The Rose of York: Love & War by Sandra Worth Read Free Book Online Page B

Montagu, I should like to do the same with you.”
    John’s mouth curved at the corners. Removing a heavy gold band shaped into his emblem of the golden griffin, he offered it to Richard. “My lady gave me this. Had our babe lived, it would have gone to him. You’re not only as a brother to me, but also a son, Dickon.”
    Richard took the ring and gave him a sapphire from his own hand. With his dagger, he cut John’s palm, then his own. They clasped hands, mingling their blood. “Brother to brother, yours in life and death,” they intoned solemnly. John rose from the ledge, and said with a smile, “Now I have two brothers named Richard.”
    But Richard didn’t hear. The talk of death and family had turned his thoughts to his father as he had looked the last time ever he saw his face; and to Edmund, tall, slender, and seventeen. He saw them in his mind’s eye, mounting their horses in the courtyard of their London house. Pigeons were cooing, the sun was shining, the bells on their reins were jingling softly. They rode out through the gates with a smile and a wave, and never returned.
    “Remember, Dickon,” John said gently, “you can’t go forward if you keep looking back. In last year’s nest, there are no eggs.”
    Framed against the sky, John stood looking down at him with twilight-blue eyes, a hand extended in help. The sun had gone behind a bank of clouds and the wind had risen, whipping his hair and sweeping the trees with a fierce rustling. Richard knew that he’d never forget this moment, that in some strange way it marked his life forever. He accepted John’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. There was truth in what John said. No use looking back. The future lay ahead, beckoning brightly, and could be whatever shape he willed. He eyed the birds shrieking across the hills. In last year’s nest, there are no eggs.
     
    ~ * * * ~

Chapter 6
     
    “The teeth of Hell flay bare and gnash thee flat!”
     
     
    Anne couldn’t sleep. She shared a bed with Bella, who always caught cold at the change of seasons and was snoring heavily. Bells from nearby Jervaulx Abbey clanged periodically, owls hooted, and through the open window the October sky glittered with stars. Her thoughts turned to Richard.
    Eighteen months had passed since he’d come to Middleham and so much had changed. Life was exciting now. Before Richard she had been so afraid. Messengers always brought bad news, villages pretty in the spring were charred ruins when she returned in the fall, and young men who left the castle to fight returned wounded and drenched in blood, if they returned at all.
    Voices murmured and hushed footsteps fell in the stone passageway. She tensed. Bella stirred. For a moment, light fell through the crack under the door, then it was dark again. Anne exhaled with relief.
    “What is it?” Bella demanded, still half asleep.
    “Only Mother, going to the village to help a woman give birth.”
    Bella sat up on an elbow and rubbed her eyes. “Why are you still up?”
    “Because you’re snoring.”
    “I don’t know what you see in Dickon,” Bella replied, guessing the truth. She fluffed her pillow. “He’s so glum.”
    “He’s… different…” Anne replied dreamily. “Like the knights the troubadours sing about.”
    “Pooh. He doesn’t laugh or like to dance.” Bella pulled up her covers.
    “He likes music and books.”
    “I hate books,” Bella retorted. “They make me sneeze—except for the one with the pictures of the nude statues in Padua.” She giggled. “I dusted that one carefully.”
    Anne’s eyes flew open. “Where did you see such a thing?”
    “In Father’s chamber. Cousin Tiptoft brought it back for him. Father hasn‘t any idea he has it. He never reads, unless it’s a treaty or something. Do you want to see it?”
    Anne blushed a furious red. “No.”
    “You’re well suited to Dickon, sister. You’re no fun either. They say his brother George is handsome and witty and loves to