Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 Read online

  A single tear tracked down Reina’s face as the women finished their tasks. Motioning for Reina to step down, the elder woman barked a command. Retrieving the stool, the group departed as quickly as they had come.

  Before Reina could sag in relief at their departure, more servants swept in carrying a large wooden tub to set before the fire along with steaming buckets of water to fill it.

  Pouring rose scented oil into the water, two young girls remained behind. Without a word, they assisted her to undress. Guiding her into the high-backed tub, the girls motioned for her to lean forward. Piling her hair on the top of her head, they scrubbed it clean with rose-scented soap, before rinsing it with warm water. About to relax in the soothing water, they motioned for her stand.

  One girl gestured for her to stand by the fire, before combing her hair dry. The other patted her down with a fine linen cloth. Discarding the cloth, she held up a silk damask dressing gown of dark gold for Reina to slip into.

  The girls dropped into quick curtsies as they departed, leaving her breathless at the speed in which they had accomplished their task.

  Pausing to see if any more interruptions were forthcoming, she wearily made her way to the window-niche. Drawing her legs up, she wrapped her arms around them, resting her cheek on her knees. The cold wind from the river caused her to shiver as she peered up at the darkening sky. Her heart aching for Fulke, tears tracked down her cheeks as she envisioned his reaction to the latest court gossip.

  In a few short hours, she would be dining with the king in her new capacity, and she was terrified.

  Just replaying her meeting with the most powerful man in England had her heart racing in fear.

  Her trembling had been so evident on the way to the meeting, Talan had reached out to soothe her by touching her sleeve. The unspoken display of support allowed her to gain some semblance of control as they approached the massive oak doors.

  A score of solemn men-at-arms lined the narrow passage outside the king’s meeting chamber. Holding long pikes with sharp iron tips, they stood motionless as the trio moved past.

  In silence, the guards on either side of the doors stepped forward to open them.

  After what seemed like an eternity to Reina, the king’s herald appeared. “The king awaits.” Moving aside, he motioned for them to precede him.

  Glancing at Reina with a reassuring smile, Talan extended a hand towards the door.

  She dipped her head, willing her legs to move forward.

  Flanked by Albin and Talan, she entered with her head held high. The long narrow hall’s vaulted ceilings led to a raised dais at the back. Focusing her gaze on the brocade coat of arms hanging behind the dais, she avoided the pointed stares directed at her.

  Curious to get a glimpse of her, groups of nobles craned their necks to get a better view.

  Seated at the center of a long ornately carved wood table, sat King Henry. Terrified, Reina sought the resolve to approach the most powerful man in England. Son of the great conqueror, Henry looked nothing like the dashing warrior she had long imagined. Two years short of three score, the king was of stout stature. Parted down the center, his dark curly brown hair reached below the collar of his gold damask tunic. Sporting a pointed beard and mustache, his long nose stood prominent beneath dark, shrewd eyes.

  Henry studied her slow approach, even as he leaned forward to sample from one of the heaping platters set before him.

  Reina’s nervous stomach lurched in protest as she caught a glimpse of the king’s preferred fare. Covered in a rich cream sauce, resided an elongated sea creature akin to an eel.

  Scooping up a piece of the offending fare, he stuffed it in his mouth as she reached him.

  Dropping into a low curtsy, she kept her frightened gaze focused on him.

  “Rise, Baroness Erlegh.”

  Before Reina finished complying, Henry’s cold gaze swept across the hall. “Leave us,” he bellowed.

  The crowd of nobles, courtiers and servants scrambled to obey as Talan and Albin stood firm behind her. Narrowing his eyes at their insolence, the king waited for an explanation.

  Talan dipped his head. “Sire, her ladyship has need of my assistance to communicate.”

  “Sir Albin?” he questioned coolly.

  “I shall await in the passage, Sire.” Dipping his head, he braved a slight nod to Reina as he turned.

  The king gestured for Reina to take a seat beside him.

  Making her way to the steps of the dais, she gripped her skirts with trembling hands. Seating herself in the chair beside the king, she returned her frightened gaze to him.

