Overruled by Fate

by Leila Snow

  "Lord Endle is fatigued from our journey," she explained. "I believe he will be unable to attend this evening's feast."

  "Will you join, my Lady?" he asked.

  "Aye," she confirmed. "One of us must be present."

  "Just so my Lady," he agreed. "The king will be informed of your attendance and that Lord Endle is indisposed. I will return shortly to escort you to the great hall."

  "You have our thanks," she replied to him. Then she turned as he hurried off, and spoke to Muriel. "I will need my red silk cotehardie with the cloth of gold kirtle. I will wear the gold cross with the rubies and my hair must be re-braided. But first I should like to refresh myself. I have the lavender castile soap I brought from Marbourne but I will require warm water."

  The maid nodded her understanding and hurried off down the corridor to retrieve the necessary items.

  To her knights, she asked, "And what of the whereabouts of your captain?"

  Sir Hugh spoke up, "He rests my Lady. He is scheduled for duty through the night."

  "I see. My thanks," she said, then turned to re-enter the bedchamber.

  * * *

  Cedric arrived just as the sun was beginning to set outside the arched window. He elegantly bent a knee as she emerged from her chambers.

  Madeline glanced behind her to where Endle lay still asleep on the bed. "Stay with him," she requested quietly of Sir Gareth as she moved out the door. The young knight nodded his compliance, whilst Sir Hugh fell in behind the king's steward and Lady Madeline.

  It was not a long walk to the great hall and the wide corridors were well-lit with an abundance of torches. Several other courtiers joined their company, offering deferential curtsies and head bobs towards Lady Madeline.

  "The king requested the heralds announce your entrance," Cedric explained.

  Madeline raised a brow but busied herself washing her hands in the laval, a stone basin that was set outside the great hall doors expressly for that purpose. When she had finished, the steward nodded to her. With a grand flourish, he pushed open the huge double doors to the great hall. Servants grasped the doors and held them wide whilst Madeline composed a serene smile and then stepped into the cavernous room. As she did so, trumpeters heralded her arrival from the galleries. The great hall was impressive and grand, twice as long as it was wide. An ornate, timber-vaulted ceiling arched high above her. Vividly coloured tapestries and embroidered coats of arms hung from every available wall surface, giving the room a bright, cheerful ambiance. In the centre of the great hall a massive fire blazed keeping the dampness at bay. Trestle table after trestle table filled the available floor space, each crowded with the king's guests. Their eyes fixed on Madeline as she made her way between the tables down the length of the room. At the far end, set high into the wall was an ornate, stained-glass rose-window and below it, seated at the high table, was King Edward himself.

  He was dressed more formally than when she had last seen him. He wore a form-fitting velvet cotehardie in royal red. It was heavily embroidered in gold thread along the neckline and cuffs. The rows of buttons along his sleeves and down the front of his garment gleamed in the torchlight and a heavy gold chain hung around his neck. Atop his long, wavy, dark hair he wore a simple crown, proclaiming to all his status.

  Queen Phillipa sat to his left. She was yet girlish, younger even than Madeline, and attractive though not beautiful. She was also lavishly clothed, though not to the splendour of the king, in a regal dark blue silk overtop a lighter toned kirtle. A dainty crown perched upon her nearly black hair, though the modest veil she wore concealed it. The queen gave Madeline a kind, warm-hearted smile as she approached. The sweetness of it reminded Madeline of Aileth. She had noticed the girl seated with her brother at a table just below the king, Geoffrey's face bearing its usual churlish pout. As she passed, she heard him bemoan to Aileth, "Why should she sit at the head table, whilst we are seated down with the commoners?" The complaint was accompanied almost immediately by Aileth's soft words of reproach.

  But she had greater things to worry about now than Geoffrey. The king himself grinned down at her from his elevated position. Arriving before the table, Madeline dropped down onto one knee and bowed her head. When he bade her rise, she saw the mischievous twinkle shining in the dark eyes of the lusty, young ruler.

