Chapter Nine

“Mama! Mama.”

Stepping out of the solar with her ladies, Eleanor already had a wide smile on her face at the sight of her daughter running towards her in an ungainly manner. Her ladies, bunching out of the room behind her, cooed at the sight of their princess.

“My darling, how pretty you–oh! Careful.” Eleanor darted forward and caught Lilyrose just before she fell forward.

“Majesty, forgive me, I should have–”

“Tilly, my dear, there is nothing to forgive.” Smiling, Eleanor shook her head at the young woman.

Tilly dropped a curtsy, still wearing a contrite look. Only twenty-one, she was considered young for a royal child’s maid, but none could fault her attentiveness to her young charge.

“Carry, Mama.” Lilyrose stood in front of Eleanor with her arms raised.

She lifted her daughter in her arms, crumpling Lilyrose’s apple green skirt around her chubby legs. “You are getting too big for this, my love.”

Lilyrose grinned, and Eleanor planted noisy kisses on her round cheeks. With her daughter’s arms around her neck, she started to walk along the corridor, the women following behind, chattering softly.

Her curly hair peeking out from her bonnet, Lilyrose turned to look out the windows, raising her head as a bird flew past. Eleanor cuddled her close, a warmth radiating from her heart. Until she’d had Lilyrose, she hadn’t known it was possible to love as if one’s heart would burst.

Yet, she fought a constant battle against the urge to run away with her daughter, to hide her and keep her safe from the curse. Countless times in a single day she fought to ignore the unspeakable thought that each passing day brought her closer to losing her precious child. Despite the fear, she and Lionel still clung to the hope that the curse would be defeated for they continued to plan for the future, which included Lilyrose being wed to Arthur.

“Today is an exciting day, my baby.”

Lilyrose turned to Eleanor. “Why?”

“Arthur is coming.”

“Who that?”

“You don’t remember him?”

Pushing out her lower lip, Lilyrose frowned.

“But why should you?” With a loud expelling of air, Eleanor stopped. “Down you go, Lilyrose. Don’t sulk, you’re getting too heavy for me to carry for too long. And no, she doesn’t need to be carried when she’s capable of walking.” She looked pointedly at her ladies who’d fluttered closer with expectant looks.

Pouting, the child slipped her hand in her mother’s as they resumed walking. “Who Arfur?”

“Arthur is, he is a very good friend. Like his father, Edmund. They came when you were born, and they came last year for your birthday. When you see him, you may remember him.”

Lilyrose stared up at her mother who smiled at her daughter’s bewildered expression.

“Then again, one year is a long time, especially when you are so very young.”

Frowning slightly, Lilyrose nodded, and Eleanor’s smile widened.

“I trust you will behave yourself, my boy.”

Arthur looked up at his father and nodded without saying a word.

An imposing figure astride his horse, Edmund fixed him with a frowning glare before his features softened. “I know you will not shame me in any way, son. But I wish you would speak more.”

Arthur faced the road. He was glad to have his father’s trust but was convinced there were times Edmund must feel disappointment.

“I trust you will, at least, speak with little Lilyrose?” A smile lit up the older man’s face.

And that smile was mirrored by Arthur. He could not help but smile at the mention of the little princess. Every memory he had of Lilyrose from the last year filled him with delight. It had taken her awhile to get used to him but, once she had, the pair had been inseparable. Not for the first time, Arthur wished he had a younger brother or sister. His smile faded for he knew that would never happen. Not without his beloved mother. But, at least, he had his good friend, Ronal; he assuaged the loneliness that, at times, threatened to engulf Arthur.

“Arthur…” Edmund placed his meaty hand on the boy’s slight shoulder. His smile had been replaced with a look of concern.

Arthur quickly nodded. “I will, Papa.”

Squeezing his son’s shoulder gently before releasing it, he whispered, “My boy.”

