* * * * * * *
The stone in Lady Gwendolyn Blackburn's stomach sank deeper as she neared London. She stroked the string bracelet her brother Thomas had made her from the string of his bow, threaded with a black leather strap and a small wooden crucifix. Everywhere Lancastrian supporters cheered while Yorkists trembled with fear at what the new king would do to them. The rest of England only sighed. A new red king. At least this one seemed in possession of his senses unlike poor pious King Henry VI.
Who was this upstart Henry Tudor? He seemed to have come out of nowhere. He had a thin thread of claim to the throne. But with the death of King Richard III and the York Princes vanishing as if in thin air there was no one left to challenge him.
Lady Gwen's throat tightened as she rode through the streets seeing other nobles she recognized from the York faction. Many hid their feelings; they would not show fear in front of this usurper, but Gwen could see their knuckles turn white as they gripped the reins. It had been a month since Henry Tudor’s victory at Bosworth Field. Tensions between the defeated Yorks and the triumphant Lancastrians were still tenuous.
Lady Gwen was the daughter of a rich Baron Geoffrey Blackburn who was a staunch Yorkist. His mother, Gwen's grandmother, Lady Isabeau Comtois came over to England with Katherine Valois and remained her lady in waiting even through her secret marriage to Owen Tudor. Lady Isabeau had been famous for her cunning and calculating nature, never fully committing to one side or the other in the Cousins' War.
All the Blackburn men were dead. Lady Isabeau became the matriarch of the family and was now relying on her granddaughter to keep favor with the new king. Geoffrey had signed over his entire fortune over to his daughter. All the Blackburn lands and their home Oakenhart belonged to Lady Gwen.
For weeks Lady Gwen waited for the king’s army to come for her but nothing. Then finally they received a messenger with a summons to court. Lady Gwen was to be taken to Westminster in London to pledge loyalty to the new king. Gwen's mother was close to tears, almost crushing her daughter in a suffocating hug. Lady Isabeau was calm and whispered, "Commit to no one but show your loyalty to this new king."
* * * * * * *
“Gwen!”
Lady Gwen turned to see her childhood friend the Princess Elizabeth with her sister the Princess Cecily. Though raised since childhood to show decorum and grace, these two young women were far too close like sisters to allow etiquette to stop them. Elizabeth embraced Gwen who returned the warmth. They were like the sun and moon. Elizabeth had the golden Woodville looks of the sun while Gwen was dark and pale like the moon.
"Lizzie," Gwen whispered vehemently. Gwen's mother Lady Juiliana was lady in waiting to Elizabeth Woodville. Lady Juliana was a staunch Yorkist and practically tore apart the kitchens when the men came to take Gwen away. Her mother-in-law told her to exercise caution.
"It seems they have gathered every White Rose in England," Gwen noticed.
“King Henry wanted every traitor brought to him,” said Cecily who took Gwen’s hand in hers.
"Traitors?" Gwen was exasperated. "We fought for our King Richard!"
“Hush,” Cecily admonished Gwen, looking over her shoulder to see the new Tudor courtiers watching them with interest.
"He declared himself king the eve before the battle," Princess Elizabeth explained much quieter as she threaded her arm through Lady Gwen’s.
“Another Lancaster tyrant,” Gwen retorted then immediately regretted it as she remembered her friend was to marry this new king.
Princess Elizabeth only smiled. They decided to talk of other things since it had been a year since they had seen each other last.
"How is your lady mother and grandmother?” she asked.
“Both are well," Gwen said. “My mother was bereft when I departed for London. I was afraid she would rip into the soldiers who escorted me.”
“I am glad to see you despite the circumstances,” Elizabeth spoke softly as two ladies passed them. Spies of Lady Margaret Beaufort, the King’s mother possibly.
“I do not trust many here save my mother and my sisters… and you,” Elizabeth swore softly. “We will look after each other.”
* * * * * * * *
Three weeks had passed leaving Lady Gwen in limbo. Then one day as it rained heavily on London, Lady Gwen was summoned to the throne room. It was crowded with courtiers. At the head was Henry Tudor. He was quite thin with serious eyes and cold countenance. He was no Golden King of York like Edward IV once was or so Gwen’s father often praised. Princess Elizabeth was to marry this man? Elizabeth was far more fair and much higher born than this upstart king descended of a bastard line but Lady Gwen kept such thoughts to herself.