  "Lady Madeline," he greeted her warmly. "We rejoice at your presence at Woodstock and hope your stay will be enjoyable and lengthy. Please join us," he continued, gesturing grandly to the empty high-backed chair on his right. For the first time Madeline noticed the other man who sat at the high table. Somewhat older than the king, he had a distinctly imposing presence and carried an air of authority. He was dressed in jewel-toned velvet which, whilst excellent quality, was quite simple and almost austere. She felt the man's intense stare on her as she rounded the table, though it was the king himself who rose and took her hand, assisting her onto the dais.

  "I am very pleased to feast my eyes on your beauty once again," he whispered as he settled her into her seat. "Allow me to present Queen Phillipa," he said at full volume. And turning to his wife, he introduced, "Lady Madeline of Marbourne, my dear."

  The young queen sent Madeline a friendly smile. "Welcome," she said in a melodious voice. "I do hope you enjoy Woodstock as much as I. It truly is a relaxing and charming location."

  "I thank you for your warm greeting," Madeline responded with a matching smile. "I am sure we will."

  "And may I also introduce you to my closest friend and confidant, Lord William, the Baron Montagu," the king continued.

  She turned to the man who had been contemplating her so intently. "My pleasure," she said as she bowed her head.

  "Indeed, it is utterly my own," Lord William said solemnly in a deep baritone. "Did your husband accompany you?" he enquired.

  "He did," she replied immediately. "Though I'm afraid the long travel has fatigued him and he is unable to attend this eve."

  The man nodded politely. "I will say a prayer for his renewed vigour."

  "That is very kind of you," Madeline answered.

  She turned her attention as the king spoke quietly to her. "Is he still not well?" he asked, a sincere expression of concern on his handsome face.

  "He is not," Madeline spoke softly for the king's ears alone, Endle would be mortified if gossip of his weakness were to be spread about the court. "He took a turn for the worse at the Monastery of St. Benedict two days past. I have a very real concern for his health," she added.

  "I will send the royal physicians at daybreak," the king offered immediately.

  "We are in your debt, sire," Madeline said, bowing her head in genuine appreciation.

  "It is nothing. I would do more if I could," he replied. "And I insist you call me Edward when we speak in private."

  Madeline nodded uncomfortably. "As you wish."

  Any further conversation was interrupted with the arrival and consumption of course after course of rich and diverse foods. They dined upon silver plates using silver eating knives, and drank from silver goblets. Though Madeline had been born into a wealthy family and married even higher, she still found herself mesmerized by the extravagance of the magnificent setting and luscious feast. Occasionally the king would lean close to whisper some amusing comment or small tidbit of gossip. Madeline was aware of his every movement, just as she was aware of his queen sitting on the opposite side of him and Lord William on her right. The latter did not speak much, but appeared to be making deliberate eye contact with her, and in a moment of pure exasperation, she matched his stare, refusing to look away. Much to her surprise, he laughed and turned his eyes from her.

  "Pray do not allow him to distress or trouble you," the king commented with a smile. "He is overly protective. We have been close since our childhood," he explained.

  Madeline's attention was diverted as the door to the great hall opened and a troupe of jugglers bounded into the room. They were brightly dressed, with plumes and streamers flying from their clothin
g as they twirled and leapt. Seemingly effortlessly they juggled an assortment of objects, keeping the room spellbound.

  Madeline enjoyed them thoroughly and found herself clapping along with the rest of those assembled.

  "They are quite good," the king murmured, regarding her pleasure with amusement.

  She turned a mirthful smile on him. "Indeed they are," she exclaimed. "I could watch them all day."

  "I could watch you all night," Edward avowed quietly.

  Madeline blushed and dropped her eyes to her lap. She heard the king's low chuckle beside her.

  "I can see I have discomfited you," he said playfully. "So I will change the subject and ask you this. Can you speculate upon what we celebrate this eve?"

  "Nay, sire," she responded, shaking her head.

