A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,34

outside under the stars. Elena opened her eyes and dropped her arms abruptly. Where on earth had that thought come from, she wondered. What of her comfortable chamber at Eyri Keep? What of the glittering beauty of Richard's court with men and women alike bedecked in rich velvets and satins, jewels on every finger, entwined in ladies' hair. Music playing softly, candles glowing. Turning to watch Gareth as he climbed atop a huge boulder, she thought, perhaps my Welsh blood is awakening. The idea was vaguely disconcerting. She did not wish to examine the feeling too deeply.

Seeking to distract herself, she called him. "Gareth?"

Gareth smiled down at her from his perch on the boulder where he had been reveling in the peace of the day. She realized she had never called him by his given name, had, in fact, avoided calling him anything at all. "Hmm?"

"Why do you support the Earl of Richmond's claim to England?"

Gareth's smile faded. He jumped down from the rock and approached her.

"Have you ever heard of Llewelyn ab Iorweth or Owain Glyn Dwr?"

Elena frowned in concentration. "They were rebels, were they not?"

Gareth rolled his eyes and sighed. "That is the English version of history, I am sure. They were Welsh princes who both sought to free Wales from foreign rule. Llewelyn in the early thirteenth century, Owain in the fourteenth. Since the days of the Norman Conqueror, William the Bastard, there is scarce a Welshman alive who does not dream of a free Wales."

"What has this to do with Richmond? Surely you can't think he would give up Wales simply because you would help him gain the throne?"

"Of course not. I said we dream of a free Wales. But besides being dreamers, we Welsh are practical. We've not the arms or soldiers to fight off England again. But since we cannot be free of England, the next best thing is to have a Welsh king on the throne. Henry Tudor is Welsh and we would have him rule us rather than Richard of York."

Elena pictured the line of Edward III's descendants as she had described to Enid. Richmond was only distantly related to the Lancasters through a succession of marriages, his mother being great granddaughter to John of Gaunt, earl of Lancaster. “His claim to the throne is shaky."

"And Richard's is not?"

Elena ran through the English line again. "He can claim relation to Lionel, Edward III's second son, as well as the Yorks."

"Henry Tudor is still Welsh."

"And that's all that matters to you?"

"It is the most important quality of many. He is our mab darogan--our son of prophecy. And he has sent a letter to those who support him here in Wales assuring us that he will right the wrongs Richard has caused the Welsh. My father showed me this letter and it has decided me."

Elena opened her mouth to defend Richard, but quickly shut it again. There were too many arguments against King Richard, not the least of which was the suspicion of his part in his nephew's deaths. "Is that why you only refer to him by his Welsh last name instead of his English title, Earl of Richmond?"

"I suppose so," Gareth answered slowly. Changing the subject he said, "I wasn't aware that Richard had begun tutoring the ladies of his court. I have met few English women who were so interested in politics. How came you to be familiar with the affairs surrounding the crown of England?"

"I'm actually not the least bit interested in any of it. I simply have this annoying ability to remember in detail little bits of history I've picked up since I was a child. I guess my father thought it amusing that his six year old daughter could rattle off the dates of every King of England's reign."

"And you're not the least bit interested, eh?"

Elena smiled in spite of herself. "Well perhaps, just a little interested. But only because it's such a forbidden topic for women to discuss."

Gareth laughed. "And is the forbidden fruit that much sweeter?"

"Not really. As I've discovered, politics can be dreadfully boring. Now planning a new dress, that is interesting."

Gareth laughed again. Suddenly he leaned over and kissed her. For a brief moment she leaned into the kiss and her lips opened softly. The next instant she pulled back abruptly.

"I told you once not to do that to me," she said forcefully.

"Ah yes, I forgot,” he said, his voice brusque with anger. “A mere Welsh knight should not reach so above himself as