by Kris Tualla
Also By Kris Tualla:
Medieval:
Loving the Norseman
Loving the Knight
In the Norseman’s House
Renaissance:
A Nordic Knight in Henry’s Court
A Nordic Knight of the Golden Fleece
A Nordic Knight and his Spanish Wife
18th Century:
A Discreet Gentleman of Discovery
A Discreet Gentleman of Matrimony
A Discreet Gentleman of Consequence
A Discreet Gentleman of Intrigue
A Discreet Gentleman of Mystery
and
Leaving Norway
Finding Sovereignty
Regency:
A Woman of Choice
A Prince of Norway
A Matter of Principle
Contemporary:
An Unexpected Viking
A Restored Viking
A Modern Viking
*****
For Aspiring Authors:
A Primer for Beginning Authors
Becoming an Authorpreneur
A Nordic Knight
and
His Spanish Wife
By Kris Tualla
A Nordic Knight and His Spanish Wife is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
© 2015 by Kris Tualla
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.
ISBN-13: 978-1523351510
ISBN-10: 1523351519
This book is dedicated to the sane people
who surrounded King Henry VIII,
and who survived the actions of
a monarch run amok.
God works in mysterious ways.
Enjoy!
Chapter One
February 3, 1520
London, England
Jakob Hansen laughed so hard his eyes were tearing. “That is rich, Percy. Stop! I cannot catch my breath.”
Sir Percival Bethington, loyal knight in service to King Henry the Eighth, and His Royal Highness’s most trusted representative at the Order of the Golden Fleece, crossed his arms over his massive chest.
“I am not making a jest, Jakob.”
Jakob, himself a knight in service to Queen Catherine of Aragon, and husband of nearly one year to Her Highness’s chief lady-in-waiting, Lady Avery Galaviz de Hansen, wiped his eyes. “Am I to believe that you actually are getting married?”
Percy nodded. “I am.”
“Good Lord, man—why?” Jakob shook his head and spread his hands. “You have lived for these three decades happily unencumbered by a wife. Has my recent state of bliss influenced you so?”
Bethington stroked his beard. “It is quite true that I have thoroughly enjoyed my singular state. And that you, my friend, are unusually giddy for a Norseman.”
“And your exploits with the fairer sex are legendary!” Jakob rested his hands on his hips and drew a deep breath. “Will you give that up willingly?”
Percy shrugged a little. “I am afraid I must.”
An unhappy thought occurred. “Do not tell me you have been caught.”
Percy’s face flushed. “It is not only that.”
Jakob’s shoulders slumped. “Percy—how can you be certain the babe is yours?”
“She was a virgin when I took her to bed.”
Jakob looked askance at his friend. “Are you certain of that? There are womanly tricks to make a man believe so, you know.”
Percy wagged his head. “Jakob, as you said yourself my exploits are legendary. I am not an ignorant squire when it comes to bedsport. I know a virgin when I bed one.”
“Why did you do it, Percy?” Jakob clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Why take her virginity when so many experienced women are eager to join you?”
The knight’s face flushed darker. “She has my heart, Jakob. I am smitten.”
“Love?” Jakob was stunned. “You love the girl?”
“More than I thought possible.” Percy allowed his first smile of the conversation. “She is completely captivating.”
Stunned, Jakob tried to picture the women he had seen Percy with of late. “Do I know her?”
“Perhaps. She is the daughter of Lord Basil Woodcote, Earl of Oxford. We met at Windsor last summer, and then reacquainted ourselves during the Saint Nicholas festivities.”
Jakob huffed a laugh. “Two months past? You wasted no time, my friend.”
“I could not risk another man claiming her, Jakob.”
Jakob felt a niggling of recollection. “Describe her to me.”
Percy laughed. “She is the antithesis of me. Petite of frame, curling blonde hair, and only nineteen.”
Jakob nodded. “I believe I do know the girl…”
“Ah, but if you looked into her eyes, Jakob.” Percy sighed. “They are the purest, palest blue you could imagine, framed with the eyelashes of an angel.”
Jakob smiled at his friend; Percy was, indeed, captivated. To the point of waxing poetic. That was the last thing Jakob ever expected to hear from his English friend.
Percy pointed a insistent finger at him. “She sees my very soul, Jakob. She knows every misdeed, every misstep, and yet she loves me even so.”
“If that is true, then she will elevate you to heights you never imagined possible.” Jakob’s heart warmed at the thought of his own wife. “Just as Avery has done for me.”
“And you for her, if we are to be honest.” Now Percy clapped Jakob’s shoulder. “I have hopes that Anne and I can achieve what you and Avery have.”
“Have you talked to Henry yet?” Jakob asked.