Lord Jasper, the king's beloved uncle, stood beside him while Lady Margaret Beaufort, the king's mother stood proudly on the other side of the throne. They were the new trinity that they would all have to pray to and swear by.
There were barons and viscounts swearing their loyalty to the new king fiercely. Then it was Lady Gwen's turn to swear an oath of fealty. She caught sight of a handsome young man with hazel brown eyes gleaming at her. She felt herself flush as he saw her as the center of some invisible universe.
"Lady Gwendolyn Blackburn," the king's voice boomed bearing the weight of royal authority. Gwen refused to be intimidated. She held her head high, daring to stare down the Tudor King. Lord Jasper looked stern. Lady Margaret wrathful. King Henry irritated.
Gwen curtsied nonetheless. She heard her grandmother's cool voice in her head telling her to behave. Don't let the Blackburn temper rule you.
"Your father Baron Blackburn was a captain in the false King Richard's army," King Henry stated.
Gwen bit her tongue so hard she winced. Henry thought it was because of his words or royal authority.
"Do you understand now that he was wrong and swear allegiance to me, your rightful king?"
It was less a question and more a threat. If she said no then her family would suffer. Gwen took a deep breath then with her eyes downcast searing into the floor and a sore tongue said, "Yes, your Grace."
"And you will be a good and obedient subject?" he asked. Lady Gwen swallowed her pride though the effort threatened to choke her.
"Look at me," King Henry ordered but softly as a wolf's growl.
Gwen obeyed, defiantly staring her dark eyes into the king's icy eyes.
"Yes," Gwen spoke more loudly and with much more convincing effort that her grandmother would have smiled in approval. "Your Grace. I humbly throw myself upon your mercy to forgive my father's error."
"Your father is dead now," Lady Margaret said stepping forward. “He was a traitor so all of his lands are forfeit.”
Anger ran thick through Gwen’s blood choking her heart. The Blackburn temper threatened to scorch her insides. She bit the inside of her cheek as she often did when tempted to say something vile. A miasma of tension hung in the air as Lady Gwen ventured further.
“Your Grace,” Lady Gwen stood tall with her chin held high. “My father signed our lands over to me before he went off to fight beside King Richard.” The king’s face grew tight as Gwen continued though the words tasted bitter on her tongue. “He was wrong to fight beside the false king but he no longer had any lands or riches.”
Lady Margaret was young when she gave birth to her son, only 13 but she had the face of an angry old crone. Her eyes went white with fury. Lord Jasper looked grim. The whole court erupted in a concerned loud whispering. Lady Gwen stood firm despite the storm she found herself in.
“Your family are traitors!” Lady Margaret shrieked which was unladylike. Gwen suppressed an urge to smile in triumph. “Your grandmother was a turn coat who professed undying loyalty to York!”
“My lady grandmother was a loyal friend to Queen Katherine Valois, your lady grandmother,” Gwen reminded the king. “Our grandmothers were friends and when she died mine had little choice but to ensure her family’s survival. It was either to bow to a new king or live in exile or have her head on a spike.” Lord Jasper whispered into his nephew’s ear.
After a few moments of trembling with rage, King Henry cooled then spoke, his voice strained, “My mother speaks truth.” The court held its breath. “Your family must be punished for siding with the York usurper. However…”
Lady Gwen’s fingers twitched as her throat tightened. Yet she kept a brave face. Out of the corner of her eye she could sense the intense fascinated stare of the man with the hazel brown eyes that were like two bronze coins.
“However since Lady Isabeau Comtois was a close friend to Queen Katherine de Valois,” Henry became more calm and flashed a wolfish grin. “I will only take half of your lands and your estate, Oakenhart.”
Gwen’s stomach dropped. Half? Take Oakenhart, her childhood home? Her grandmother’s voice was whispering to her but the hum of indignity raged like a stormy wind, It could have been worse. It could have been much more.
“It will be a gift showing your loyalty to me, your rightful king,” said Henry. His mother smiled, adding lines to her face and making her seem like an ugly jester. “You will also be my guest here at court.”
Lady Gwen’s face grew hot as she clenched her fists in her gown and bit the inside of her lip. She must have looked like a wild animal suddenly caged. Henry and his mother were daring her to counter with something insolent. He was looking for a reason to take everything. Lady Gwen wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Instead Gwen took a long deep breath that seemed to last hours but she managed to control the volume of her voice though the tone was still dry, “I bow to your Grace’s will.”
