Chapter Eighteen
Henry Percy was becoming quite familiar with Owen Glendower’s hospitality. Even though it was the dead of winter and there was scarce food to be found, Owen always provided the very best that he had which, at the moment, included dried autumn fruits and wedges of tart cheese.
But Hotspur was not interested in the Welsh menu.
Having ridden over miles of snow and ice, he was interested in the topic of the proposed meeting.
Owen had indicated that he had the key to Henry’s control; being a naturally curious man with a dwindling loyalty for the English king, Hotspur was interested in Owen’s information.
Through the year of fighting that had occurred between them in the battle for Wales, Owen had always shown his penchant for honesty.
A characteristic, at the moment, Henry trusted more than his own king’s.
Even now, Owen and his cousin David sat across from Hotspur, making a weak attempt at small talk and meaningless chatter. On his second goblet of smuggled French wine, Henry moved to the heart of the summons.
“You have not brought me here to speak of the intricacies of Byzantium glass,” he said quietly. “What is it you would say, Owen?”
Owen’s pleasant expression held firm as he studied the mighty warrior before him; tall and dark, he was Northumberland’s heir.
As King of the North, Owen knew he would have a powerful ally in the son of the Earl of Northumberland if he were able to convince the man to side with him in his resistance against Henry.
By Hotspur’s body language, Owen was able to deduce that the man’s patience was thinly held. Setting his emptied pewter chalice to the table before him, he drew in a deep breath as he collected his thoughts.
“I will move to the point, then,” he said, fixing Hotspur with a piercing stare.
“You are bordering on mutiny, my lord. Even though you have not indicated as much, rumors to the effect have been rampant for months now and the fact that the war on the border has all but stagnated is a good indication of your indecision.”
Hotspur’s gaze held even. Without waiting for the reply that he knew would not be forthcoming, Owen continued.
“I have received reliable information that Henry’s bastard daughter, a young lady he’s shown particular interest in, has recently been sequestered at Whitby Abbey in Yorkshire.
If we can obtain the girl, I believe Henry can be controlled. ”
Henry stared at him a moment before raising a droll eyebrow. “Is that why you called me here? To inform me that we can control Henry if we are to hold his bastard daughter hostage? Honestly, Owen, I forbid you to waste my time with such nonsense.”
Owen shook his head. “I have simplified the matter a great deal, but it is far more complex than that,” he suddenly paused, a dull gleam coming to the black eyes.
After a moment, he lazily reached for the half-empty bottle of wine.
“What if I tell you we can undeniably defeat Henry if we hold the girl?”
“I would say you were mad.”
Owen smiled faintly, watching the garnet liquid as it spilled into his chalice. “Tell me, my lord; if you rebel against Henry, who will lead his armies against you and against me?”
Hotspur drew in a long, vague breath. “Richmond le Bec, I suppose. He’s second only to me in the chain of command; but you know that already, do you not?”
“Would you fight Richmond?”
Henry’s irritation with the conversation faded. After a long moment, he looked to his hands. “The man is like a brother to me.”
“But would you fight him?”
Hotspur pondered his gloved hands a moment longer. “’Twould not be a pleasant task, but one that I would engage in if necessary.”
Owen studied the man’s expression, seeing the pain at the thought of waging battle against le Bec. He quaffed deeply from his chalice. “Tell me this, if you will; if Richmond le Bec were not leading Henry’s armies, what chance would the monarch have against your forces and mine?”
Hotspur snorted softly. “Very little, I should think,” sighing sharply, he met Owen’s gaze again in a return of weak annoyance. “What is this about, Glendower?”
Owen met his gaze, pausing a moment purely for effect. When he spoke, his voice was low.
“Because I am to understand that Richmond le Bec is in love with Henry’s bastard daughter,” he said.
“If we can acquire the girl, we can not only control le Bec, but we can control Henry because he will undoubtedly be pained with a double stake in all of this. Not only will he be haunted with the knowledge that his daughter is our prisoner, but he will have to deal with the fact that his greatest knight will not lead the crown armies against the faction who holds his beloved hostage. Am I making myself clear?”
The color was gone from Hotspur’s face as he stared at Owen, feeling the shock of the situation as it penetrated deep into his veins. “Richmond loves the girl? But…. but you said she’s at Whitby. She’s a nun?”
