It was only after the feast, when some of the tables had been cleared for dancing, that she spied Henry standing alone on one side, staring at her with a hard intensity that made her nerves prickle with unease. He looked almost harrowed, as if he were clenching all of his facial muscles so tightly that the skin across his jaw and cheekbones was being stretched. Even when she looked away she could sense him still staring, until at last she couldn’t bear it any longer.
Subtly, she tipped her head to one side and then made her way towards the screen at one end of the room, looking for a quiet alcove where they could talk, though she’d barely taken a few steps beyond it when a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the hall and into the shadows.
‘Henry?’ she gasped, relieved to recognise his profile, despite its sternness. ‘What’s the mat—’
She didn’t finish the question as his lips descended on hers with a ferocity she’d never felt, or even sensed, in him before. She stiffened, shocked by the onslaught, not knowing how to react as his hands grasped her waist and then slid roughly upwards, over the sides of her breasts, crushing her against him so tightly that she could feel the pounding of his heartbeat through both of their tunics. That was fierce, too, as if he’d just run up a mountain, not sat through a feast. She sensed a desperation about him, a raw need behind his kisses, as if he wanted more from her, but it was more than she could give, at that moment anyway.
‘Henry!’ She pushed hard against his chest. ‘Stop!’
‘I’m sorry.’ He released her at once, almost staggering as he wrenched himself away, his expression even more haggard than before. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘You didn’t.’ She shook her head quickly to reassure him. ‘I was surprised, that’s all.’
‘I would never hurt you, Mathilde. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, but what’s the matter? What’s happened?’
‘I don’t want to burden you. I just—’ He twisted his head to one side, the muscles in his neck and jaw all bunching at once. ‘We shouldn’t even be out here together. It’s too risky.’
‘But I want to be here. To share your burden, too.’ She splayed her fingers over his chest, rubbing the place where his heart was still pounding, trying to soothe him. ‘Please, Henry. Tell me what’s the matter.’
There was a heavy pause before he spoke again, his voice strained-sounding. ‘I didn’t think that I would feel sorry for him. I didn’t expect to feel pity.’
‘For the King?’
‘Yes. It was no glorious victory. We were like hounds hunting a lame rabbit. There were only half a dozen men with him.’ He shook his head and swallowed as if the words were distasteful. ‘Just half a dozen out of a whole kingdom.’
‘He was a tyrant.’ She repeated the words she’d heard so often.
‘I know, but still a king. I can’t take any satisfaction in seeing any man brought so low.’
‘It must have been terrible.’ She moved a step closer, stretching up on her toes to press her forehead against his. ‘The Queen has no intention of reconciling with him, does she?’ She made it sound like a question although they both knew it was not.
‘No.’
‘Do you think she ever did?’
‘Maybe at first.’
‘Before Mortimer?’
He rubbed her forehead with his own, seeming to consider. ‘I don’t know. Even without Mortimer, you can understand why she wouldn’t take the risk. King Edward isn’t a man to be trusted. If they reconciled, she’d never be safe. He’d find some way to get his revenge.’
‘Then she has no choice but to take him prisoner.’ The words made her feel better. They were a much better reason for Isabella not to reconcile with her husband than her affair with Mortimer, but it was still hard to see what would happen next. If the King and Queen couldn’t be reconciled and a king couldn’t stand trial, what would happen to him?
‘So now we get a new king.’ Henry answered the question before she could ask it. ‘Another Edward.’
‘The Prince?’ She lifted her head, genuinely shocked. ‘You mean a new king while the old one still lives?’
‘Yes. It’s never been done before, but it might be the only way. Isabella can say that her husband abandoned the country when he sailed for Ireland.’
‘But he never reached Ireland. He never left the Bristol Channel.’
‘He still boarded the ship. That’s enough to say he gave up his right to rule.’ Henry lifted his shoulders, though there was still a frown in his voice. ‘Whatever happens to Edward next will take place in secret, but he’ll be persuaded to renounce his kingship somehow. Then Isabella will want to have her son crowned as quickly and publicly as possible. It’s the quickest way to make people forget she still has a living husband.’
‘What about Despenser?’
Henry tensed. ‘He’s another matter. People want someone to blame.’
‘So he’ll stand trial?’
‘For what it’s worth, although he won’t be given any opportunity to speak. The verdict’s already decided.’
‘What?’ She opened her eyes wide. ‘But that’s not fair.’
‘That’s war. If the positions were reversed and we were the ones on trial for treason...’
‘Then the King and Despenser wouldn’t show any more mercy.’ She finished the sentence for him. ‘That doesn’t make it right.’
‘I know. A battle would have been more honourable than this.’
‘But then more people would have been killed.’ She smoothed a hand over his still taut-looking face. ‘None of this is your fault. You were only following orders.’
He leaned forward, kissing her tenderly this time, as if he were trying to wipe away the memory of his earlier roughness. ‘Thank you for listening.’
‘I’m glad that you told me.’
‘Mathilde...’ He sounded hesitant again, reaching for her hands and folding them tightly between his. ‘I need you to promise me something.’
