The Dragon and the Jewel (48 page)

It was late when they climbed to their impregnable Caesar Tower. “Thank you. You have a magic touch. Until tonight the hall was like bedlam. The beef was tough, the dogs slavered, the men got drunk. Petty quarrels broke out so that no man could agree with another.”

She shrugged prettily, pleased with the praise. “It required only my presence.”

Simon’s deft fingers unfastened her gown, then he quickly
disrobed and stretched his length upon the bed with his arms behind his head. She removed the gown, hung it in the wardrobe, then sat down in her filmy shift to brush her hair.

“Do that after. Why waste your energy when I’ll soon have it in a tangle?” he said impatiently.

“After? Oh, you mean after our talk.”

Simon groaned. She laid down her ivory brush and lifted her leg to slowly remove a garter.

“I am not a lap dog to receive my reward after I have done my mistress’s bidding,” he told her.

“Are you not?” she purred, lifting her leg higher seemingly to peel the stocking from it.

“Admit it, your need is almost as hot as mine,” he said.

Hotter, she admitted to herself. That is why he must begin his talking before his loving or she was lost.

His eyes followed her hands as she removed the other stocking; then his mouth slackened as she lifted off her shift allowing her breasts to spill free. They bounced deliciously as she came to the bed, but once she turned down the sheet she danced away again and picked up the ivory brush. She walked to the fire and informed him, “I am listening.” Playfully she began to brush the curls on the black, silk triangle between her legs.

His mind went blank. He had no idea what she wanted to hear. He licked dry lips. “Christ, stop that before I spill myself on the sheets.”

She made a provocative moue with her lips. “You had better have more staying power than that if you intend to play with me.”

He came up off the bed, lifted her off her feet, and sprawled with her before the fire. She scrambled to her knees, laughing, but before she could elude him, he came up behind her and enfolded her in his arms. He spread his knees and pulled her tight against his groin. She could feel his heavy testes resting against her bottom cheeks and feel his erection reaching halfway up her back. She rubbed against him teasingly, and he brought his palms up beneath her breasts to lift and thrust them forward toward the heat of the fire. “I like to warm your parts before I taste them.” He held her there until her nipples
almost burned his fingers, then he spread her thighs apart to heat her mons.

She moaned low in her throat. “Sim, Sim, you promised you’d talk to me.” At this moment her rosebud was on fire and she knew she didn’t want to talk.

“Kathe, I promise, I promise, only let me do this first. I swear my brain is empty, all the blood has gone to my cock.”

“All right,” she agreed, “just let me hold you to the fire for a minute.” She groaned as her hand closed about his erection. She wanted to scream from excitement, then when he positioned her on the wolf pelt before the fire and plunged into her he felt like a red-hot poker and she did scream. He too cried out with passion as their scalding flesh melded together. They both lost control as their hot climaxes spurted and mingled. Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks and she felt herself drift off to Paradise.

Simon watched the fireshine dance across her beautiful body and knew this was the closest to heaven he’d ever get. He rested in her a long, magical time. When he finally withdrew he got no reaction from her, no usual murmur of protest. Had he slaked her? Was she pretending sleep? He sat up, but she lay on her back, sprawled in silken splendor, not moving an eyelash. He dipped his head to lick the pearly drops on the inside of her thighs and she cried, “Simon de Montfort, the things you do to me are too intimate. Is there nothing you won’t try?”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing this,” he whispered, demonstrating totally immoral behavior.

She shrieked and he carried her to their oversized bed. He straddled her so that his long, hard shaft lay in the cleft between her breasts. She dipped her head to kiss its vermilion tip and giggled as it bucked and jerked each time her lips or tongue grazed across the smooth surface. “Simon, no more. Lie down beside me and hold me.” He complied immediately. This quiet time after they had made love was precious to them. She lay with her cheek resting upon his heart and pressed her lips to the spot, feeling happier than she had since the first blissful night they had spent at Kenilworth.

Suddenly they became aware that they were not alone.

“I heard Mommy laughing,” a small voice said.

“Ah, you want to join the fun,” Simon said. “Come on, then, I know how tempting this big bed is.”

Eleanor whispered, “Simon, I’m nude.”

“Mmm.” He pondered. “That is easily solved,” he said, lifting off his son’s nightshirt. “To sleep in this bed you have to be naked.”

Henry giggled as Simon lifted him on the wide bed, and he slid down rapturously between his mother and father’s naked bodies.

“Don’t tickle me.” He laughed.

“I won’t,” his father solemnly promised, “not unless you start it.”

