Chapter Two
Tyringham Castle
Cornwall
Built by the Lords of St. Austell, the House of d’Vant, very early in the twelfth century to anchor the perimeter of their holdings, Tyringham Castle was given over to the de Leybourne family about one hundred years after it was built, as the de Leybournes became the local sheriffs of the southern tip of Cornwall. A Norman-designed circular shell keep, meaning the castle was circular in design with all of the necessary rooms and chambers built into the interior of the circle with a small courtyard in the center. It was built on a rise overlooking Carbis Bay.
To Rhodes de Leybourne, it was home. The smell of the sea, the gulls crying overhead, all of it was ingrained in him, as if such things had been carved into his soul. As he stood on the parapet of Tyringham, watching the bay beyond, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been there to simply absorb the sights and smells and sounds. It seemed like forever ago that he’d perched himself on the stone and watched the bay, a bay that could be bucolic and gentle one moment, angry and rolling the next. Like a woman, it was moody, but that’s what he loved about home. Except for this moment.
He didn’t want to be here.
“What are you doing up here, Rhodes?”
The question came from behind and Rhodes turned to see one of his father’s men approach. He didn’t like most of his father’s men but he happened to like this one; he’d known him for most of his life. Smiling weakly, he returned his focus to the sea.
“I am contemplating throwing myself off of these old walls,” he muttered, looking to the ground some twenty feet below. “I wonder how many distraught men have thought the same thing, Bogomil.”
Bogomil de Sauster chuckled softly as he came to stand next to Rhodes. He, too, peered down to the rocky ground below. “There have more than likely been a few,” he said. Then, he looked at Rhodes. “What has you distraught, lad?”
Rhodes rolled his eyes, unwilling to look at Bogomil. “You cannot possibly not know the answer to that question.”
Bogomil did. He scratched his neck absently. “Your father is looking for you.”
Rhodes snorted, an ironic sound. “Of course he is,” he said. Then, he turned to Bogomil. “I have been home for nearly a month. You know why I came home, don’t you? Because I received a missive saying that my father was gravely ill and that I needed to return home. But when I came home, I found a man who was not nearly as ill as I had been led to believe.”
Bogomil shook his head. “He has been ill, Rhodes. He has a cancer; you know that. The physics have told you. Sometimes it affects him greatly but other times, he is nearly normal. But those normal times shall soon be gone. Do not lose patience with the man; he needs you now.”
Rhodes struggled not to feel too guilty about his impatience. He frowned, knowing that what Bogomil said was true but unhappy just the same. “Then I am a terrible son,” he said, turning back to the sea as a breeze lifted his long, blonde hair. “I am simply not ready to return to Tyringham and assume my duties as lord of the castle. There is so much more happening in my life right now and returning to the wilds of Cornwall is not something I am ready to do. I am sorry if that sounds selfish, but it is the truth. I know father wants me to do my duty, to marry the de Sansen heiress, but that is not what I want. What about what I want, Bogomil? Does my father even consider that?”
Bogomil looked at the man. He was young, at twenty years and five, but in truth, that wasn’t so young. He was of age to assume the responsibilities expected of him, without a doubt. But Rhodes had always been a lad with wanderlust – when young, he couldn’t wait to leave to foster and once he’d become a knight, he involved himself in court and in the mad politics that were currently gripping England as if Cornwall, and his father, did not exist. He was a native son and he had a respect for the land of his birth, but that was where it ended. He felt as if he should be able to lead his own life, not the life that had been destined for him.
And he was handsome; oh, so handsome. With his shoulder-length blonde hair and eyes the color of the sea, Rhodes de Leybourne’s comely looks had sent many a maiden swooning in appreciation. He was tall, well-built, and had gained a reputation as a fierce fighter for the young Henry VI against those who tried, time and time again, to usurp him. In the rumor mills of London and beyond, Rhodes de Leybourne had quite the reputation as a man of great ambition and the king of many a lady’s bedchamber. Rhodes lived his life as he wanted to but, now, that freedom was in danger.
It was time for the spoiled man to settle down.
