Awaken My Fire (53 page)

"In heaven, then."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing."

"Well, what party are you with, good sir?"

"Oh, madam, I do hesitate to say."

"Yes? Why?"

"I fear I am with the king's party, madam."

Her blue eyes widened with alarm, but the man hastened to assure her. "Please do not be alarmed, for the secret of your dilemma is quite safe with me."

She trusted him, without knowing why; she felt certain her confidence was safe with this man. "Dear me." She thought of her dress, all the things yet to be done in preparation of meeting Henry at last, of wanting so to make a good impression, despite her animosity. For she wanted to speak with him. If she could just have a moment or two alone, if that were somehow possible, then perhaps she could plead her case for France and convince him, somehow, to give up his foolish quest. A grand notion, but then she would always believe in the magic and miracles of the great mystery of life.

Her thoughts traveled in these circles, and she turned back to the man to ask, "The king's party has arrived already?"

"Well, no. Not yet. My stallion was a bit feisty and so I raced on ahead."

"Your stallion?" She looked doubtfully at his clothes. "You are not, why, you are not one of the king's knights?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Do you know the king?"

"Aye, that I do."

She turned away, musing. “My husband has made me swear not to bother him with my pleas for my country's people, and though I agreed, I had my fingers crossed. For I must speak to him—"

"Oh?" He was interested in this. "And what is it you would say to the man?"

"Nothing to the man, but I fear quite a lot to the king. I would beg him to reconsider his quest for the crown of France, of course, and though it is no doubt a foolish prayer, I would do this by presenting the reasoning that England herself would be so much better off if he would consider signing a treaty with Charles, a peace treaty, one that binds our two countries together and leads to the prosperity of both. You see, once there is peace, there can be trade again. Papillion always said that the measure of a country's well-being is the weight of its merchants' purses, and if he just thought about it in this light, the king might see how much the merchants on both sides of the channel would benefit, and therefore the populace. France needs English textiles, armaments and foodstuffs, and naturally, such a treaty would open up trade routes for England through Switzerland, the Holy Roman Empire and Italy as well. England, as you might know, would benefit from our mills and wine, and timber from our forests, and I have been thinking that such a treaty might be predicated on, well, on his marriage—"

"The king's marriage?"

The man appeared startled by the idea, then amused, and Roshelle quickly added, "But you see, Henry does need to be married, does he not?"

"Indeed. I happen to know he gives the very question much thought."

“
'I believe it. He is not getting any younger and he still has not chosen. Of course, the King of England can only marry a princess of impeccable royal lineage, and how many are there in our world?"

Roshelle went on to answer the question, describing each living princess before dismissing each for her damning faults: age, vanity, piety, ugliness as well as various inescapable political liabilities. The man had heard the exact list many times before; he was impressed with her knowledge and judgments.

"So," she concluded, "as anyone might see, that leaves only one princess, and fortunately for the king, she is intelligent and pious, charming and good. If she suffers any fault at all, I am sure I do not know it, and I know her quite well."

"Yes, yes? Who is this virtuous lady you would have as queen?"

"Why, Catherine of Valois, of course. I could not but help think that, as the daughter of the king, Charles the Sixth, and half sister to the Dauphin, Catherine of Valois would be such a fine queen, a queen of England God Himself would surely smile on—"

A light knock sounded at the door. Failing to notice the curious effect of her speech on her audience, Roshelle motioned to a servant to answer the knock before she realized there were no servants here. Not if this man was a knight.

She rushed to the door.

The door opened. Roshelle looked with surprise at the group of men. Dressed in a fine black-and-gold doublet, Vincent stepped in first, staring with some alarm at finding Roshelle in the room. His Majesty's steward, Lord Albert, followed, then his head archer, and two lords and chancellors, Richard of Avington and William of Wykeham.

"Your Majesty . . ."

Alarmed that she had yet to don a proper dress or even a caul, she searched the group for the man who would be Henry of England. Yet all gazes went to Vincent's table as heads bowed respectfully, including her husband's.

Roshelle suffered a moment's confusion. A very long moment of confusion. Yet there was no escaping the humor on the man's face. It announced both his name and his exalted title. Her blue eyes widened dramatically, and she gasped. Vincent looked from Roshelle to Henry and back again, alarmed by the look of horror on Roshelle's face.

He started to introduce Roshelle when Henry erupted into laughter again.

Roshelle closed her eyes and begged for divine intervention as she dropped to a deep curtsy. "Your Majesty, I . . . I—" Her blue eyes lifted briefly, lowering quickly. "I hardly know what to say, how to even begin my apology. Oh, God of mercy, when I think of what I said, of all I said—"

"There's no need to apologize and please, call me my Christian title . . . that is, if you can manage to do so without cursing."

Vincent stared down at Roshelle, not knowing what she had said to the King of England, and wishing he would never know. He sighed before asking, "Why do I have the distinct feeling this is something I am going to hear about for years?"

"Decades." Henry still laughed. "Decades. I must congratulate you, Vincent. I know of only one person in all of England able to be so startlingly frank with me, and believe me, the lady's uncensored speech is as refreshing as a cold dip in frigid waters."

While Vincent glared at Roshelle, the men chuckled nervously, and only because Henry laughed so heartily. "And then adding to the lady's obvious unmatched beauty and charm is a most unexpected wisdom as well as perspicuity of counsel. As a matter of fact, she has just presented me with a most arresting idea."

The men looked stunned, waiting to hear of it.

Roshelle crossed her fingers. Again. Dear Lord, he had listened. The King of England had listened to her speech. He was not angry. Not only had she amused the King of England with her grandiose monologue, but he had heard her concerns.

"Yes." Vincent was very interested. "And just what counsel did my dear wife give you, your Majesty?"

"Lady Roshelle has just recommended none other than Princess Catherine of Valois as a possible candidate for queen. For the life of me, I do not know why my counselors and bishops had not thought of the virtuous lady before!"

The men exchanged glances of disbelief. Lord Albert stepped forward. "I believe, sire," the steward said with the barest hint of sarcasm, "that the reason you have not heard that woman's name mentioned before has much to do with the war between our two countries."

King Henry of England had never been interested in the numerous obstacles to his course of action and he dismissed these with a wave of his hand. "Small objections, all in all. Certainly, we should write to the good lady and see her response. She is a princess, and such a match, I believe, would no doubt please not just God but the merchants and— "

"The merchants, sire!"

The King of England smiled at Roshelle. "As I am sure you all know, the measure of a country's well-being is the weight of its merchants' purses—"

The roomful of men burst into an excited, heated debate of the merits of this plan and Vincent turned to a wide-eyed Roshelle. Another memory to add to hundreds of hundreds of others: Roshelle's historic first meeting with his king. Trying without much success to control his laughter, he leaned over to kiss her forehead.

"Forever, Roshelle, forever ..."

A promise she would see that he kept, just as soon as, "I must see to our little Henry..."

*****

A special note to my treasured readers:

If you enjoyed this book, try another of Jennifer Horsman’s historical romance novels: Magic Embrace, Forever and A Lifetime, A Kiss in the Night, Passion’s Joy, and Virgin Star…