Chapter Four
“They are up to something; I can feel it,” Matthew said ominously.
“The Earl of Wiltshire has moved his men north to Nottingham. And there’s word of more nobility moving their troops to the north, including the Earl of Pembroke, though that is no small surprise.
Can you not see that all of this military movement signals a gathering, something great and powerful? ”
It was dawn. The Wellesbourne brothers were gathered in the stale, smoky solar, huddled around a table covered with a massive, overly-used map. There were ink stains upon the vellum, which had also seen a dagger or two thrown into it for good measure. Pock marks littered the yellowed leather.
“Your instincts, as always, are without question,” Mark said. “With Jasper Tudor moving his troops from Pembroke Castle, there could only be larger things on the horizon.”
“Then you agree that something major is in the development.”
“It would seem so. Dorset’s activity against us for the past few weeks has indicated that something larger is on the horizon. Our spies have also indicated as much. But this sunrise has seen confirmation of that.”
Matthew looked up from the table. “What do you mean?”
“Lord Sutton and the Earl of Somerset are on the move,” Mark’s voice was grim. “Two of our scouts returned this morning to tell us that Somerset has a contingent of a thousand Irish mercenaries sailing up the Mouth of the Severn. They’ll make Gloucester in a few days.”
Matthew listened carefully to his brother. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night, which he hadn’t. But the lack of sleep had never dulled him.
“Do we know this for certain?” he asked.
“Certain enough,” Mark said. “Thomas and Harl have returned with this news, and they are two of our most trusted.”
Matthew recognized the names of the moles. They had been in Wellesbourne’s service for years and were well versed in the world of intelligence gathering. Leaning against the massive map table, he ran his hand over his close-shorn hair. It was a pensive, if not weary, gesture.
“A thousand mercenaries,” he muttered, more to himself. “Copious amounts of manpower are pouring into the heart of England. It is like watching a man bleed to death and not knowing how to stop the blood. It just keeps coming.”
“So what do we do?” Luke asked.
“Obviously, the king must know,” Matthew replied. “I shall question the scouts myself to make sure there is nothing else we should know before sending them on to Richard.”
Mark nodded. “I thought you would want to. In fact, I tried to locate you last night when they arrived but was unable to find you.”
“I was with Father.”
A strange, if not disappointed, silence filled the air. It confirmed what they had all assumed, but it was Luke who finally spoke.
“You cannot blame her, you know,” he said quietly.
“I do not blame her,” Matthew said evenly. “But we should have known. I tried to stop him, but not firmly enough. I should have put a stop to it before it even started.”
Mark and Luke passed long glances. “He was like this when Caroline first came to us,” Mark said quietly. “The presence of a lady seems to unnerve him that way. But he got over it.”
“Aye, he did, but at what cost?” Matthew began to show irritation, fed by his exhaustion.
“It is not either one of you that sits with him all night, listing to him cry, holding him down when he tries to throw himself into the blazing hearth or hang himself with any piece of cloth he can find. I thought we were done with all of this madness, but that song undid what the past year of healing has accomplished. We do not need this chaos right now; we’ve too many other things that are far more important. ”
“I repeat,” Luke said slowly, “that it is not her fault. She did not know how that song affects him.”
“It releases suicidal depression and grief over a woman who died twelve years ago.” Matthew looked at his brothers.
“I am not going to go through this again, do you hear? I will lock him in the vault for the next twenty years for his own protection if he cannot come to terms with our mother’s death. I will not go through this again.”
Mark and Luke remained silent, their eyes focused on anything other than their stressed brother.
Matthew was right; he had taken the brunt of their father’s insane grief over the past twelve years because Matthew was the only person who brought Adam a remote amount of comfort.
It was an unpredictable madness, set off by the most innocuous things; a flower, a memory, a trinket…
it was hard to tell what would throw Adam into a spin of despair.
But they had all known that the song would be a major catalyst. It had been the favorite song of Adam and Audrey Wellesbourne.
