Medieval Master Swordsmen(83)
“But…,” he came away from Christopher’s still-upstretched hand. “Elizabeau’s hair is not the same shade of red; it is more golden. Carys’ is very red. Moreover, they have differently colored eyes. Carys’ are brown, Elizabeau’s are green. They do not look much alike.”
Conrad looked at him and Rhys could see the same longing he himself felt. The man is in love with Carys yet searching for a woman he does not want to marry. It struck Rhys like a bolt and he literally stumbled. He was astonished.
“My people have never seen Elizabeau,” Conrad said softly. “They would not know any different. How many people in England would know the Lady Elizabeau on sight? I think no one will know one red haired woman from the other.”
Rhys and Christopher stared at the young prince. Christopher eventually turned away and wandered a few feet to collect his thoughts. But Rhys stood there with his heart pounding in his throat.
“This is not merely about Elizabeau,” he said hoarsely. “This is also about my sister. You are speaking of two women I love dearly and I do not want to see either one unhappy. How does Carys feel about you?”
Conrad smiled and his pale cheeks gained a bit of color. “She adores me as I adore her. We are very happy together, your sister and I. She cried when I left to come and find Elizabeau. It was very difficult for me to leave her.”
Rhys thought about his young sister, so lovely and bright. He began to think about her as a consort for a prince, posing as the bastard daughter of Geoffrey of Brittany. Then, as suddenly as hope for the situation had come, it was dashed just as swiftly by dark, horrible thoughts.
“If she poses as Elizabeau, she will have to live in fear of assassins for the rest of her life,” he felt his veins run cold. “She will be thrown into the political arena without any knowledge of what she is truly getting in to. She’ll be food for wolves and I cannot, in good conscience, knowingly allow that. She is my baby sister.”
Christopher turned to look at him from several feet away. “It is a foolish idea, Rhys. There is no way that I, as a member of the court and English nobility, could knowingly allow what the prince is suggesting. It would be treason of the highest degree. Moreover, you forget that de Burgh has seen Lady Elizabeau. He will know the deception immediately.”
Conrad moved towards Rhys, his fair face desperate. “But this is for the good of everyone,” he pleaded. “Your sister knows who I am. I have already told her of this plan and she has agreed. I will protect her from those who would seek to do her harm; I have very good men that will see to her safety. And you… you could marry Elizabeau and come back with us to Saxony. You would be able to see to the protection of your sister if you did and Lady Elizabeau could serve as my wife’s lady. Do you not see this? It is a perfect plan. It is only right that we marry the women that we love!”
He ended on a passionate cry. Rhys stood leaning over the back of the horse, unable to think straight. It made so much sense to him but, for Carys’ sake, he was more torn than before. He looked beseechingly to Christopher, who focused on the prince.
“My lord,” Christopher made his way back over to the man. “Although your logic is sound, this is an impossible scheme. Rhys and I are doing as we are ordered and so are you.”
Conrad’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “I am a prince,” he tried to sound intimidating but it ended up coming out as a trembling sentence. “I give orders, I do not take them. I will break this betrothal with Lady Elizabeau and marry Carys.”
Christopher was on very delicate ground but maintained his customary cool. “I understand your frustration, my lord, but in this case, surely you understand the need to stay the course. You are promised the throne of England if you marry Lady Elizabeau.”
“I do not want the throne!” Conrad snapped. “I want to marry Carys. I will marry Carys.”
Christopher lifted an eyebrow. “If you break this betrothal, you will have made an enemy out of England. Are you willing to accept that responsibility? Do you think your uncle, the Holy Roman Emperor, will understand?”
Conrad backed down, looking uncertain and miserable. He changed his approach and fixed on Christopher. “Please, mein herr… can you not see how miserable we are? Can you not help us to be with the women we love?” He gestured towards the keep. “I see that you love your wife. Can we not know the same happiness?”
Now it was back on Christopher and he did not like it one bit. He sighed sharply, hearing Conrad’s soft plea and knowing the truth of it. He was in sympathy, that was true, but he also understood his sense of duty better than most. What Conrad was suggesting was sedition.