JUSTICE OF THE ROOT
THE ORDER OF THE ROSE BOOK 2
ABBY GORDON
Copyright 2019 by Abby Gordon
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction of utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidding without the explicit written permission of the author. Any resemblance of fictional characters to persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.
ISBN:
Imprint: Independently published
Cover art by Angela Anderson
Author’s Note
Every effort has been made for accuracy in depicting the life of the times – character behavior, morals, mode of transportation, locales, etc. Some license has been made regarding language and speech patterns for both English and French. As much as possible, historical persons such as Elizabeth Tudor and actual members of her court have been characterized as faithfully as possible. However, again, some license has been made for this work. Certain events through the course of this series are historical record. I have made use of them, inserting characters where actual names of those involved were not mentioned. Please note that the accuracy extends to male and female gender roles. For the most part, women had little power. Elizabeth Tudor was the exception, not the rule.
Dedication
To brave women throughout history
who stepped forward and spoken the truth.
Cast of Characters
Twentieth Century –
From London
George VI – ascended the throne of Great Britain December 1937 upon the abdication of his brother, Edward VIII then known as Duke of Windsor.
Elizabeth – Queen Consort
Henry – Prince, Duke of Gloucester, younger brother of George VI
Neville Chamberlain – Prime Minister of Great Britain from May 1937 – May 1940
Winston Churchill – Prime Minister of Great Britain from May 1940 – 1945, 1951 – 1955
From Wales
Harry – Root of Great Britain, Baron of Corwyn
Mary – Baroness of Corwyn
Owain – Heir of the Root of Great Britain, Lord Berwyn
Margaret – Lady Berwyn, from Scotland
Griffin – Owain and Margaret’s eldest son, assigned to Buckingham Palace
Sean – Owain and Margaret’s second son, assigned to the London Center
Anna – Owain and Margaret’s daughter, first daughter born to the Root branch in a hundred years, first girl in Order to be named after Lady Anna
Eoin – son of Harry and Mary’s second son who was killed in the Battle of Loos during WWI
Sixteenth Century
At Court
Elizabeth – Queen of England, Wales, Ireland
William Cecil – First Minister, also known as Burghley
Robert Dudley – Earl of Leicester
Thomas Howard – Duke of Norfolk, Catholic, second cousin to the Queen
Thomas Richland – head of the Richland family, holds Jonal Park
Richard Richland – younger brother of Thomas Richland
Henry Richland – youngest brother of Thomas Richland
Mary Richland – half-sister to the Richland brother
Francis Walsingham – the Queen’s spymaster
Ursula Walsingham – Francis’s wife
Lettys Knollys – senior lady-in-waiting, the Queen’s cousin
Danker – handles most of the information gathered by Walsingham’s spy network
Order of the Rose
England - Catalan
Anna Elizabeta – Root of England, Baroness of Corwyn
Owain ap Llewellyn ap Tudor – Shield of England, Baron of Corwyn, cousin to Queen Elizabeth on her father’s Welsh side
Griffin ap Llewellyn ap Tudor – Owain’s younger brother, a Thorn in the Order
Daffyd ap Powyn – Owain’s cousin on his mother’s side
Eoin ap Powyn – Daffyd’s cousin on his father’s side
John Hawkins - Sea Hawk for the Queen
Rose – assigned by Walsingham to attend Anna and Alicia
George – a Thorn in the Order, runs the Seven Roses Tavern
Miles – George’s orphaned nephew
Dickon – a Thorn in the Order
John - a Thorn in the Order
Normandy
Raoul – Root of Normandy, Baron of Rouen
Etienne – Heir of Normandy
Arnor – Captain of the Norman Roses
Guillame – a lieutenant of the Norman Roses
Jacques - a Thorn in the Order, stationed in London
Gascony
Bernard – Root of Normandy, Baron of Bayonne
Armand – Heir of Normandy
Marc – Armand’s oldest legitimate son
Antoine – Captain of the Gascon Roses
Stephan – a lieutenant of the Gascon Roses
Alicia – Protector of Anna Elizabeta, Root of York and Catalan
Phillipe – a Thorn in the Order, Alicia’s brother
In York
John Gray – senior Elder of York
Ellie Gray – his wife
Thomas Black – Elder of York
John Black – Thomas Black’s son
Celeste Black – Thomas Black’s elder daughter, betrothed to Edward Talbor
Joan Black – Thomas Black’s younger daughter
Charles Black – Elder of York, Thomas’s younger brother
Anelle Black – Charles’s wife
Julia Black – Charles Black’s elder daughter
Meggie Black – Charles Black’s younger daughter
William Talbor – Elder of York
Edward Talbor – William’s only legitimate son
Edmund Rich – William’s proclaimed bastard
Sir Godfrey – Captain of the York Roses under Root William
Geoffrey – Sir Godfrey’s grandson
Sir Jasper – a Thorn of York
Denby – instructor of the boys at Talbor Manor
Thornby – Denby’s nephew
Bessie – Denby’s sister, cook at Black One Manor
Act One – Whispers of War
Chapter One
Buckingham Palace, February 1938
Wearily, the king drew on the cigarette as he read the paper. Setting the sheet aside, he picked up the next one and grimaced.