It never failed to warm Arthur’s heart when his father called him ‘my boy’ for it reminded him of Anna’s words. According to her, she and Edmund had wanted him so much, he was gifted to them that blessed day in the forest.

The journey from Edmund’s to Lionel’s home took a little over three days. When they’d made the journey the previous year, Arthur had travelled in a carriage. But this year, as Arthur’s confidence in riding had increased, Edmund had decided his son should travel next to him on his horse. The only wheeled transports were the carts packed with clothing and food.

It had turned gradually cooler the further from home they travelled. Like his father, Arthur wore two tunics, a short-sleeved brown one over a longer-sleeved black, and a full black cloak over that. Riding for longer periods than he was used to was harder than he’d imagined, but Arthur preferred it. Apart from being closer to his father, it also afforded him a better view of the country.

They’d exchanged the hilly, rocky backdrop of home for flatter verdant, undoubtedly fertile, country. He could make out a wide river flowing like a ribbon of blue into the forest in the distance. But it was the forest that held his attention. Unlike the dark, closed-in one near his home, this one seemed almost welcoming.

They’d already ridden past fields of people sowing seeds in the dark brown earth. However, the sight of fields with nothing but sticks sunk into the ground made Arthur slow his horse. “What are those?”

Edmund chuckled. “It may not look like much now, but those are Lionel’s prize vineyards. When summer comes around and its harvest time, that, my boy, is when those vineyards are at their most beautiful. Plump, succulent grapes waiting to be picked.” Putting his fingers to his lips, he kissed them loudly before returning his son’s smile.

As the silver-lined amethyst pennants atop Lionel’s castle came into view, Arthur’s heart leapt for it meant their journey was almost at an end, and he would see Lilyrose soon. This would be their third visit for they had not travelled anywhere the year following Lilyrose’s birth. Father and son had still been deep in mourning following Anna’s death when they had returned from the celebration of the princess’ birth.

“Come.” Edmund grinned at Arthur. “Let us race to the castle.”

Arthur’s smile widened, and he kicked his horse into a canter then a gallop, his father’s indignant shout fading behind him.

It had taken Lilyrose long enough to be comfortable around Arthur and then it seemed to Arthur as if they had spent the whole past year together instead of apart.

The sound of her laughter was enough to make him want to laugh too, and he did. Moving forward a little faster, he laughed again as she squealed.

“Oh, careful.” Eleanor called out from where she, Lionel and Edmund were sitting in the garden.

Arthur stopped at once and glanced apologetically at her.

“They’re fine, Eleanor,” said Lionel, shaking his head. “Carry on, Arthur. You make a fine steed,” he finished with a laugh.

“Fast, Arfur,” said Lilyrose, sat astride his back, holding tight to his tunic.

On his hands and knees on the soft grass, Arthur laughed. “As you wish, my lady.”

Edmund’s loud laughter added to Arthur’s happiness. He didn’t hear it that often and he loved the full-bodied, rich sound. He tossed his long, auburn hair away from his face and scooted forward as fast as he could.

Lilyrose’s clear laugh echoed around the well-manicured garden. Abruptly, it stopped as she tumbled off.

Arthur barely heard Eleanor’s cry as he spun around. “Lilyrose, I’m sorry.” He helped her sit up. “I shouldn’t have gone so fast, I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, blue-green eyes wide, brimming with tears.

Not knowing what else to do, he hugged her, repeatedly whispering his apology, aware of her parents hurrying towards them.

“Arfur.”

He pulled away, expecting to see her in tears.

But they had magically disappeared, and she was smiling. “Horsey again.”

Before he could say anything, Eleanor was by their side, gathering her daughter in her arms. “Lilyrose, my baby, are you–?”

“Horsey, Mama,” said the child, seemingly oblivious to her mother’s anguish, as she squirmed to get out of Eleanor’s grasp.

“There now,” said Edmund as he came alongside. “No harm, as I said.”