  "Tis one year ago today that the baron and I captured that traitor, Roger Mortimer, whilst he holed up like a rat at Nottingham Castle," he informed her, just a touch of displeasure colouring his voice. "Caught him completely unawares! That was an adventure, eh Montagu?" he chortled.

  Lord William gave an unexpected grin. "Aye, your Grace. Better we ate the dog, than the dog ate us," he said with a wink.

  "Truer words have not been spoken," Edward grinned back at Montagu.

  Just then the jugglers finished and pranced out of the great hall. As they exited, an undistinguished, plain-looking man entered, a lute clutching in his long slender fingers.

  "Ah, behold, the troubadour begins!" the king said pleased. "He arrived at the palace the eve before last and is uncommonly talented."

  The unremarkable man strode steadily to the high table and prostrated himself before them.

  "Arise troubadour! Sing us a ballad of romantic yearning," the king declared enthusiastically.

  The musician complied. As he began to strum his instrument, Madeline realized that he was not so very unremarkable after all. The dulcet melody his fingers magically teased from the lute drifted over the crowd. All noise and chatter ceased whilst he began to sing in a clear, sonorous voice, a stirring ballad of love and longing. As the last silvery note hung lingering in the air, Edward leaned over to Madeline, his shoulder pressing heavily against hers. His breath stirred the small hairs at the nape of her neck when he murmured in a low, sensual voice, "I find myself restless and yearning for the St. Crispin Day celebrations, a few days hence."

  Though much is taken,

  much abides; and though

  We are not now that strength

  which in old days

  Moved earth and heaven,

  that which we are, we are;

  One equal temper of heroic hearts,

  Made weak by time and fate,

  but strong in will

  To strive, to seek, to find,

  and not to yield.

  ~Alfred Tennyson

  CHAPTER 21

  In the muted opacity of the early morning hours, it was the king himself who escorted Madeline back to her chambers. His guards and Sir Hugh followed as silently as apparitions much further behind them. A number of torches had guttered and died during the long hours of feasting and the corridors were darkened and intimate. Edward slipped his arm about her waist and drew her close as they neared the bedchamber. His fingers rested on the curve of her hip, and she shivered with a purely visceral reaction. She tensed, her heart pounding at his confident possessiveness.

  "I would like to see you later this afternoon," the king whispered in a low, fervent voice, his mouth brushing ever so lightly against the shell of her ear.

  "Sire..." Madeline began cautiously.

  "Edward," he murmured.

  Madeline looked up at him, her eyes shining with hesitancy and concern, fully aware of her predicament.

  "Your beauty takes my breath away," he praised her, a hungry look in his eyes.

  At that moment, Madeline became conscious of a presence ahead of them, partially hidden in the shadows. She could feel, as much as see, the large form leaning casually against the wall next to her door. Nathaniel stood guard.

  "Do not answer now," the king voiced quietly, as the big knight stepped menacing forward. "I am a patient man. I will leave you now and look forward to your agreement," he continued with a predatory grin and a suggestive wink.

  "I bid you a good night, Edward," she responded quietly.

  He bowed briefly to her then strode off, followed by his guards.

  Sir Hugh caught up to her. "If you have no further need of me, I will be off to my bed," he requested.

  "Of course," Madeline agreed with a smile. "A restful night, Sir Hugh." The knight bent a knee and departed in the direction of the barracks.

  Madeline turned her attention to Nathaniel, who stood still and unmoving, his face hidden in the dim shadows.

  "Nate," she said softly.

  "Good eve. Do you fare well, Lady Madeline?" she heard, his deep voice reverberating through her.

  "Is it to be this way between us then?" she asked forlornly. "My best and most loved friend?"

  Nathaniel took another step forward into the glow of the torchlight. "Is there any other way, my Lady?" he said, heartbreak evident across his face.

  "Linny," she uttered brokenly. "Am I not still Linny to you?"

  She saw him heave a great sigh and the unseen barrier he had built to protect himself, crumbled ever so slightly. "You will always be Linny in my heart," he answered honestly. "But that is all we have left. And I cannot go on if I dwell on that fact."