“You do not want to hear what I am about to say to you, but it is important that you listen,” Bogomil said. “Your father brought you into this world and he has every right to expect that you will do your duty and marry Lady Lyonette. You cannot go your entire life shirking your duties, Rhodes. If you do not do as your father wishes, then the House of de Leybourne will die.”
“It will not die,” Rhodes snapped softly. Old Bogomil was always good for a lecture or two but he wouldn’t let the man beat him up over duty versus freedom. “I am not saying that I will not ever take a wife but, when I do, it will be a wife of my choosing. It will not be someone I am told to marry. Have you even seen Lady Lyonette? God’s Bones, the woman has teeth coming out all over the place and she is the size of a small child. That is not the wife I wish to take.”
Bogomil fought off a grin. “The last time you saw her was years ago,” he said. “She was only a young girl at the time. I am sure she has grown into herself and become quite appealing.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. And neither will you if you turn your nose up at her and run away. She could be the most beautiful woman in Cornwall now and you would never know it.”
It was a scolding, something Rhodes didn’t take kindly to. He turned to Bogomil, a look of displeasure on his face. “If she was, I would have heard of her beauty by now,” he said flatly. “She is more than likely still a hag and I refuse to marry such a woman. I refuse to marry any woman right now.”
Bogomil listened to him with more patience than Rhodes had shown for him. After a moment, he leaned against the stone of the parapet, sighing heavily as he did so.
“I must admit that I do not like what I am hearing,” he said quietly. “As a lad, you were always eager to leave Cornwall and see the world, but you still loved and respected your father. Years away from him have given you the same spoilt attitude that the ignoble Lancastrians have; you have decided that it is best not to follow your father’s wishes at the expense of your own ambitions. I wonder how you would feel if your son would do the same thing to you?”
Rhodes was not receptive to the suggestion. “Spare me your sermons,” he hissed. “I am no longer a child and you can no longer strike the fear of God into me nor can you make me feel guilty for my opinion.”
“I am not trying to make you feel guilty. I am simply saying you are without honor if you refuse to follow your father’s wishes.”
Rhodes abruptly stood up, facing off against a man he was generally quite fond of. He was at least three inches taller than Bogomil and quite a bit larger. It was size he’d used many times to intimidate but, this time, he wasn’t trying to intimidate the old man. He was genuinely angry.
“I have killed men for less offenses,” he growled. “Even if I have known you all my life, you are not permitted to say such things to me. If I hear that again, I will cut your tongue out. Is this in any way unclear?”
Bogomil simply looked at him, fighting off a smirk because Rhodes was a seriously frightening fellow when he wanted to be. But Bogomil wasn’t afraid of him. He knew that Rhodes wouldn’t harm him, regardless of the threat. Still, he could see that he’d pushed the young man too far.
“Then you have my apologies,” he said. “But what would you call a son who refused to obey his father’s wishes?”
Rhodes hadn’t forgiven him for the insult. “I would call him a man who knew his own mind. There is nothing wrong with that.”
Bogomil simply shook his head. “Your father made this marital contract long ago, Rhodes,” he said, taking another tactic. “Do you not wish to make your father happy?”
“Does he wish to see me miserable simply to make him happy?”
“He wishes to cement an alliance and a strong future for you and your children. Surely you can understand that.”
The problem was Rhodes did understand that. He knew the alliance would be a smart one, regardless of his stalling tactics or his opinions. In truth, he understood everything Bogomil was saying to him, whether or not he liked it. He backed down a bit, returning to his position on the wall and feeling an overwhelming sense of angst. More than resistance to his father’s wishes, there was the confusion that he honestly didn’t know exactly what he wanted out of life. All he knew was that didn’t want to marry and settle down. He looked out to sea.
“I have seen a good deal in my short life,” he muttered. “I have seen men happy in marriage and unhappy in marriage. I have seen alliances that have dissolved and those that have remained strong. I am not entirely sure what I want in my life, Bogomil, but I know I do not want to end up in an unhappy marriage to a woman I do not even know simply to please my father and cement an alliance. Surely there are other alliances to cement and other women to marry. Surely there is more to life than simply duty.”
