by Hall, Ian
King Henry carefully attached the broach to the Prince’s attire.
Once the tumultuous applause had died, King Henry raised his hand towards a man standing to the side of the royal dais. “I have word today, from the very lips of the Spanish Ambassador, that Princess Catherine of Aragon has indeed begun the sea voyage to London.”
As we applauded, I caught sight of Arthur’s face. He’d visibly paled in just seconds.
“Once she lands, we’ll whisk her to Westminster palace and throw them into bed together!”
I laughed politely, but only with my face. Arthur’s grin had slipped and he now looked like a deer caught in headlights. I only hoped that the King would stop.
He clapped his hands above his head, then sat on the stairs at Arthur’s feet, warmly clasping his hand on Arthur’s knee. The Prince smiled in return, but the happy boy had gone home for the day, replaced by the automaton persona he showed to the King.
The dancers entered at the King’s bidding, and again jugglers and feats of primitive magic were placed in front of the throne. I cared little for anything; once you’ve seen Penn and Teller in Las Vegas, all others crumble into the dust of mediocrity.
But I stood in the royal eye, so had to endure another round of ‘entertainment’.
A good hour later, we filed from the room. I felt weary, and although I craved my bed, I hung around outside, listening to the conversations as they passed me.
“… but the Princess is not loved with this fop.” A very Spanish voice from a very Spanish-looking gentleman.
“Your Excellency, the betrothal does not mean marriage; there is a long way to go yet.”
I followed the two, making the supposition that his ‘Excellency’ was indeed the Spanish Ambassador. My assisted hearing helped me keep a respectable distance from the pair.
“Yet, my Princess will arrive, and Henry wishes to ‘throw them into bed’ together.”
“I insist, Your Excellency, we are working in this matter. He is not long for this world.”
“So you say.”
The man stopped, then bowed. “Sire, if we cannot face the mighty jaws of the lion, then we rip its soft underbelly, and it dies anyway.”
The men parted, and I knew I just had to follow the English half of the conspiracy. He took a coach into town, which I easily followed, then alighted at a wayside inn, The Queen’s Arms.
Inside it looked less than desirable, even for this time period. Smelly, smoky, loud, and busy; totally the wrong combination to eavesdrop on conversations.
The man joined an already crowded table, where he seemed to be warmly welcomed. I tried to find a table close by from which I could further eavesdrop, but the place seemed too busy for that anyway. I decided to wait outside, and perhaps corner the guy later.
I hid outside for maybe an hour, when the party finally showed. But to be honest, they spilled nothing of a plan, just a general distaste for all things concerned with the House of Tudor.
No plot meant no point in following, so I slunk back to the palace, and put myself to bed.
The next few days proved to be much of the same. I explored the town of Sheen, which nestled behind the grounds of the palace, named after the old Sheen Palace which had burnt down a year earlier. I talked with the Prince as much as I could, and I used my vampire influence to build his confidence to a level at which he could face his father. But of course, every time he got summoned, he returned a bag of nerves, and we were back to square one.
The Lady Jane proved my only female distraction; she turned out to be the most important thing to me in this time zone, and faced with the possible prospect of being trapped here, I decided to make a few important changes to my lot in life.
I did a bit of thievery. Nothing drastic, just used my vampire speed to pick a few pockets, and steal a few pouches of coins. I used a local tailor to fashion a new set of clothes; again preferring the doublet and hose to the long, one-piece drape that so many of the court seemed to favor.
I also commissioned a new sword, and took lessons in town. I knew I already had an advantage in my speed, but soon learned that considerable skill lay in swordplay, and in mere days surprised my tutor in my progress.
The blades of the day portrayed a foppish, dandy-like character, but they were almost an inch wide at the pommel, and held two sharp cutting edges. It seemed that duels were common, although outlawed on a ‘formal’ fight-to-the-death basis.
So although the move to Richmond took us away from that cold, damp castle, the new schedule left little time for me to work on the Prince’s self-esteem, which I thought my priority. It also gave the Lady Jane new duties, which took her away from me, giving us little chance of meeting in the daylight hours.
Then, a week after arriving in London, the King decided we were all moving again, this time to Westminster Palace, where the formal wedding would be held.
Suddenly the Prince’s training in all things ‘female’ became much more imperative. That day, I decided in ‘our hour’, for it proved now all the daily time we had, to bring the ‘education’ up a few degrees.
I went to pass him, then swept my face close. “You will think my succeeding questions pertinent to out discussion.” I turned, and made another pass. “You will answer my questions honestly, and without hesitation. It is all perfectly normal.”
He turned, looking at me askance; head slightly cocked to one side, but remained silent.
“Your Grace, what is your opinion of your betrothed, Princess Catherine of Aragon?”
“I hold no opinion, Master DeVere, I have never met the person.” His voice sounded slightly monotone.
“What do you think of your coming marriage?”
“It is a fine allegiance with the strongest country in Europe.”
Hmm. I would have to go far deeper to drag something personal from him. “Your Grace, have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
“Ever kissed a girl?”
“On some ceremonial occasions, it was necessary.”
“Did you like it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Ever held a girl?”
