the men was invariably related to at least one of the occupants. As they ate, they would discuss Richard's downfalls and the merits of Richmond--the greatest of which seemed to be the former's lack of Welsh blood and the latter's abundance of it. Although Elena knew a good deal of Welsh, she did not tell Gareth and was content to let him ramble on. For some reason she could not fathom, he seemed to feel compelled to translate a carefully edited version of what they had spoken about before they went to sleep. Although she never let the three men see it, she was growing more and more disturbed by what she was learning of her sovereign.
Elena had long prided herself on her knowledge of the political games that were played at court. She knew details of Buckingham's rebellion she doubted Richard even knew, and she could recite the line of the Woodvilles--Edward IV's in-laws and a constant burr to Richard--back for two generations. But despite her time spent in court, she never knew that a majority of the churchmen who served on his governing Council were from Richard’s home in northern England and that these men had no knowledge of the workings of the rest of England. In truth, Richard placed such a greater value on the northern shires that he all but ignored the needs of the southern shires.
And, though Elena refused to mention it to Gareth or his friends, she knew that Richard had planned to marry his niece, King Edward IV's daughter, Lady Elizabeth. Elena remembered the frightened determination on Elizabeth's face that day less than a fortnight ago when Richard's entourage was attacked. A marriage between two so closely related would have been ruled incestuous by the Church, except that the clergy running the Church were undoubtedly Richard's men.
And no matter what evidence was lacking, there was always the question of Richard's two young nephews. They had not been seen since Richard's coronation and speculative rumors about their fates had been whispered even in Queen Anne's presence.
On the evening of the fifth day since leaving Gruffydd and Catrin's house a thick, wet fog set in, blanketing the forest in a swirling veil through which they could see no more than a few feet in front of them.
"Cynan!" Gareth called ahead. "Are you sure you can find the house in this fog?" he asked, referring to their day's destination.
Cynan reined his horse in until Isrid was even with it. "It can't be more than an hour away, even with this weather. I've no taste for sleeping in the fog and would have us push on."
Gareth grinned. "Still afraid Lucifer will sneak up on you?" When Cynan shot him a withering look, Gareth said, "Very well, continue, but let's hurry. I'm about to fall out of my saddle with exhaustion. It looks like Bryant's already out," gesturing at his sleeping friend whose head was resting on Cynan's back.
"Aye, he's been asleep for the past hour or so." Gareth looked down at Elena who, seated sideways in the saddle, was comfortably curled against his chest, asleep. The fog had spangled her hair with diamond droplets and Gareth resisted the temptation to touch them. Nudging Isrid on, he followed Cynan.
Cynan's estimate proved to be far short of true. Two hours later, Gareth's head kept nodding forward and he would jerk himself awake and urge the slowing Isrid on. Elena had not once awakened and even through his exhaustion, Gareth couldn't quell the tender feelings her form evoked as it pressed against him for warmth and comfort. Without realizing it, his head bent forward until it rested on the silky softness of her hair. Despite their days on the road, she still smelled fresh and clean. Like mint, he thought.
Gareth awoke with a start, realizing Isrid had finally slowed to a stop. Rubbing his eyes, he nudged his horse with his spurs. "Come on, boy. We've got to catch up to Cynan." He stared hard into the darkening fog, but could see no movement indicating Cynan was in front of him. "Cynan!" he yelled and his voice was muted and swallowed by the swirling fog.
Elena started at Gareth's shout and straightened. "Are we there yet?"
"Damn!" Gareth muttered. Glancing down at Elena he said, "No, we're not there yet."
"How much further, then?"
Gareth hesitated. "I'm not sure."
Elena turned to ask Cynan but saw only thick white mist in all directions. "Where is Cynan?"
Again, Gareth hesitated. "I'm not sure."
Elena turned back to look