Chapter Eighteen

Lilyrose could barely contain her impatience, but Eleanor would not allow her to leave the chambers they’d been given.

“First, you will wash the journey’s grime from your arms and face and then you will change into more suitable attire before you go down.”

Having grown very familiar with that particular tone, Lilyrose knew there was no point arguing for Eleanor would simply ignore her. Wanting to spend as much time as she could with Arthur, she half-ran to where Tilly waited by a basin of water and stood, fidgeting, for her maid to undress and wash her.

Her face scrubbed clean, her hair neatly braided and dressed in a fresh creamy yellow dress, Lilyrose stepped out into the corridor, Tilly by her side. At once, she crossed over to the railing overlooking the inner courtyard.

“Oh, my lady, careful.” Tilly placed her hands on Lilyrose’s shoulders as her young charge leaned over.

When Lilyrose had stepped into the inner courtyard, she’d realised at once what Eleanor had meant about waiting until they were inside the castle. Straightaway, she was captivated with how different it was. Never imagining a castle could have a courtyard on the inside, she’d stood with eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Turning her gaze up, her eyes had stretched even wider to see there was no ceiling between the floors, only the flat roof right at the top, beyond the uppermost floor. Octagonal columns arranged around the courtyard supported the first floor, with more columns on that floor supporting the next one.

Running her warm hand along the cool smoothness of the stone rail, Lilyrose skipped towards the stairs, her shoes clickety-clacking on the stone floor. “Tilly,” she said with a giggle, “I sound like a horse.”

Her maid smiled. “My lady, I must say, I’m not used to bare floors. At least there are floor coverings in the chambers or your poor feet will be cold when you get out of bed in the morning.”

Lilyrose slowed her pace for cold floors in the morning had not occurred to her. Realisation slowly dawned how much she took the rich elegance of her home for granted – drapes and hangings, which adorned the ceilings; soft sheets; carpeted corridors; petite tables and chairs strategically placed in hallways. But she liked how different Edmund’s castle was compared to her father’s, and was secretly delighted with the lack of, what she believed to be, unnecessary furnishings. Which meant less things for her to trip over, to bump into and, possibly, break.

As they descended the stairs, Arthur appeared.

“Lilyrose, come. I’ll show you my home.”

Tilly followed her down and curtsied. “My lord. I shall leave my lady in your care,” she said with a smile and was rewarded with a hug from Lilyrose.

Arthur held out his hand and she slipped her hand in his. Walking past the stairs, they went through the open doors on the back wall.

Lifting her head, her nose in the air, Lilyrose breathed deeply then grinned. “I know where we’re-oh.”

She pulled back as she came, almost face-to-face, with a hound.

Arthur pushed the dog away. “Don’t be afraid–”

“I’m not. He surprised me, that’s all, I wasn’t expecting it. And he’s so big. Hello, dog.” She extended her hand to it, giggling as it sniffed and snuffled, tickling her. “What’s his name?”

“This one is Shadow.”

Rubbing his shaggy head, she tilted her head. “Shadow? But he’s brown.”

“When he was a pup, he followed Papa everywhere, like his shadow.”

Another dog appeared, curiously nosing her, and she fussed that one also until Arthur pushed them.

“Move, you great lumps. So, you know where I’m taking you.”

Nodding, she said, “The kitchen.”

Standing just inside so they wouldn’t be in the way, the smell of roasting meat and baking bread made Lilyrose’s mouth water.

“See the fireplace?” said Arthur, pointing to the huge fireplace where the meat was being roasted.

“Oh. Is that where you warmed yourself when you were little?” She remembered the things Arthur had told her of his childhood.

He nodded, smiling widely. “You remember. And that oven–”

“Is where Cook bakes the small loaves for you,” she finished triumphantly.

Arthur laughed. “I will ask him to bake one especially for you.”

“Yes please.” She clapped her hands.

Back in the inner courtyard, Arthur indicated the big doors on the left. “That’s the Great Hall, and over there is the solar,” he said, pointing to the doors opposite, on the right.

As they walked to the main doors leading out, Lilyrose said, “I tried floating pigs’ bladders like you suggested. When I asked Cook for some, I thought she was going to faint, she looked so shocked.”

He laughed. “Did you enjoy it?”