“In dance classes with Mistress Phillipa.”
I sighed, feeling slightly intimidated by this closeted teenager. “Have you ever seen a woman naked?” I felt like Peter Graves, the pilot in the movie ‘Airplane’ Have you ever seen a man naked?
“No.”
“Have you ever wanted to?”
“No.”
Oh boy. “Do you find men attractive?” I cringed, waiting for this one. If the Prince were gay, I’d not stand a chance getting him interested.
“Oh, no.”
Whew. But at least we were getting somewhere. “Who, of the court in Ludlow, or here in Richmond, do you find attractive?”
Mistress Eleanor is very comely, and the Lady Jane from my sister’s court is pleasing to the eye.”
Bingo! And the pay dirt I’d hit was available to me. I moved close, told him to forget my questions, and spent the rest of the hour talking over the wedding ceremony, and asking questions of the new palace, of London.
When I left, I made directly for the kitchens, then the Princess’s apartments.
Margaret sat on her own, a book of devotions on her lap. “Your Grace, pardon my interruption. I seek the mistress Phillipa or Eleanor.”
“Phillipa will be in the gardens.” Her tone sounded dry. There seemed to be no sexual innuendo, no forcing herself. She seemed distant, withdrawn.
“Your Grace has matters on her mind?” I probed.
She let out a deep breath. “I have learned my future.”
“An interesting one?” I walked closer.
“Oh, I had thought perhaps to escape the harsh cold of this country, and be married off to Spain or France. Instead I get Scotland.” She sighed again. “It’ll be colder than here.”
“Scotland?” I asked, frowning. “What’s in Scotland?”
“King James.”
“Oh.
” I could find nothing else to say. I mean, I was actively trying to get two fifteen-year-olds to couple, and this girl’s grandmother had given birth at thirteen. This seemed just the ‘norm’ for these times. “How old is the King?”
She sighed again. “He is twenty-eight.”
“Holy Christ,” I said out loud, instantly ashamed of my outburst.
“In a year’s time, I am to be raped by a man of almost thirty.”
I found I could not bring anything more of myself to the conversation, so I left, very glad to be able to close the door behind me. The thought of a grown man bedding this child felt abhorrent in the extreme. The thought of it happening without her mental consent seemed barbaric.
I found Mistress Phillipa in the gardens, sitting on the grass, her skirts neatly arranged around her. Two courtiers stood close, all in deep, torrid conversation.
“I beg pardon, gentlemen. Mistress Phillipa?”
She looked at me with daggers. “Yes?”
“The location of the Mistress Eleanor, if you please?”
“Why, she’s probably in Ludlow, Master DeVere.” She looked at me strangely as I wandered away, muttering my apologies again.
Damn.
Then, as I walked away, wondering how I would overcome this hurdle, the journey of a hundred and fifty miles got shorter and shorter. It would take me no more than two hours at a decent run; I’d measured my vampire speed and endurance back in Connecticut. I could do almost a hundred and thirty miles per hour at a sprint.
I set off immediately, getting a ferry across the Thames, and then off into the English countryside, soon passing by me at blur-like speed.
September 24th, 1501
Mistress Eleanor
“I cannot ride.” Eleanor looked terrified. “I have never been taught.”
Now, okay, when a relatively strange man bursts into your bedroom when the sun’s going down, it’s perhaps time to start worrying, but Eleanor took it in stride.
“I don’t have time to teach you,” I said, temporarily stymied.
“What’s so important?”
“The Prince wants you included in his list of servants.”
“He does?” She gave me a very strange look. “The Prince has never looked at me, nor spoken to me before.”
“Well, he wants you now.”
“I cannot think why.”
“Madam!” my voice almost rose of its own volition. “I have ridden from Richmond Palace to bring you to the Prince. I will not be questioned!”
Well she jumped at that, I can tell you. Curtseyed and everything. “Yes, Master DeVere.”
And as she said it, her eyes brightened, bringing a new dimension to her persona I’d not witnessed before; subservient lust. “Whatever you say, Master DeVere.”
From a scared young girl, she’d instantaneously morphed into a rabidly sexy young woman. I stood quite speechless.
“Why, you could plough me right here, Master DeVere, and I couldn’t stop you.” From her curtsey, she crouched on the floor. “Why, I’m not even sure there’s a guard within shouting distance.”
Then from beneath her skirts, her musky aroma drifted. Obviously turned on by a submissive role, I wondered how I could turn it to my advantage. I didn’t even have a plan beyond ‘get her to Richmond, let the Prince see her naked’.
I crossed to her, and again suffused her face with my vampire breath. “Are you a virgin?”
“Why, no, sir.” Again, that very elusive, sensual smile.
“How many men have you had?”
“Three.”
“Recently?”
“Just one here in Ludlow.”
Well, I had no intention of putting an STD in front of the Prince, but to be honest, I’d not liked the idea of a virgin either, so regardless of her recent dalliance, I needed to get her into some water, and lots of it. “Does the King use baths?” I decided to be blunt.
“Why, of course not,” she said with a look of disgust on her face.
“He doesn’t take a bath? A spa? Anything like that?”
