A Dishonorable Knight(124)
"We've no idea exactly how many men Tudor will be able to gather once he lands. He has the assistance of several foreign crowns and, so our King's spies tell us, much support from Wales, for Welsh blood runs in his veins."
Gareth thought he should not appear too innocent so he said, "I had heard as much--he is French too, am I correct?"
"Yes, he is the grandson of Henry V's widow, Catherine, who was the daughter to the King of France. No doubt the French king is his most generous benefactor." Gareth knew Henry Tudor's lineage, but nodded his head as if learning it anew. "His only claim to King Richard's crown is through the bastard children of John Beaufort."
"I thought they were legitimized."
Sir Jasper scoffed. "Only on the condition that they never lay claim to the throne! Which just goes to show you what the deviousness of the Welsh will push through." He paused, his eyes widening as he looked at Gareth. "Oh, Gareth, forgive me. I did not mean to imply--"
Gareth raised his hand to stop the apology. "Please, Sir Jasper, think nothing of it. I'll be the first to admit that the Welsh can be calculating. What other reason could explain why there used to be so much fighting between the lords of Wales?" Sir Jasper nodded and the two men turned their attention back to the mock battles being waged.
Though Gareth pretended to be studying the men's form and style, he was reflecting on Sir Jasper's words. Aye, the Welsh could change their loyalty in a heartbeat, but usually they did so only when Wales was being trod upon. Had Richard not allowed English priests to replace the Welsh clergy, or English lords to rule Welsh lands, Wales would even now support him as King of England. But most importantly, had Richard not supported the laws which denied a Welshman the rights of citizenship merely because Welsh blood ran through his veins, he would not now be having to worry that Henry's army would be greatly comprised of Welshmen seeking the same rights every Englishman took for granted.
As Gareth stood there, surrounded by the noise of a productive, war-prepared castle, all of the arguments against Richard brought up at the Aberstwyth meeting came back to him. They coalesced into a solid determination to see a better king on the throne. Cymru, which could really only be translated as "Welshness," flowed through his veins and the weight of guilt and indecision which had bowed his shoulders since he had first heard of Henry Tudor suddenly slid off and broke into pieces about his feet, to be kicked away with the slightest shift of the spurs which adorned his worn boots.
He looked to Sir Jasper who was shouting instructions to a new knight on the field. He would no doubt be facing this noble man on the field, for Sir Jasper believed most firmly that Richard was God's choice as King of England. But suddenly, Gareth felt the same passionate response to Henry Tudor's claim. No doubt if he had been born and raised in northern England, and Sir Jasper had grown up in Wales, their loyalties would be reversed. But fate had decided they would soon fight for different kings and no amount of guilt on Gareth's part would change that. With an invigorating sense of freedom and relief, Gareth strode forward and picked up a wooden sword from the pile of practice weapons and joined the practicing men.
Chapter 25
Elena spent her next few days enjoying the comforts of velvet gowns, down-stuffed pillows, hot meals, sweet deserts, music in the background, and hours spent embroidering with the other ladies. After she had entertained them with a carefully constructed story of her adventures, they had returned to the normal court gossip of flirtatious intrigue and fashion faux pas--or so it seemed. Elena could not help but suspect that the old rumors surrounding her virtue were resurfacing. Though she seemed to have resumed her position as cherished handmaiden, there was something different about the entire court's attitude toward her, especially the other ladies-in-waiting. As Elena worked on embroidering a tapestry one afternoon, she wondered if perhaps it was her attitude towards them that had changed. Mayhap both. Certainly she tired more rapidly of the inane banter the women often indulged in. The political machinations of court seemed somehow more vulgar and blatant than she remembered them. And lately, when she had been attending Richard, she seemed to feel an odd repugnance. He was constantly in a foul mood, yelling at his advisors, attendants, and serfs alike. At one time or another during his daylong meetings with advisors, he accused everyone in his court of conspiring to dethrone him. Whenever Elena brought refreshments into the map-strewn study where he spent hours each day planning his defense against Henry Tudor, Richard regarded her warily, as if he suspected her of eavesdropping or snooping through his papers. No more did he have flattering words for her. Not once did he ask after her family, bidding her send his regards to her mother when next she wrote as he had before they left Middleham castle all those weeks ago.