And Matthew had allowed it to happen; his anger at the moment was more at himself than anything.
“I am sorry you had to deal with his madness yet again.” Mark wanted off the subject before Matthew became any more enraged. “Perhaps we should go see to the two scouts.” He stood up, motioning to Luke to do the same. “Get some sleep, Matt. You will feel better after you have had some rest.”
Matthew was still perched on the end of the map table.
“Better,” he snorted, savoring the irony of the word.
“My father is locked in his chamber, tied down to the bed, I have an army of Irish mercenaries moving up the Severn, and tonight at Vespers I am to wed. When am I supposed to find the time to rest?”
Mark could see the haze of self-pity coming over his brother. Not that Matthew did not have every right, but at times it could almost be crippling. “I will see to Father,” he said. “Luke will take care of Thomas and Harl so that all you will have to worry over is your wedding.”
Matthew did not respond right away, sitting in moody silence as if mulling over the chaos of his life.
Finally, he pushed himself wearily off the table.
“Nay,” he said slowly. “I will see to Father. Above everything that is happening here at Wellesbourne, we need to return to London. We are needed there most of all, especially with Somerset moving mercenaries into the middle of England. Luke and Johnny can ready the men while the rest of us are occupied with other things.”
“I haven’t seen Johnny yet this morning,” Mark said.
Matthew instinctively looked at Luke; he generally had a better grasp of the youngest brother’s whereabouts than anyone. Luke nodded his head, slowly.
“I think I know where he might be.”
“Find him. Prepare the men to leave.”
The brothers disbursed, each going about his business. There was chaos at Wellesbourne and they had to do their best to control and channel it, for greater things lay ahead.
More than they would ever dream.
*
Alixandrea was awake at sunrise. Though the traumatic events from the previous day should have kept her in bed until the nooning meal, she was never one to lie around.
Moreover, there was an entire castle that she was anxious to explore, a great new world she now found herself a part of.
She tossed the covers off and leapt from bed.
She practically kicked Jezebel from her palette by the door, demanding the woman rise.
While she brushed her teeth with a frayed, green hazel stick and a mixture of rose-flavored soda, Jezebel stirred the embers in the hearth into a soft glow and then began to throw open the capcases in search of suitable clothing.
Stick still in her mouth as she continued to brush, Alixandrea rummaged through the piles that her maid had extracted from the bags and settled on a pale blue lamb’s wool sheath with a darker blue sleeveless surcoat.
They weren’t particularly impressive, but they were comfortable, durable and appropriate.
Whilst investigating the filthy kitchens, halls, and other corners of the male-dominated keep, she did not want to have to worry about mussing her fine clothing. These were functional clothes.
After her teeth, she washed her face and hands in a basin of rosewater, hooting when the water was a bit too cold for her liking.
Jezebel dried her off quickly and stood her in front of the warming fire to dress her.
The first garment on was the soft blue sheath, fitting against her body like a glove and clinging softly to every delectable curve.
The whale bone corset was next; Jezebel tied her into the contraption so tightly that she begged for release, just enough to breathe.
The surcoat went over the top of that, secured at the back with a large sash that Jezebel fussed with until she had the perfect tie.
The little maid then put her mistress’ hair in two braids this day, neat and pretty and unfussy.
Dressing complete, she was more than ready to face the great mysteries of Wellesbourne.
Jezebel tried to stop her from leaving the chamber unescorted, but Alixandrea would not listen.
She did not want to be a bother when she could very well find own way around.
Never once did she question her safety, which she probably should have, but her curiosity had the better of her. Everything was new and exciting.
Quitting the small chamber, she entered the dark, cold stairwell and descended to the third floor.
She noticed there were two additional chambers on this level; one door was closed and the other was slightly cracked.
Curious, she peeked into the barely-opened door and caught sight of a very messy, very odorous chamber.
It smelled as if something had crawled into the room and died.
The fireplace was cold and black. Nearly out of her line of sight was the corner of a bed and she could see that something was tied to the post. Peering closer, she noticed a foot.