Free Geoffrey Condit by Band of Iron

choice.  King Edward made his summons, and we were too close to avoid joining the army.  It was bloody.”  He remembered the fear - long lines at the latrines the night before, shifting anxious men, and stomping horses sharing the half light of dawn.  Finally, relief when the killing began.
        “Anthony Will told me King Edward knighted you,”   Catharine said.
        “Aye.  On Bloody Meadow.  I’d saved his brother from a battle ax.  Then he executed my uncle.”
        “But your uncle was sworn to Lancaster and the Duke of Somerset.”
        “True.  He refused to deny his allegiance.”  Peter turned away, tears fresh on his scarred face.
        “I am sorry, my lord.  He was my intended.”
        Peter turned back, unashamed, his gaze locked with hers.
        “He meant a great deal to you,” she whispered, eyes wide, face serious.
        “We took him home with us.  Edward allowed the right of honorable burial.”  He wiped his eyes, and cursed the freshness of a memory twelve years old.
        “My lord?”
        “Thank you, John.”  Peter took the note from his retainer, and opened it.   Cursing silently, he chewed his lower lip.  Rotten timing.  But I have no choice.  He put the note in the cuff of his sleeve.
        “What is it?”  Catharine asked, voice curious.
        “We have to stop in the next courtyard to see an old friend.  It shouldn’t take but a few minutes.”
        “You look troubled.”  She shifted in the side saddle.
        “Troubled?”  He reined in a restive Grey Harold.  “I suppose I am.  This friend doesn’t know I’m married.”
        Catharine gave him a curious look.  “Your friend will be upset?”  A double gate yawned open and they walked their horses into a wide courtyard before a two story manor house.  Brown eddies of dust swirled around their horses hooves.  Grooms took their reins.  The creak of saddle leather, and clang of metal on metal sounded as they dismounted.  Their armed retainers were ushered toward the kitchens for refreshment.  The smell of fresh bread wafted across the courtyard.   The chatter of servants, the nicker of horses mixed in the air.  The gate closed.
        A tall graceful woman, her shining brown hair in coiled braids, walked to greet them.  Her brown gown trimmed with fox fur kicked gently behind her with each step.  Mischievous green eyes lighted with pleasure.  “Peter.”  She held out her hands.
        Peter took her hands, and bowed, kissing her creamy cheek.  “Jane.”  He swallowed, wanting to be away, but this had to be done.  He schooled his face, uncertain feelings working in his chest.
        Jane turned to Catharine and took her hands.  “And who is this enchanting creature?”  Her fingers felt the iron wedding band, and she recoiled.   Face pale, she glanced at Peter and recovered.  Her smile, now like glass, returned.  “I’m sorry,” she said graciously.
        “Lady Jane Beauchamps, this is my new wife, Catharine Clifford.”
        “By the King’s command,” Catharine added.
        “Richard did this?”  Jane’s astonished  gaze rested on Peter.  She still held Catharine’s hands, and her face remained pale.  He could see the frantic struggle for control taking place in her.   Sick inside, he willed himself to control his face and voice.
        “His Grace gave me the former Clifford Barony of Westmorland.”  Peter accepted the goblet of watered wine, and sipped.
        “A Lancaster stronghold.  He secures it with you since you’re known to bind your people to you with love and justice.  What more could a King want?”  She nodded, restoring Catharine’s hand, and accepted a goblet of Renish wine.  It trembled in her hands.  “A wise move.  Your family is known to be free of treachery and ambition.  Good for the Realm.”
        They stepped into the manor house.  Peter wanted to take Jane in