  “Might I tempt you with a plate of lamprey, your ladyship?” Gesturing to the platter set before him. “They really are quite delicious.”

  Shaking her head nervously, she jumped back in alarm when the king’s manner abruptly changed. “Tell me how you can understand me, if you cannot hear me,” he commanded.

  Glancing towards Talan, she waited for him to move to the base of the dais.

  Talan nodded slightly in encouragement. “What would you like to convey, my lady?”

  “Please inform the king," she paused. Unable to continue, she stared at Talan in helpless appeal.

  "Take a deep breath to calm yourself, my lady."

  Avoiding the king's disapproving gaze, Reina struggled for control. Clasping her hands, she tried again. "Warin spent the better part of his childhood showing me how to communicate by reading lips.”

  Her bottom lip trembling, she returned her gaze to the king.

  The king turned his gaze on her after Talan finished speaking. “How very intriguing, your ladyship. I should have known Fulke would have found a way to be matchless in his selection of a bride.” He stared hard at her. “You can perceive what I say without the knight’s assistance?”

  At her reluctant nod, he turned a cold eye to Talan. “Leave us.”

  Talan bravely stood his ground. “Sire, if you wish the lady to respond to you, I must remain by her side.”

  “She only has to listen, knight. Do not make me repeat myself.”

  Seeing Talan hesitate, she leaned forward to get his attention. “Please Talan, you must go.”

  “What did she say to you, knight?” the king demanded.

  With a last glance at Reina, Talan turned to face the king. “She gave thanks to me, Sire. I shall remain in the passage, should you have need of me.”

  “I should not waste your time, knight.” He waved a hand in dismissal.

  The king waited for the doors to close, before turning back to Reina with a calculating look. “I am not one to trifle with flattery, so we shall get to the gist. You are a woman with an extraordinary gift, your ladyship. During these difficult times with France, the realm has need of your service.”

  She tilted her head, confused.

  “Since you are a woman, I will speak plainly. You will observe and report back to me conversations I feel would be of import to the crown. There will no doubt be talk of your infirmity. Yet no one would suspect a beautiful woman of duplicity, especially if she were presented to the court as my favorite.”

  Reina gasped at the implication.

  The king stiffened. “It is obvious the idea is repugnant to you, my lady. Tell me, does your affection fall elsewhere? Perhaps to your husband?”

  At Reina’s anxious nod, he visibly relaxed. “Verily, I am pleased to know it. Fulke’s path has not always been an easy one.” Spearing an apple, he held it up. “It would be most unfortunate indeed if I were forced to punish him.”

  Her heart began to pound as she waited for Henry’s next words, willing to do anything to keep Fulke safe.

  Flicking the knife, the apple dropped to roll off the table. Leaning back in his seat, Henry appraised her. “I cannot fathom Fulke having a lasting attachment to you. Though beautiful, he grows easily bored with women.” Seeing her fascination with the knife, he flung it aside. “He is bound to be labeled a cuckold,” he continued. “Yet I see no other alternative.
Henceforth, you shall be presented to the court as my favorite.” He ran an admiring gaze down the length of her. “Unless you desire to pay homage to your sire, you have my pledge it will be in appearance only.”

  Fighting back tears at his harsh words, Reina feared what would happen to Fulke should she refuse. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly gave a nod of assent.

  Henry clapped his hands. “Excellent. You have made a wise decision, your ladyship. The crown thanks you for your invaluable service.” He leaned forward. “We shall begin this eve at the feast. I intend to unite my daughter with Geoffrey Plantagenet, the Heir of Anjou. You are to watch him closely. I shall send a summons for you on the morrow.”

  At her slight nod, he said, “You are not to publically communicate in any way with your knights, or all will be for naught. Do you understand me, your ladyship?”

  Left with no other choice, Reina nodded.

  “You will instruct your knights to maintain complete discretion. I have faith in Sir Albin's ability, yet feel the arrogant knight you presented with may need proper instruction, lest he vex me. My guards shall be dealt with in due course.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I am glad we reached an amicable understanding, your ladyship.”