She curtsied though her legs trembled with rage. Her eyes blacker than a stormy night. Yet she never broke eye contact as she lowered herself to the pleasure of the king. She left the throne room then once she felt she was alone she leaned against the stone wall for support. Lady Gwen’s fingernails dug into the tapestry. She heard a small tear then a deep soft voice, “He was testing you.”
Lady Gwen whirled around to see the man with the bronze eyes and the intense stare looking at her with a smirk. She wanted to rip it off his face.
“Well done,” he continued. “I heard the Blackburns were a tenacious wrathful bunch but you seem to have your grandmother’s composure. Had you burst then he would have had an excuse to show his new strength and put you in the Tower.”
The mention of the Tower of London made Gwen’s blood run cold. All knew what happened to kings and noblemen in the Tower. Either they were murdered or disappeared into the walls like ghosts.
“Thank you,” Lady Gwen strained a smile. “But now my task is to regain my home which was wrongfully taken.”
“That would be simple enough,” he said.
“How so?”
“Marriage is the best way to gain alliances,” the man boldly raked his eyes over Lady Gwen. “A beauty such as you will have no trouble at all.” Gwen’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger at this stranger’s daring glances. “If you like I can suggest a groom who recently came into a large fortune and would be most happy to take you as a bride.” His tone implied something that Gwen did not like.
“That is my business,” Lady Gwen’s voice strained. The young man seemed puzzled at first, eyeing her as if she were playing a joke on him. Yet it was Gwen who had the feeling of being the subject of a terrible jest.
“Actually it is,” he smiled arrogantly. “My name is Sir David Pierce. The King has just recently given me Oakenhart and half the fortune that comes with it.”
Gwen’s heart stopped. Her mouth was agape making Sir David laugh humorously.
“Speechless I see,” Sir David’s bronze eyes blazed causing Gwen’s heart to skip. Yet like a wild mare she stamped her foot then spoke through gridded teeth, “I am in no mood for games, my lord.”
“I see now that your grandmother did not tell you.”
Sir David presented a letter to her that bore Lady Isabeau’s blue wax seal of a pelican with a bleeding heart, a symbol of the Comtois house.
Gwen snatched it with more force than intended then read through the contents. Her grandmother’s elegant hand writing was unmistakable.
“She had written to me two weeks ago,” Sir David explained. “I accepted the proposal.”
Lady Gwen crumpled the letter then threw it back at Sir David with a look of defiance. Without a word she left him biting the inside of her cheek the whole way to her quarters. She slammed the door then stroked her bracelet with a furious finger as if transferring all of her frustration into the totem hoping it would relieve her of the injustice she was feeling.
* * * * * * * * *
Gwen was to be Lord Jasper's ward and be lady-in-waiting to Lady Margaret Beaufort. Gwen bit her tongue. She was hoping to be Princess Elizabeth's lady-in-waiting. Yet Gwen could see that it was Lady Margaret who held the power in court. Lady Gwen prayed that Elizabeth would marry and give Henry a prince and take that power from this old pious woman.
Lady Margaret wore black and red. If the House of York was the day then the House of Lancaster was most certainly the night. She had stern, unforgiving eyes that could be filled with the brimstone of hell if one displeased her. For displeasing her was to displease God.
“You will be a proper lady, humble and chaste,” Lady Margaret fondled her black rosary as if drawing strength from it.
"Yes, my lady," Lady Gwen kept her head bowed, doing her best to act contrite.
“I hear you Northerners are more pagan than Christian,” she said with a voice like gravel. “That will not be tolerated here. You will pray for God’s forgiveness and perhaps His favor will once more smile upon you.”
It was true what she said about Northern England being somewhat pagan. Oakenhart especially held some tether to the old ways of the druids. Oakenhart was once a grove of sturdy oak trees that acted as a church to pagans then as a place of worship to newly converted Christians. A giant oak tree as old as the island kingdom stood in the courtyard sheltering the small chapel and library.
Lord Jasper was more kind which somehow vexed Lady Gwen more. He introduced her to his illegitimate daughters Joan and Helen that he had fathered on a Welsh woman. They were plain but had lovely eyes.
Lady Gwen was in the courtyard practicing archery. Archery was not lady like but Thomas taught her well. Their family's crest was a bow and arrow crossed below a stag's head. Hunting was in their blood.
