Before the bad weather set in Adair rode over to Hillview Court, for she knew that her brother-in-law and his grandfather would have probably not yet heard of the king’s demise, or Andrew’s. Entering the hall of the house, she was greeted by Robert Lynbridge. Old Lord Humphrey was nowhere to be seen.
Seeing her face, Rob came forward, asking, “What has happened?”
“Where is your grandsire?” Adair replied. “I can speak of this but once.”
“On his deathbed, I fear,” Robert said.
“ ’Tis better then. He need not know. King Richard has been slain, and Henry Tudor reigns over England, Rob. There was a battle at Market Bosworth. Andrew, Dark Walter, and thirty Stanton men are among the dead,” Adair told him.
“God’s blood!” Rob swore softly. “Aye, ’tis better the old man not know.” Then he put his arms about her.
“My God, Adair, you are alone again. What will you do?”
“What I have always done, Rob. Survive,” she answered him, drawing away from the comfort of his embrace. She would weep if she didn’t, and Adair knew that if she began to cry she would not stop for some time. “I have my Stanton folk to care for, and I will.”
“Dark Walter and thirty men gone? How will you protect yourselves if the Scots come calling? There have been rumors of several parties of raiders lately.”
“Stanton has a reputation of being strong, thanks to Dark Walter, God assoil his good soul,” Adair told her brother-in-law. “Hopefully they will leave us in peace, being unaware of our sudden vulnerability. By spring I can have enough men and boys trained to make up for those we lost. What else can I do, Rob? I will not leave my Stanton folk alone or unprotected. We have twenty good men for now.”
He nodded understanding, but still looked worried.
One large raiding party could wipe out her small defenses. Still, she was right: There was no other honorable choice open to Adair. Stanton was her birthright, and its people were her responsibility. “You’ll stay the night,”
he said. “Allis will want to see you.”
“Is the old curmudgeon really dying?” Adair asked him, accepting a goblet of wine from a hovering servant.
“Aye, he is,” Rob said.
“Then I think it is best I don’t see him. Let him go inpeace,” she said with a sigh. “He’ll know soon enough that my Andrew went before him.”
Robert Lynbridge nodded in agreement. “Aye,” he said tersely. “Aye.”
When Allis Lynbridge came into the hall and as they sat at the high board, Adair told them in detail what she had learned from young Anthony Tolliver. She did not, however, tell them what the young page had told her about the princes’ murders. This information was much too dangerous, for Adair did not know if the new king had ordered the deaths of Edward IV’s sons. She strongly doubted it, for his own mother was one of his strongest influences, and Lady Margaret Beaufort would have never condoned such behavior. She was not so sure about Jasper Tudor or Lord Stanley. Still, she would take no chances in the matter. She explained young Anthony’s arrival by saying he was her Uncle Dickon’s personal messenger to her, and had been for the past year. When word of the king’s death had come to Middleham he had ridden to tell her, and she had asked him to remain for his own safety, as he had no family.
She left Hillview just as the late-autumn sun came over the horizon, returning with her escort of two to Stanton. The weather grew colder, and several days later there was a light snow that just dusted the ground.
Looking out from her bedchamber window Adair saw the moon was almost full, and reflecting itself against the snowlit night landscape brightly. She sighed. It was so beautiful, but it would have been more beautiful if Andrew had been by her side sharing it. How odd. She loved him more now that he was dead than she had when he had been living.
December came and went. There was little celebration at Stanton. Their mourning was deep, and lasted the winter long. She had not heard from her half sister in many months. Not since before the battle that had brought down Richard of Gloucester, and put Henry ofLancaster and Elizabeth of York upon England’s throne.
But one bright early spring day a party of horsemen arrived at Stanton Hall.
“I have a message for your mistress from my lady Queen Elizabeth,” the captain said to Albert, who greeted him.
“My mistress is out in the near meadows counting the calves,” Albert said. “I will send for her immediately.”
And he dispatched a servant to find Adair.
When she came into the hall, the captain jumped from the chair by the fire, where he had been seated enjoying a cup of ale. He bowed to her.
“I am the Countess of Stanton,” she told the captain.
“You have a message for me from my lady the queen?”
She held out her hand.
“The message I bear is a verbal one, madam. I have been ordered to escort you with all due haste to the queen at Windsor,” the captain said.