  Rising on trembling legs, Reina curtseyed. She felt the king’s gaze bore into her back as she exited the hall, and held her head high. Ignoring the curious stares of the nobles crowded in the passage, she numbly followed behind a footman.

  Away from the staring crowds, her vision blurred. Brushing absently at the tears streaming from her eyes, she knew Fulke would never open his heart to her now.

  Henceforth, she would be known as the king’s whore.

  ELEVEN

  By the time the footman knocked on the door, Fulke was prepared to throttle him to find out Reina’s whereabouts.

  He flung open the door with a snarled, “Where is my wife?”

  Ignoring the question altogether, the footman intoned, “King Henry has summoned his lordship to a feast.”

  His hands raised to reach for the man, he heard Albin clear his throat loudly behind him. Fisting his hands, he glared his wrath. “What of my private audience?”

  Unperturbed, the footman did not even twitch. “The feast shall begin to the bells of vespers, your lordship.” Turning on his heel, he stiffly walked off.

  Albin’s grip on his shoulder kept him from following the infuriating man. “Ease up Fulke,” he said softly. “You cannot help your lady from the Tower.”

  Accepting the bitter truth of his words, Fulke slammed the door. “I cannot think straight for fear of what is happening to Reina.” Dropping into a chair, he hung his head. "Send for a bath, I must prepare for the feast.”

  * * * *

  Fulke faced his troubled knights as the bells sounded at the conclusion of prayers. “The lady shall return to Castell Maen. I wager my life on it.”

  Talan stepped forward. “We shall be in the barracks should you have need of us, my liege.”

  Mingling with the crowds, he entered the Great Hall, his eyes scanning the chamber for Reina. Seated on the dais beside Henry, she sat with her back stiff, her head held high.

  Anger threatened to consume him to see her in the place reserved for Henry’s current favorite. Following a footman through the crowded tables to his seat, he ground his teeth in frustration, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

  His anger turned to agony as he took in her appearance. She was thinner than when he saw her last. Her sculpted cheekbones were more prominent, and there were dark shadows beneath her downcast eyes.

  Garbed in a dark blue velvet kirtle with gold embroidered trim, she wore an under-dress of fine white linen. Braided to the crown, the mass of her shining hair flowed loose down her back beneath a white linen veil.

  Even with her pallor, she was the most beautiful woman in the room. Taking in every detail of her flawless face, he noticed with a twinge of pain that something else was different about her. Her eyes no longer held the sparkle that made her spirit shine. The convent had not taken it from her, he had.

  Glancing up at his approach, he caught his breath. Even with the pain he had caused her, love blazed from her eyes. Pausing before the dais, he fisted his hand over his heart, bowing low before her.

  Henry shifted in his seat, drawing Reina’s attention to him. With a last look of longing at Fulke, she lowered her eyes.

  He dipped his head to the king, without taking his eyes from her. “Sire.”

  Henry frowned at the slight. “Baron Erlegh,” he replied coldly.

  Continuing on his way, Fulke vowed he would never willingly leave Reina’s side again.

  Escorted to a table in the back of the hall, Fulke waved the footman away. Taking his place, he was unmindful of those seated around him. Once again returning his gaze to Reina, his eyes widened, before narrowing. Henry leaned in a way that gave the impression they were engaged in a passionate embrace. Calling for wine, he accepted a goblet from a passing tray. Gulping it down, he called for more.

  He turned at the sound of a mirthless laugh. “Can it be that the king’s churl is besotted with his own wife?”

  Glad to have an outlet for his anger, Fulke sneered at the thin, balding man seated beside him. “I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you Reynold, but tell me, how is the lovely Arabella these days?”

  Flushed with anger, Reynold leaned close. “You dared make a cuckold of me, Erlegh. I will have my justice, mark my word.”

  “If I recall, your wife was not unwilling. In fact, if I recall correctly, Arabella was laying in wait for me with her creamy thighs spread wide.”