Percy nodded. “Henry gave his permission three days past. And I have returned last night from Oxford where I received her father’s blessing.”
Jakob was still adjusting to this completely unexpected shift in his best friend’s situation. He could not wait to tell Avery and see what her reaction would be. He wondered if his wife had any clue through her connections in Catherine’s court, or if this engagement would be news to everyone.
“When will you marry?”
“The banns will be read today. So the wedding mass will be in three weeks.” Percy tilted his head. “Will you stand with me, Jakob? As I did for you?”
“Of course!” Jakob grinned. “I would be honored.”
§ § §
Avery left Queen Catherine’s presence when her husband beckoned her into the Tower of London’s wide upper hallway. “Is something amiss?”
Jakob’s dark blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “That depends on your interpretation.”
Avery folded her arms. “What has occurred?”
“Percival Bethington is getting married.”
Avery smacked her husband in the chest. “Oh, stop that. Be serious.”
“I do not jest,” Jakob declared. “The man is smitten.”
Her forehead furrowed. “By whom?”
“The Earl of Oxford’s daughter.”
Avery gave a little gasp. “Anne Woodcote?”
Jakob’s brows shot upward in surprise. “Do you know her?”
&nb
sp; “Yes!” Avery started to laugh. “And she is the girl Percy will marry?”
Jakob looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Why is this funny?”
“Because Anne spits fire, Jakob.” Avery tried to imagine Percy with the deceptively petite and pale young woman. “She is not one to be trifled with.”
“It seems he did trifle with her…” Jakob gave her a knowing look.
“Ah.” This engagement was making sense now. “She is with child.”
“Yes.”
Avery smiled and shook her head. “Then I assure you that she chose him. Not the other way around.”
Jakob seemed to ponder that. “He says she is attractive.”
“She is more than that. She is beautiful,” Avery agreed. “And well liked, in case you were worried.”
“She must know of his reputation,” Jakob posited. “He claims that she does.”
“I am certain that she does. Perhaps that is why she chose to seduce him.” Avery laid her hand on her husband’s chest and looked up into his eyes. “A man who has lived life is always more interesting.”
Jakob bent down and kissed her softly, then rested his forehead against hers. “And a wise and beautiful wife who knows what she wants is a blessing.”
“I love you, husband, and wish we could dally longer, but I must return to Catherine.” Avery gave Jakob a quick kiss. She turned to the door but looked back over her shoulder. “Has Henry approved?”
“Yes. As well as the Earl.”
Avery grinned. “I cannot wait to discuss this with Catherine.”
§ § §
Jakob left the Tower and walked toward the house in which he and Avery lived. Built inside the walls of the ancient fortress, the house was one in a long row of private residences which housed high ranking guards and married couples in service to the royal couple.
The damp winter air in London always made his damaged thigh ache, but Jakob avoided taking opium until the pain was unbearable. Happily, sharing a bed with his wife warmed him through the night and he awoke much less sore than when he was a bachelor.
He opened the door and stepped into the small drawing room, immediately feeling the welcome warmth from the fire on this chilled winter’s day.
Askel popped his head through the open door to the kitchen. “Hva kan jeg gjøre for deg, min herre?”
His loyal valet, Askel, had followed Jakob from Denmark to England to Spain, then back to England, on to Norway, and again to Denmark, before returning to England to settle down for good.
“English, Askel,” Jakob chided. “We live here now.”
The valet heaved a sigh. “What will I do for you, my lord?”
Jakob dropped into a chair. “I have news.”
“What sort of news?”
Jakob flashed a crooked smile. “It seems that Sir Bethington has decided to marry.”
“Yes.” Askel’s head bobbed. “And?”
Jakob frowned. “Are you not surprised?”
Askel shook his head. “Denys tells me yesterday.”
Bethington’s valet was Askel’s first friend in England, and the two younger men grew to trust each other as much as their employers did.
“Why did you not tell me?” Jakob asked.
“He tells me not to.”
Jakob quirked a brow. “You make me question your loyalty, Askel.”
The valet laughed. “I serve you all over the world.”
“You are lucky that I have taken you all over the world,” Jakob countered.
Askel shrugged. “He says Bethington tells you today.”
Avery’s maid Emily came into the drawing room. “Can I get you anything, my lord?”
Jakob turned his head to face her. “Did you know that Sir Bethington is getting married?”
Emily blinked, her expression puzzled. “The same Sir Bethington who pursued Lady Avery so intently, and then went to Spain with you?”
Jakob nodded. “That is the one.”
Emily’s regard slid to Askel. “Is this a jest?”
Askel grinned at her and patted his belly. “No. The lady has a baby.”
Emily appeared properly horrified. “Is he being forced by the king?”
“Not at all.” Jakob wagged his head and smiled. “It seems the intrepid knight has been irrevocably felled by love.”