‘What?’
‘Promise me first.’
‘How can I promise if I don’t know what it is?’
‘Because you need to trust me.’
She pursed her lips before relenting. ‘All right, I promise.’
‘Good.’ A look of relief crossed his face. ‘Don’t go to Despenser’s trial. Find an excuse to stay behind.’
‘You mean lie to the Queen? I can’t do that!’ She wrenched her hands away, surprised that he would even suggest such a thing. ‘She needs me to accompany her. We’ve already left Katharine and Cecily behind in Oxford.’
‘Surely she has other ladies?’
‘A few, but...’
‘Then don’t go. You won’t want to be there.’
‘I’m her lady! She trusts me!’
‘She doesn’t need you for this. Mathilde, I’m begging you, some sights cannot be forgotten. Pretend to be sick, pretend you’ve twisted your ankle, do whatever it takes, but don’t go to the trial.’
‘I’ll ask,’ she compromised finally. ‘The decision will be up to the Queen, but I’ll ask.’
He held on to her gaze for a few seconds longer and then sighed. ‘She doesn’t deserve you.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Palace of Westminster, London
—winter 1326
‘I never thought I’d see London again.’ Cecily lay back against her pillow, smiling though her skin was wan and her cheeks far too gaunt. ‘It seems like a lifetime since we left.’
‘It’s very strange to be back.’ Mathilde agreed. She hadn’t spent long in London before travelling to Paris, but she was glad to be reunited with Cecily and Katharine again, although it was obvious now that Cecily didn’t have long. Even Isabella had been forced to acknowledge it, though she’d been subdued ever since Despenser’s trial and subsequent exe
cution in Hereford. Mathilde wondered if she was still angry at her for not attending. She’d feigned a severe headache on the day and then given herself a real one by feeling guilty throughout, although the brutal stories she’d heard afterwards had made her glad that she’d agreed to Henry’s promise, after all. Isabella herself hadn’t said a word about the events, or about anything much, but then she had a great deal to think about, Mathilde told herself, preparing her son’s coronation for a start. It was no small task to replace one king with another, especially while the other still lived, albeit now as a prisoner in Kenilworth Castle.
‘Do you still see your friend?’ Cecily’s soft voice intruded on her thoughts suddenly.
‘My friend?’
‘From Paris. Henry Wright, I think it was, one of Mortimer’s men. He told me when I woke that evening.’
‘Oh...yes.’ She felt a pink flush steal over her cheeks. Cecily had never mentioned the evening when she’d caught her and Henry almost kissing before. ‘Sometimes.’
‘Peace. I’m not accusing you of anything.’ Cecily gave one of her gentle smiles. ‘Do the two of you care for each other?’
Mathilde threw a swift look around the room, making sure they were alone before nodding. ‘Yes. Very much.’
‘Then I’m happy for you. Ah!’ A spasm racked the other woman’s body as she reached for one of Mathilde’s hands. ‘Do you think he would help me again?’
‘Of course. What is it you need?’
Mathilde paid close attention as Cecily gave her directions and then hastened to do as she asked, sending a page to fetch Henry. He came and agreed to the request at once, leaving court that evening.
* * *
Henry returned two days later with her three sons.
They were all like Cecily, with tawny hair and large green eyes that looked sombre as they entered her sick room. The younger two reminded Mathilde of her own brothers, caught in that stage between boyhood and manhood when they weren’t sure which they wanted to be, so she stepped outside to give them privacy. If they needed to cry, then she didn’t want her presence there to stop them.
Katharine was nowhere to be seen, but Henry was still in the corridor, pacing up and down as he waited to take Cecily’s sons home again afterwards.
‘They’re all together now.’ She fell into his arms with relief. ‘How was it? Did you have any problems finding them?’
‘No. They’re all being raised by different families, but not too far apart. There was only one stumbling block.’ He wrapped his arms around her, sounding apologetic. ‘I had to go to their father and tell him the reason first. I could hardly take them away from their homes without his permission.’
‘Of course. I should have thought of that, but it couldn’t be helped.’ She attempted a smile and failed miserably. ‘Didn’t he want to come and see her, too?’
‘Apparently not.’ He made a face. ‘Now I understand why Cecily prefers court. He wasn’t a pleasant man. It seems they said their goodbyes a long time ago.’
‘Well, at least he didn’t stop her sons from saying them, too. Thank you for helping her.’
‘She’s your friend.’ He lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair away from where it had fallen across her nose. ‘There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, Mathilde.’
She lifted her face and kissed him gently, too aware of what was happening on the other side of the wall to do any more, then laid her head against his shoulder in silence, waiting. In truth, she didn’t know how long they stood there. It could have been minutes or hours before the door opened again and the three young men emerged. The youngest was weeping openly and the eldest, a squire of around her own age, had an arm wrapped around his shoulders. His name was Edmund, if she remembered correctly.
‘Does she need anything?’ Mathilde stepped forward at once.
‘No. She’s dozing now.’ Edmund let go of his brother and bowed. ‘I’m indebted to both of you. For bringing us here and for taking care of her.’
