Page 7 of Veil of Winter

They would go to Jacob’s sister’s cottage nearby so that Elyce could rest until her strength came back and she was able to ride. Then the three of them would travel to the Holy Roman Emperor, King Wenceslaus, in Prague and appeal to him for his help. Her hope was that King Wenceslaus would be so displeased with the enslavement of her people that he would send soldiers to stop King Claude and King Leandre.

It was a good plan, and she was confident it would work, even though it was fraught with risk and danger.

Her only other choice was to marry Rodrigo and let her people be enslaved.

No, she could do this.

She could and she would.

Two

Dericott Castle, Bedfordshire, England

“Wasn’t it a beautiful wedding?” Gerard’s sister, Delia, sighed. “Audrey and Edwin looked so joyful and in love.”

Gerard walked along with Delia and her husband, the Duke of Strachleigh, down the path that led to the lake where a pair of swans had their nest. Gerard liked watching the snow-white birds swim serenely with their chicks.

“It was a beautiful wedding.” Strachleigh put his arm around Delia.

Gerard was glad his brother, Edwin, was happily married, and he was equally pleased his sister, Delia, had found a husband like Sir Geoffrey. He was a good man, gentle and kind and self-sacrificing. Gerard could not have chosen a better man for his only sister, and he was grateful that God had put them together.

“Perhaps yours will be the next wedding,” Delia said, turning to smile at him.

“Me?” Gerard stopped. “A man cannot marry when he has nothing to offer a woman.”

“Nothing to offer? You are a well-trained knight in the king’s service, a great swordsman and fighter. And you have your good looks.”

Gerard snorted. “A lady might rather have a home than good looks.” He hoped to distinguish himself in some manner in order to be rewarded with a castle, but such favor was rarely granted when no war or uprising was occurring.

“Not necessarily,” Strachleigh said. “Not if the lady already has a home but needs a protector or champion.”

“Indeed, Gerard. There is something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.” Delia reached into her pocket. “I have a letter here from my friend Princess Elyce of Montciel. As soon as I read it, I thought of you.”

Gerard forced himself not to groan. Was Delia trying to match him to a foreign princess? Princesses did not marry destitute knights.

Delia’s eyes were scanning the letter. “Here’s the part. Listen to this. ‘My father intends to marry me off to a man who is odious to me, and it will seal the fate of my people. Instead of being allowed to lead happy lives as shepherds and woodworkers, they will be put to work in King Claude’s copper and iron ore mines in Valkenfeld. My father won’t listen to reason; he is so controlled by King Claude and consumed with how he himself will profit from this scheme. I am pondering a plan to make everyone thinkI am dead so that I can escape and find someone—a powerful duke or even King Wenceslaus—to help free my people from this tyranny.’”

Delia folded the paper and gazed into Gerard’s eyes. “Can you imagine? She’s so desperate she would feign her own death and run away from home! I feel so much empathy for her. I know what it is like to be that desperate.”

She spoke of the ordeal they’d endured when he and all his brothers had been falsely accused and locked in the Tower of London. Delia had shown herself to be brave and loyal, and had proved that women were not to be discounted when danger and treachery were afoot.

His heart did go out to this young princess his sister had been corresponding with since the two of them had met at a ball a few years before. And he did have some time to himself, since his lord, the Duke of Westmoor, had given him a few months to visit his family.

“Where is Montciel, pray tell?”

“In the mountains near France. It is part of the Holy Roman Empire, though I have heard King Wenceslaus pays no attention to it,” Delia said, her expression hopeful, her eyes big and fastened on his. “It is not so far. Will you go and help her?”

“Help her? How exactly am I supposed to help her?”

“You can raise an army, save her from that Claude of Valkenfeld. Perhaps convince her father that it would be detrimental to his country to force her to marry this man. Warn her father that King Claude is not a man to be trusted.”

“What an imagination you have,” Gerard said, “to think Iwould have so much influence and power. Who am I? Only the second son of an English earl, a knight. Why would her father, the King of Montciel, listen to me?”

Delia was glaring at him now.

“I’m sorry, Delia, but it does seem like a strange errand you’re trying to send your brother on.” Strachleigh was smiling gently at his wife.

“But someone has to help her. I cannot bear the thought of her marrying someone unworthy of her, of her people being sent to the mines against their will.”