Bogomil heard the longing in Rhodes’ voice and he knew it well; that was the dreamer he knew, the young boy who wanted to see great things and great lands, the one who was never happy with where he was or what he was doing. He wanted something else. Bogomil put a hand on Rhodes’ back.
“Still searching for your land of gold, are you?” he asked. “Have you not found such a thing yet, in all of your travels?”
Rhodes shook his head, a hint of defeat in his manner. “I am not sure it exists.”
“Mayhap it does, only not where you are looking.”
“That is possible.”
They lingered in silence for a few moments, having weathered the storm between them. Finally, Bogomil patted him on the back and turned away.
“Go and see your father, Rhodes,” he said. “He may not be with us too much longer. Make sure what you say to him… make sure it counts. Do not have regrets in the years to come.”
Rhodes simply nodded and Bogomil left him in peace, still gazing out over the sea, still in a mist of confusion about his future.
Still searching for that land of gold, are you?
Rhodes had to smile when he rolled those words over in his head. Everyone who knew him had always said that to him, the lad whose mind was always elsewhere as if dreaming for a perfect place for him to do what he wanted and live how he wanted. The older Rhodes became, the more he realized that such a place, more than likely, didn’t exist, but he refused to disbelieve the dream entirely.
Somewhere, somehow, there was a place where he belonged and where happiness would be his for the taking. Perhaps it wasn’t something obvious, just as Bogomil said – perhaps it would be where he least expected it.
All Rhodes knew was that he would know it when he saw it.
Someday, the dreamer with wanderlust in his veins would find his happiness.
“You wanted to see me, Father?”
Henry had been laying down in his solar, on a very comfortable bed that had been fashioned in the corner by his manservant. Sometimes his health was so fragile that he couldn’t even make it up the stairs to his bedchamber, and there had been many a night he’d spent in his solar bed.
Hearing his son’s voice, however, he struggled to sit up, coughing because of the cancer in his chest. The cancer had only been discovered because he’d had a cough that would not leave him. He’d had it for a year. The physics told him that he could live another year or another three; they could not be certain. In any case, Henry wasn’t taking any chances. He had business with his son that had to be completed so he could die in peace. Otherwise, he wasn’t entire sure if he could die at all.
Ever.
“Come in, my son,” he said, waving Rhodes in. “I was simply resting. I seem to do a lot of that as of late.”
Rhodes eyed his father; quite honestly, he didn’t look sick to him. He still looked strong and healthy, but he’d had two physics tell him that his father was not long for this world. He still wasn’t sure if he believed them. His father had been known to throw money at people to make them do his bidding, so he wasn’t sure this wasn’t some kind of ploy by his father to gain his sympathy and force him to his will.
“What did you wish to speak with me about?” Rhodes asked politely, although he knew full well what it was.
Henry looked up at his boy; strong, tall, handsome, Rhodes was the perfect man, the perfect warrior. The Lancastrians knew it and they’d used his boy for their petty wars. Truth be told, Henry was terrified to lose his boy to a war between a mad king and a usurper. Even if Rhodes wasn’t happy to be here, at least he was home. That gave Henry a certain amount of peace.
“Sit down,” he told his son. “There is brandywine in the pitcher on the table.”
“I do not want any, thank you.”
“It is from Spain. You know the Spaniards can produce a very fine product.”
“Truly, Father, I do not want any.”
“Will you bring me some, then?”
Rhodes sighed faintly, with resignation, before going to the finely carved table near the hearth and reaching for an alabaster vessel with a stopper that contained a golden-brown liquid which he proceeded to pour into a matching alabaster cup. He almost put the stopper back in but thought better of it and poured a second cup for himself. Taking both cups, he went over to his father and handed the man one. The old man took it, raising the cup to his son and uttering a toast before downing the contents.
“Il n’y a pas de boisson apres la mort,” he muttered.
There is no drinking after death. Rhodes gave his father a rather disapproving expression of the morbid toast before downing the contents of his own cup. The drink was very potent and sweet, setting his throat on fire with the strength of it. Smacking his lips, he went to pour himself more. If this conversation was going to be about his father’s death, then he was going to need it.