  Reynold hissed, “You bloody louse. If you were not in the king’s favor, I would demand justice before night’s end.”

  Fulke’s smile did not reach his eyes. “In that case, I shall be sure to keep an eye on my back.”

  Glancing towards the dais, Reynold suddenly changed his tactic. “Tell me Erlegh, how does it feel to see your petite mute warm the king’s bed so soon after you have taken her to wife?” He slipped into French, “Me disent, pensez-vous qu'elle peut comprendre lui, lorsqu'il indique à lui pour obtenir sur ses genoux?”[1]

  Slamming his fist on the table, Fulke leapt to his feet before he could stop himself. Silence reigned in the hall as all heads turned to find the source of the distraction. His hands clenched into fists, he glared in fury at Reynold.

  “What is this?” The voice boomed in the sudden silence. Swearing under his breath, Fulke turned to face Henry. “Is there aught amiss, Baron Erlegh?” He rumbled in clear disapproval.

  Meeting Henry’s cold gaze, Fulke called, “No Sire. I apologize for the interruption.”

  He cursed himself for allowing Reynold to goad him into an outburst when he found Reina’s worried gaze settled on him.

  King Henry inclined his head. “See me after the feast, Baron Erlegh.”

  “As you wish, Sire.” Stiffly regaining his seat, he ignored the low laugh coming from beside him. Turning his back on the gloating baron, he returned his gaze to Reina.

  Resuming their conversations, nobles began to whisper amongst themselves. Oblivious to their furtive stares, he waved away servants as they passed through with heaping platters of sumptuous fare.

  He frowned to see Reina eat very little as she focused on Geoffrey of Anjou. As the meal progressed, her private meeting with Henry became clear. A beautiful woman beyond suspicion, the king had found himself the perfect spy.

  The hour grew late by the time Geoffrey rose to take leave of the king by doffing his ever present velvet cap. Departing with his large entourage of raucous young nobles, they arrogantly pushed their way from the hall.

  A short time later, Henry leaned over to Reina. Standing, she dropped into a quick curtsey. Nearing Fulke’s table, she paused briefly by his seat. His chest tightened as she braved a sad smile. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, she moved to the doors.

  He was still staring after her when a footman cleared his
throat behind him. “The king awaits, your lordship.”

  Entering a small anteroom off the Great Hall, Fulke found Henry seated in a carved oak chair before the fire. Dipping his head, he said tersely, “It is a pleasure to see you looking so well, Sire.”

  Henry waved his hand in dismissal. “You can dispense with the civilities, Fulke. I am well aware that you are wroth with me.” Raising an imperious hand, a servant hastened to obey the silent command. “However before we commence, I have a nuptial gift for you.”

  Fulke watched with little interest as two servants carried in a pair of large, ornate bronze candle-stands. “Sire, is most kind.”

  A shrewd look entered Henry’s eyes. “Your invaluable service to the crown is recognized, Fulke.” Gesturing to the seat beside him, his gaze swept the room. “Leave us.” Amid a scurrying bustle of activity, the room cleared.

  Seating himself, Fulke waited in tense silence.

  Henry shifted his bulk to face him.“You are aware a growing number of barons object to my naming my daughter Matilda, heir?”

  At Fulke’s nod, he went on, “Then it should come as no surprise that I have summoned her back to England with the intent of betrothing her to Geoffrey of Anjou. This will ensure an Angevin alliance to which some of the opposing barons would then be willing to swear allegiance.”

  Fulke’s stomach clenched as the king’s plan became clear to him.

  Henry steepled his fingers. “Her ladyship has graciously agreed to perform an invaluable service for the crown. During the betrothal negotiations, she will report anything untoward discussed by Geoffrey or his entourage. It is common knowledge that he has high aspirations. Before I agree to the marriage, I need to know just how far they reach.”

  “And after Geoffrey returns to Anjou?” he queried softly.

  “Careful Fulke, you betray feelings for the lady. We both know that to be unlikely.”

  “I am pleased my lady can be of assistance to you,” Fulke replied reluctantly. “My intent is to discern how long her services will be required.”