Page 4 of The Raven and the Rose
She stared at him as the thought formed slowly; Iam a royal bastard!The revelation took her by surprise, yet it explained many things she had questioned in her childhood. Now the answers all fell neatly into place. “’Tis shameful to have carnal knowledge at fourteen and indulge until you got her with child,” she whispered accusingly.
“We were in love, Roseanna,” he explained.
“Then why did you not marry?” she demanded indignantly.
“Roseanna, but think for a moment,” he asked patiently. “I was fourteen. I was only the Earl of March. My father had just been named temporary protector of the realm because Henry of Lancaster had gone mad. Suddenly my father and his brother, the Earl of Warwick, had ambitions for the crown. I was in service to Warwick. He gave the orders, and I obeyed him implicitly. Warwick said marriage to Joanna was out of the question, and Warwick’s word was law!”
“Warwick,” she reflected, “the one they call the kingmaker?”
“He earned the title. I was King at eighteen!”
She reflected for a moment on the events of the past few years, on gossip she had heard. “If I remember aright, Warwick forbade your marriage to Elizabeth Woodville also, but you made her your Queen!”
He laughed shortly at the memory of it all. “Aye, I was twenty-two years old and had ruled England for four years. Yet still I feared Warwick so much, I had to keep the marriage secret.”
As she gazed at him, she could not imagine that he had ever been afraid of anything. Enclosed in a room with him, she could feel his strength.
He put a finger beneath her chin, and she did not shake him off. “My Rosebud, you were my firstborn, and ever have you held the softest place in my heart. Can you forgive me for not making you a royal princess?”
“I care nothing for that!” she flared, her pride stung. “Who knows of this?” she asked.
“None save your mother and of course Sir Neville. Roseanna, no one must know. For your own safety you must guard the secret. There are evil men who would eliminate all who have a blood tie to the throne.”
“The Woodvilles?” she asked bluntly.
He searched her face with his eyes, wondering how much he could entrust to such a young girl. “The Queen’s family is a large one—six sisters and five brothers, not to mention her mother and stepfather, Lord Rivers. They are the most ambitious family I have ever encountered, barring us Plantagenets, of course,” He laughed. “My own brothers and Warwick, who loves me little now that I am no longer his puppet, would stop at nothing to further their positions.”
“I understand, Your Grace,” she said quietly. She did not want him to have to malign those he loved for her protection, for he was the best-natured man under the sun, bar none.
He gathered her to him and kissed her brow, then held back the covers while she slipped into the bed. “Will you be all right?” he asked.
She nodded, not daring to trust her voice further.
As she lay sleepless, her thoughts chased each other until she was exhausted. How did she feel? The same, yet different. Saddened, yet glad she knew the truth at last. Wiser, yet ignorant of the world and its ways. At last she admitted to herself that she understood his position and felt empathy for him. It was her mother’s role in this deceit that she could not tolerate!
Ordinarily, Roseanna would have arisen before dawn to examine the Arabian stallion awaiting her in the stables, but today she was filled with lethargy. The aroma of food reached her nostrils, and she wondered what Alice had been about, to fetch her breakfast in bed. As she sat up slowly, she saw that it was her mother who was bringing her the tray. She wished Joanna a thousand miles away. Roseanna’s dark lashes swept down to her cheeks; she could hardly bear to look at her mother. Joanna was thirty-two years old, and she looked every minute of it this morning. She set the tray down onto a leather-topped side table and gently sat down on the bed. She offered neither excuse nor explanation, and as Roseanna slowly raised her eyes to meet her mother’s, the image of the previous night’s laughing wanton dissolved, and Roseanna saw in its place the image of a fourteen-year-old girl, heavy with child. How she must have suffered! Punished by accusations, threats, whispers. Facing the shame and the burden alone. Suddenly she reached out to touch her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry. Do you love him very much?”
Joanna smiled. “No, I’m not in love with Ned. But oh, Roseanna, I was, I was!”
“I know the pain you must have suffered when they would not allow you to marry,” she said quietly.
“Nay, you do not. You will never know unless you are forced to give up your first love.”
A tear slipped down Roseanna’s cheek, and her mother stood up briskly. “However, I soon discovered that women are very resilient and can face anything that must be faced. Eat your breakfast. I’ve a hundred tasks to see to. We’ll talk again, Roseanna.”
When Alice came in to help her braid and bind her hair, Roseanna could see that she was filled with curiosity about last night’s tears and the King’s nocturnal visit. So improvising quickly, she said, “You were right, Alice. I should have worn the underdress. I received a terrible scolding from Mother, and if it hadn’t been for the King’s intervention, the rift between us would have been irreparable.”
Alice said with awe, “The King is reputed to be the best-natured man in England, yet his very presence terrifies me.”
Roseanna fastened her hose and pulled on soft riding boots. “Tis the office of Kingship that is awesome. But rest assured, beneath that Kingship breathes a man made of flesh and blood.”
As Roseanna walked to the stables, the only man she dreaded to encounter was Neville Castlemaine, her father yet not her father. She did not know how she could ever face him again. Her delicate cheeks were pink at the thought.
The stables were alive with King’s men and their servants saddling for departure to Belvoir, the King’s hunting lodge. Edward was pointing out the unmistakable characteristics of the Arabian stallion to Dobbin.
“Oh, Your Grace,” Roseanna said in deep appreciation, “he’s white!” Quickly she spat upon the ground, and the King threw back his head and roared. “You are superstitious.” He laughed. “By God’s blood, ’tis years since I spat at the sight of a white horse.”
Roseanna laughed back. “I still bow three times to the raven and never, ever look at the new moon through glass.”