“From Ireland to Germany,” he muttered. “Britain seems always to be deviled by one or the other.”
The knock on the inner door was a relief. As was the cheery face that appeared when it opened.
“Bertie,” Elizabeth chided gently. “It’s nearly midnight. You should be asleep.”
“And so should you,” he replied, stabbing the cigarette into the crystal bowl.
“What’s the problem with that one?” she asked, her gaze going to the file before him.
“Herr Hitler appears to be purging his army,” the king answered with a scowl at the paper. “Damned inconvenient of Eden to resign before all this. And with the trade talks with Ireland nearly resolved.”
“For now,” Elizabeth commented.
“Yes,” he agreed with a sigh. “For now.” He smiled at her. “What are you doing up so late?”
“I was finishing the account Corwen gave you,” she answered, coming to him with the thick leather-bound journal in her hand. “You’re sure he wouldn’t mind that you gave it to me?”
“Quite sure, darling,” Bertie told her with a nod. “His last words were ‘I hope her majesty finds it interesting.’ Obviously, he knew you would want to know what was discussed and to read it.”
“Mm,
” she murmured thoughtfully, putting the book on the desk. “Then you need to request he visit to answer a question.”
“What question is that?”
At her next words, the king blinked then read the page she opened to. Sitting back, he reviewed the conversation a few weeks earlier.
“I’ll make a note for Tommy to summon him,” he decided, reaching for his pen.
Two days later, there was a quick double-rap on the outer door. The king glanced first to his wife on his right and his brother on his left. Both nodded. Settled, the king glanced at the door. He was much more confident with this audience. He was king and he understood how these men would respond to him. The journal had told him that much. A reverence for the royal family, in particular to the reigning monarch, was in their blood. It was rather a heady feeling for someone who for so long hadn’t been sure of himself as Duke of York, much less as king.
“Come.”
A young man in royal livery appeared. “The Baron of Corwen and Lord Berwyn, your Majesty.”
“Thank you,” the king answered. “You should stay as well, Griffin.”
“As you wish, sir,” the young man nodded obediently.
Closing the door behind the two men who entered, Griffin stepped to the Baron’s left. His father, Lord Berwyn, was on the right. Berwyn’s left arm was in a black sling and his eyes seemed slightly glazed as if still recovering from the incident that had injured him. Gazing at the three of them, the king marveled at the sight. Proud, strong, loyal men. Part of a tradition that went back centuries. Part of a secret order only monarchs had been privy to.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted them. “Corwen, I have a puzzle that I believe you can solve.”
“Whatever I can do, sir,” the baron replied solemnly.
The king tapped the leather journal in the center of his desk. It was the only item besides a framed photograph of the queen and princesses and the large royal calendar.
“The chronicle mentions Lady Anna telling Queen Elizabeth that each Root and his or her heir will meet with each monarch and his or her heir, correct?”
“Now, I realize that Lady Anna didn’t stipulate a time frame for such a meeting, but I had Tommy go through records.” The king was watching and saw Griffin’s brief grimace before his expression became as mild as his father and grandfather’s. So, Elizabeth was right. “Each of the prior meetings, besides after the Duke of Windsor briefly became Edward VIII, was within a few weeks of a monarch or Root dying. Is that correct?”
“It is, sir.”
The king thought he detected a note dread, perhaps hesitation or reluctance.
“So, why the delay in requesting a meeting with myself and the Duke of Gloucester?” the king demanded. “Did you think the Duke of Windsor’s abdication absolved you of one of Lady Anna’s orders?”
“That’s not the reason, sir,” the Baron answered.
“Then explain,” the king requested shortly. “And the queen is staying. It was she who found the discrepancy.”
Lord Berwyn glanced at his father. “Told you she would catch details others wouldn’t.”
The king caught the queen’s smile at that compliment.
“Yes, yes, as did your mother. She said a Scot would see and want an answer,” Corwen muttered, slightly testy before meeting the king’s waiting gaze. “Sir, after the Great War, the Order as a whole was greatly decimated. There have been times throughout history where one or another branch was reduced and nearly destroyed by plague or war, beyond the deliberate destruction of Catalan and Tuscany. But the Great War…” his voice drifted. “Six months after Armistice Day, including children, there were just over two thousand of us. As an Order, we lost four thousand in combat, and that many again due to the war’s effects and the Spanish Flu.”