“She’s not hurt, my dear.” Lionel had his hand on Eleanor’s arm to help her up.

By now, Lilyrose was by Arthur’s side, demanding to ride her “horsey”.

As she stood, Eleanor said, “I don’t think she should.”

“Oh, Eleanor,” said Lionel.

Arthur looked from Eleanor to his father who said nothing, only shrugged slightly. Unable to fathom Edmund’s expression, wondering if he was annoyed, he slowly got to his feet so as not to unbalance Lilyrose. He wanted to apologise, to say how terrible he felt for hurting Lilyrose, but the words would not come. The anguished look on Eleanor’s face, a mother’s face, cut him to the core. Backing away, he did the only thing he knew. He ran. Not even the plaintive sound of Lilyrose calling to him was enough to stop him. He heard his father say, “No. Let him.” before he was far enough to hear nothing but the sound of his heart drumming in his ears.

Since he had lost his mother, this was the only way Arthur knew to deal with hurt of any kind; he ran. Ran so fast as if he could, somehow, outrun the pain.

Weaving his way around the neatly clipped trees, Arthur stepped off the manicured grass. Kicking the gravel on the path lining the geometrically shaped lawn, he made his way back to the castle. He wondered if Edmund would be angry with him for running from the king and queen; if they would be angry at his rude behaviour. He shrugged, not really caring. The only one he was truly worried about was Lilyrose. She’d sounded upset when he had run. He hoped she would still be happy to play with him.

As he left the garden and walked across the courtyard, he paused to fuss a couple of dogs before navigating his way around women cradling armloads of sheets, men with tools and wheelbarrows. As groups of soldiers walked past, he turned his body to follow them with his gaze, walking backwards for a few steps before stumbling.

His hand against the building, he skirted the Great Hall, his fingers bumping over the rough wall. As he neared the doors to the garden room, he slowed on hearing his father’s voice. Curiosity getting the better of him, he hugged the wall and stole to the large, open window in time to hear Eleanor’s pleading voice.

“But, Edmund, will you please, at least, consider it?”

“There is nothing to consider.”

Arthur wondered at his father’s impatient tone.

“He is my son and his place is with me.”

Arthur started, eyes wide, realising they were discussing him.

“Come, Eleanor,” said Lionel, “perhaps it is time to accept that Edmund will not change his mind.”

As silence filled the room, Arthur clenched his fists, pressing his back against the wall to stop himself running in through the doors.

“I know you only wish to help, Eleanor dear,” said Edmund, his voice softer, gentler. “I won’t lie, there is a part of me that wants to agree. But. I’ve already lost my Anna. What would I do without my boy? He’s all the happiness I have left.”

Arthur stared at the ground, tears blurring his vision. He had never heard his father speak of him in this manner before.

“Oh, Edmund, forgive me.” Eleanor’s words were punctuated with the sound of rustling cloth. “I’ve been too selfish, thinking only of my own sensibilities. Of course, Arthur must remain with you. Please understand, the only reason I’ve been persisting in asking he be allowed to live here is so I can be a mother to him. And it’s become so clear now that he and Lilyrose are devoted to one another.”

“You have a good heart, my dear. Truth be told, perhaps I’m the selfish one. If he remains here with you, he would know a mother’s love. And I know how terribly he misses his mother.”

“A son needs his father, my friend,” said Lionel. “You and I both know that. I loved my mother, yes, but it was my father who filled my days and my life as I got older. I know it was the same for you. Arthur is nearly seven years of age, and it will be the same for him.”

“Then that is the end of the matter,” said Eleanor. “I will ask no more. Arthur is your son, and with you he will remain.”

Outside, Arthur slowly slid against the wall until he was sitting on the ground. He had never felt so confused. He was glad beyond words that he and his father would not be separated. And yet, to know a mother’s love again, to never be apart from Lilyrose. “Why can’t I have both?” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut but failing to stop the tears.