The King's Courtesan

by Judith James

  Bright red roses were thrown at their feet and Hope was adorned with a necklace of wil ow and ivy entwined with flowers matching those strewn through her curls. Robert felt himself grow impatient when he was crowned with a wreath of flowers and draped with a rainbow-hued scarf, but Hope was glowing, her smile was contagious and she looked so delightful with her flowered crown that he couldn’t play the churl. He felt a pang, keen as a blade, for innocence lost.

  He was a child once, and it seemed that she stil shone with the innocence of joy and youth. She’s aptly named. I wish the past held no sway and we both stood here unspoiled. I wish this night was real and we were lovers joined in truth .

  The merry din around them rose as the crowd made way for a corpulent man in the robes of a priest, except for a green mask, a chaplet of leaves and a mantle made of flowers. “I wil perform the blessing, great lord,” he said with a deep bow. He went to stand between Hope and Robert. The crowd hushed, straining to hear him. “Children of the maypole! The woods have echoed with joy and mirth and now the hour is at hand. The winter is put behind us, and before us the joys of summer await.” He made a sweeping gesture to the king. “Sweet May has returned, and awaits the dawning of the sun.” The sun bowed graciously to wild cheers as the priest took Robert and Hope by the hand.

  “To honor this gentlest, merriest month, fertile and sweet and toward lovers inclined, here stand the Lord and Lady of the May, whom I shal join in marriage. Up with you now and to the dance. Join us in laughter and song, and wish a toast on the marriage of the Lord and Lady of the May!” Suddenly jack-in-the-greens were everywhere, bearing trays of wine. The guests surged forward to join the May King and Queen in a toast, and several barrels of mead were broken open. A fiddler started up and a piper joined in and a ring of animal men encircled them. As the morris men resumed their bel ringing and drumming, the heathen priest led them through some surprisingly traditional vows.

  The game being over and stil an hour before dawn, Hope curtsied to her consort then rose to her toes, looking for Charles, ready to dance. But despite his height she couldn’t find him. Ah, wait! There to the left. A flash of gold mask from beside a leafy bower. His head was bent. He was engrossed in conversation with a tal auburn-haired woman masked like the moon to his sun.

  A physical pain like a blow to the gut forced the wind from her lungs and almost doubled her over, and though a glacial chil froze her blood, her cheeks burned hot and she blinked back scalding tears. A resplendent Lady Castlemaine was holding court, surrounded by sycophants, her waist encircled by the king.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TAKING SEVERAL DEEP BREATHS, Hope clenched her fists, tamping her fury. Even so, as she crossed the glade with a cool smile pasted on her face and her head held high, her limbs felt so weak she almost stumbled, and the aching in her throat made her fear she couldn’t speak.

  “Lady Castlemaine.” She refused to give her nod or curtsy.

  “Charles.”

  Charles looked only vaguely uncomfortable. “Ah! ’Tis the Queen of the May! Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?

  You’ve done a splendid job. Everything is going marvelously wel .”

  Few had noticed Lady Castlemaine’s presence yet, but now they al did. Conversation died as people strained to hear. It had been a wonderful night, and to have it end with a brawl between two of His Majesty’s mistresses would surely make it the best entertainment of the year so far.

  Hope’s voice rang out, carrying through the glade. “Surely even as il ustrious a whoremonger as you needs only one of us at a time. Tel her to leave.”

  Lady Castlemaine gasped in outrage. “Charles! Wil you al ow your guttersnipe to address me this way? If she were one of my servants I’d have her whipped. She needs to be taught respect for her betters!”

  Robert sighed, and downed his drink. For a short while he had been glamoured, caught in a dark enchantment of glitter and gaiety and sweet summer’s night, but the spel was broken, exposing the cruel deception that lurked beneath. And I am part of it now. Should he play his part?

  Step forward as husband and defender? She’s not really mine. Why should I step between them? Let His Majesty sort it out himself.