The queen gasped, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes widened in shock.
“That’s horrible,” Gloucester murmured in sympathy.
“We fought for our countries, for our kings, the way we always have,” Corwen answered simply. “And paid a high price for it. To be quite honest, when the Roots gathered in Paris during the treaty discussions, we weren’t sure how or even if we should continue as an Order.” A blend of dismay and disgust filled his eyes. “The Root of Frisia was furious at how Germany was being made the villain. The comments in the press, by national leaders in Paris, it all enraged him and his Heir. He demanded that the four of us go to our ambassadors and insist on something else.”
“Demanded?” The king was astonished. Everything he’d understood from the journal and their previous conversation was that the Roots avoided such displays and confrontations.
“We did speak to them, sir. Not in the tone or language Frisia wanted, but we were increasingly concerned at how things were being handled.” The baron shook his head. “Quite honestly, I think the Americans were allowed to dictate too much of the terms. I know that France and the Low Countries were devastated by the war –.”
“Indeed,” the queen murmured with a slight testiness. “I lost a brother at Loos.”
“As did I, ma’am,” Berwyn whispered.
“Despite our personal losses,” Corwen continued after a brief silence. “The Roots still sought to hold to our vows. To maintain peace. To keep justice within our lands. The demands of the Americans and the French, and I’m sorry to say, the British as well, to focus on Germany for reparations and punishment was misguided.”
“Is criticizing your government part of your vows?” Gloucester wondered, a censoring tone in his voice.
“When it makes such egregious errors as that? And considering what is happening now, sir?” Corwen asked back, eyes narrowing. “Absolutely.”
“What does this history lesson have to do with the king’s question?” the queen pointedly brought them back to the reason for the meeting.
“After the Great War,” the baron replied with a nod in her direction. “Plus, the perhaps naïve hope that peace was finally at hand, we withdrew into our strongholds. We focused on licking our wounds and taking care of what remnants we had left. Flanders, in a miracle comparable to Anna’s surviving Catalan, still had survivors. The Root had sent all those under thirteen to Rouen as soon as war was declared. Normandy sent them and the children of his branch to Bayonne and Berwyn. Assets from all three were sent to Wales as we were considered the safest.” Tears filled his eyes. “When the war was over and the Spanish Flu had taken its toll, there were only seventy members of the Flanders branch. Normandy considered itself fortunate to have two hundred. Both their Roots and Heirs were killed in action. Gascony and Wales had about six hundred fifty each.”
“Leaving roughly over four hundred for Frisia,” Gloucester did the math in his head.
“Correct, sir,” Berwyn confirmed, then glanced at his father who had recovered his composure.
“Given the ruin of the Order, the losses, leaving only children to carry on their branches,” Corwen shook his head. “Gascony and I agreed to focus on sheltering the children, waiting until they’d grown to see if we did indeed need to rejoin the world. When King George your father died, I will admit to feeling rather poorly used by the Duke of Windsor. I wondered if perhaps the need for the Order had come to an end. Or perhaps we needed to change our raison d’etre.”
Gloucester glanced at the king and queen. “David could have that effect on people.”
“As did she,” added the queen. Her tone and expression left no doubt as to whom she referred, nor her opinion on that woman.
“So, thirteen months after I’ve been king, after the coronation, you reached out for a meeting.”
“I did, sir.”
“Why now?” The king hoped his tone conveyed that the answer had better be a very good one.
“Because, sir, events of the past year, indeed the past several years, have convinced me that the Versailles Treaty did not give Europe a chance at peace. And given the actions lately of Germany, I’m very much afraid the worst
is yet to come.”
“You could have come sooner,” the king said bluntly.
“I apologize for that, sir. I have been in contact with the other Roots. Flanders, Normandy and Gascony are also worried.”
“And Frisia?” Gloucester leaned forward slightly, tension in his voice and body.
All three Welshmen clenched their jaws. The baron finally answered.
“I regret to say that the Frisian Root firmly believes in Hitler’s Third Reich. Ten days ago, Flanders and Normandy went to his hold and were beaten from it.”
“Beat – beaten from it?” the king couldn’t hide his shock nor control his stammer. That goes against everything they’ve told me, what was in the journal. They might not get along, but for this?
“Badly, sir,” Berwyn confirmed with a nod. “Frisia demanded they enter alone. Roots have always been considered sacrosanct and inviolate when amongst those of the Order. I was waiting outside the gates with ten men.” His entire body trembled with rage. “Frisia stole their Root badges, stripped them of their clothes except for their pants. He then let his men thrash them with their fists and feet. And then, he personally whipped them to force them down the quarter mile drive to the gate. Normandy and Flanders are younger than Griffin, sir. They defended themselves as best they could but –” He shuddered, the remembered horror of what had been done to the young men in his eyes. “It will be weeks before they recover.”