Chapter Twenty

“One more day and they should be here,” Lilyrose announced as she entered the rose garden.

“Yes, Lilyrose,” said Margaret, who was already there. “We know. You’ve been counting the days since… since I can’t remember.”

“Since you returned home from Lord Arthur’s birthday last year, I’m sure,” said the other young woman on the seat, a tric-trac board between her and Margaret.

“Oh, Alice. You make it sound as if I speak of nothing else.” Lilyrose’s smile belied her annoyed tone.

The daughter of Eleanor’s newest lady-in-waiting, Alice had quickly become good friends with Margaret for they were alike in so many ways, preferring quieter, gentler pursuits. It had taken her a little longer to get over her shyness around the king’s daughter, but once she did, it hadn’t taken them long to form a comfortable friendship.

Cupping a silky white rose, Lilyrose breathed deeply. The rose garden was her favourite of her father’s gardens. If there was order here, it was only in the way the blossoms – rich pink and pale pink, soft yellow, deep red, and creamy white – complemented one another. Petals were allowed to lie where they fell, on the grass or the pathway. They haphazardly decorated the stone benches, which were placed in such a way that wherever one sat, one could appreciate the beauty of the small, secluded garden.

“This time will be even more exciting.” Moving to stand by Margaret, hands behind her back, she peered over her cousin’s shoulder. “This time, Ronal will be coming also.”

“Lord Edmund’s squire?” said Margaret, her gaze on the board as her hand hovered over a piece.

“He’s more than that,” said Lilyrose as Margaret made her move. “He and Arthur are very close, almost like brothers.”

“Even then, as a squire, he’ll have duties to attend to,” said Alice, “which means he’ll hardly have much time to spend with us.”

“Like Henry. Now that he’s Uncle’s squire, we hardly see him.” Margaret’s shoulders drooped.

Wanting to lift her cousin’s spirits, Lilyrose looked around. Knowing her mother would frown, still she plucked a bright pink rose from one of the laden bushes and sat next to Margaret. Affixing it to her straw blond hair, she said, “We’re still here, cousin dear. Poor substitutes though we are.”

Fingering the rose, Margaret turned, smiled and hugged her. “The best substitutes.”

Edmund, Arthur and their party arrived at Lionel’s palace on the day Lilyrose had predicted. To her delight, she learned that Ronal was there as Arthur’s companion, and not Edmund’s squire, which Arthur had insisted on. Even better, Lionel freed Henry from his duties so he, too, could spend time with his sister, cousin and friends.

The youngsters had arranged to go for a mid-morning ride, and while Margaret and Alice were readying themselves, Lilyrose and Henry quietly led Arthur to a nondescript building nestled against the back of the kitchen, hidden from view.

“I want to show you my secret,” said Lilyrose as Henry unlocked the door. “But you mustn’t tell anyone.”

The circular store room was empty except for a bench and plain wooden rectangular box shoved against the wall near the door. As Henry went down on one knee by the box, Arthur looked around. “I don’t see anything.”

Dust motes, lit by sunlight lancing through the embrasures, drifted like sparkling snow around Lilyrose. “Wait,” she said, “I’m not ready.” She hitched up her skirt, revealing the familiar sight of trousers, her preferred mode of dress. Holding a wooden sword, she turned to face Arthur. Her grin widened as his brows shot up. “I’m learning to use a sword.”

His mouth fell open, but he remained speechless.

Henry, also armed with a wooden sword, stood beside her. “And I’m helping her practice.”

“I asked Papa and he agreed. He said it’s a good thing for a lady to know, to be able to defend herself if she needs to.”

“Your father is a wise man.”

She nodded. “He said it won’t always be the case that there’ll be someone around to defend me. But Mama doesn’t know. That’s why it’s a secret. Papa thinks it will only upset her, so he said to wait awhile.”

Running his long fingers through his hair, he slowly smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Would you like to see what I’ve learned?”

“Yes.”

Pleased yet nervous, Lilyrose took up her position opposite Henry.

As the six youngsters – Lilyrose, Margaret and Alice; Arthur, Ronal and Henry – prepared themselves for a ride, it was Arthur’s Hero which stood out as the best-looking horse.

“My Mary is so small next to Hero,” said Lilyrose, patting the neck of her chestnut mare.

“All our horses look small next to him,” said Henry flatly even though his grey was a tall, slim beast.

