Chapter Seven
It was dawn. The battlements of Wellesbourne were bathed in pink light as the sun began to rise, basking the green countryside of Warwickshire in warm, soothing shades. From his post on the wall, Matthew could see a three-point buck in the distance, finding his morning meal.
Birds flew overhead, singing sweetly to greet the new day.
He glanced up at the lavender sky; perhaps the birds always sang so sweetly and he just hadn’t noticed.
But this morning, he found pleasantness in nearly everything.
He had left his wife still sleeping in her small bed, warm and cozy, and for the moment, life was good.
It was surprising to realize that there was an agreeable side to his existence, far removed from the war and death he was so accustomed to.
But that was until Mark and Luke arrived.
The middle Wellesbourne brothers looked dismal and tired.
It was usual, when the army was housed at Wellesbourne Castle, for Mark and Luke to take the night watch.
Matthew and John usually patrolled during the day, and with Matthew, sometimes all night as well.
But last night, Matthew had found great comfort sleeping next to his wife in her small bed.
By his brothers’ expressions, he guessed that it had not been a quiet patrol.
“Greetings, brother,” Mark said as he approached.
Matthew pushed himself up off the wall where he had been leaning. “Good morn,” he acknowledged. He looked between Mark and Luke. “Why the grim faces?”
Mark and Luke came to a halt, Luke rubbing his eyes wearily.
“We received a rider from Warwick last night,” Mark said.
“The Earl of Oxford has made it to France, apparently quite welcomed by Henry Tudor. He brings with him the de Vere fortune to support the French mercenaries that Henry must pay for in his quest to claim the throne. This is bad news, Matt. It gives Henry more powerful barons than we would like.”
The pleasant morning quickly dissolved. Matthew sighed, his gaze drifting over the landscape of his beloved Warwickshire. “Did you tell the messenger to return and tell Warwick that Somerset and Sutton are moving Irish mercenaries up to Gloucester?”
“Aye.”
Matthew pondered a thousand courses of action that the latest news could take. “Last we heard of de Vere, he had laid siege to St. Michael’s Mount and was attempting to rouse all of Cornwall into a Lancastrian uprising,” he said. “When did this end?”
“A few weeks ago,” Mark replied. “De Vere has been fleeing Richard’s forces since that time. Somehow he’s escape to France.”
“And his fortunes with him.”
The brothers fell silent, each lost to their own particular thoughts. Matthew’s jaw ticked faintly, indicative of his level of concern.
“We must return to London immediately,” he said finally. “Too much is happening for us to remain here any longer. Richard will require our strength and counsel.”
“They are all up to something,” Luke muttered. “You were right when you said it two days ago, Matt. Something big is happening.”
Matthew was already heading for the gatehouse and the narrow spiral stairs that led to the ward below. “Notify John and the men. We move out within the hour.”
Luke nodded shortly and fled down the stairs in front of his brothers. Mark followed Matthew to the ward.
“What about Father?” Mark asked.
Matthew shrugged. “What about him? He was sleeping soundly in his room this morning when I left the keep. We kept the drink away from him yesterday, so I would presume that he would be able to ride.”
Mark was silent. Matthew knew his brother well enough to know when something was bothering him. “What is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you, brother. Your silence is full of something, doubt or disapproval, I cannot be sure.”
Mark glanced up at his brother, his eyes so dark that they were almost obsidian. He was the only brother that favored Adam in that regard; the rest of the Wellesbourne siblings possessed their mother’s blue eyes.
“I thought you were with Father last night,” he said. “Had I known that you were not, I would have stayed with him myself.”
Matthew snorted. “I have a new wife and you think I spent my evening with our father? Think again.”
“But he’s still brittle, Matt. I am not comfortable with him being left alone.”
It was an old argument between them. Mark could impart guilt on Matthew like none other; Matthew, on the other hand, would accept it. They loved each other dearly, would defend one another to the death, but they could still trade barbs and insults like brothers could.
“Then you stay with him,” Matthew snapped softly. “I told you that I am not going to go through this again and I meant it. He’s a grown man; I have played nursemaid for twelve long years, Mark. I am tired. It is time for you to shoulder some of the burden.”