  Yet despite his new wife’s seething anger, there was an aura about her of a wounded child. She was clearly in distress and there was no one else to come to her aid. He tossed his empty goblet to a passing footman and stepped forward. “Forgive me, Lady Castlemaine. We met earlier this evening. No doubt you speak in jest and mean no insult to the countess. Lady Nichols is neither guttersnipe nor servant, madam. She is my wife.”

  “Quite so, Barbara. You remember meeting Captain Nichols earlier. He is also Earl of Newport and has married our May Queen. She is a countess now like you, so you must be polite.” England’s king favored them al with his most charming smile. “Off you go a-maying, then, Lord Newport, and congratulations to you and your lovely bride.” Robert went to take Hope’s arm but she tore it from his grasp. “This game is over! I am not playing anymore.” She tore off her crown of flowers and flung it at Charles’s feet.

  “How could you do this? After al the work I put into it. To please you! This night was supposed to be ours! Not hers!

  Yours and mine.”

  “Don’t make a scene, Hope. Lord Nichols, it is time for you to take your wife home. You may borrow my coach.” Charles motioned to a footman, who came running over, nodded and then hurried away.

  “Come, sweetheart.” Robert reached for her elbow.

  Hope whirled on him. “Don’t… put your hands on me. I don’t even know who you are! I have not given you permission to touch me. Mind your own business, this is not your affair.” He released her immediately, stepping wel back as if he’d been stung. It was then she saw the jol y priest puffing toward them, one hand holding his cumbersome robes as he walked, the other clutching the green mask he’d been wearing just minutes before. She recognized him instantly.

  She had seen him earlier in the evening and before at court. There was a very sick feeling building inside her.

  He approached them, smiling and wheezing, completely oblivious to the tension around them waiting only for a spark to explode. “Your Majesty! I come to pay my respects before taking my leave. I trust al was to your satisfaction?”

  “Indeed it was, sir. Lord and Lady Newport, might I introduce the Right Reverend Edward Durham. You have him to thank for your happiness.”

  “Oh, Charles, you didn’t! You couldn’t have!” Hope’s face drained of al color as the depths of his perfidy sank in. She had thought the marriage ceremony part of an elaborate pageant and nothing more. Charles’s surprise contribution to the elaborate entertainment she had arranged. But in one cruel moment her fairy tale came crashing to the ground and her dreams of an independent life, just within her grasp, were cruel y yanked away. Trust me, he kept saying. Trust me. And then he had tricked her into marrying some hungry fortune hunter, new-come to court. A judgmental Puritan soldier who had looked at her with thinly veiled distaste from the moment they had met.

  “Al of you! Leave us. Now. That means you, too, Barbara.” Charles took Hope by the arm and, too stunned to resist, she fol owed him to the far side of the glade where curious listeners couldn’t hear their words, only her angry voice and his soothing one.

  Robert watched it al , his face grim. The king had hurt and humiliated her by bringing his senior mistress. This he understood. But the chit’s outraged scorn at his own attempt to help her left him mightily offended and was a very poor sign for what was to come. Clearly the change from monarch to newly minted earl was so far beneath her she felt no need for courtesy. Imagine what she’ll think when she sees my country home. How have I come to marry such a venal creature. How have I fallen so low? Al his sympathy as wel as his budding admiration for her were gone.

  He stood amongst the spectators, ordered to leave his bride and wait like a servant as the king and his courtesan put on a show. He rebuffs her in public with his high-born w
hore, at the same time showing the world that she is his and not mine. And she abets him in it. He was tempted to leave her and the king and his titles behind. It seemed a travesty to al ow this shal ow grasping creature to walk Cressly’s hal s. She may reside there as a guest but I’ll be damned if she’ll ever be its mistress. He stopped a passing jack-in-the-green and reached for another drink.

  “’Tis my wedding day,” he quipped with a sardonic smile.

  He downed it in one swal ow, plucked another from the tray before the man could leave, and settled in to watch the show.

