A Dishonorable Knight(7)
Chapter 2
Gareth watched the King's niece draw the Lady Elena down beside her, speaking with great animation as Elena stared into space. He could not help but laugh. There was justice in the world. He had no doubt that she had set her cap for the tall fop she had maneuvered to dance with. 'Tis what she deserves, he thought, as he doubted that cold woman could have loved such a foolish man—or any man for that matter. Still, if her only interest was a title, she should look a sight happier at catching an earl. With a shrug, he looked around for Cynan and Bryant and saw them standing with a small group of men who gathered at the back of the great hall, talking quietly amongst themselves.
As he started across the room, a serving maid stumbled in front of him, falling on the ground and dropping a pile of empty trays. Gareth quickly helped the young woman up, brushing off her worn skirt before he knelt to retrieve the trays.
"Thank you, milord," the maid said timidly, a shy smile touching her mouth.
"Be careful. God only knows the last time these rushes were changed," Gareth said, nodding to the floor. "Were you to fall again, we may not be so lucky as to find you," he teased.
The young woman nodded, obviously amazed that the knight had not cursed or yelled or simply stepped right over her. When Gareth chucked her gently under the chin, she blushed bright pink and stared after him with adoration as he continued on his way.
"Tis not a rumor, I tell you," a short man of sturdy build was saying as Gareth joined his friends at the back of the hall. "And Henry Tudor has just as much claim to the throne as Richard does."
"More so, I say, since Henry has not killed innocent boys for it!" answered a broad-shouldered man with iron-grey hair. The men stopped talking when they noticed Gareth, but Cynan spoke up.
"’Tis all right. Gareth is Welsh and bears no great love for Richard."
Gareth frowned and glanced around at the men gathered in the shadows. Several of them he knew as knights, men at arms. A couple he’d not seen before but could tell by the cut of their cloth they were noblemen, landholders.
“Aye, and it’s Welsh blood that will put Henry Tudor on the throne,” said a man whose accent clearly bespoke his lineage, though Gareth did not recognize him.
“But ‘tis not his Welsh blood that grants him the right to the throne,” hissed one of the noblemen.
Though Gareth’s knowledge of Henry Tudor’s ancestry was sketchy at best, he knew the man to be a direct descendant of John of Gaunt, the first Duke of Lancaster. The houses of Lancaster and York—both children of the great Edward III—had been warring for the crown since before Gareth was born. King Richard’s brother, Edward IV, had claimed the throne for York after killing the Lancastrian king, Henry VI. Though the fighting had largely involved small, scattered battles between the noble families, should Henry Tudor successfully return to England, the war could escalate to encompass the entire country.
"King Charles of France has promised Henry money and ships. And with he and Oxford planning the battles, all we need do is raise troops for them to lead," said the grey-haired man.
"When will he land?"
"'Tis not been determined yet. Just stay at the ready, for when the call comes, we will have to move quickly."
Gareth turned to whisper in Cynan’s ear. “’Tis treason these men speak. Why did you include me?”
“Because I’ve known you since we were babes and you’re no man of Richard’s.”
Gareth would have argued further but Cynan stepped closer into the circle of men.
Some logistical talk ensued about chains of communication, but Gareth paid it no heed. He chewed on his lower lip, mulling over Cynan’s comment. He’d not spoken to his friend of his frustrations since joining Richard’s court, had made no mention of his disenchantment with his sovereign, not to mention the persistent belief that Richard had murdered his own nephews to secure the crown for himself. Nonetheless, Cynan seemed to cut right to the heart of Gareth’s inner turmoil.
The group broke up as Viscount Lovell, one of Richard's council members walked by.
Gareth pulled Cynan aside. "You should be more careful. What are you thinking meeting like this in Richard’s own keep? You're going to get yourself drawn and quartered."
“We’re hiding in plain sight. And where better to recruit embittered subjects than in the viper’s own nest?” Though Gareth had made sure to speak quietly, Cynan spoke in a normal tone of voice.