Chapter Nineteen #3
The abbess drew in another long sigh, staring at the mighty knight before her; she was well aware of Henry Percy, soon to be the second Earl of Northumberland.
Hotspur was a fierce fighter, the most powerful knight in England next to Richmond le Bec, and she knew he was a man of honor.
Truthfully, she had no firm basis to deny the request and she realized with resignation that she had no choice but to allow Arissa to travel to London to meet her dying father.
“Nay,” she said after a long moment, her voice quiet. “I shall not deny his request. But the lady will travel with an escort, a chaperone of my choosing. And she will be returned to me as soon as Henry has finished with her. Is this understood?”
Hotspur felt a bolt of relief run through him, so powerful that he fought the urge to collapse with thanks.
But the added element of an escort was something he had not anticipated; still, it would be of no consequence.
A harmless nun was insignificant in the overall scheme and he would not fret over the unexpected addition.
All that mattered was that Arissa was to be placed in his custody, as Owen had correctly predicted.
“I understand your directive perfectly, Your Grace,” he said steadily. “The lady will be in good hands.”
The abbess continued to eye him a moment before faintly gesturing to her two young charges, silently demanding them to return to the abbey. As Arissa and Emma dashed away, the abbess maintained her cool gaze on the mighty knight.
“I must tell you that this situation is unnerving,” she said quietly. “But based upon your reputation as an honorable man, I will not dispute the poorly written missive nor the blotched seal. All I ask is that you return Lady Arissa to me, unharmed. She is, after all, my charge.”
Hotspur nodded faintly, feeling a substantial increase in his own guilt.
“I shall guard the woman with my life.” He meant it.
While Hotspur and his army wait on the road, Emma helped Arissa pack a small satchel.
Soap, a comb, another clean woolen frock and the surcoat she had arrived in filled the small bag.
As Arissa donned a pair of soft woolen hose to protect her against the chill, Emma seemed particularly distracted.
Securing the heavy cloak Richmond has given her, Arissa laughed softly at the picture she presented.
“Look at me, Emma. Dressed in a plain gray woolen frock and an exquisite cloak of the finest material,” with a smile, she turned to her moody friend. “I look terribly mismatched. I suppose I should…. now, what’s the matter with you? Why do you look like that?”
Emma had been fumbling with her hands, a frown on her face as she immersed herself in thought. Hearing Arissa’s softly demanded question, she cast her a long gaze.
“What did Hotspur mean when he called you Henry’s daughter?”
Arissa’s smile faded. After a lengthy, guilty moment, she averted her gaze and planted her bottom on the edge of her cot.
“Do not be angry with me for not telling you,” she said softly.
“I myself discovered my true heritage only a few weeks ago. Apparently, I am a bastard of royal blood, sent to live with the Earl of Berkshire so that I would not shame my father the king.”
Emma stared at her, shocked but not completely disbelieving. After all, she’d had time to dwell on the clues Hotspur had raised and was somewhat prepared for the startling truth. After a moment, she exhaled sharply and leaned against the wall. “So you are the king’s daughter?”
“Aye.”
“Truly?”
“Aye.”
“Does Richmond know?”
“He’s the one who informed me of my true heritage.”
Emma’s gaze lingered on her dark head. After several long seconds, she simply shook her head. “I…. I simply cannot believe it, Riss. You are not the earl’s offspring, but a princess?”
Arissa shrugged vaguely. “Apparently. But I do not feel like one. I feel like a cast-off, a bit of rubbish that no one can decide what to do with.”
Emma’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?”
Arissa toyed with the hem of her cloak, advancing to chewing on her nails, a habit she had yet to break.
“Look at the situation; my mother abandons me at birth and I am forced to live with another family, my true identity concealed from the world. When I become of age, I am forced into an abbey to hide for the remainder of my life. Would you not feel like so much extra baggage?”
Emma pondered her question a moment. “I do not know, Riss. Richmond doesn’t think you are extra baggage.”
Her smile made a weak appearance. “Nay, he does not. Mayhap I shall be lucky enough to see him in London. Certainly, I can hope.”
Emma’s gaze lingered on her friend a moment longer, still reeling with some shock and amazement. But, truthfully, she did not know why she was so surprised; Arissa had always possessed a special aura, a grace and beauty beyond the limits of mere mortals.
Still, Emma found herself giddy with the knowledge. The longer she gazed at Arissa, the more excited she became.
“You are going to London to see the king,” she said, her mood rising. “Aren’t you excited?”
Arissa sucked on a fingernail she had nearly chewed raw. “You heard the contents of the message; the king is dying and wishes to see me. I…. I do not think I should be excited about death.”
“I did not mean it that way. Yet, it’s as if an entirely new life is about to open up for you.
The acknowledgement of your royal blood by your ailing father,” she suddenly cocked her head in thought.
“Mayhap he will tell you that he’s agreed to a marriage between you and Richmond. Would not that be exciting?”
Arissa nodded, attempting to fold her hands lest she chew them all to bloody nubs. “Certainly, I can hope for the best,” she glanced at her satchel, sighing with longing. “Sweet St. Jude, Emma. I miss him so.”
Emma’s rising excitement cooled. As badly as Arissa missed Richmond, she found herself longing for Gavan in the same manner.
Even though the guilt of wishing death upon the man’s wife had not faded entirely, she found her sorrow of the woman’s death had not cooled her love for him.
If anything, her adoration had grown. It was a breathing entity, capable of pain and madness.
It was something she was unable to control in the least.
“I know you miss him, Riss. But you shall be with him soon.”
Arissa rose from her cot, pondering the dingy little room.
“Mayhap he will join me in London and I shall never have to return here again. Mayhap this is the last I shall see of this gloomy place.” Moving to the window, her gaze wandered to the large army waiting patiently in the distance.
After a moment, she turned to her friend.
“I shall send Gavan for you, Emma. I shall not leave you here alone.”
Emma met her gaze, torn between her fading guilt and the love she had always felt for the man. “Do not…. do not force him. After all, he just lost his wife. He must have time to heal.”
“He will be given ample time to heal. And then I will send him for you.”
Emma did not say anything for a moment. Meandering to the window, her gaze fell upon Hotspur’s stationary army. “If he comes, it will be the answer to my prayers, Riss. The impossible dream I never thought to come true.”
Arissa put her arm around Emma’s shoulders, hugging her gently. “Dreams do come true, Emma. I am living proof of that.”