§ § §
Catherine laughed so hard that Avery feared for the queen’s ability to breathe.
“Of all the men at court, I thought Percival would be the most careful.” Catherine gasped for air. “To be caught by a virgin? That is too delicious.”
“I told Jakob that Percy was actually the victim.” Avery smiled. “But apparently he was quite a willing one.”
“I needed a laugh today.” Catherine’s expression sobered. “My course has started right on time.”
Avery squeezed her friend’s hand. “Do not give up hope, Cathy. You are still young enough.”
The queen shook her head. “Henry is besotted with Bessie’s son, and I fear he is still warming her bed.”
And that’s why Henry did not tell Catherine about Percival’s engagement.
Avery gave Catherine a sympathetic look. She did not dare ask how often Henry was visiting Catherine—that was a step too far, even for her. When the queen of one of the most powerful countries in the world was involved, even lifelong friends must maintain a certain level of decorum.
Since returning to London last year Jakob refused to continue to pretend to be the king, in spite of the striking resemblance between the two men. It was a moot point in any case, because Catherine found out about his affair with Bessie once Jakob left for Spain. She miscarried soon after.
And when Henry stepped forward and claimed Bessie’s son as his child, there was no reason for the king to hide his continued extra-marital relations with her any longer.
“When will the wedding take place?” Catherine asked.
“As soon as the banns are read.”
“The wedding will be a pleasant diversion.” Catherine leaned toward Avery. “Every man and woman who knows Percival will be in attendance, and betting on whether or not he actually goes through with it.”
Chapter Two
February 10, 1520
The North Sea
The trade ship Albergar bucked over the waves on its way from Arendal, Norway to the ports of London. This journey was a continuation of the ship’s maiden voyage and she was holding up well, even with the rough seas and a hold filled with goods.
A deck hand stuck his head into the purser’s cabin. “Mister Esteban, the captain wants to see you.”
“Tell him I will be right there.” Gonzalo closed his cash drawer and turned the key. Pushing his stool back he stood, pocketed the key, and strode out of the cabin.
Captain Montero sat at his desk conversing with the boatswain, a man Gonzalo didn’t care for. While the boatswain was in charge of the deckhands, he seemed to feel that Gonzalo fell under his authority as well.
“I answer to the captain, and only the captain,” Gonzalo reminded him more than once. “So leave me be.”
Gonzalo knocked on the open cabin door. “You wished to see me, Captain?”
Captain Montero turned to face him. “Mister Esteban. Come in.”
“I shall be on my way, then.” The boatswain spun on his heel and walked past Gonzalo without meeting his eyes.
Gonzalo stepped forward. “How can I be of service, sir?”
“We are making decent progress in spite of the weather.” Montero tapped on the map spread across his desk. “I expect we will reach the mouth of the Thames by sunrise tomorrow.”
“And dock in London by nightfall?”
The captain nodded. “How are our numbers?”
“We stand to make a decent profit, sir, even after we restock our supplies for the long journey back to Barcelona.”
“Good.”
“When will you want to hand out the pay packets?” Gonzalo assumed the sailors would not be paid when they
docked, but only after their cargo was unloaded and stored in a warehouse.
“Have them ready before we reach London so we can pay them as soon as the work is finished.” Montero’s mouth twisted into a knowing grin. “Arendal was a small port and I am afraid many of the men found the, ah—amenities—lacking. They will be eager to sample the vast entertainments of London.”
Whores and taverns.
Gonzalo Esteban was careful to stay away from both. “Yes, sir.”
“That is all. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As he made his way back to his cabin, a sly smile curled his lips.
At long last, I shall have my rightful reckoning.
§ § §
Eleven months had passed since Avery took possession of the trade ships built with her dead husband’s money, and five since the first ship set sail according to the letters from her Barcelona business partner, Señor Gustavo Salazar.
Once the Albergar docked in London, the sale of its cargo should raise enough cash for Avery to repay the money which Catherine so generously loaned her in her darkest hour.
“And that ship should arrive sometime this month,” she told Jakob over breakfast in their bedchamber. “After stopping in Arendal, of course.”
“Johan was very optimistic about trading with Spain,” Jakob said about his elder brother. “I confess to being curious as to what sort of goods he was able to provide.”
“He mentioned fish,” Avery recalled. “Arctic salmon, cod, herring. Pelts and wool. Even ice, I believe.”
Jakob rubbed his belly. “I would love some fresh salmon right now.”
Avery considered her very handsome husband. “Do you think that Johan will ever marry again?”
Jakob shrugged. “I cannot say. After so many years apart, I am afraid I do not know my brother well enough anymore.”
Avery reached over and laid her hand over his. “I am sorry, Jakob.”
