Bertrice Small - Until You

The young man nodded. Then he turned to Rosamund and bowed. “I will not say it has been pleasurable seeing you again, cousin,” he told her wryly. “And I should far rather wed and bed you than the little wench who is your heiress. I am old enough now by far, and it is said that I am skilled in passion.”

“Get out!” Rosamund said once more. “The sight of you sickens me, and your lack of grief is shameful.”

“I do not grieve for him,” her cousin said. “He was wretched to my mother. I hated him for it. Had I gotten my hands on Friarsgate, I should have exiled him from it even as you did. And I would not have allowed his bones to be interred in its soil.” He bowed to her once more. “Perhaps I shall return, cousin.”

“Do not,” Rosamund said in a hard, cold voice.

The morning after Bessie’s natal day they laid Henry Bolton to rest in the family burial site next to his mother. Rosamund’s parents and brother were interred next to her grandfather. His son had not returned for his burial. Rosamund was very concerned that Henry the younger was in the vicinity and that he had seen Philippa. “Did you know,” she asked Tom, “that my cousin was with his father this winter past?”

Tom shook his head. “If I had, I should have called the sheriff,” he said. “God’s blood, dear girl, I could have been murdered in my bed, and none the wiser!” He looked distinctly pale at the thought. “I wonder that Mistress Dodger did not tell me, but then I saw little of her during the winter. I shall certainly speak with her when I return to Otterly in a few days’ time.”

“If they cozened her, or threatened her, you can no longer trust her,” Rosamund noted, “especially as my cousin is about. God! What am I to do, Tom? If only Patrick and I had been wed.”

“Do you still think of him?” Lord Cambridge wondered.

“He is never far from my thoughts,” Rosamund said softly, sadly.

“You will never forget him, cousin,” Tom said, “but you must get on with your life, for he will never be with you again, and you know that.”

She nodded. “I do, and yet I cannot help but grieve. But that grief I will keep to myself, Tom. My problem remains if Henry the younger still lurks about. What am I to do to protect Philippa? I cannot have her constantly dogged by men-at-arms, and I would not frighten her.”

Rosamund’s answer to her problem came several days later when a messenger arrived from Queen Katherine commanding her to court. She was astounded, for she could not imagine that someone as unimportant as she indeed was had been remembered. Certainly the queen had more important matters to consider. Henry Tudor’s adventures in France the year before and England’s great victory at Flodden had placed England clearly in the world’s spotlight. Even here in the north it was known that representatives from all the countries of Europe were arriving in London to present their ambassadorial credentials to the king. How had she been recalled in light of all of that?

“Does it matter, dear girl?” Tom asked. “This is the solution you sought. We shall go to court, and take Philippa with us. She has met Queen Margaret and her late lamented spouse. Now let her greet her own king and queen. Who knows what may come of it, Rosamund? I shall send word to have both the London and Greenwich houses opened and made ready for us. The trip will serve another purpose, for I would have you meet with my goldsmiths, and we must choose a factor to serve us in London. Our ship will be ready to be launched by next year, and by withholding our cloth this year we will build up our stock and increase the demand for it.”

“I will set the men to work building a stone storage house for us while we are gone,” Rosamund said.

“Then, you will go?” he asked.

“Of course I will go. I was not here last year when the summons came, and then the war came, making it unsafe for travel. I cannot afford to offend the queen or her husband. Aye, I will go, and taking Philippa with us is the best way to keep her safe from Henry the younger. But will Banon and Bessie be safe from him?”

“Philippa is your heiress, and it is she he wants,” Tom assured her. “If she is not here, then there is nothing here for him. Still, I would make certain Friarsgate is well guarded in your absence. I hesitate to suggest it, but I shall nonetheless. Why not send to the laird, your neighbor, and ask if you may hire some of his clansmen for the purpose of guarding Friarsgate, and your younger daughters? You may not like Logan Hepburn, but he is honest and brave.”

“I do not dislike the laird,” Rosamund said slowly, “and what you have proposed makes strange sense to me, Tom. But I would have you send to him.”

“I think it would be preferable if Edmund made the overture, as he is your bailiff,” Tom said.

“Aye. You’re right,” Rosamund agreed. “I should not like Logan Hepburn to get the wrong idea.”

Tom hid his smile, nodding solemnly.

Edmund sent to the laird of Claven’s Carn, asking that he come to discuss a matter of business to both of their best interests. To Edmund and Tom’s amusement, the laird returned with the Friarsgate messenger. They kept their humor from Rosamund, who had decided to allow her uncle to manage the negotiation. The three men sat in the hall of the house while the servants brought them ale, bread, and cheese.

“What is it I can do for you, Edmund Bolton?” the laird asked the older man. His eyes quickly scanned the room.

“Old Henry Bolton came with his ruffian son on our Bessie’s natal day. He interrupted the celebration. He wanted to make a match between Henry the younger and Philippa, something Rosamund had already told him was impossible. She told him again, and the old man fell into a terrible temper tantrum, which to our surprise, killed him on the spot. We buried him several days ago. Henry the younger, however, remains a danger to Philippa. Having been commanded to court, Rosamund will leave shortly with Tom, taking Philippa with her in order to protect her heiress. She means her daughter for better things, and being introduced into court is the first step.”

Logan nodded. “Aye, she is wise where the lassie is concerned. Friarsgate is no small inheritance. I see you have added Shropshires to your flocks.”

“We have,” Edmund replied.

“What do you seek of me, then?” the laird of Claven’s Carn asked his companions.

