In Honor Bound (3 page)

She struggled, bewildered, against him.

"Please, my lord, not before your father and the court–"

He did not answer her as he pulled her back to where the king stood. He did not change his flinty expression.

"Here, my liege, is my choice." He turned in fierce triumph to the crowded hall. "Come! Music for the queen of my heart!"

The musicians struck up a jarring, merry tune and Philip spun the fearful girl a few defiant turns around the room, then he halted at the foot of the stairs, a wicked smile marring his handsome face.

"Good night, my liege, my noble ladies all! Come, Kate, it's long past time we were to bed."

He pulled her up the steps after him and the room began to buzz with murmuring. Robert's face was a deep red.

"Before God and all the saints, dare he shame me before my court? I will have the strumpet whipped out of my kingdom!"

"Softly, my liege," Dunois counseled, forcing a calm over the rage that thrashed through his blood. "Do that and he will likely follow after her. He is proud and the more you belittle his choice the more his honor demands he hold to it. Let him have until spring as you promised and by then, knowing the changeable nature of young men, he will be pleased to be rid of the girl."

"And what of his betrothal?"

"The more you urge him, the more his pride will resist you. Leave it for now, speak gently to him when next you meet, and we will find a way to put all right. Let him consider the fair ladies he might have, the great wealth and honor that comes with each of them, and this worn dishrag of a serving wench will be quickly shook off."

"You speak wisely," Robert said, mollified, and there was a touch of humor on his face. "I've half a mind to simply give him to your daughter, in payment of all you've done."

"Too much honor for my poor house," Dunois said, fighting to keep any trace of smugness off his face. "What could my humble service have meant, in truth, to your nobility? Any man would have done so much."

"Not so, Edmund. I rest your debtor still and, if my insolent boy braves me so once again, I may well use him in paying that debt."

***

The next morning, Philip went to his father's chamber and requested a private audience.

"His Majesty is not yet risen, my lord," Dunois informed him. "If it shall please you, I will take him your request and return you his answer."

Philip thanked him and set himself to wait. He did not expect that the space of one night would be enough to cool his father's anger, and he steeled himself to meet the full force of it. He would be humble and ask pardon for his rashness the night before. Surely peace with his father was worth that much pride. Surely Katherine was.

"Have you puzzled out all the mysteries of the ages yet?"

Philip lifted his head and saw Tom grinning down on him.

"What, do I look so perplexed?"

Tom sat next to him, looking not for the first time at the fine sapphire cross that hung around Philip's neck, only half concealed by his shirt. Doubtless he had noticed that it was the same one Katherine Fletcher had worn but wore no longer, just as Philip no longer wore the ruby ring that marked him as a Chastelayne prince.

"I suppose you've been summoned to answer for last night."

"I was a fool," Philip said. "That was no way to win his liking for Kate. All I did was shame her and make him the angrier. I came to make it right with him, if he will let me, but, no, I was not summoned. Were you?"

Tom nodded. "I expect it will be more upon this favorite theme of his – marriage."

"Can you do it, Tom? Marry for policy?"

"I would I had freedom in the choice, as much as you do, but even before Father was king we knew it would not be so. They say Lady Elizabeth is fair and virtuous. I shall make it all my study to love her as it was meant a wife should be loved and I dare say we shall be happy enough. I cannot believe God will let it be otherwise."

"What if you loved already? Would you let them marry you to someone else?"

"If I loved a woman truly and knew I could love no other, I suppose I would have to marry my beloved, no matter the cost." Looking steadily into his eyes, Tom tucked the cross back inside Philip's shirt. "Then I would tell Father I'd done it."

"Tom–"

"You might have told me. I've kept your counsel before."

"How could you know?"

"I know you."

Philip smiled, blinking away the telltale burning in his eyes. "I love her, Tom."

"I know that, too."

"I know what I've given up in marrying her," Philip said. "I'd pay that price and a dozen times over for the love she has given me."

"Father might not think it such a bargain after what you've doubtless cost him in some alliance or other."

"He needn't know for some while yet, I hope."

"Well, now you've done it, tell him. He will be vexed, but not so much as if you were his heir."

Philip shook his head. "Not as yet. Let the country be more at peace than it is now. He will be angry enough as it is. If he knows she is truly my wife, I fear what he might do. Now he pleases to think I am a stubborn, wantonly boy. He thinks I will tire of her soon and make one of his precious alliances. Our best safety lies in that."

"Good morning, my sons."

Philip and Tom leapt to their feet and bowed deeply as their mother came from the king's private chamber. She was dressed in a robe of sky blue velvet, with the rich lace of her shift peeping out at her wrists and throat and her hair falling in golden ringlets down her back. She looked as fresh and fair as a bride. It was little wonder that their father found arranged marriages nothing to fear.

