Page 25 of The Raven and the Rose
“My Rosebud, you are very hard to resist with the tears of a supplicant marring your beauty. But I do resist. You will marry Ravenspur to please me, and one day you will thank me for denying your request.”
She couldn’t believe that he would not let her have her own way! She wanted to fly at him and scratch his eyes out. Instead, she would withdraw her love and treat him coldly from this day forward. With pinched nostrils, firmly compressed lips, and narrowed eyes, she tossed her head and walked deliberately from his presence. She vented her temper on the door and crashed it closed with all her strength. She would flee from this place instantly! Then she remembered with sinking heart that Bryan had gone home.
In fact, Sir Bryan had not gone home. At the White Rose, York’s largest inn, he met up with his friend, Sir Jeffrey Castlemaine. To a casual observer it seemed as if the two friends had met by chance, but such was not the case. Jeffrey had been following Roseanna and Bryan since they left Castlemaine. It had been he who had anonymously informed one of Ravenspur’s men where his sister could be found. That is, his half sister, he thought bitterly.
The two young men quit the White Rose and rode as if the devil himself were at their horses’ tails. Their destination was Middleham Castle, some thirty-odd miles from York. Warwick owned Middleham, which had such high walls about the round tower that it was a formidable fortress. While the King held Court at York, a secret gathering was taking place at Middleham, George, Duke of Clarence, was in residence with his new father-in-law, Warwick.
By the time the two knights reached Middleham they were dressed in the Duke of Clarence’s livery, which carried the unmistakable device of the Black Bull. The two knights had been in service to George for many years, which really meant they were in service to Warwick.
Warwick, who made it his business to know everything, had known for years that Jeffrey’s sister was the King’s bastard. But only when he saw a close friendship spring up between Jeffrey and blond, beautiful Bryan, who was related to himself through marriage, did he cleverly let slip that Roseanna was only Jeffrey’s half sister and had royal blood in her veins. Then he nurtured the boy’s envy until it turned into jealousy and festered into hatred.
The knights had been sent home to Castlemaine with the express purpose of securing Roseanna in marriage to Sir Bryan. A King’s bastard would be a valuable weapon to hold ready when blackmail seemed necessary. Now that Ravenspur had come forward and agreed to marry Roseanna, the plans had changed. Would she not be more valuable married to Ravenspur than Sir Bryan? That way they could not only blackmail the King but also render his strongest ally useless.
When they rode over the drawbridge, they found that Middleham was acting as host to a multitude. Warwick’s brother Northumberland was there, and so was Lord Stanley, the greatest lord in Lancashire and Cheshire. He had reason to hate the King, for half his holdings had been repossessed and handed to the Yorkists when the Lancastrian nobility fell. But they were surprised to learn that the northern rebel Robin Mendell was also being entertained at Middleham.
Though the young knights were not privy to the plots that were being hatched inside this stronghold, their common sense told them that it would not be long before events would explode into action. They told Warwick that Bryan’s plans to secure Roseanna had been thwarted by Ravenspur but that they believed she would be more useful to them married to the baron. Warwick clearly agreed and told Jeffrey to get back to his sister’s wedding with all possible speed. He advised Sir Bryan to seek service with Ravenspur so that he would be doubly valuable as a spy, and to keep the King’s daughter close to his hand, should they need her.
Neville Castlemaine’s abundant patience was put to the test every mile of the journey to York. The baggage train was considerable. Now that they had been assured by letter from Ravenspur that Roseanna was safe at York with the King and that wedding plans were going forward, Joanna had packed every article that Roseanna possessed. There were also three wagonloads of furniture, carpets, tapestries, and bed linen that Roseanna would take to her new home. As well as this, there was the baggage that the family would need for the journey to York and back. Joanna in a generous moment had decided that Roseanna would have both Alice and Kate Kendall to look after her. Neville himself added to the procession by bringing Mecca and three other horses that Roseanna had bred.
There had been a terrible flap at Castlemaine when they had discovered Roseanna missing, but Jeffrey assured his parents that he knew where the young couple was headed and would catch up with them within hours. It had been a great relief to them when Ravenspur’s knights had arrived to act as escort and had brought the letter from Roger.
Neville brought along a dozen of his own men-at-arms as well as a dozen household servants, and he made use of every man there. The wagons bogged down in mud, stuck in ruts, and lost wheels at the most inconvenient times. The Great North Road itself was marvelous, built by the Romans so that the rain drained off it well, but the roads that led to and from it were nightmarish.