“We wish to hire some of your clansmen who might otherwise be idle, to serve us as men-at-arms in the event that Henry Bolton the younger and his friends decide to take matters into their own hands while Rosamund is in the south,” Edmund explained.

Logan nodded. “Aye, ’tis a wise precaution, Edmund Bolton. Now, allow me to make another suggestion. If Rosamund’s younger daughters are not at Friarsgate while she is away, they will be safer. I would gladly keep those two lassies secure from harm at Claven’s Carn. Henry the younger will never know or even consider the girls are so near, just over the border with me. And I will also lend you two dozen of my own people to serve you as men-at-arms. That should certainly deter the lady’s cousin from his mischief.”

“ ’Tis a brilliant suggestion, my dear boy!” Tom enthused, speaking for the first time in the matter. “Of course, we would send a lass or two with the girls to attend them, you understand.”

“Of course,” the laird replied, “but Jeannie, God assoil her sweet soul, trained me a fine housekeeper who keeps the servants in good order. Mistress Elton has granddaughters of her own. My house is well fortified. It has never fallen in a siege because our well is within our courtyard, as is our granary. I think the lady’s lasses would enjoy my wee son, Johnnie, and he them.”

“We must, of course, speak with Rosamund, Logan Hepburn,” Edmund said.

“I have not seen her since I arrived,” the laird responded, attempting to sound casual, but his tone gave him away. “I have news of the queen for her.”

“Go gently, lad,” Tom warned him softly.

“I am certain Rosamund will join us at table this evening,” Edmund answered. “We will discuss the matter further then, Logan Hepburn. It is a generous offer, and a clever one, too. It is unlikely Henry the younger would think to look to Claven’s Carn.”

***

“I do not know if I can sit at the high board with him,” Rosamund said when her uncle told her that the laird was with them.

“You must,” Edmund responded. “He has agreed to hire out his clansmen to us at a most reasonable rate, but it is his offer to shelter Banon and Bessie that pleases me greatly. They will be far safer from my nephew Henry at Claven’s Carn than here. At Friarsgate they could be kidnapped as they walked to the church, or played in a meadow or by the lake. If they are constantly guarded by men-at-arms it will frighten them, niece. Now, tell me why you will not face Logan Hepburn.” He took her hand and looked into her lovely face.

Rosamund blushed. “Now he is a widower, I fear he will begin again to importune me to marry him,” she said. “If I offend him, he could withdraw his offer of support.”

Edmund smiled. “Would it be so dreadful, niece, if a handsome man sought to pay you court? Forgive me, but Patrick Leslie is as dead to you now as Owein Meredith. You are fortunate in your memories, but you are yet young. Philippa is ten, and in a few years, too few I might add, she will be ready for marriage. You were willing to spend part of your year at Glenkirk as the earl’s wife. Would it be any different should you wed Logan Hepburn one day, Rosamund? At least he has an heir, and you know he has no designs on Friarsgate,” Edmund concluded.

She was silent for a long moment, and then she said, “I will come to the high board, uncle. More than that, however, I will not promise you.”

“Try not to fight with him, niece,” Edmund said with some humor.

Rosamund laughed. She could not help herself. “Very well, uncle,” she promised him.

Logan tried not to stare when she came into the hall. She wore a gown that matched her amber eyes. It was a simple dress that fell in graceful folds. Its neckline was low and square, but made modest by its soft linen pleating. The tight sleeves had little fur cuffs. The bodice was close-fitting as well. An embroidered girdle hung from her waist. Her auburn head was bare, and she wore her hair in two simple plaits.

“Good evening, Logan Hepburn,” she greeted him. “Thank you for coming to our aid once again.”

“Henry the younger is ever a trial to Friarsgate, isn’t he?” the laird teased her.

She smiled. “I can but hope I do not have to spend my life quarreling with him as I did his father,” Rosamund said. “Please sit down, here on my right hand,” she invited.

He obliged her, seating her first before taking his own place.

“I am sorry about your wife,” Rosamund told him. “And to lose a bairn, as well. If I had but known she was alone, I should have gone to her aid, Logan. I liked Jeannie muchly. How is your little Johnnie?”

“He thrives,” the laird answered. “She was a good wife, Rosamund, and I respected her greatly.” Then, after a pause, he said, “I am sorry for your loss, as well, lass.”

A spasm passed over her visage, but then she said, “Thank you.” Nothing more.

“I bring you happy news,” Logan told her. “Queen Margaret was delivered of a fine son, Alexander, Duke of Ross, on the thirtieth day of April.”

“How wonderful for her, and yet how sad,” Rosamund said.

“That is your birthday, isn’t it, lady?” he inquired.

“Aye,” she said softly, wondering how he had known it.

The meal was served. Of Rosamund’s three daughters, only Philippa sat at table.

“I am to go to court to meet the queen,” Philippa said. “I am now ten.”

“A perfect age to meet a queen,” he said with a small smile. She was a charming miniature of Rosamund, he thought.

“I was nine when I met Queen Margaret and King James, he who was slain at Flodden,” Philippa replied. “My mother says he was a good king.”

“God’s blood!” Tom swore, and then he said to Philippa, “You must not say that when we visit the English court, dear child. Speak of the king’s sister, the Regent of Scotland, if you must, but say naught about Jamie Stewart.”

“Why not?” Philippa demanded to know.

“Because,” her mother said, “these two kings were enemies. It is ill-advised to praise a man’s enemy before him, Philippa. Do you understand?”

“Why were they enemies?” Philippa answered her mother with another question.

“England and Scotland have been enemies since time immemorial,” Rosamund responded.

“Why?” Philippa persisted.

“I am not really certain,” Rosamund said honestly.