“Don’t teach him to be uncivilized, Simon,” Eleanor said.

Simon hooted. “Listen to who’s talking! Let me tell you about the time your mother swam in the mere without any clothes on, in broad daylight,” he added wickedly.

Just then they all heard the baby begin to cry. “That’s Simon,” their son informed them.

Eleanor looked helplessly at her husband. “Go on, get him too. Let’s all be together.”

Eleanor slipped into the nursery not bothering with a robe. Kate was just stirring sleepily. “It’s all right, Kate, I’ll take him.” She climbed back into the warm bed and tucked the baby beside her.

“Let me have him,” Simon said.

“No, you great brute, you’d roll on him in your sleep and smother him.” She laughed.

“Before we are done, we’ll fill this whole bed,” Simon promised. He reached for her hand and their fingers entwined.

“Are you ready to talk to me?” Eleanor asked.

Simon sighed. “When a woman’s mind is on politics, she makes a dull bed partner.” He squeezed her hand, feeling more fortunate than any man had a right to feel. “I agreed to help Henry on condition I had a say in things from now on. I had been most remiss in my duty, darling. I had more than a suspicion that your husband William was murdered by Winchester, and of course he orchestrated our exile. Henry finally agreed to investigate him and he fled immediately.”

“But William died in bed right after Richard and his sister
Isabella were wed. Do you mean he was poisoned?” She had often wondered.

“I’m afraid so, my sweet. His brothers have all suffered the same fate.”

“How could Henry be so blind to such wickedness?” she cried.

“How indeed?” he said dryly. “You will be happy to learn that I was able to repay Rickard for his loyalty. I restored Hubert de Burgh to favor. Henry has pardoned him.”

She squeezed his hand. “Your time has been well spent, it seems. I am so thankful you didn’t have to fight in France. Thank God a truce was signed.”

He could not bring himself to tell her there would be fighting ahead.

She laughed at an amusing thought. “I must say it seems an unlikely team. A spirited warhorse like you in double harness with Henry, sharing power.”

An impossibility, Simon thought silently. She would learn soon enough he’d been appointed to lead the opposition to the crown. Let them have a few days of happiness together before she learned that lines were being drawn with Plantagenets on one side and de Montfort supporters on the other.

As Eleanor drifted off to sleep something nameless in the back of her mind nagged at her. She pushed it resolutely away to savor the precious moment here in the big bed with all her men. Her happiness was perfect. Her husband loved her above all things, and they were all together at Kenilworth where the outside world could never touch them.

I
t was not until days later when their guests had departed and Simon had left for the Hocktide Parliament that Eleanor realized he had never explained the presence of the barons. As she reflected, her common sense told her they had been there to hatch a plot. She had absently noticed that Simon had left Kenilworth heavily fortified. Now she suspected it was not done to give her peace of mind. He had fortified Kenilworth against an enemy, and pray who could that be other than the King of England?

The day was overcast and oppressive. Dark shadows loomed everywhere, especially in Eleanor’s mind. She was filled with apprehension and she wished fervently that she had gone with Simon. If trouble arose between her brother and her husband, she was the only one who could smooth things over between them. She found she could settle to nothing, she was restless as a tigress.

Late in the day a steward rode in from de Montfort’s holdings in Leicester. He was sorely distressed that the earl had departed.

“It is obvious there is a problem. You must confide it to me. The Earl of Leicester leaves me in charge whenever he is absent.
I even sit and pass judgment in our own courts of law here in Kenilworth,” said Eleanor.

The steward, red-faced from anger and embarrassment that he must give details of the sordid business to a lady, finally blurted out what had happened. “William of Valence, my lady, thinks he is above the law. He and his attendants stopped at Leicester after a day’s hunting to demand refreshment. When they were given ale they deemed it an insult. They used unnecessary force to break into the cellars and break open the wine casks. They were drunk and out of control …” The steward’s voice trailed off and he hesitated to tell the rest.

“The Savoys are hated by all, and with good reason. They are rapacious by nature. I know that William is a particular favorite of the king, but that does not give him license to commit abominations.”

Suddenly the steward felt he was on firmer ground and poured out the appalling details. “When the servants tried to prevent destruction to the earl’s property, fighting broke out and two of our people were killed. No remorse was shown. The looters went on to rape the maids and smash all the casks in the cellars with axes.”

Eleanor’s hand flew to her throat. When Simon learned of this he would want to kill William of Valence. Oh, God, why must there always be trouble?

The steward knew what he must do. “I shall have to take this news to my lord. I would be derelict in my duty if I did not.”