The women complained continually about the weather, the delays, the food, and the sleeping accommodations at the inns they used. Only their sense of humor prevented Neville and Joanna from murdering each other. After four long days they arrived at York, and it took a fifth day to unload and settle into the apartments assigned to them.
Roseanna was prepared for a battle with her mother, but no words of censure came. Joanna merely gave her a penetrating look that conveyed a wealth of meaning, then proceeded to direct the serving maids in unpacking Roseanna’s wedding gown and trousseau.
Joanna was happy that the Queen—or the Woodville woman, as she called her—was not in York but had remained in London with the rest of her clan. But she had no intention to dally with the King. Such behavior at her daughter’s wedding and under the eye of so many spectators would be inappropriate.
Roseanna haunted the stables, looking for signs of Sir Bryan’s return. She knew that Kate Kendall followed her steps, that her mother had once again set her watchdog upon her. But finally, Bryan was there, and nothing else mattered to her. She went into his arms as he emerged from the royal stables. “Oh, my love, never have two days gone by so slowly in my life.”
Gently, he took her arms from around his neck and drew her into the stables, where he hoped they would be less conspicuous. “Sweetheart, we must be more discreet,” he chided.
Tears flooded her eyes. “Love is not discreet—love is flamboyant!” she cried.
He took her hands into his and said low, “We both know that your marriage to Ravenspur is inevitable.”
“How did you know that the King refused me?” she cried.
“Sweetheart, it was just wishful thinking that we could wed, but listen to me. It doesn’t have to be the end of everything. Somehow I will take service with Ravenspur, and we will be together. I swear it to you!” he promised fervently.
“Can’t we elope?” she begged.
“Be sensible. At this moment your woman servant is keeping watch on us. Think you she’s the only one? The King has spies everywhere. Even Ravenspur may have you followed. Our staying together depends on our keeping his suspicions at bay. Don’t try to see me anymore. I will write you some sweet poetry, and when he finally takes you to his castle, I will be in his service. Tell me you understand.”
For a moment she thought she would die. Then she nodded slowly, knowing he had no idea how she felt.Bryan, Bryan!she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t speak because she was crying so hard. Her heart felt as if it were bleeding.
Pavilions and tents had been erected for the great tournament that was to be held the day before the wedding. The tents where the nobility and royalty would don their armor were glorious, made from silk and velvet. Each flew pennants and banners emblazoned with colorful shields of arms.
The contestants haunted the pavilions. Each had his own squires, armor-bearers, and baggage men; the most important man in their employ was always the master armorer. Armor was designed to save a man’s life, but unless it was fitted perfectly, so that he could move his arm easily to wield his sword in battle or his lance in a tournament, it was next to useless. Good steel and a good mount put the odds in his favor. If a horse carried itself true and straight and helped the rider keep his balance, it often saved that rider’s life.
The joust today was for pleasure only, although it always carried inherent risks. The flower of England’s nobility was out in full force—Pembroke, Hastings, Devonshire, Norfolk, and Percy—and the tents were filled with earls, dukes, barons, and lords, and the spectator stands overlooking the field of honor were filled with their ladies.
Lord Hastings, who was Chamberlain of the Royal Household, was acting as field marshal of the joust. He had placed the color standards along the east flank of the field to mark its length. The King’s heralds sounded their trumpets, and the combatants rode out onto the field for a couple of rounds to learn the ground. Each horse wore armor, which was then caparisoned by silken trappings with each rider’s arms emblazoned on the flank. Over their armor the men wore emblazoned tunics, and each carried a shield and a plumed and crested helmet.
The ladies were dressed in their very best, vying with each other for the most eye-catching head fashion. Some wore steeple hats with veils; others wore horned confections, not realizing that they left themselves wide open for catty comparisons to cows. Roseanna, seated in the high place of honor with Joanna beside her, wore a jeweled posy cap whose floating silver veil shimmered as mistily as a spider’s web. These veils had detachable scarves to be given to their champions as favors. As the men rode to the field’s edge to receive these favors, their identities were easily discerned.
The King was adorned in purple, with the Sun in Splendor superimposed upon the white rose of York. Roger Montford was in black silk surcoat with a black clawed raven on a scarlet background. The plume in his helmet was also scarlet. It was expected that the bride bestow her favor upon the groom; however, as he rode up to her, she ignored him. So Joanna, doing her best to cover her daughter’s lapse, draped her own scarf on the tip of Ravenspur’s lance. He affixed it to his scabbard-ring and wheeled away.
