Father Anselm, who had come to Greyfaire in the year of Arabella Grey’s birth, hid a smile. He knew the mistress of the keep far better than anyone else, even her own mother. His gray eyes twinkled as the hapless Rowena chattered on nervously.
“We need Sir Jasper, my darling! We need a man to hold Greyfaire for the king!”
Arabella snorted. “I am the Grey of Greyfaire, Mama. I am perfectly capable, with FitzWalter’s help, of holding this keep for the king, though I doubt there will be a need for it soon. The Scots may swarm over the border at regular intervals, but the worst they do is drive off the livestock, take whatever of value that is not nailed down, and steal the pretty girls away. Then our English borderers reciprocate in kind.This keep is impregnable.Father said it, and he would know. Besides, we are not a tempting target on our little, lonely, out-of-the-way hill. We are hardly a great castle.”
“Greyfaire is small, my lady, but hardly as unimportant as you try to convince yourself,” the priest said quietly. “It has great strategic value to the land south of it, as it is usually the first to know of a Scots invasion. This little castle is built upon the walls of a Roman fort. If you would go to the cellars you would see the evidence for yourself of my words. This site has always been of value to someone.”
“That is why the king arranged this marriage for you with Sir Jasper,” Rowena said. “You must have a husband, Arabella!”
“My marriage is not to be celebrated for two years, Mama,” Arabella replied irritably. “Until then I am sole mistress ofGreyfaire,and women have held castles against invasion in the past. If I must, then I assure you I will.”
“Women holding castles in siege more often than not had strong families behind them, and husbands as well,” Father Anselm noted in a reasonable tone. He knew to annoy Arabella was to incur her undying enmity. Young girls her age were given to moods.
“I am but two months past my twelfth birthday,” Arabella said in a quieter manner. “After my fourteenth birthday, Sir Jasper and I will wed. He is the husband chosen for me by my king, and I have sworn my fealty to King Richard. Like my father before me, I shall not break my oath.”
“Nor would I expect it of you, poppet,” Sir Jasper said softly, pleased. The little wench had definite possibilities. She became more interesting with each passing day, and perhaps he would learn to like pale gold hair after all.
The argument was over, but Rowena, unable to realize the subtleties of the situation, nattered on heedlessly. “You are a female, Arabella! A mere female, and women are weak of spirit. Is that not so, Father Anselm?”
At the moment her thoughtless words fell upon his ears, the priest found himself closer to murder than he had ever been in his life. How could the Lady Rowena be so harebrained and rash as to arouse her daughter’s ire just when he had managed to calm Arabella? What was worse the silly woman had unknowingly boxed him in, for he could not deny her words without coming into direct conflict with his religion. Forced to promulgate the teaching of the church, he nodded dourly, although he did not believe for one minute that Arabella Grey was a weak vessel. Most women, perhaps, but not all, and certainly not this young girl. “The church teaches us, my daughter, that the female of the species is indeed the weaker vessel in some respects, but she is strong in others, else God would not have given her the heavy burden of bearing children. St. Paul teaches that women should be obedient to their husbands, and I know that when Arabella weds with Sir Jasper, she will be a good wife to him, even as you were a good wife to Sir Henry. I think that you worry needlessly.”
“Indeed you do, Mama,” Arabella said. “I will do my duty, for I am, above all else, my father’s daughter, and my father laid down his life for England in doing his duty. I am not my brother, but I am a Grey. I can do no less.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Lady Rowena fluttered nervously.
Jasper Keane forced down a chuckle. Aye, Arabella was indeed becoming more interesting as each minute passed. “Why, sweet Row,” he murmured, “it would seem you have birthed a spitfire in this child of yours. I do not know that I should not be taken aback by this turn.”
“Would you have me be weak as water, my lord?” Arabella snapped. “What kind of children should I give you then? I have ever been accustomed to speaking my mind, and I shall not change.”
He laughed aloud and nodded his handsome blond head. “Aye, a hot-tempered spitfire. I think I shall enjoy taming you, Arabella Grey.”
The priest was too innocent of matters between men and women to hear the implied threat in his voice, but Rowena heard it. Arabella, however, also innocent, looked at her future husband and said boldly, “And just how shall you tame me, my lord?”
“Why, with sweet songs, and soft words, and pretty gifts,” he said with a charming smile, for it amused him at the moment to play the gallant.
“Indeed, sir?”‘ Arabella’s young heart fluttered at this sudden attention, for until this moment he had treated her as he might have treated a child.
Sir Jasper saw her confusion and the softening of her attitude. Reaching over, he took her hand in his and kissed it lingeringly. “I shall never be able to repay the king for the great kindness he has done me by bestowing upon me such an exquisite bride…even if she is a spitfire who shall undoubtedly give me a great deal of trouble.”
Unaware of how to respond to his wooing, Arabella giggled girlishly, and Rowena felt the worm of jealousy turn sharply in her heart.
“You are too extravagant with your compliments to my daughter, my lord,” she said sharply. “I would not have her over-proud.”
“Pretty words do not fool me, Mama,” Arabella said, aggravated that her mother had spoiled such a lovely moment, “but those same words are still pleasant to hear.”
The girl was not stupid, Sir Jasper considered again, as he had in the past. Innocent, yes, but not stupid. He had seen her green eyes widen at his compliment, seen the blush that stained her pale cheeks pink. “A man is bound to spoil a beautiful wife,” he said simply.
Afterward, in her own chamber, Arabella considered Sir Jasper once again as she had considered him in the past. He was handsome, he was kind to both her and her mother, FitzWalter respected him, and he certainly knew how to speak prettily to a woman. What more was there to a man than that? In many ways he appeared to be like her own late father, and yet…there was something that she could not quite put her finger upon that niggled at her. Some unknown voice that seemed to shriek a warning, but what was it warning her of, or of whom was it warning her? Or was it merely her overstimulated imagination? In a sense she was resentful of Sir Jasper’s coming, for once he became her husband and her lord, it would be he who became the possessor of Greyfaire, not she.
It was difficult to think of Greyfaire belonging to anyone else but her. She had grown up knowing that it would one day be hers, and she was certain that if her father had lived, he would have seen it remained hers no matter her husband. Greyfaire was all she had in the world. It was as much a part of her as she was of it. Without it she was valueless. In a way, she resented losing it to another.To a man.
Sometimes she wished she had been born a boy, and this was one of those times. Men certainly had all the fun, and if she had been her father’s son rather than his daughter, then no one could have taken Greyfaire from her! Perhaps if she loved Sir Jasper, she would not have minded, but having observed her parents all her life, she thought it must have something to do with a deep sharing of not simply one’s body and emotions, but one’s possessions as well. For now she did not feel that way about Sir Jasper. Perhaps in time she would.
Chapter Three
In the previous autumn of 1483 there had been three areas of anti-Richard activity. Kent and the southeast section of England, the south-central counties, and the West Country of Cornwall and Devon. The rebels in the Home Counties about the capital planned to secure London and to also free the dowager queen, Elizabeth Woodville, and her daughters from their sanctuary. The Duke of Buckingham—once Richard’s staunch ally, but now suddenly his enemy—along with the Earl of Dorset, intended raising armies in Wales and the West Country to support a prearranged invasion by Henry Tudor from Brittany.
The rebels, however, had no central authority to coordinate this rebellion. The rising in Kent broke out too early and failed. Buckingham could not even raise his own tenantry, let alone a real army. Dorset found that he was unable to guarantee a safe landfall for the Tudor claimant, who, caught by the autumn gales mid-channel, was finally forced to return to the continent.