"Madame my mother," Tom murmured.

"Madame," Philip echoed, and she looked at him as if they shared a secret.

"You were indiscreet last night, Philip."

"I do beg your pardon, madame," he said with another bow. "I know you think me intemperate and disgraceful, and for that I am heartily sorry."

"I merely said you were indiscreet." There was a sly smile on her full lips. "A true gentleman is always discreet with his mistresses."

A true gentleman has none,
Philip thought, his eyes turning cold, but, before he could reply, another voice interrupted.

"Elaine, my love, not gone yet?"

The boys bowed once more and their mother curtseyed as the king came from his chamber. He pulled his wife to him and said something low in her ear to make her giggle, then he put her hand in Tom's.

"See your mother back to her ladies, Tom, while I talk to this rascal here. Then I shall wish to speak to you."

Philip looked at his brother, surprised at the king's affability, but Tom merely gave him a quizzical smile and led his mother away.

"Now, my son, you wished to see me?"

Philip drew a deep breath. "Yes, my lord. My behavior last night was most unbecoming, and I wish to apologize for it. It ill suits the son of Lynaleigh's king to make such common display before the court, and I crave your pardon."

"Bravely spoken," Robert said, clasping his shoulder. "We were both of us too hot in speaking last night. Let us say no more of it and it will soon be forgotten. I have perhaps pushed too hard in this matter of marriages. You shall have until spring as I promised."

"I shall?" A smile broke thorough Philip's incredulity. "Tell me what service I may do you now to prove my obedience."

Robert ruffled his son's thick hair. "Go to your brothers, tell them to put on their royal white. We are to make procession through the streets this afternoon in further celebration of my reign. The lord mayor has asked it at the people's request, and I can grant them no less. Show bravely for
Afton
today, and I can wish no more."

"I will!"

At the appointed time, Philip and his brothers met in the courtyard, dressed as their father had requested. Their horses were also decked in the immaculate luster of the royal white, ready for them to mount. Beside them, the king's groomsman was calming a skittish
Barbary
roan, one the princes had never before seen.

"Whose horse is that, Hawkins?" Richard asked, impressed by the beast's fiery temper.

"His Majesty's, my lord. A gift from the lord mayor."

Richard held out his hand. "Let me try him."

"I cannot, my lord. Not until His Majesty says I might."

Richard frowned, and Philip tried to stroke the roan's nose.

"Have a care!" Hawkins warned as the horse snapped at him. "He's hardly tamed."

"Father will let me ride him," Philip said lightly. "I shall see he is gentled down."

Tom laid his hand on the roan's flank and was nearly kicked for it. "Best have a care, Philip. This one will throw you, like as not."

"Nonsense. I've never been thrown yet."

"Not true," Richard said, laughing. "I remember once you walked home bloodied and bruised because old Samson had tossed you off in the forest."

"He did not!"

"He did." Richard looked to Tom and John for confirmation. "You were no more than twelve, as I remember, but I thought it odd that you'd been thrown. You never had been before and not since."

"I remember that day," John said before Philip could protest again. "You must have fallen hard, you were so battered."

Tom laughed. "You were so mortified, you'd not even speak when Nathaniel was searching you over for broken bones."

"Odd I'd not remember it," Philip said with a puzzled grin, "but it'll not likely happen again." He swung up onto his horse, a long-legged black, and patted his silken mane. "Not likely, my Alethia."

"This one is not so fierce as Hawkins says," John said, feeding the roan a handful of fresh straw. The horse showed no hint of skittishness.

"What's this, boys?" the king asked when he came into the courtyard with his dazzling queen on his arm, both of them also in white.

"A gift from the lord mayor, Father," Richard said eagerly. "May I ride him?"

"Sometime. Today, I shall."

"You ought not, Your Majesty, pardon me," Hawkins said. "He is very skittish."

"Do you let me decide on that, Hawkins. Give me the reins, man."

Hawkins obeyed, and soon the king was in the saddle, the roan's only protest a whinny and a little pawing of the ground. Robert smiled.

"There. No need to fear now. Come, let us go among the people. I would have the lord mayor see how fitting his gift is for a king."

Hawkins helped the queen up onto her palfrey and, bowing, handed her the reins.

"But where is your lady, Richard?" she asked.

Richard's mouth turned down in annoyance. "She asks your pardon, madame, and yours, Father, but she is ill with the coming child and cannot ride today."

"They say that happens often," Elaine said gaily, "though I have not found it so. Not once in four times."

"Have patience, Richard," Robert advised, smiling upon his own wife. "You will find yourself well rewarded the first time you hold your heir. Let your lady have her rest now. You mustn't risk the child."