With eight guards arrayed around them, they made their way out of the courtyard. The young men were dressed similarly, short-sleeved tunics over long-sleeved ones, and cloaks. The ladies’ dresses had extra wide skirts for riding over which they wore long, loose garments.

They first walked their horses, then trotted and cantered, heading towards the forest before skirting it. When they faced the palace, they slowed to a walk.

Lilyrose breathed deeply. “It always surprises me how different the air smells out here.”

The others nodded.

“I never notice until I’m out of the palace how clean it smells,” said Henry. “Away from the smell of people, animals, fires, the smells from the kitchen–”

“That’s not a bad thing, though,” said Lilyrose, “the kitchen.”

“True,” he replied as they laughed. “I’ll not mention the kitchen then.”

“The forest here is much lighter,” said Ronal, glancing back at it.

“The one at your home is different, I take it,” said Henry.

“Much darker. The trees crowd together, and you have to look hard to find a path.”

“This isn’t dark at all,” said Arthur. “Henry showed me last year. The trees are taller, I think, and not so thick. There’s a fast-flowing brook. We’ll show you.”

“I’d like to see it.”

A big grin on her face, happy they were enjoying themselves, Lilyrose noticed Margaret’s gaze kept going to Ronal. Her smile faltered when a sudden frown appeared on Margaret’s brow as Henry manoeuvred his horse next to Ronal, and they began talking about their experiences as squires. Margaret turned away, her lips pressed together. Lilyrose glanced at Ronal then Margaret before turning away, wondering at her cousin’s unusual behaviour.

As they neared the palace, Arthur said, “One last canter before we return?” He urged Hero into a trot, and they picked up the canter and rode to the palace together.

As they dismounted in the courtyard, the stable hands stood ready to take the ladies’ horses while the young men saw to their own mounts.

Turning to follow Margaret and Alice, Lilyrose tripped. Ronal grabbed her arm to steady her. “Thank you…” Her smile faltered as she met his amused gaze, which slowly turned to puzzlement. She frowned for he seemed different, brighter somehow while everything around him turned drab.

“My lady?” he said softly.

Tilting her head, she wondered at the strangeness then giggled. “Thank you, Ronal. I can trip over nothing.” The sound of carriage wheels clattering onto the courtyard, heralding guests for her birthday celebration, caught her attention and she turned. “Uncle Jeffery.” Clapping, she ran forward.

“Ah. More guests, by the sound of it,” said Lionel, from where he stood by the windows of the solar.

Eleanor closed her eyes briefly, muttering under her breath. “I cannot wait until later.” She gestured at Edmund, already half out of his chair. “Quickly, Edmund, what was in Hagen’s message?”

Edmund and Hagen had been exchanging courteous messages around the time of Arthur’s birthday for the past four years. But this year had brought something different.

“An invitation for Arthur and me to visit him and stay for a month. Or more.”

“Visit?” echoed Lionel, his eyes wide.

“And stay?” Eleanor’s hand pressed against her chest.

“I replied saying I would give it some thought as affairs of state make it hard for me to be away for long.”

“Oh, Lionel, I do not like this at all.” Eleanor slowly got to her feet. “What if this invitation is a precursor to something more?”

“I dare not refuse him outright,” said Edmund, rubbing his forehead. “And I haven’t mentioned this to anyone else.”

“I noticed when the subject of the north came up at the gathering, you kept silent,” said Lionel.

“What’s the point in saying anything? The last thing I want is to have any of the others weigh in with opinions or otherwise. As for Kelvan.” He shrugged.

Although their emperor loved the peaceful life, he was easily swayed by his long-standing chief counsellor, one of the few at court old enough to remember the uneasy past with the north.

“But my worries are constant now trying to fathom Hagen’s reasons for his continuous interest in Arthur. Surely it cannot be a marriage alliance. Reports confirm his wife and daughter died during the sickness and he hasn’t taken another wife–”

“Oh.” Lionel stiffened and stared.

“What?” Edmund frowned.

“He has a ward.”

Edmund slowly ran his fingers through his greying brown hair.

A loud knock sounded on the door. The steward, Oliver, entered to announce the arrival of Lionel’s cousin, Jeffrey, and his family.

“Come,” said Lionel as he led the way out. “There is nothing to be done about this now. Let us set it aside and allow family and celebration to distract us.”