Gwen strung her arrow then fired. She missed the bulls eye. Lord Jasper permitted her to shoot. He thought it would help her feel more at home. London was once a shining city under the Yorks but under the Tudors felt like a strange land with a foreign court.
"I want you to be happy here, Lady Blackburn," Lord Jasper had said at breakfast. "We can all be Englishman again instead of York and Lancaster. England will be at peace and prosper.”
“If you say so, my lord.”
Lady Gwen kept her answers short though she could have been less curt. She was begrudgingly grateful to Lord Jasper. Lady Gwen fired once more then finally hit closer to the mark though still missing the center. Her heart kept with some triumph then she heard someone clapping. She turned to see Sir David’s laughing bronze eyes that watched her with such presumption that made Lady Gwen fume.
He would follow her about, corner her and interrupt her thoughts even when she found a place to sit quietly and think. Not even the chapel was safe as she would feel his burning stare on the nape of her neck that made her heart flutter like a baby bird. They were not married and yet he acted as if she belonged to him. In a certain way she did but Gwen refused to go down easily. She was a wounded doe but it’s the wounded deer that leaps the highest.
“You are quite good, Lady Blackburn,” Sir David complimented. Why couldn’t he be ugly? His handsome face gave Gwen jitters.
“My brother taught me,” she said shortly as she strung another arrow. Her pride stung when she fired but missed the mark again.
“You should hold your elbow straighter and you shouldn’t close one eye,” Sir David offered despite the venomous look she gave him.
“I have not strung a bow in a while,” Gwen defended herself. “Lady Margaret says it’s not dignified for a lady.”
Sir David smiled as if Gwen had said something amusing.
“May I?” Sir David offered. However he did not wait for a reply. His body was pressed lightly against hers. Gwen’s pulse quickened as she felt his warm breath in her ear. Her skin erupted into goose flesh as she felt his hand firmly yet gently move her body into position. She was familiar with the archer’s pose.
“Both eyes open now,” whispered David. His lips brushed the tip of her ear, Gwen was sure it was intentional but somehow she didn’t care.
“Take a deep breath and… release,” David backed away just as Gwen fired the arrow. Finally it hit the red center. Gwen felt a glimmer of pride. She had momentarily forgotten about her disdain for Sir David.
“I would have gotten it without your help,” said Gwen suddenly remembering her distasteful position.
“I know,” Sir David surprised her. Most men would have been struck by her insolence. Not many liked a proud woman. They stood in silence that seemed to stretch until David pursued, “How do you find life at court?”
“You mean as a prisoner?”
“It’s hardly a prison, Lady Blackburn,” chuckled Sir David dryly.
“Says the man who can leave whenever he pleases while I am here,” Lady Gwen searched for another arrow. “Praying on my knees on a cold floor, surrounded by wolves eager to rip me apart.”
“Lord Jasper is unkind to you?”
Gwen remembered Lord Jasper’s kind blue eyes and fatherly countenance. He was a battle worn soldier yet it had not made him bitter. If anything he seemed weary of war and longed for peace.
“He’s tried,” Lady Gwen spoke quietly consumed with finding the right arrow. “I couldn’t have asked for a kinder jailor.”
Lady Gwen strung another arrow then without hesitation fired. However the force snapped the twine and she stumbled back wincing in pain. Her fingers bled. With swiftness Sir David took out a white cloth and wrapped Gwen’s red fingers and held it firm to stem the bleeding.
“You alright?” his bronze eyes grew wide with concern. Gwen could have drowned in those eyes. She wanted to but pride stopped her. She pushed him aside holding the cloth to her fingers.
“I am quite well, Sir David,” Gwen snapped. “I am no damsel to be pitied or petted.” She held out the bloodied handkerchief to her fiancé with defiance.
Sir David frowned. It was the first time she had seen such an expression. It made her feel better to know that she could wound him in some way while at the same time it made her heart ache. Then his expression softened.
“Keep it,” Sir David sighed. “What is mine is yours.”
“What is yours was always mine,” Gwen retorted. “It was taken from me. I will marry you because it is for the good of my family but do not think that you may seduce me.”
Sir David’s expression was unreadable. His lips compressed into a thin line.
“As you wish, madam,” Sir David bowed, his voice stale. Gwen watched him go leaving her with the stained cloth and a pain inside she didn’t understand.
* * * * * * *
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