Eleanor drew a deep breath. “I shall go with you.” As soon as the words were out she knew she had been searching for a reason to join Simon, but why in the name of God did it have to be something that would cause more bad blood between her family and de Montfort?

When Eleanor rode into Oxford she couldn’t believe her eyes. It was like an armed camp before a battle. The streets were patrolled by knights in chain mail, the inns overflowed with men-at-arms carrying longbows. Men were camped from Oxford Castle all the way out to Banbury Road.

In his blind arrogance, Henry had actually come to Parliament to ask for a tallage of one-third of all the belongings in the kingdom, but he gasped when he saw his barons sitting in Parliament
in full armor. On one side was the king, his three half brothers, John Mansel, and the Savoys who were now leading peers. On the other side were the barons led by Simon de Montfort and Roger Bigod, the Marshal of England.

De Montfort wasted no time in making plain the barons’ demands. They must have more than sworn promises that the king would break the moment he left Oxford. They were no longer willing to have their nation involved in madly expensive wars. The administration must be reformed from top to bottom. The offices of justiciar, treasurer, and chancellor must be filled by English nobles of integrity. The challenge was fierce as a swordthrust, and thus ended the first day of Parliament.

Eleanor had taken the precaution of riding with an escort to prevent Simon’s wrath, but when he saw her arrive at the Beaumont Palace where he had made his headquarters, he could not hide the fact that he was furious. White-faced, he took her firmly by the arm and led her to his chamber where they could be private from all eyes if not all ears. “Splendor of God, Eleanor, for once in your lifetime could you not stay put where I left you?”

She took offense. “I love Kenilworth so much, do you think I would have troubled to leave it and journey all this way if it wasn’t important? Damn you, I have only your interests at heart!”

A flicker of apprehension clouded his brow. “What has happened?”

“Your steward from Leicester came with terrible news. It seems William of Valence out with a hunting party stopped at Leicester. When he received no hospitality, hostility broke out and two of your people were killed.”

“The little cocksucker sat in Parliament today sneering at the barons.”

“Simon!” she reproved stiffly.

He looked to her with an apology upon his lips when a thought came to him. His eyes narrowed. “The steward came here to bring me this news, but why did you come, Eleanor?” he demanded. Before she could reply he said, “You have only my interests at heart, you claim, but we both know better than that, don’t we, Eleanor? You feared for your brother, admit it!”

She angrily turned her back upon him. She went to the table and poured herself a drink from the jug. It was not wine, it was ale, and she pushed the goblet aside and turned back to him. “I-I just don’t want trouble between you.”

“Trouble? There will be more than trouble! You sure as hell didn’t come to protect my interests. You know damn well I need no protection!” he roared. He was angry because she was the only one in the world who could make him feel defensive. Why in the name of God had she come to place herself smack in the middle of this conflict? Alone he was so resolute, so sure of purpose, but when she was close, his heart ruled his head and he was ever afraid of losing her. She had an elusive quality. He told himself that anyone who could be wholly owned was not worth wholly owning, but it didn’t help.

How many times had he begged her to trust him? She was a Plantagenet and from a Plantagenet’s view, was he not about to betray that trust? Everything was black and white so long as she was in a safe haven, looking to her babes, knowing nothing of the dirty business of politics. But when she was in the forefront, his thoughts turned an indecisive gray.

Eleanor’s shoulders drooped. She had known he’d be angry but she had counted on seeing the eager welcome leap into his eyes once he had scolded her. She knew she would get no welcome. On the contrary, what she saw was total rejection. “I’m tired … I need a bath,” she said unhappily.

“I will summon the palace steward to prepare a chamber for you.”

Eleanor bit her hp. He wanted separate chambers. For one blinding instant she thought of rushing to Oxford Castle and asking the king to dissolve her marriage, but after a moment’s consideration she knew her marriage to Simon de Montfort was the most precious thing in her life. “I’ll return home on the morrow,” she said softly. She went from him and he did not try to stop her.

At Oxford Castle, Henry was being besieged by the queen, by the Savoys, and by his half brothers. They insisted that he take a high hand with the barons and with the traitorous de Montfort, but Henry was deeply in debt, mainly due to these same relatives who were urging him on to recklessness. He had put
pressure on the monasteries and the Jews, bled them dry, and now the only place left was Parliament and direct taxation.

On the second day of Parliament the barons presented the “provisions” they had drawn up for the king’s signature. They demanded a permanent council to advise him on all policy with the right of veto. As well, the crown was to resume control of all royal castles.