She nodded. “Henry and Margaret did too. Though Henry had to blow up one for Margaret. It took her awhile to even touch it because it had been inside an animal.” Lilyrose laughed at the memory.

As they stepped out, Lilyrose scrunched her eyes up against the bright sun. “Everything seems brighter, like the sun shines more strongly here.”

Nodding, he said, “Come, let me show you Hero.”

“Do you ride him more now?”

“Yes. When we travel to yours next year, I’ll be able to bring him.” It was no secret that Arthur was besotted with his horse, which he’d been given for his twelfth birthday. But Edmund had not allowed him to ride the young horse for any distance until they’d grown more accustomed to each other.

They walked to the stables – Arthur walking, Lilyrose skipping – and he talked incessantly about Hero.

“Are you enjoying your riding lessons?”

Lilyrose nodded. “Yes. I’m learning to canter. But I can’t wait to gallop. When I see Henry and Papa going so fast, I want to as well.”

“It feels like flying.”

“Mama says it’s not ladylike.” She rolled her eyes. “She said I should be more like Margaret, but she doesn’t want to go any faster than a canter. And, like Mama, she’s happy to travel in the carriage. I hate the carriage.”

“Me too. I cannot think of a more uncomfortable way to travel.”

“I know Mama loves me but, sometimes, it’s as if she wants me to be like Margaret all the time. Mothers can be so very trying.” She grinned. “But we always want them-oh!” Her hands flew to cover her mouth as her eyes stretched wide. “Arthur,” she said through her fingers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“I know, Lilyrose, I know.” His attempts at a smile failed as he took hold of her hands and pulled them away from her mouth.

She looked down, her face crumpling as her mouth turned down.

“My mama, I wish you could have met her. She took ill after your blessing ceremony.” Still holding her hands, he seemed to be studying them. “Soon after we arrived home, she, she.” He shook his head slightly.

Realising this was the first time Arthur had said anything about his mother’s death, Lilyrose tightened her fingers around his. She looked at him, wondering if he was about to cry, not sure what to do if he did.

They stood quietly, partly in the shade of the castle, as people moved around them. Lilyrose silently berated herself for ruining the day.

“It makes me sad sometimes, I cannot remember what she looked like. But I remember her voice.”

“You remember her voice?”

Raising his gaze to meet hers, he nodded and managed a smile. “There was a story she’d always tell me, about how she and Papa found me. After she, after she died, Papa would tell me the story. He didn’t do it straightaway, it took him some time, but, one day, he started telling it. It’s strange, but hearing the story helps me remember her voice.”

As the knot in her belly gradually loosened, Lilyrose’s curiosity won over her manners. “Can you tell me the story?”

His brows jerked up then he smiled. “I don’t tell it very well.”

“I’d still like to hear it.”

He didn’t speak straightaway; it was as if he was searching for the right way to say it. “Mama would say she and Papa had no children because they were waiting for a very special child. And, one day, the forest spirits blessed them with a little boy who’d been lost.” Hitching up his shoulders, he smiled ruefully. “It doesn’t sound like much when I tell it. Mama had a way of telling it that made it special.”

Lilyrose smiled. “I think it’s lovely.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as his smile widened.

At ease once more, they continued on their way. Arthur talked more about Hero as they walked past a squat building, which he named as the barracks, and continued to the stables, which were next to it. In the middle of a sentence, he interrupted himself. “Ronal,” he called, hand raised in greeting as his friend appeared around the side of the stables. Arthur quickened his pace, pulling Lilyrose along with him. “Finally, you can meet.”

As Arthur introduced them, Ronal quickly rubbed his hands on his trousers.

“Forgive my appearance, my lady. I was hoping to be more–”

“Oh no,” said Lilyrose with a laugh. “Nothing to forgive, Ronal. I only appear this presentable because of Mama.”

Arthur smacked Ronal on the back. “Lilyrose doesn’t care for such things, I told you.” His smile was slowly replaced with a frown. “What’s wrong? You look…”

Ronal was staring uncertainly at Lilyrose.

She raised her brows and glanced down at her dress. “Is something wrong?” Patting her cheeks, she wondered if some blemish had suddenly appeared, which was a common occurrence for her.

He shook his head slightly. “A strange feeling.” His fingers fluttered against his chest. “A familiar feeling, as if I should know you.”