“You are unfair,” Mark was trying to keep his temper. “I have shared this burden with you many a time. But we all know that Father responds better to you than to any of us.”
“And that makes it my sole responsibility?” Matthew came to a stop, glaring at his shorter, stockier brother.
“I have far too much on my mind to deal with this insanity right now. Wiltshire and Pembroke have moved their armies north to Nottingham, Somerset and Lord Sutton are due in Gloucester any day at which time they, too, will move north, presumably to Nottingham, and Oxford and William Brandon have both fled to France to join Henry’s forces there.
Something massive is brewing, Mark, larger than anything we can comprehend.
When my mind should be focused on that, you are angry because I did not spend the evening sitting with my father who has less control than a weak woman and the constitution of a skittish cat. ”
Part of Mark knew that he was correct, but the other part was genuinely concerned for the state of their father. He knew Matthew was concerned too, deep down, but the man had enormous responsibilities staring him in the face that the others did not.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “The rest of us will try to handle Father. But if something happens to him, something awful, know that the ultimate responsibility should have been with you.”
“I am not the only son of Wellesbourne,” Matthew boomed.
“But you are the only one he’ll listen to!”
They faced off against each other, fury in their expressions, emotions running rampant. Mark jabbed a finger at him.
“I know what this is about,” he hissed. “Your new wife has you else occupied, so much so that you would forget your duty as Adam Wellesbourne’s eldest son.”
A fist came flying at Mark. He wasn’t fast enough to duck and Matthew’s crushing blow nearly took off his head. He went spinning off balance but somehow managed to keep his feet. Blood dripped from his nostrils as he looked up to see his brother bearing down on him.
“Do not ever accuse me of dodging my duty as a Wellesbourne,” he stopped short of striking his brother again; he simply stood over him and growled. “I have given more to this family, king and country than you can possibly imagine.”
Mark wiped the blood from his nose. “Your obligation is to protect your father, especially from himself.”
Matthew’s blue eyes were like ice. “You will not tell me what my obligation is.”
Mark just shook his head and turned away. Matthew called out to him before he got too far.
“Did I hurt you?”
Mark paused. “No. But it was a good hit.”
Lips pursed with regret, and a lot of disgust, Matthew went over to him and tilted his head up, peering up both bloody nostrils.
“You usually duck faster than that,” he grumbled.
“I did not see the fist until it was too late.”
“You are slowing down in your old age.”
Mark smiled in spite of himself. “And you are growing edgy in yours.”
“I am sorry.”
“So am I.”
They parted ways as they had done a thousand times before.
Sometimes Matthew came away bloodied, but most of the time it was Mark.
It had been thus since they had been small boys.
All of the things they said and did to each other, they had made a vow never to part angry, and they never had.
While Mark went to see to the army, Matthew made way for the keep.
The first stop he made was at his father’s chamber.
*
Alixandrea was fully dressed when Matthew came for her. He had expected to wake her, for it was shortly after dawn, but she was sitting by a brightly blazing hearth sipping warmed milk with nutmeg. When she saw him enter the chamber, she smiled brightly. Matthew nearly melted.
“This morning sees you well, I hope,” he said.
She nodded. “It does. And does it see you well, also?”
“It does.”
He went to pull up the small stool that sat against the hearth.
He sat next to her, gazing at her beauty as if nothing else in the world existed.
Had he been thinking with his rational mind and not his besotted one, he would have realized he was completely smitten.
He’d known the lady four days and already, he could not imagine life before she came to Wellesbourne.
It was as great as the difference between heaven and hell.
“I am glad you are awake,” he said. “It would seem that we must leave for London sooner than I originally planned. How long will it take you to be ready?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “I have hardly unpacked since my arrival. ’Twill simply be a matter of loading my cases onto the wagon again.”
“We do not need to take everything. Only those items which are necessary.”
“How long are we staying?”
“That is hard to say.”
“Then everything is necessary.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “We will be traveling swiftly and lightly. I cannot spare the time or manpower to lug around all of your worldly possessions.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he put up a hand to silence her.
“Whatever you may leave behind, we can purchase for you in London if necessary.”