With fair winds, the thirty ships of Henry Tudor's army landed in native Wales on the 7th of August. Adelaide couldn't express her gratitude enough that the journey had only taken them a week. She was one of the first to disembark once the ropes and lines were secured. Several people jumped out of her way as she rushed down the docking ramp; Charity, baby Ben, and Roland hot on her heels. Adelaide could have kissed the ground once her feet met stone and the sea's swaying ceased.
"Well, hopefully, this is the last time we venture across the channel," Charity laughed, patting Adelaide's shoulder as the latter fought to regain composure and breathe steadily.
Adelaide didn't have the energy to muster a response. Her eyes simply trailed over the small port city of Mill Bay that resided on the northern side of Milford Haven.
The town's people who Adelaide managed to spot were rather lackluster in their welcome. She hadn't necessarily been expecting a grand welcome, but their disinterest was somewhat shocking. She was grateful they weren't antagonistic at least but disappointment echoed in her chest that they weren't more enthusiastic.
Adelaide and the others all knew that the people of this area disliked King Richard, but now it was evident that they weren't entirely sold on the idea of Henry as the king either. But, then again, she couldn't blame them. Since the War of the Roses began the Crown of England had swapped heads far too often for anyone to grow attached too quickly. She doubted anyone was going to feel secure with the monarchy until this war was over; until either the Yorkists or the Lancastrians were left standing.
After Adelaide had regained her footing and the seasickness had faded, she headed back to the docks to assist the others in unloading the supplies. Charity led Roland to a nearby tavern to eat and rest. Once the horses were on the ground, stretched and watered, and the men rested and armored they were to march on Dale Castle that resided nearby. From what Adelaide understood, they would move to Haverfordwest in Pembrokeshire next, gradually making their way inland towards King Richard and his army.
But first, they had to deal with Rhys ap Thomas, the Lieutenant of West Wales.
"It would be most beneficial for us if he defected to our side," Jasper said later that day.
He along with the rest of the inner circle occupied the captain's quarters of the ship they had sailed on. Adelaide had been unhappy about being on the water again, but at least they weren't moving.
Henry nodded in agreement with his uncle's words and leaned over a large desk littered with paper; some maps, others correspondence letters. Kayden was positioned to his right and riffling through the pieces of parchment. Adelaide was certain he was searching for something of importance regarding Rhys, anything to determine the type of man he was.
"If we can avoid fighting so early after our arrival, we should do so," Henry commented, sighing and leaning onto his hands. The candlelight flickered over his face ominously, making the lines of anxiety evident as worry needled into his brow and shoulders.
While they spoke, members of their party filtered in and out. Anthony switched guard duty with Marcus as Theodore left to check on the men in the fields and inns. Having a group with mixed loyalties and origins was hazardous, so they were doing their best to keep them under control. So far they hadn't had to worry about inner-group conflict too greatly, though. The English and Welsh exiles kept together separate from the French mercenaries. As for the few Scots in their mists, they were manageable and blended with the others effortlessly.
Henry continued discussing strategy with Jasper as Adelaide looked over document papers. There were a number of people from here to London that they would have to win over or fight, and the reality of their situation was overbearing. She wondered how Henry hadn't crumbled under the pressure yet.
But as she looked at his side profile, it was clear he was feeling the stress. Anxiety rippled off him like heat and fear was evident in the shadows of his face. To anyone else, Henry would appear calm and collected, a man in control. But to Adelaide, who knew him better than anyone else, she saw the turmoil. Henry didn't know this land, these people. He wasn't familiar with war. He wasn't a strategic expert. He was just a young man with the hopes of a country laid upon his shoulders.