‘It was no trouble.’ Henry came to stand at her shoulder.
‘I’m still grateful.’ Edmund’s gaze moved between them before settling on her. ‘I wish that there was some way for me to repay you.’
‘There’s no need,’ Mathilde protested. ‘I love your mother dearly.’
‘As she loves you, but it would please me, and her, I think, to give you a gift. Here.’ He reached up to his shoulder and unbuckled the circular clasp that held his cloak together. It was wrought gold with a diagonal band across the centre and four small sapphires set at equal points around the edges.
‘Oh...no.’ She gasped. ‘That’s far too much.’
‘For fulfilling my mother’s last wish? I think not. Take it and think of her whenever you wear it. Please?’
‘Then I will. For Cecily’s sake.’ She gazed admiringly at the clasp as he placed it in the centre of her palm, surprised when his fingers lingered briefly.
‘Thank you for everything, Lady Mathilde.’
‘It was n—’
‘We should go,’ Henry interrupted before she could finish the sentence, his tone brusque and his expression hard suddenly, as if he were displeased by the gift. For a fleeting moment she wondered if he were jealous, although the idea seemed ridiculous under the circumstances.
‘Very well.’ Edmund made another bow. ‘In that case, I hope that we meet again under happier circumstances, Lady Mathilde.’
‘As do I.’ She bade his brothers farewell and then watched as they all walked away, still surprised by Henry’s brusqueness, though she didn’t have much time to think about it before she heard a thud from inside the room.
‘I’ll get it!’ She hurried forward to pick up the cup that Cecily had knocked into the rushes.
‘Thank you. I must have hit it with my arm when I rolled over.’ Cecily looked exhausted, but happy. ‘Please, thank your friend again for bringing my sons. You’ll never know how much this has meant to me.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘And forgive me for asking...’ Cecily sounded hesitant. ‘But does the Queen know about your attachment to him?’
‘No-o.’ Mathilde felt a stab of guilt. ‘I suppose I ought to have told her, but she’s been so busy. And I haven’t done anything dishonourable. I would never bring shame on her household.’
‘I know that.’ Cecily’s expression warmed again. ‘But has he spoken of his intentions?’
‘Not directly. We both know that marriage is impossible, for the time being anyway. Neither of us has any money.’
‘Then for your sake, I hope that Mortimer rewards him well when all this is over. I wish you both happiness, but in the meantime...’ Cecily frowned and beckoned her closer, lowering her voice to an undertone. ‘Don’t let Isabella find out. There’s one rule for her and Mortimer and another for the rest of us, and she doesn’t like sharing. If she thinks that your loyalties are divided, then she’ll try to separate you from him. Don’t give her the chance. Keep your friendship a secret until his prospects improve.’
‘If you think that’s for the best...’ Mathilde nodded uncertainly. She didn’t believe that the Queen would ever do anything so malicious, but now wasn’t the time to argue. ‘Cecily, I’ve something else to tell you. I’m afraid that Henry had to speak to your husband in order to bring your sons here. It meant telling him about your sickness.’
‘So Edmund told me, but it’s all right. I would never have expected him to come with them. I have Kat now, even though she’s been hiding all day, afraid of meeting my sons, I think.’ Cecily paused and then looked up, her eyes wide and pleading. ‘I know I should not ask, but...’
‘It’s all right.’ Mathilde smiled reassuringly, already knowing what the other woman wanted to say. ‘I’ll look after her, I swear it.’ She bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘I’ll go and fetch her back now.’
It was the last thing she ever did for Cecily. She and Kat held a vigil together that night, sitting on either side of her body. Even Isabella joined them for a few hours. Mathilde didn’t turn her head to look, but it sounded as if the Queen were crying.
* * *
Isabella told Katharine to take some time away from court to visit her family and Mathilde was glad of it. It was painful to see the tension in her friend’s face as she kept her sorrow all to herself, unable to grieve properly among so many people. She suspected that Isabella saw it and sympathised, too, although some of her other ladies were less charitable. Erlinda Hackford, one of the Queen’s new attendants, muttered something about Cecily’s illness being a punishment and Mathilde found herself throwing a cup of wine over her new silk houpelande in retaliation.
In truth, the action came as an equal surprise to both of them. Staring at the empty cup in her hand, Mathilde could only wonder what had come over her. She’d never done anything so shocking before in her life and of course Erlinda marched straight to the Queen.
‘Did you do what she accuses you of?’ Isabella arched an eyebrow when Mathilde came to stand in front of her, dismissing the rest of the ladies with a careless wave of her hand.
‘Yes, Your Grace.’ Mathilde bowed her head, although she couldn’t bring herself to say she was sorry. She wasn’t. ‘Perhaps I should not have done it.’
‘Perhaps?’ To her surprise, Isabella sounded amused. ‘Perhaps I would have done the same if I’d been there. You were defending your friend. Both of your friends. I cannot punish you for that. Love is love, is it not?’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’ Mathilde lifted her head in surprise.
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 58
