beneath her shoulders and drawing her close to him. “Did you expect me to thank you for it?”
Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, and she turned her cheek so that it lay against the rise of his chest. “I am frightened, too,” she murmured. “So many men I know will be fighting. I was scared before, but I have been terrified since the moment Davy told me the king would die.”
“I should have thought you would not miss the Tudor.”
“I have come to like him,” she said. “I do not like all he has done, but I cannot wish for his death. I … I could not stop your son from dying, Nicholas, but I hoped I might stop the death of your king. You can prevent it now, can you not?”
“Aye,” he said. “Wherever he is tonight, he will be well guarded, but in the heat of battle, knowing himself well to the rear, he might not have taken care. He will want to send all his best men to the vanguard, and if the rebels planned the business well ahead, as you believe, they might already have a party of men this side of the river, behind us and small enough not to be noted by the royal army. Such a force would be deadly if they come from behind to strike without care for their own safety.”
“And if I had not come?”
“Gwilym could have told us,” he said gently.
“But first I would have had to convince him there was danger, and even then he might have said you could deal with it, that he was needed more at Wolveston. And … and …” She could think of nothing more to say.
“And you wanted to come,” he said.
She tried to see his face, but she could not. “I cannot explain how I felt,” she said. “I did not want to tell anyone but you. I knew if I spoke to Gwilym, he might decide to send someone else, and they might not find you, and moreover, once he knew I had spoken to Davy, he would … he would have made it impossible for me to get away if he did not go himself. I was afraid you would be killed, Nicholas. I had to come.”
“I have it now. You did not trust me to look after myself, let alone to look after the king.”
“No, no, it was not that!” she said hastily, fearing she had offended him again.
He chuckled, hugging her, and said, “Oh, sweetheart, how quickly you rise to the bait. I understand how it feels to believe that no one can do a job as well as one can do it oneself, but one does not expect a woman to put her life in jeopardy because she does not trust men to do a thing properly.”
“Well, I do not see what being a woman has to do with it,” she said indignantly.
“Very likely not,” he said, hugging her again, “but you will promise me something now, or by heaven, I will bind and gag you when I leave you with our Harry.”
She did not believe the threat for an instant and grinned at the thought of what the king would think of such treatment, but she affected a deep sigh and said in a long-suffering tone, “Very well, sir, I will promise whatever you want. What is it?”
“That no matter what you hear or see, you will stay with him until I come for you, or until he bids you otherwise,” he said.
The thought of why the king might bid her to do otherwise was too dreadful to contemplate, so she said hastily, “I will stay with him, Nicholas, I promise—if you will be careful.”
“I will,” he said, “and, sweetheart, about what you said before—you didn’t let our son die. I have never blamed you.”
“I know you said you did not, but—”
“I said what I meant,” he interjected fiercely. “It was God’s will. I understand your feelings now, but you need never have believed you must aid my king because our son was lost.”
“That was not my only reason,” she said. “I just wanted to explain it all to you. You were so angry before, and—”
“I was not angry. I told you that seeing you in that clearing with those savages frightened me witless, and that was true, but afterward, I said the things I did because …”
“Because you were furious with me, Nicholas. Even your men thought you were too harsh.”
“Aye, they did,” he said, chuckling.
She leaned up on her elbow and peered into his face. “You are pleased with yourself. You wanted them to speak up for me!”
“They would not have liked having a wench in their midst on such a day,” he said. “Some think it bad luck even to have one near a battle. I thought there would be less resentment if they felt a little sorry for you, and I did not think it would hurt you to hear what I had to say. I could not cosset you, my love.”
“Oh, Nicholas, say those words again. I am never certain whether you mean them or if they just spill out unnoticed.”
“I mean them,” he said quietly, pulling her down and folding his arms tightly around her. “Kiss me, wife.”
She chuckled, happier than she could remember ever being before, and said, “Surely you do not mean to ravish me here in the midst of all your men, sir. What would they think?”
She saw his delighted grin. “They would think me a fool for draining energy I will soon need on the battlefield. But I mean only to hold my wife and cuddle her a bit, and maybe there will be a few kisses, and maybe”—his right hand slid down to stroke her backside—“maybe a bit more than that.”
Alys did not reply. He had pressed his lips to hers, and his tongue was seeking entrance to her mouth. She welcomed it with her own, and she welcomed his hands on her body, and his kisses as well, and later, when he slept, she snuggled close to him, though her body was heated enough by then to sustain them both, even had it been a cold winter night and not summer.
They were up again and mounted before the first light of dawn, and less than a quarter hour afterward entered the silent streets of Newark. Normally a bustling place, even at such an early hour, the town appeared to be deserted that morning, its citizens no doubt cowering behind bolted doors and shuttered windows, hiding their valuables, saying their prayers, in fear that the coming battle would take place on their doorstep.