“Richmond delivered her to the abbey sometime last week after the home where she was raised fell under siege. Presumably he moved her to Whitby for safety’s sake,” Owen poured his shaken companion more wine.
“Apparently, Richmond has practically raised the girl. You are aware that he’s spent a good deal of his time at Lambourn, seat of the Earl of Berkshire. ”
Henry nodded slowly, taking a healthy drink of alcohol. “William de Lohr and Richmond have been friends for many years. In fact, I visited years back and…,” he suddenly paused, his brow furrowed. “I do not understand. What does Lambourn have to do with Henry’s bastard daughter?”
“The girl was raised there by the earl and his wife. Her name is Arissa.”
Hotspur’s eyes opened with surprise. “Arissa de Lohr is Henry’s daughter?” he boomed. “God’s Teeth, I had no idea! All I can recall of her is a thin child with black hair and…. you say Richmond is in love with her?”
“Undoubtedly,” Owen watched Henry Percy’s reaction to the revelation, casting David a lingering glance before returning his focus to the English knight.
Unwilling to give the man time to recover from his shock, he intended to drive his desires to the forefront and he rose from his chair, bringing his fist to bear on the old tabletop.
“Help me, Hotspur. Help me obtain the girl and thereby guarantee Henry’s defeat.
If we have her, we can drive England to her knees.
There is no opportunity for failure, I tell you, but I need your support.
Will you do this for the peace of England and Wales?
One insignificant girl is all that will be compromised to assure two countries their right to live in harmony. ”
Hotspur was staring at him, his dark eyes dull with the concept. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “If Richmond loves her, I cannot be a party to her misery.”
“Would you rather meet him on the field of battle?”
“I already told you I would not.”
Owen’s harsh manner subsided somewhat as his gaze lingered on Northumberland’s heir. After a moment, he relaxed into his chair once again and pondered the embers in the vizier. “Would you have him fight for your cause?”
Hotspur raised his eyebrows wearily. “That would be preferable, but he would never go against the crown. He and Henry are very fond of one another.”
“Would you wager to say that he loves his king more than the black-haired girl residing at Whitby?”
Owen’s subtly-phrased blackmail settled and Henry turned his astonished gaze to the Welsh prince, a heavy understanding of the man’s motives filling him. He scratched his stubbled chin as he pondered the statement. “Are you suggesting that I use the girl to force Richmond to fight for our cause?”
“I am told he would do anything for her.”
Henry Percy licked his lips in nervous thought.
He was well aware of the time Richmond spent at Lambourn and it suddenly became clear to him as to why; he had been in love with the skinny little girl graced with a glorious mane of black hair, a girl he knew to be Henry’s daughter.
Or mayhap Henry had sent him to Lambourn to watch over the girl and somewhere during the process Richmond discovered that he had fallen in love with the royal bastard.
Whatever the case, it was abundantly clear that Owen spoke the truth.
Richmond had spent the majority of the past eighteen years residing at Lambourn for no apparent reason… until now.
Hotspur held a good deal of love and respect for his friend.
But his politics differed greatly from those of Richmond, and he had cemented a weak loyalty with Henry the very day Richard II had surrendered his crown.
The Percys and their allies had been staunch supporters of Richard and it had been difficult to stomach their monarch’s defeat.
But as a vow to assure England’s peace, he and his father had pledged support to Richard’s cousin, Henry, and for the past two years it had been a brittle alliance at best.
With a cold stab of reality, he realized that he hated Henry more than he loved Richmond. Although he did not take delight in betraying his friend, the opportunity to defeat the distrustful English monarch was worth the risk of Richmond’s hatred.
After several long moments of silent reflection, he sighed heavily and quaffed the last of the fine wine. “I would assume you have a plan?”
Owen fought off a smile, pleased beyond words that Henry Percy had finally chosen a path for his future. “Am I to take it that we are allies?”
Hotspur grunted, evading the question. “Tell me of your scheme to grab Henry by the throat.”
Owen glanced at David, silent words of victory filling the air between them. Hotspur was in their fold. As David pulled his stool closer to the table, Owen faced Hotspur with restrained joy.