Page 142 of The Daughters of Avalon
To Giles, son of Richard de Vere, heir apparent to Warkworth
It is with a heavy heart that I compose you such dire news. But I shall come straight to the point with an economy of words. In the matter of your betrothed, Seren Pendragon, you are hereby released from your contract?—
Rosalynde’s eyes widened. She peered up in fright. “Oh no, Giles!”
Giles held up a hand and shook his head, then pointed a finger to the letter, begging her to continue. With a sinking heart, she returned to reading and the very next words gave voice to her worst fears.
As the lady has been unaccounted for now for nearly three months, I cannot, in good faith, keep you to our bargain…
Fearful tears pricked at Rosalynde’s eyes. “Seren is gone,”she said, though she didn’t wait for Giles to speak. Once again, she lowered her gaze to the parchment…
…and nevertheless, if you would agree to honor your oath to the Crown, I will ask you arrive on the fifth day of June to seal your vows. In good faith, I will keep my promise to see you honored as the first earl of Warkworth.
However, in the event you do not appear as summoned, I would assume you have no desire to keep your northern estates, and I will assign the seat elsewhere. To be sure the delegate will be agreeable, I shall assign the transference to my son and his loyal forces.
He would send Eustace? Again? The very fiend who’d burned Warkworth to the ground once already? With an army no less! If that were not a threat, she didn’t know what was. The letter was signed…
Subscribed and sealed this twentieth day of April in the year of our Lord 1149. Stephen, Rex Anglorum by the Grace of God, Protector of the Realm and Defender of the Faith.
“Nay,” said Rosalynde, stunned, returning the parchment to Giles. And for the first time in her life, she had the most desperate longing to send a raven to Morwen—what about Arwyn? Were both of her sisters gone? Where were they? Together? Dead—but nay, nay! If any harm would have befallen her twin, Rosalynde would know it. She knew in her heart… she would know it. “Nay,” she said again, swallowing, because, in truth, they’d never receivedanyword, not even from Morwen, and they still hadn’t any clue why her mother hadn’t pursued Rose to reclaim thegrimoire.
“What will you do?”
“The only right thing to do. I will go, of course. Were it not for Seren, I would defy Stephen to send his son, but they are bound to reveal more to my face than they have in that letter. Therefore, I would go, if for naught else, to investigate where Seren may have gone.”
Rosalynde nodded. So much for their fragile peace. Her fingers sought the ring he’d placed around her finger, wishing that life could be so easy as a fae’s tale. “When do you leave?”
“We still have two months. We should use that time to prepare. In the meantime, I know you crave news of your sisters, and I encourage you to use your gifts as you will.”
She peered up at him, surprised. “Even with… your emissaries?”
He shrugged. “If the Church is willing to usemagikin one form, they must accept it in another.” He was speaking of the sword, of course—the one he wore in his scabbard. And now she understood why it glowed that day in the glade. It was forged bydewinemagik—a very powerfulmagiknot unlike the sorcery that forged the sword of Arthur.
“Shall I go with you?”
“Nay, Rose. You are safer here, surrounded by loyal men. If you travel with me to London, I will not be able to keep you safe.”
Alas, she knew he spoke true. It was here that they had an army to serve them. In London, they would be at the mercy of the king. “Will you kneel?”
He smiled sadly. “Alas, my love, to keep you safe, I would kneel a hundred times over.”
And so here it began… somehow, she must get word to Elspeth, and perhaps together they could find a way to reach Rhiannon. Rhiannon would know what to do. Rhiannon always knew what to do.
“What about Warkworth?” she worried, realizing how much work was left to be done. The perimeter walls were complete, but there was still so much work to be completed.
“I would leave it, along with my armies, in capable hands.”
“Wilhelm?”
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “I will dispatch my brother at once, with two loyal men to search for your sisters.”
“Thank you!” Rose said, hardly realizing how much she’d longed to hear those words until she did. “I love you, Giles. I love you so much. Thank you, thank you!” And yet, as happy as it made her, she feared for the castel in his absence—who could be this commander he trusted so well? “Who?” She demanded. “Who will you leave?”
Very tenderly, he brushed the hair from her face. “Who else but you, my lady of Warkworth? You are a Pendragon who knows better than any what your mother is capable of—I would leave you in command of three hundred men, and a ship at your disposal, should you need it. If by chance worse should come to worst, you will board that ship and sail to France. But I warrant it will not come to that.”
“But—”
He held up a finger. “Before you gainsay me, my lovely wife, let me remind you that I saw you battle a Shadow Beast, all the while my butcher brother sat on his bum—I know your warrior’s heart.” And he would leave her in charge of an army? Just like that? A woman? A witch?