There was light enough to see more easily when they passed through the market square, past well-appointed inns, to the high-towered church. Calling a halt, Nicholas ordered Hugh to find a way up the tower. “See what you can see from up there,” he said.
Hugh returned a short time later. “You might like to look for yourself, Nick. ’Tis an awesome sight.”
“We have no time. Could you spy the royal banners?”
“Nay, but I saw what must be Lincoln Cathedral to the east and Nottingham Castle on the western horizon. The forest and long stretches of the Great North Road are teeming with movement, Nick. When the sun rises, it will see thousands of steel helms and pike-heads winking back at it. The king’s main army is moving up from the southwest, and the rebels look to be heading for Fiskerton, that place we crossed the first time we took Lady Alys to London. From here, the crossing looks narrower and more shallow than it was then—fifty feet across, maybe two deep, for it’s down a foot, maybe two, from when we last crossed there.”
“Have they begun the crossing?”
“Not yet,” Hugh said.
“Then we ride. We must be past that point on the road—Stoke, is it not?—before they arrive, or we will have to veer west, and we will lose time if we do. Kick that palfrey of yours to a lope, Alys. We have no time to lose.”
Alys was not sure her palfrey knew how to lope, but with the example set by so many other horses, it managed such speed that she was hard-pressed to stay in her saddle, and finally resorted to clinging to the palfrey’s mane. The wild ride was a short one, for they began to meet horses and men coming toward them, and heralds, weaving their mounts through the others, seeking news of the rebel positions to carry back to their leaders. It was from them that Nicholas learned the king’s whereabouts, but in the midst of what had begun to look—to Alys, at least—more and more like a sea of riders, it was nearly nine o’clock before they found him in a churchyard, nearby in the village of Elston.
Nicholas dismounted quickly and went to kneel before him, speaking as he went. Alys saw Henry frown when Nicholas gestured toward her, but when Hugh lifted her down and the two of them took a few steps forward, then hesitated, Henry beckoned them on.
Making a deep curtsy, Alys looked up to see the king’s eyes twinkling. He said, “I am told that you exerted yourself greatly on my behalf, Lady Merion. I am out of stirring speeches, for I have just delivered one to an immense gathering of men-at-arms, so I hope you will accept a simple thank you.”
Nicholas cut in, saying, “With respect, your grace, we would ask you to go above, into the tower, where you can be better protected. I will remain here, with my men—”
“No, Nicholas,” the king said. “I am sending you forward with the majority of your men to warn Oxford and the vanguard that there are rebels about whose only purpose is to slay me. You may leave ten men to augment my yeoman guard, but only because I know you will not trust the thing to be done properly if some of your own are not here.”
Nicholas nodded and turned. “Hugh?”
“I will stay,” Hugh Gower told him.
Alys reached out her hand to her husband but said nothing.
Squeezing her hand, Nicholas gave her a teasing look, as if he knew the effort it cost her to hold her tongue, not to say she did not want him in the vanguard, which would bear the brunt of the fighting. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and turned toward his horse. When he mounted, she saw that the dagger he carried was not his own. On the hilt, shining clearly in the sunlight, was the engraving of the head of a dog.
She closed her eyes in sorrow, and said a prayer. Moments after he had ridden away, she found herself high up in the church bell tower with the man she had once thought her worst enemy. Henry moved to the far side, to the open parapet, and without a thought for his rank or her own, Alys moved quickly to stand beside him. “Goodness, we can see for miles,” she said.
The two armies looked almost toylike below. The massive royal force was drawn up in battle order, its banners resplendent and its armor shimmering in the sunlight. The vanguard alone looked formidable, and behind them waited the rest, at least twice as many men as the rebels, who could be seen taking their stand on a hill above the river, near the village of Stoke. Over the steady din of hoofbeats, upraised voices, horses’ cries, and clanking metal, Alys suddenly heard the sprightly, unnerving sound of the rebels’ fife and drum.
The royal advance was slow, deliberate. It seemed forever to her before arrows and crossbow bolts began to fly. In all the din and flurry of motion that followed, she could scarcely tell what was happening, but before long, even she could see that the rebels had little chance. Their casualties were dreadful. Their forces were boxed in, sitting targets. Once Henry had pointed them out to her, she could tell the Germans from the Irish, for the former moved with steely discipline, the latter with a shrieking frenzy. The Irish, without any armor at all, were falling everywhere that she could see them. For a short time she tried to pick out banners, looking for the golden wyvern, but it was too horrible. She turned away, unable to watch anymore.
At a burst of sound from the churchyard below, she hurried to the other side of the tower to look down, but the angle was wrong, and she could see nothing. Exchanging a wary look with the armed yeoman who stood below her on the stairs, she listened anxiously for footsteps coming up the steps, but when they came, they were those of a single man.
The yeoman lowered his pike and stood aside to let Hugh pass. The king turned then and spoke quickly. “Rebels?”
“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.