A Dishonorable Knight(61)

"As it is, my father and I are very honored to be allowed at this meeting. Were it not for Eyri Keep's strategic location to a marching army and our ability to provide supplies for that army, we would be waiting with every other Welsh farmer for the call to follow instead of preparing to lead. What you did for this cause was very important and you can be sure I will credit you for saving our lives. But I cannot impose on Lord Stanley by bringing you unannounced into this meeting." Kissing her gently on the forehead, he said, "Please, Elena."

Elena shook her head. "But I can contribute! I know Richard's court! I may know something you don't, although I'm sure you will find it hard to believe," she finished sarcastically.

Gareth refused to take offense and said, "I'm sorry Elena." Turning, he rejoined Bryant and closed the door to the staircase.

Ahead of him on the stairs, Bryant said, "I don't think you should be so familiar with Lady Elena."

Gareth, his mind on the meeting upstairs frowned in the dark. "Familiar? What are you talking about?"

Bryant was silent for a moment and then said tightly, "Kissing her, touching her, calling her by her given name alone."

"So?"

"She's betrothed! And even were she not, she wouldn't be able to tell that you were not serious, that you don't care for her in that way."

Gareth felt like he had walked into the middle of a stranger's conversation. "In what way? What are you talking about, Bryant? I was just trying to comfort her."

They had reached the top of the steps and Bryant paused, his hand on the door handle. He turned around but Gareth could not make out the expression on his face in the dark stairwell. "If Henry Tudor should be successful, Lady Elena will not have to marry that fat earl. Just how do you thing a gently-bred noble lady will feel when she turns to you only to discover your intentions were not honorable? She's not a serving wench you can romp in the hay with and then forget about. And though she's part Welsh, she lives in England and they are not so tolerant of love affairs and bastard children as we are. Furthermore, Gareth, I will not let you break Lady Elena's heart."

Gareth's head spun. "Bastard children? Have you lost your mind Bryant? I'm not interested in a 'love affair,' a 'romp in the hay,' or anything else with Elena. I'm just grateful to her for her help and trying to keep her from being more frightened than she already is." His words were true, and yet not the whole truth, but he refused to confess things to Bryant he hadn’t even had time to admit to himself. A new thought struck Gareth. "Have you more 'honorable' intentions than that?"

Before Bryant could respond, the door swung open, blinding the two men in the stairwell with bright sunlight as Gareth's father's voice said, "Come in boys and thank the Blessed Virgin Mary you're alive, son."

Bryant and Gareth entered the brightly lit room and Morgan hugged his son tightly. As his eyes adjusted, Gareth saw that the room was full of men of all ages. Some were sitting, others were standing against the wooden walls, but all had a look of strained impatience at the interruption and a reckless excitement in their faces, no doubt from the meeting's topic. Gareth and Bryant quickly found an empty spot of wall and leaned against it.

"Shall we continue?" said a well-dressed man with an English accent. His face was thin and bearded; Gareth guessed him to be Lord Stanley. "Fair weather providing, His Majesty will arrive sometime in August. You understand we cannot risk telling any of you where he will land. We can not risk him meeting Richard's men before he has had a chance to meet up with my forces and those you all will be able to muster. Again, for safety's sake, we will not give you any direction as to our plan of attack through England until absolutely necessary.

"What I would like to know is this: How much support does the Earl of Richmond, true heir to the English throne, have in Wales?" His steely blue eyes surveyed the room, carefully examining each man's face. A few of the men standing shifted their weight from foot to foot. Others dropped their eyes to the floor. Gareth knew that much of Wales, like much of England, was indifferent to the latest battle in this “War of the Roses.” Common men and women had been affected very little by the fighting between the Lancasters and the Yorks. To most, the battles among the two houses only affected them when it happened in their rye fields or over their vegetable patches. Otherwise, it was nothing more than a skirmish among wealthy gentlemen.