William of Valence was on his feet before they got to the third provision. “I shall never give up my castles … I am uncle to the Queen of England!” he shouted arrogantly.

William de Lusignan added his effeminate voice. “My brother the King of England gave me Chepstowe and Pembroke. You are speaking to a member of the royal family, de Montfort!”

Simon relished the confrontation. “Not one drop of royal blood runs in your veins. You may have had the same mother as the king, but may I remind you that not one drop of royal blood runs in her veins either.” Then he raised his black eyes to stare down William de Valence. “You and I have a more personal score to settle.”

The two Williams were in a rage. “Traitor!” they cried, and drew their swords, but de Montfort’s steel was out first.

The giant advanced upon Valence and Lusignan. “Hold this for sure: Either you give up your castles or you lose your heads!”

Valence backed down, but William de Lusignan, purple in the face, turned to Henry.

Roger Bigod, the marshal, coughed. “There is one more provision.” He paused, then plunged on. “Exile for the Lusignans.”

A gasp arose from the king’s men and a great murmur of approval arose from the barons. Henry was too weak and feckless to stand against such fierce pressure. Reluctantly, bitterly, Henry yielded and signed the Provisions of Oxford, then turned accusing eyes upon Simon de Montfort. “I never thought I would see the day when I had to fear you more than any other man.”

“You should not fear me, Henry. My sole desire is to preserve
England from ruin and you from the destruction that your false counselors are preparing for you.”

The barons were satisfied that their rights as peers of the realm would be upheld. Simon de Montfort wanted to take things one step further. He argued that the Magna Carta laid down that the rights of the peers be extended to their dependents. The common man must be protected. He argued that the king should be the servant of the people, not their master.

Not all the barons agreed with him, so for the nonce de Montfort had to be satisfied. He had taken up the reins of power and allowed Henry to retain the semblance of kingship.

Simon returned to Kenilworth knowing he had been reprieved. His marriage was still intact. Yet he knew this was just the lull before the storm. When the cataclysm came, would it tear them asunder?

The barons, knowing that it was second nature for King Henry to dissemble and make lying promises, kept their knights and men-at-arms ready. Under the leadership of Simon de Montfort they had assembled the largest army in England’s history.

As Simon and his men thundered along the earthen causeway to Kenilworth’s portcullis, his eyes scanned the walls and gatehouse. He saw only guards and he experienced a small pang of disappointment that she had not run to meet him. Last time she had met him with whip and longbows, but at least she had met him.

Once inside the impregnable stronghold, he was greeted so warmly by all including Eleanor that his mood lifted.

As the days passed he had taken to watching her. To him she seemed more beautiful than ever. She laughed more often, her eyes sparkled brighter, her gowns were prettier, her movements more graceful, and yet it seemed to him she was the tiniest bit cool and distant. Oh, she was passionate enough whenever he initiated it, but a yearning, a longing had grown inside of him. He wanted more. He wondered if there was such a thing as a “soulmate” as the poets rhapsodized, or was he just lovesick? Was he actually jealous of the love she bore her brother? No, it wasn’t jealousy, he decided. Rather it was a need to have her
commit to him totally, unconditionally, without question. If she would pledge her trust, he would be a happy man.

That night, after a fierce loving, she lay upon him in slumber. He gazed at her in wonder. How small and silken were her limbs. The contrast with his own body was unbelievable. Where he was huge, she was tiny. Where he was hard, she was soft. Where he was dark, she was pale. Where he was hairy, she was silken. Where he was coarse, she was fine. His fingertips traced the down upon her cheek, the tiny blue veins in her eyelids. He brought her small hand to his lips and marveled at the perfection of her pink oval nails. Why had man and woman been created so differently? At this moment it seemed an impossibility that a great giant of a male could mate with such a petite female. How on earth had one so fragile borne him lusty sons?

Desire for her flared in him hot and savage, yet at the same time his need to protect her was stronger than his lust. He loved this woman with all his heart and soul. He sighed. If one of them must love more than the other, thank God it was he.

The calm lasted for many months, then on a blustery day of autumn, Rickard de Burgh rode in hard on a lathered destrier.

Simon gave his lieutenant hot buttered ale and prepared himself to hear the worst.

“Henry has drawn up a long list of charges against you. He has sent to the Pope for an absolution of his oath to observe the Provisions of Oxford and he has decreed that he has resumed royal power.”

Simon’s eyes were fixed moodily on a far-off point. Finally he said, “And so it begins.”

“Henry brought in a great body of mercenary troops and London became so incensed, he had to move into the Tower for safekeeping.”