Her wide smile returned. “Well, I feel I know you already, Ronal. Arthur has told me so much about you.”

“Yes, yes.” Slowly nodding, he rubbed the back of his head, smiling ruefully. “That is likely what it is. Arthur speaks of you a great deal also.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Arthur stood, arms akimbo, grinning at them. “My two favourite people, finally meeting. Come, we’re going to see Hero.”

Ronal joined them, and they entered the stables together. “Do you ride, my lady?”

Lilyrose nodded. “I’ve not long started lessons.”

“Starting tomorrow, we’ll ride together,” said Arthur.

Clapping her hands, she bounced along for a couple of steps.

The doors to the solar opened onto the garden, a large square with trees bordering the three sides. On the right, a stone archway allowed entry from the outside. Edmund stood in the shade just inside the doors, while Lionel and Eleanor sat slightly further in where it was cooler.

They paused their quiet conversation as Arthur, Lilyrose and Ronal passed through the archway and made their way to the far side, laughing and talking.

Edmund’s exclamation turned into a chuckle as Arthur caught Lilyrose before she fell forward.

Eleanor shook her head as a long-suffering sigh escaped her. “I despair, Edmund. I wonder if my daughter will ever be able to conduct herself like a lady. I was hoping my sister’s girl, Margaret, would be a positive influence, but I fear the opposite seems to be happening.”

Both men laughed, and the youngsters turned and waved.

“Well you may laugh. I sincerely hope you haven’t set your heart on gaining a ladylike daughter-in-law.”

He raised his goblet in Eleanor’s direction. “I assure you, dear lady, I love that girl exactly as she is and would not change any part of her.”

Eleanor raised her brows then smiled.

“Now that I see them together,” said Lionel, “I see the closeness between Arthur and Ronal that you often speak of.”

“Ronal is a good lad; his parents have raised him well.”

“The farrier and his wife, yes?”

“That is correct, you remember,” said Edmund with a smile. “But then your memory has always been good.” He turned thoughtful. “I remember thinking it strange that Arthur and Ronal took to each other so quickly, almost as if they knew one another…” His voice trailed off as he lost himself to an earlier time. He looked up, startled.

Eleanor was by his side, her hand resting on his. “Did you and Anna ever think it might have been possible?”

“We did wonder. Their colouring is similar even though they don’t look as if they could have come from the same parents. Anna was prepared to care for both of them, for us to have two sons.” He closed his eyes momentarily, a half-smile on his lips. “But by the time we learned of him, Agnes had already grown to love him. And he was happy with her, with the family. Anna didn’t have the heart to part them.”

“Surely if he and Arthur were related,” said Lionel, “they wouldn’t have wanted to remain separated.”

Edmund nodded. “That’s what I thought. I think they were two lost souls who recognised that in one another. And I am ever grateful for Ronal. After Anna, after she…” He shook his head, the memory of losing her still pierced his heart. “Ronal was a calming feature in Arthur’s life. He could reach that part of him that so yearned for his mother. I could not, I was too wrapped in my own grief.”

“Oh, Edmund.” Concern crumpled Eleanor’s features.

He patted her hand. “Hush now, there is no need to be upset. Arthur and I have had our fair share of arguments–”

“Show me a father and son who haven’t,” said Lionel with a snort.

“Exactly so. But we are faring better now.” A heavy sigh escaped him. “It is just as well for there is a new worry. It was not my intention to mention this now when you have not long arrived, but it is a heavy burden and–”

“Edmund, what is it?” Lionel got to his feet.

Even though there was no one else around, Edmund lowered his voice. “Soon after we returned from your place a few months ago, I received a message and gift from one of the northern chiefs, Hagen. He enquired after Arthur’s health, wishing him a long life.”

Eleanor and Lionel stared at one another, clearly bewildered.

“But northern chiefs don’t make random overtures. Neither do we,” said Lionel.

Edmund nodded. “That was my first thought. We maintain cordial relations for trade, but it’s never been personal.”

“What do you think his intention is?” Eleanor’s hand rested against her chest.

Edmund could only shake his head. “I responded to his message and gift with one of my own. I thanked him and wished him and his family well.”

“Have you heard anything else?”

“No. I’m hoping that’s the end of the matter. Maybe he’s attempting a new strategy?” His quick, false smile failed to lighten the mood, and they fell into an uneasy silence.