Ooooooh oh my! What a mad adventure! Left me breathless and giddy and sooooo in love with this fictional Edward Plantagenet, Earl of March. He is "awefully" perfect and tops my top favourite heroes. If i were to face Medieval madness for anyone, that would be young Edward (and yes, he is quite young for being the main love interest, but don't let that mislead you, he is completely captivating and charming and brave and irreverent). I loved the dichotomy between such impeccable gallantry and the utter bloodthirstiness of the era, situations and people. It makes for a very intense reading, so prepare to stand amazed, ladies and gentlemen, this romance has a plot! In fact, the romance skilfully fades into the background for a big part of the story. The complexity of the story comes from the treacherous political intrigue of the 15th Century that our heroine, Robyn Stafford, must navigate to reach her love or her own century. And that intrigue is compounded by witchy machinations (yes, mostly harmless witchcraft is involved, but does not detract from the story). Robyn Stafford is a kickass heroine and she and Edward are lovely together. This is a passage from their first meeting, when a recently defeated/fugitive/charged with treason Edward first mistakes Robyn for a boy and she takes him for a homosexual lunatic:
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Robin Stafford of Holy Wood. What do you do when you are not giving aid and comfort to fugitive earls?" He sounded lighthearted given his family's plight, but even on short acquaintance she could tell Edward believed in making the best of bad fortune, assuming he would somehow set things right. Such youthful sureness made her smile.
"I work for a movie studio," she explained. "Production work mainly. Phone calls, fielding pitches, reviewing scripts, keeping overpriced creeps happy—that sort of thing."
Edward looked thoroughly puzzled. "A moving studio?"
"You know, Hollywood. Show biz. We make pictures."
He plainly did not know. "You work for an artist? A painter? An illuminator?"
"They are more like plays. I wanted to be an actress, but. . ." She realized she had slipped. But it no longer seemed so important to conceal her sex. For an armed madman, Edward acted pretty harmless. Very concerned and gentlemanly, actually. The whole pretense of being a boy began to irk her. Why shouldn't she be honest? Edward was.
He stared down at her from the saddle, still hopelessly puzzled. "You mean like a mummer? Or in a miracle play? One of those boys who puts a pillow in a gown and pretends to be the pregnant Virgin?"
"Sort of." She nodded glumly. This was getting nowhere. "It did not turn out to be all that easy."
"I can well imagine."
[...]
Robyn stopped. This was where they should part. She had no need be there when Edward found his sanctuary to be a ruin-cum-tourist-trap. He rose happily in the saddle, peered down the path, and then turned gratefully to her. "Well, you need not be ashamed," he told her. "Not in the least.""Really?" She already felt bad for the fun she had at Edward's expense. And for the letdown he faced.
"Yes. You would make a fine female, with your fair skin and quick wit. You have the face and voice for it. Pad your figure, put on a wig, and Holy Wood could not want for a better woman. Forsooth, I would fall madly for you myself."
How chivalrous. She grinned up at him, seeing how badly she misjudged his intentions. What she had taken for a gay come-on was warmhearted good humor. Edward Plantagenet, earl on the lam, lost in Wales, hunted by the mad king's men, his noble family fleeing or in custody—yet he took time out to cheer up a common roadside waif. A sexually confused lad, stricken with fits of talking to his hand. Whose biggest ambition was to prance about dressed like a woman. True noblesse oblige.
"Anything's possible," he insisted, "if you put your whole being behind it." She could see he really meant it. An earl at seventeen, rich and handsome to the hilt, but he truly meant to help her. "Come wear my livery," Edward begged. "I do not normally invite beautiful young strangers to commit treason—but you are an exception. Join the fight for justice. When we set England aright, you may get your wish as well. We will have you playing the Blessed Virgin at Coventry on Corpus Christi Day."