Page 7 of The Raven and the Rose
“The King’s brother George is very like him in appearance. Tall, red-gold Plantagenet hair, handsome—perhaps more handsome than the King. He has natural grace and beautiful manners. He has a regal bearing. In fact, if you saw Edward and George side by side, you could easily mistake George for the King.” He hesitated. “King Edward-or Ned, as he is called—is so informal, so heartily friendly.”
She looked at him and wondered if by chance he was criticizing the King. Then she remembered how fiercely loyal knights were to the lord they served.
They raced across the meadow, and as a covey of birds flew up into the sky, they let their falcons off their leashes and slowed to a canter to watch their performance.
“Where is your home, Sir Bryan?”
“On Marston Moor, near York. My father was in service to the Duke of York, George’s father.”
Roseanna laughed. “I always think of the Duke of York as the King’s father, but because of your service to the Duke of Clarence, you think of him as George’s father.”
“What odds does it make? My father lost his life in York’s service.”
Roseanna did not know if he meant York the man or York the faction that opposed Lancaster in the dispute that had resulted in the thirty-year War of the Roses—so named for the Red Rose of the Lancastrians and the White Rose of the Yorkists. “I am sorry, Sir Bryan,” she began softly.
“It happened long ago, when I was only four or five. Richard, Duke of York, gave up trying to rule through a mad puppet king and claimed the throne as his legal birthright. There was a Christmas truce in effect, and the Duke of York, his son Edmund, and a small Yorkist force including my father were out foraging. They were ambushed and annihilated by a force of Lancastrians led by Lord Clifford. They fashioned a paper crown for the battered head of Richard and mocked him as a king without a kingdom.”
Roseanna felt pity rise up within her. He spoke of her grandfather!
“My mother had the grisly details from my father’s squire. The tale goes that my father begged Clifford to spare Edmund’s life, but he coldly answered, ‘By God’s blood, his father slew mine, and so will I do him and all his kin!’ After thirty years of battles, vengeance was the order of the day.” His eyes focused on Roseanna as if he had only just realized where he was. “Forgive me, my lady. I shouldn’t speak of such things to one gently born.”
“I hope you feel you may tell me anything. I am your friend, Sir Bryan.”
“I hope for more than friendship,” he said boldly.
Roseanna’s heart fluttered as she realized how he felt about her. She was attracted to the young knight and more than ready for her first romance.
He stroked his falcon when it brought back a pigeon and praised it lavishly. Then he took a piece of meat from his doublet pocket and fed the bird.
“Why, you’re bribing her!” Roseanna laughed.
“I believe in the reward system. What act is ever undertaken without hope of gain?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrows, considered giving argument, then thought better of it. Their time together could be spent in more pleasant ways than arguing. The kite brought back its kill and presented it to Roseanna. They both laughed heartily when they saw it was a mouse. “Your pigeons can go into the stewing pot, but what on earth am I to do with this?”
“Try the reward system. Give it to her, then she will bring you something larger.”
When their saddlebags were filled with grouse and pigeons, they returned home. “Will you come again tomorrow?” he asked fervently.
“Yes, I’ll ride with you tomorrow. But I don’t think we need the pretense of the hawks, do you?”
After her brother Jeffrey handed her the second missive, he spent the rest of the day teasing her unmercifully about Sir Bryan. Roseanna didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to her was that he had written her another verse.
All I ask of thee, oh lady dear,
Is but what purest love may hope to find;
And if thine eyes, whose crystal light so clear
Reflect thy thoughts, be not to me unkind.
To thee my heart, my wishes I resign,
I am thine own, oh lady dear, be mine.
Her heart sang with the innocent melody of first love. But the change that had come over her caused her mother concern. Suddenly, Roseanna was amenable and biddable, and Joanna wondered if it was because she had learned that royal blood flowed in her veins. Roseanna did not seem to be brooding; rather, she smiled a lot, and her secret thoughts seemed miles away. These days she rode a mare more often than not, and after the evening meal she seemed enraptured by the ballads that the minstrels offered. Joanna put it all down to Ned’s talk with his daughter. Indeed, she herself had had to curb a tendency in herself to daydream and sigh after the King’s rare visit.
Joanna invited her daughter into her workshop, where she designed her jewelry. It was a small room that had been added onto the west wing to catch the afternoon light. Roseanna admired the sketches her mother was working on. They were for a clasp to fasten the neck of a cloak. The clasp was in the shape of a large letter E and was set with purple amethysts on a spiked background of diamonds, representing the Sun in Splendor.