  "I cannot bear it Nate," she cried quietly. "I have no one. Without you I am alone."

  "You will never be truly alone," he confessed, his soul showing in his eyes. "Whatever you need, I will always be there for you. You only need ask."

  Madeline saw his blue eyes glance up alertly, as two palace guards on their nightly patrols started down the hallway towards them. "You must go inside to your husband," he bade her anxiously. "It would not do to for you to be seen alone in the corridors."

  Madeline nodded her understanding as he opened the door for her, but she paused halfway into the room and whispered her request, "Do not go off duty in the morn, but accompany me on my walk about the grounds?"

  He tipped his head in the affirmative as he gently closed the door behind her. Silently he resumed his guard over her whilst she slept.

  * * *

  Madeline tossed and turned throughout the night. The dilemma with the king weighed heavily on her mind. His word was the ultimate authority, and it was not in one's best interest to refuse him anything that he desired. Nevertheless, Madeline's thoughts swirled with contemplation on how to avoid becoming his bedsport. She may not have loved Lord Endle as a woman did a man, but she cared for and respected him enough to want to avoid making him a cuckold. She was his wife, and as such, she was determined to remain faithful. If Endle had been well, she would have told him all. But the sound of his laboured breathing next to her, confirmed her reasons for remaining silent. He had a great need for the king's royal physicians and without urgent help, she feared for his life.

  Thus, in the wee hours of the morning, she reaffirmed her decision to go to Nate with her problem. Despite their distance of late, he had always been the one she had gone to with scraped knees or when Nursey had been harsh with her. Now, as then, she needed his comfort and his honest advice.

  * * *

  Morning came too early as Madeline had only just fallen into a deep sleep. The cold sunlight streamed through the window and woke her as it focused its rays on her face. She rolled over to see Endle propped up on pillows beside her, a book in his hand.

  "Good morn, my dear," he bid her with a weary smile.

  "Good morn, dear Endle," she returned, sitting up. "How do you feel?

  "Well enough," he said mildly. "To be honest, possibly even slightly peckish. Would you call for some of your broth?" he requested.

  "Immediately," she responded. Pulling the bed drapes back, she summoned Muriel who slept on a pallet at the foot of their bed.

  "Muriel,
fetch some bone broth for his Lordship," she bid the maid. "And when you are returned, I would like to dress and go for a short turn about the grounds before I break my fast."

  The maid bounded out of bed and curtsied. "Right away, my Lady."

  * * *

  A short time later Madeline stepped out of the room. She was warmly outfitted in velvet with a heavy cape draped over her shoulders to ward off the chill and she had left Endle sipping on a steaming cup of broth.

  Nate remained exactly where she had left him, looking very much the same as last night, although she could see his fatigue about his eyes.

  "Good morn, Sir Nathaniel," she greeted him formally, aware Lord Endle could overhear her words.

  "And to you, my Lady," he returned stiffly.

  "Will you please accompany me on my walk about the palace park?" she requested.

  "Indeed," he agreed as she shut the door behind herself. Then wordlessly, he followed her down the hallway and out of the keep, into the crispness of the late autumn morning.

  Madeline's breath rose from her mouth in soft, white puffs as she walked out of the courtyard and across the drawbridge. Neither she nor Nathaniel spoke until they were well out of hearing of the castle.

  "Nate, I need to speak..."

  "Linny, I need to tell..." they spoke overtop of one another.

  Nathaniel chuckled. "My apologies," he said courteously, giving her a faint lopsided smile. "Pray continue."

  Madeline shook her head. "I am unsure if I should discuss this with you. I am afraid..."

  Suddenly she realised the disastrous mistake she was about to make, that confiding in him wasn't an option. Doing so would put him at risk. She could not place Nate between herself and the king. Edward was the reigning monarch, he had the right to demand anything of anyone, and despite his agreeable nature she had seen the regal ruthlessness in his eyes. He was king. What might he do to a lowly knight who stood in the way of what he wanted?