“The king acknowledged me as his own child, his blood, and agreed to dower me one day. He declaredthat if no son was born to my parents that I should become Countess of Stanton in my own right on John Radcliffe’s death. He who wed one day with me would take the Radcliffe name for his own, and should become Earl of Stanton. That is the whole truth of it, Albert,”
Adair told her majordomo. “Tell the others so they will stop guessing and speculating on it all. But first tell them what I previously told you about the boy FitzTudor. He is an arrogant lad, but if he is made comfortable I believe I can control him easily.”
“Yes, my lady,” Albert said. He turned to go, almost bumping into Elsbeth as he did. “Your pardon,” he said to her, and hurried from the chamber.
“The servants were gossiping. I told Albert the truth, and to tell them,” Adair said.
Elsbeth nodded. “ ’Tis better now that the cat’s been loosed from the bag,” she agreed. “What else? I know you well, lassie. There is more.”
Adair laughed. “You know me much too well,” she said. Then she went on to tell Elsbeth of her plans for Llywelyn FitzTudor.
“Do you think it wise to treat the lad so?” Elsbeth asked slowly. “He will expect his husbandly rights sooner than later.”
“Well, he shall not get them from me,” Adair said firmly. “I will not have that boy attempting to bed me, Nursie. He is pockmarked, and despite his fine clothes he smelled,” she remarked. “Nay. In the spring he goes back to his father. Did he have any servants with him when he arrived yesterday? I could see only the duke’s men.”
“There is one. A little dark Welshman who calls himself Anfri. He attempted to chat the servants up last night in an effort to learn about us,” Elsbeth said.
“Warn Albert to speak to the others. The man is to be tolerated, but told nothing that might be of value to him,” Adair said. “If he is a good servant he seeks to gain information that would allow his master an advantage over us. It shall not happen.”
“He was just coming down into the kitchens when I came up,” Elsbeth said.
“Is the boy up and in the hall yet?” Adair wanted to know.
“Nay, I have not seen him,” Elsbeth said.
“He has the habits of a sluggard then,” Adair noted.
“Well, so much the better. He will be out of our way.”
Llywelyn FitzTudor came to the hall in early afternoon. He found Adair at her loom weaving on her tapestry. The piece was half-done, and showed a good rendition of Stanton Hall on its hill, the gray stone house against a blue sky, the ground beneath it green.
Adair was working on some cattle in the meadow below the house.
“I am pleased to find you in suitable womanly pursuits,” FitzTudor said. He was wearing a beautiful short-skirted doublet of pea green and gold brocade with long hanging sleeves. His trunk hose were pea green, and the sollerets upon his feet were heel-less. The same heavy gold chain she had seen yesterday was upon his chest.
His mousy brown hair was cut to a medium bob. He was not unattractive, but neither was he attractive.
“Sit down, my lord,” Adair said, ignoring his remark about womanly pursuits. “Have you eaten yet this day?”
She didn’t bother to look at him, concentrating instead on her stitches in the tapestry.
“Yes, my servant Anfri brought me food, madam. We must discuss our marriage now,” FitzTudor said.
“There is nothing to discuss, my lord,” Adair replied.
“The king and your father made this match without my permission. Had I been there I should not have agreed to it, and holy Mother Church would not have forced me to the altar. I will return you home come spring. For the king’s sake I will keep you safe for the winter, for you would not have the time to return south before the snows, which began in late morning while you slumbered in your bed.”
“Whether you will or no, madam,” FitzTudor said,“you are now my wife, and I shall claim all my rights of you. It is the king’s will, and that of my father. Our marriage is meant to unite our families, Lancaster and York.”
“Arrogant boy!” Adair snapped. “Do you really believe the union of two bastard-born such as we are can accomplish such a high purpose? Nonsense! Perhaps a marriage between Henry of Lancaster and one of my half sisters will create a cohesive union between York and Lancaster, but you and I will not. We are merely the first payment in a possible arrangement of such magni-tude. We are not important, either of us. By the time I return you home, the proper matches will have been made. Your father will seek a comfortable heiress for you, and I will wed where I please one day.”
“I doubt my father will find another countess in her own right to pair me with,” FitzTudor said sarcastically.
“What made you so desirable to my father, madam, other than your paternity, was the earldom you would bring your husband.”
She was surprised. He was not as stupid as she had assumed he was. “You are two years my junior,” she said.
“You are shorter than I am. I do not like you,” Adair told him, finally looking up from her tapestry work.