  Across the meadow, Hope tried to put her feelings into words. Charles had broken a bond that to her was sacred, and he’d blithely stolen her free wil . She would never return to his arms again, but she was determined to speak her piece. “How could you do this, Charles? What in God’s name have I ever done to you but be a faithful companion and friend? I would rather return to the stage than let you turn me into that dul slave cal ed wife.”

  “It is for your own protection, sweetheart. A husband wil —”

  “A husband wil what? Mind me? Rule me? Protect me from rich, entitled, dishonest, faithless, heartless, deceiving, oversexed men?” She hurled each word like a stone.

  He had the grace to redden slightly. “Hope, I—”

  “How much did you pay him to take me off your hands? Is that what you were doing with him in your study?

  Discussing me as if I were a fine joint of meat? And neither of you had the decency or courtesy to tel me? Neither of you even asked? What right have either of you to decide my fate without consulting me?” The last was said on a plaintive note. She was perilously close to tears.

  The king avoided conflict as assiduously as his courtiers and women seemed to seek it, though Hope had never been a problem before this day. He was becoming uncomfortable and vaguely annoyed. “I am your king, Hope.

  I am also your lover. And as you yourself keep pointing out, my bride is on her way. Is it not my responsibility to see you cared for?”

  “By passing the responsibility on to someone else?

  Someone a stranger to you as wel as to me? Had you even met him before this night?”

  “No,” he said defensively. “But I had very good reports from those who know him wel . And frankly, my dear, I thought you’d prefer a younger handsome man, and it was deuced hard to find one who was both a gentleman and wil ing.”

  “Of course it was. I am your whore. I want responsibility for my own life, Charles. I’ve told you before I have money saved. By giving me to this man you let him take it. You give him control over me and everything I own.”

  “He would not dare abuse that which I value.” She snorted, anger and disgust drying her tears. “That which you value? By bringing your creature you’ve shown how much you value me to everyone here this night.”

  “You know I don’t tolerate jealousy, Hope.”

  “And I don’t tolerate being sold as if I were a slave. I wil not go with him. Nor shal I burden you. I wil return to the stage and—”

  “You wil not! Neither the King’s Theater nor that of my brother wil accept you as a player if I tel them no.”

  “Why do you hurt me this way? You didn’t have to do this.

  You didn’t have to bring her. You don’t have to take my future away. You betray me in every way imaginable. You may be a king, but what I gave you was worth far more than anything you ever gave me, Charles Stuart. I gave you my friendship. I gave you my loyalty. I gave you my trust!”

  “Then trust me now, Hope. Things are not as you paint them. You must believe that I know what is best for you. I have made you a lady. A countess. The same rank as Barbara. I promise she is no more pleased this night than you. Once I’ve settled things between her and my wife I wil cal you back to court as a married lady and—”

  “You are banishing me from court?”

  “I am sending you to the country for a brief stay. You wil be gone by morning. When you return you shal be welcomed at Whitehal as a lady and I shal introduce you to my wi—” Too angry to hear his words, she did the unthinkable. She turned her back on him and walked away.

  Barefoot and bedraggled, she wandered though her guests, shivering with cold, her toes wet with dew. Even though it was dark, streaks of light played on the horizon.

  Gone by morning? What of her clothing, her jewels, her shoes?

  A tal footman approached. She watched him with wary eyes. He stopped by her elbow and nodded to a gravel path that wound into the woods. “My lady…your carriage arrives.”

  “Yes, of course. Charles has thought of everything.” The man who was her husband, who’d seemed cold and forbidding until he had smiled, now looked impatient and cruel. You were a part of it, too. You both conspired without a thought to my wishes. Well, you traded for a title by marrying a whore and you’ll get just what you deserve. I hate you both. She gave him a cold smile as she took his arm and let him help her into the plush interior of one of the royal coaches. She sat down, rigid with anger, and looked straight ahead.

  Charles stood just outside the window, Lady Castlemaine by his side. “Here now, Wil iam,” he said with forced joviality. “Have you any words of wit to speed the Lord and Lady of May on their way?”