“What did you wish to speak about, Father?” he asked yet again.
Henry watched his tall, proud son as the man poured himself more alcohol. He knew, and Rhodes knew, what he wished to speak of.
The time had come.
“I received a missive from August de Sansen sometime before you arrived last month,” he said. “I will show you the missive if you wish, but I am sure you already know the contents.”
Rhodes looked at the man with great displeasure. “So now it comes,” he said. “I knew something had precipitated your missive to me telling me that you were ill and demanding my immediate return. When I finally came home, you had every opportunity to tell me the truth but you did not. You have waited until I am here almost a month before you tell me why I have really come home. Very well, Father; out with it. What did August de Sansen say?”
Instead of appearing remorseful, as everything his son said was true, Henry was defiant. “If I had not summoned you home with news of my ill health, which is truth in fact, then you would not have come,” he said flatly. “It is your own fault I had to lie to you.”
Rhodes rolled his eyes. “So it is my fault you are a manipulator?”
“It is your fault that you evidently want nothing to do with your family. How else am I to bring you home?”
Rhodes knew this could deteriorate very quickly and he didn’t want to get into a battle with his father. It wouldn’t do any good. Therefore, he folded his big arms across his chest expectantly.
“Very well,” he said. “Your lies have brought me home because I am a bloody stubborn ass. What do you want of me?”
Henry frowned. “Can you not even be pleasant to me as I sit here, dying?”
Rhodes eyebrows lifted. “You are the healthiest dying man I have ever seen. I am sorry to stay that I do not believe you. You could have very well paid those physics to tell me what you wanted them to tell me. You are not beyond bribing or buying off people to get your way, so until I see you in your grave, I am reluctant to believe that you actually have a cancer.”
“You hurt me, Rhodes.”
“And you treat me like an imbecile. Are you going to tell me what de Sansen said or not?”
Henry was growing angry. In a huff, he stood up from his bed with effort and shuffled in the direction of the massive oaken table that held all of his business dealings.
“August was very pleased to reiterate his excitement in the coming marriage between you and his daughter,” he said, picking through the pieces of vellum on the table as he hunted for the de Sansen missive. When he finally found it, he read from it. “He is also offering you two hundred marks of silver, five hundred men, and the small castle of Lamorna. You would control the entire western edge of the de Sansen lands. That is a vast area, Rhodes. All tribute paid from those lands would be yours.”
It was, in fact, an extremely generous offer. Rhodes had to admit that he was surprised to hear it.
“Lamorna,” he said, a hint of suspicion in his tone. “Those lands are said to be haunted.”
Henry cocked a bushy eyebrow. “You are too old to believe in ghosts.”
Rhodes cast his father a long look. “Not if you’ve seen some of the things I’ve seen over the past ten years,” he said. “You have only remained here, but I have traveled the world some. I can tell you with some certainty that there are ghosts, curses, and witches. I believe in them implicitly.”
“Lamorna is very rich land,” Henry spoke with shades of sarcasm. “You can pay off the ghosts if they are too bothersome so they will go somewhere else. Rhodes, the point is that this is a very generous offer from de Sansen. He is happy to welcome you into the family, lad, and he is showing his joy. That is an offer any sane man would take.”
Rhodes knew that. He actually felt rather badly that he would have to refuse it, but not badly enough to rethink his position. He sighed heavily.
“Da,” he said, trying to soften what was sure to be an explosive exchange. “I have told you before where I stand on this. You know very well that I do not wish to marry Lyonette de Sansen. It is nothing personal against the girl – I simply do not want to marry her and stay in Cornwall.”
Henry began to turn red around the ears. “This marital contract was made when you were very young. It is expected of you.”
“Mayhap it is, but I will not do it.”
“Would you shame me so?”
“Would you force me, knowing how unhappy I would be?”
Henry looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “Marriage is not about happiness, lad,” he said. “It is about doing your duty. When you marry Lyonette, you will have a great piece of property gifted to you at your wedding and when I die, and August dies, you will control Cornwall from Penzance across to St. Ives. The entire area of Land’s End will be yours. You are ambitious enough that such a prospect should soften the distaste of marrying against your will.”
