Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 (18 page)

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.

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.”

“There is no doubt that her ladyship’s ability will be
an asset to the crown during these troubling times with France. Emissaries from
Louis will be arriving in the spring. We shall have need of her,” he replied
absently.

Fulke’s heart plummeted. Henry intended for them to
remain at court through the coming winter and beyond. He found only one small
glimmer of hope. “I fear my lady does not understand French, Sire.”

With Henry’s next words, the glimmer burned out.
 

“I am the first English speaking king since before my
father, am I not? I shall command that Louis’ emissaries speak English whilst
visiting my court.” He sought to reassure him. “Be at ease, Fulke. I will have
the lady moved to a larger chamber on the morrow. She will be granted access to
all the court holds. What woman on our fair isle would not dream of such?”

In such a position, Fulke knew Reina would be nothing
more than an object of scorn.

Shrewdly discerning his thoughts, Henry lifted a brow.
“Since when have you cared what others think of you, Fulke?”

“It is not for me that I am concerned.
 
My lady’s upbringing was understandably
sheltered. She is innocent of courtly ways.”

“In that case, I grant you favor.
 
My backing will assure her acceptance,
despite her infirmity. As to her innocence, she is married to you, is she
not?
 
With your rumored exploits in the
bedchamber, I vow her innocence to be a thing long past.”

“Will you protect her from the slander that is sure to
be spoken about her?”
 
Fulke ventured
softly.

“Would you have me bother with court gossip?” Henry
shot back. “I have the fate of the realm in my hands.”

He remained silent, as Henry sighed.
 
“It is not my wish to quarrel with you on
this matter, Fulke.
 
I have assured you
that no harm shall come to her ladyship.
 
I cannot see you having an aversion to sharing your woman, yet she
naturally has strong feelings for you.
 
I
have given her my word that nothing is required of her outside the hall.
 
This should be satisfactory to you.”

“It shall be as you command, Sire,” he conceded.

“I do not understand you,” Henry raged. “When last we
met, I fancied you cross for denying your request to enter the Knights Templar.
In so refusing your rash appeal, I have acted justly on your behalf.
 
Now in lieu of homage, I am forced to endure
your annoyance over a mere woman.”

“It is not my intent to insult you, Sire.”
 
Despising himself for it, he added, “I fear
my lady’s diminished capacity compels me to be overprotective where she is
concerned.”