  Wil iam looked at the too-familiar tableau. Charles and two mistresses. Tears and humiliation. Courtiers gawking with salacious appetites whetted amidst every form of excess.

  “Why, yes, Charles. I think I have just the thing.

  “‘Whence comes this mean submissiveness we find This il -bred age has wrought on womankind?

  Fal ’n from the rights their sex—’”

  The king sighed and raised a hand to silence him. “That wil be al , Lord Rivers. Thank you. It’s good to see some things never change. Drive on, coachman!” The coach lurched forward, its bel s jingling merrily, as Hope embarked with a stranger, leaving her beloved house on Pal Mal , al of her friends, and al her dreams behind.

  Wil iam stood next to the king, watching the coach disappear. “That was unnecessarily cruel, Charlie. You’ve changed more than I’d al owed.”

  “Sometimes one must be cruel to be kind, Wil .”

  “Lizzy and I wil be leaving tomorrow.”

  “You wil not. You wil remember I am your king and you wil stay for my wedding. Do not mistake my patience with you as endless. Besides…haven’t I given Elizabeth what she wanted? Her captain keeps his lands. She should be pleased.”

  ELIZABETH’S CAPTAIN WAS FAR from pleased. The girl sat but two feet away from him and she was clearly upset.

  Jealous courtesan or haughty jade, she was his responsibility at the moment, and she was folded tight in a corner, her eyes glistening with tears. He didn’t know a damned thing about keeping a woman. He’d never had one of his own before. Camp fol owers and friendly tavern wenches on a cold night, yes. Perhaps a widow now and then. One kissed and cuddled them and left some coin or a gift, and then one was on one’s way. They didn’t cry!

  This one was his wife now. The prospect was daunting. It would surely be better for them both if they got along, but it seemed so damned complicated. Al he knew for certain was he’d yet to do a single thing right and his efforts had been met with nothing but coldness and disdain. Even the mighty Charles Stuart seemed hard put to keep her happy.

  Though be she barmaid or great lady, any fool should know better than to favor another woman over the one he was with. What was he thinking?

  Her quiet tears disturbed him. He preferred it when she was angry. Actual y, he had preferred when she was happy.

  A vision of her dancing barefoot through the grass made the corner of his lips turn up slightly. He knew how to make a woman smile, though not in ways he intended to practice with her. Nevertheless he was an intel igent fel ow.

  Resourceful. Cool under fire. A leader of men. Surely he could find a way to stop a jealous chit’s tears.

  He decided to try and manage her again. He leaned forward and reached out a hand to pat her shoulder
. “There now, lass. There’s no need to cry. That redheaded, long-legged shrew is built like a garden rake, and she’s nowhere near as pretty as you. I promise you, His Majesty wil be regretting it soon.”

  Her eyes snapped to his, boring into him. “I am not crying!

  Now…take…your…hand…off…me.” She bit out each word. “Don’t speak to me. Don’t touch me. You haven’t the right!”

  His good intentions evaporated. He was not at al accustomed to being spoken to in that tone. He was not going to live with hostility, condescension and grand airs, nor be spoken to like an impertinent servant. He sat back in his seat, his eyes blazing and his mouth set in a hard line.

  “But I do have the right. You would do wel to show me some respect.” His words were clipped and cold.

  “Why?” She sat up. “Why should I? You think yourself better than me? You think me little more than a common whore? I saw how you looked when you first walked into my house.

  Spare me any pious sermons. What kind of man are you?

  You take another man’s leavings, ready to give her back as soon as she’s needed. You sold yourself as surely as I ever did. And your prize is a title and a woman who belongs to somebody else.”

  “You and your royal lover are both mistaken there.” Though his voice was soft, there was something about it that reminded her she was at the mercy of a stranger.

  “We may both be whores. I’l not deny it. But you were paid for with what little is left of my honor. Whether Charles wil ed it or not, and whether you agree, I bought you, and now I own you. By law you belong to me.”

  “That’s unfortunate for us both. People have been tel ing me that al my life. I don’t like being owned. You’l find I make a very poor slave.”