Rhodes knew his father was right but he simply couldn’t bring himself to agree. They’d had this conversation many times over the years but now, it was about to become gritty. The situation had reached a critical point. Rhodes wasn’t going to back off and neither would Henry. But Rhodes had to make his father understand his perspective.
“Da, listen to me for once,” he begged softly. “For once in your life, try to see this from my perspective. It is not an unattractive offer. In fact, it is a very attractive one. But I do not wish to spend my life here in the wilds of Cornwall. I serve the Earl of Bristol, Bastian de Russe, and Bastian serves the king. My life is with de Russe now and it is my duty and my privilege to go where he tells me to go and fight whomever he tells me to fight. Here in Cornwall… it is like a distant dream to me. Nothing I know or love is here, other than you, and to marry Lyonette and remain here couldn’t be further from what I want in my life. Please try to understand.”
Henry sighed sharply. “I understand that I have raised a selfish son,” he grumbled. “Thank God your mother is not alive to see how you have disrespected your family and, in particular, me. No matter how you try to say it, what you are telling me always comes out the same way – you will only do what you want to do, not what is right for your family. You do not care how this shames me so long as you can do as you please. Well, I will not stand for it. I am your father and it is my right to do as I must for this family and that includes your marriage to Lyonette de Sansen. She and her father are on their way to Tyringham at this very moment and there is nothing you can do about it. I am sorry you have forced me into this position, Rhodes, but had you only understood how important this is, I would not have to assert my authority. You will marry Lyonette and that will be the end of it.”
Rhodes simply stood there, staring at his father, realizing this was a situation that would never resolve itself. His father saw the situation from his perspective and that was it. There was no middle ground. In any case, he was going to have to make some hard decisions now. His father had effectively cut off any chance of keeping their relationship peaceful from this point forward.
“I am sorry you feel that way,” Rhodes said quietly. “You are not making this easy for any of us.”
Henry cast him a pointed look. “I do not have to make it easy,” he said. “I must do my duty to ensure this family survives and so shall you. Now, if you must hate me for it, then get on with it. But you will marry that girl.”
Rhodes was surprisingly calm. Calmer than he should have been, mostly because he knew this was the moment of truth. He would either bend to his father’s iron will or he would follow his own iron will. There was no question that his choice would be the latter, which would lead to consequences he was prepared to face. Knowing that he would be disowned for this, and this might be the last time he ever saw his father, softened his manner considerably.
But he would do what he had to do.
“I do not hate you,” he said. “I could never hate you. But you may very well hate me by the time this is over.”
Henry had made his way back over to his bed; his back was hurting and he was feeling weakened. Strong emotion always did that to him these days. He sat heavily on the bed.
“You are my son,” he said. “I may become angry with you and I may even want to knock some sense into your thick skull, but I could never hate you. I love you more than my own life. I wish you could say the same about me.”
Rhodes watched his father as the man lay down on his bed, grunting as he struggled to get comfortable. The more he looked at his father, the more he was coming to think that maybe he didn’t look as healthy as he had originally thought. Somehow, he seemed older and more frail in just the time they’d been together in the solar. Arguing with a beloved son would do that to a father. As bad as Rhodes felt about that, it wasn’t bad enough to give in to his father’s demands.
He knew what he had to do.
Silently, he quit the solar, leaving his father trying to rest on his over-stuffed mattress. But Henry wasn’t resting as he should have been. In fact, he waited a nominal amount of time before summoning Bogomil and, together, the two of them made their way up to the battlements, hiding out from the activity in the small courtyard below, watching and waiting. If Henry knew his son, and he was fairly sure he did, the man was about to make an escape.
It wasn’t long in coming. A little more than an hour after the conversation in the solar, Henry and Bogomil watched as Rhodes thundered from the castle astride his leggy silver horse and out into the countryside beyond. No farewells, no long moments of parting. Rhodes de Leybourne had behaved as predictably as his father knew he would.
In this matter, Henry would get the last laugh.
He could only pray that the Lady of the Moon was just where she was supposed to be.