“There’s a spa at the monastery at Malvern.” She still frowned. “The King uses it. Prince Arthur has too, and the Princess Margaret.”
Oh, boy had I struck gold.
“And where exactly is this monastery?”
“It’s on the way to Richmond.” She looked to one side. “Well, it’s not far off the main route.”
Bingo!
But by now my own ardor had risen, and I actually fancied seeing what lay hidden under the stiff brocade of her dress. Just on a scientific basis, of course. I didn’t want anything out of the ordinary putting the Prince off further, like four breasts or something.
“I would like to take a walk,” I said.
“It’s late.”
“But the sun has not yet set, and I haven’t been down by the river yet.” A plan had begun to hatch in my perverted head, and it included getting the body of Mistress Eleanor into the water.
“Very well,” She took my arm, and we walked out of the courtyard, then out by a small side gate. “It’s an old pathway. The servants use it all the time.”
As we walked the worn earth, it occasionally stepped downwards, and soon I heard the sound of running water. Being honest, with the low yellow sunlight filtering through the green leaves of the trees onto the wide river, I’d brought her to quite a romantic place.
“Do you ever paddle?” I asked.
Well, she blushed, smiling. “I have done. But I was much younger then.”
“I fancy getting my feet wet.”
“There is a more secluded spot.”
I wondered if she’d brought her ‘recent’ dalliance here, and found myself slightly jealous. “Where?”
“A little bit upstream.” She took my hand and pulled me along the lightly-worn pathway. We ducked under branches and climbed rather ungainly over rocks, but soon it became obvious that we’d neared a part of the river where it ran quieter, deeper. I heard voices ahead and almost pulled her back.
“Shh,” she suddenly said, and crept forward, waving me to follow. Soon, we lay on a large boulder, twenty feet above the water, edging forward to see the source of the laughing voices. We lay side by side, able to witness the naked couple below. “It’s David,” Eleanor said into my ear excitedly. “He’s a guard.”
David lay mostly atop a girl, their legs still trailing in the water, and their glistening torsos on a shallow sandbank. They kissed, and his hand pulled roughly at a small but firm exposed breast.
“Who’s the girl?” I looked down at the sunlit scene, their clothes discarded on the rocks beside the water.
“I don’t know her; perhaps from the village,” she whispered.
The dark water flowed slowly past them, bubbles of brown foam drifted past, caused by rapids upstream.
David wasted little time in foreplay, his hand now pushing between her legs, pushing them open.
I took an opportunity to put my arm round Eleanor, caressing her back. We exchanged a smile, but her attention passed immediately back to those below. As David found the cleft of the girl, I moved my hand down her back to Eleanor’s backside, and was delighted in her intake of breath, and her slightly spreading her legs in simpatico with the girl below.
Seeing that David’s naked ass still supposedly held her attention, I pressed my hand lower, feeling Eleanor’s thigh, then brushing my hand under the folds of material of her dress, finally finding the back of her naked knee.
The girl below was now squealing under the attentions of David’s fingers, and the water of the river splashed as her foot shook. She frantically clawed at his hand, yet desperately sought his mouth with hers.
I moved my hand up Eleanor’s leg, then onto the back of her thigh, waiting on hitting that tangled mess that the people of this age called underwear. You could have knocked me down with a feather when my hand hit bare ass. My searching fingers wasted no time, and pushed over the cleft of her buttocks, discovering a very wet pussy.
The girl’s hand now gripped David’s dick, and tried to repay the attentions between her legs, but either she felt distracted, or David’s fingers were doing their job, as she did little but hold on to him.
I, however, had gotten two fingers between Mistress Eleanor’s spread thighs, and like David’s below, probed the deep wet folds of Eleanor’s quim with the rhythm of the moment.
Watching over Eleanor’s shoulder, I mimicked the guard’s actions as he positioned himself over the prostrate wench. It took me less than a minute to get my now engorged penis into the evening air, and slipping between her buttocks. I needed no guidance, the route and passageway were already sodding wet, and the Mistress Eleanor eager for my insistent entry.
Eleanor gasped as I forced my way completely home in a few hard thrusts.
We became a mirror of the events on the riverbank, and with Eleanor’s legs spread as wide as she could get them, I had full penetration, my knees rubbing hard against the rock, yet cushioned slightly by the covering of her dress below us.
Any pretense at a plan had evaporated; gone all efforts to ‘clean her up’. Lust consumed me and I rode her like the wild animal she had proven herself to be. When David groaned below, sending his seed into the writhing girl, I did the same, firing myself deep inside Eleanor’s belly. As I did so, I clamped my hands over her mouth, and lowered my head to her exposed neck. Caring little for either decorum or discovery, I bit deep into her neck, my sharp canines finding her artery in one bite.
I felt her scream into my fingers, her cries stifled, as I drank deeply from her neck, pumping my penis inside her until every drop of my seed had been delivered to that beautiful place.
I almost fell asleep on top of her, I felt so shattered by the experience. Never before had I been so taken so completely by a woman, and never so quickly. Sex for me had always been controlled, always a step-by-step operation. I had literally ravaged her, and she’d lain below me taking everything I had, and seemingly loved it.
