A Nordic Knight and his Spanish Wife: Jakob & Avery - Book 3 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  “Thank God you are here, man.”

  Jakob opted not to introduce his mother at that moment. “Is something amiss?”

  “My darling Anne has fallen under Henry’s spell and grasped his suggestion for our wedding ball’s theme with great enthusiasm,” Percy grumbled. “She insists I have a new tunic made and purchase new hose to match.”

  “What about your boots?” Avery asked. “Or a hat?”

  Percy’s horrified gaze shifted to hers. “Do not even mention those things!”

  Jakob turned to his mother and translated what had just occurred. When he did so, Percival seemed to suddenly realize that this was not some random woman on Jakob’s arm.

  “Forgive my rudeness, Madam.” He gave Bergdis a royalty-worthy bow. “I am Sir Percival Bethington, knight in service to His Royal Highness, King Henry the Eighth.”

  Avery stepped forward. “May we present Lady Bergdis Hansen of Arendal, Norway?” She paused, grinning. “She is Jakob’s mother.”

  “Mother?” Percy’s brows flew upward. “You said nothing of her visit. Or did you? I confess to being otherwise occupied of late…”

  Jakob chuckled. “My mother’s arrival yester eve was a complete surprise, Percy, but a very happy one.”

  “She boarded my trade ship in Arendal, I believe on a sort of whim, and sailed here,” Avery explained. “Jakob’s older brother remarried and brought a mother and daughter into her house, and they have assumed the management of Hansen Hall.”

  Jakob did not translate Avery’s statement word-for-word, though he agreed with her assessment of his mother’s situation. “We are taking her to meet Catherine now.”

  “Henry was just with her. If you hurry, your mother might meet both sovereigns.” Percy produced a scrap of brocade. “I am off to buy new hose to match this.”

  Jakob tilted his head. “Have you no second thoughts about this marriage, Percy?”

  Percy’s features eased. “Not a one, Jakob. And the prospect of raising a son warms me throughout.”

  Jakob glanced at Avery whose lips were pressed together. Even so, her expression shouted it could be a girl. Living so closely with Henry, Catherine, and Princess Mary kept that thought in the forefront of their lives at all times.

  Jakob smiled. “Then I shall congratulate you yet again, my friend.”

  Percy bowed to Bergdis once more, and then strode toward the Tower gate. Jakob continued escorting the pair of dear women on their path toward the queen.

  § § §

  Avery entered the queen’s chambers first and curtsied in front of Catherine and Henry. When she straightened, she addressed Henry.

  “You are clearly in fine health, Your Grace. You look particularly fit this morning.”

  “I went out riding earlier,” Henry replied, smiling broadly. “The sunrise was glorious.”

  Judging by the hard set of Catherine’s mouth, it was likely Henry was riding back to the Tower at sunrise, fresh from some woman’s bed. Probably Bessie’s.

  Avery returned the king’s smile. “My husband and I received a surprise guest yester eve. Might I introduce her to Your Graces?”

  Henry looked slightly annoyed. “I was just about to take my breakfast. Who is it?”

  Catherine’s irritated gaze cut to her husband’s. “Yes, Lady Avery. Please bring her in.”

  Avery bowed and turned toward the steward at the chamber door. “Please ask my husband and his mother to enter.”

  “Mother?” Henry blurted. “Do you mean that Nordic knight has the audacity to own a mother?”

  Avery returned her attention to the teasing king. “Indeed he does, Your Grace. And as you shall see, he looks just like her.”

  Jakob limped into Catherine’s chamber with a wide-eyed Bergdis on his arm. “Your Highnesses, may I present the Lady Bergdis Hansen of Hansen Hall in Arendal, Norway.”

  Bergdis curtsied the way Avery showed her. “Your Graces.”

  “Will you look at that? He does look just like her.” Henry took a step forward and waited for Jakob to close the rest of the gap. “Welcome to England, my lady.”

  Bergdis responded with a sentence that Avery caught about half of.

  “My mother does not speak English as yet,” Jakob said. “But she is honored to meet you both, and compliments the queen on her beauty.”

  “Thank you, Lady Hansen,” Catherine replied as she rose from her chair and stepped forward to address Henry. “I do not wish your Grace to miss his breakfast.”

  Henry glared at Catherine. “My breakfast will wait for me.”

  Bergdis said something else, and then looked up at her tall son.

  “My mother says that she has heard many tales of the King’s power and wise negotiating skills.” Jakob rubbed his index finger over his upper lip. “I did tell her about the Treaty of London, Your Grace.”

  Avery noticed with relief that Henry’s displeasure with Catherine seemed to dissipate with the translated compliment. “Tell her I am pleased with her son.”

  Avery lifted one skeptical brow but dropped it before Henry noticed.

  Not so pleased that he balked at handing Jakob off to his queen.

  Henry walked past the small group, all of whom bowed or curtsied as he passed without a word of farewell. Once he was gone, Bergdis blurted something about faces.

  Jakob nodded and replied before translating for Catherine. “My mother says that I do resemble your husband. She did not believe this when I first told her.”

  Avery thought the resemblance had faded away, but apparently to fresh eyes it was still solidly there. “Of course, Henry shines brighter,” she deferred.

  Catherine turned her back to Jakob and Bergdis and made a disgusted face. “His shine is quite tarnished, I am afraid.”

  Avery did not react and was glad to note that Jakob remained silent as well.

  “Jakob’s mother is welcome to stay, but Jakob has duties to perform.” Catherine reclaimed her seat and looked at Avery. “Do you remember your Norsk?”

  § § §

  Gonzalo prowled the streets that surrounded the Tower of London in search of the perfect location to carry out his plan. He needed someplace private, where any loud noises would either not be heard or noticed. Luckily, the area around the docks was filled with taverns and whorehouses, so cries of distress were common and largely ignored.

  He could not take a chance on rushing his plans, lest he lose this hard-won opportunity.

  For six months he languished in Barcelona without a permanent home, laboring at positions far below his status just to keep himself fed and housed. After what transpired at the Mendoza Palazzo, he was forced to assume a different identity as he plotted his revenge against Avery.

  Then, when the first of the two trade ships Paolo contracted for was completed, he presented himself to the newly hired captain as an experienced purser, complete with a forged letter of recommendation.

  After that came five miserable months of sailing from Barcelona to Norway, with stops along the southern and western coasts of Spain to purchase items for trade. Gonzalo hid his seasickness as best he could until he finally grew accustomed to the constant roll of the ship. Now he was proud to say he could withstand rough seas with the best of any deckhands.

  He was damned if he would sail again, even so.

  After I finish here, I will not need to.

  Gonzalo spied a house that looked uninhabited. He knocked on the door, and when no one answered he tried the latch. The door swung open on sagging leather hinges and he stepped into a disaster.

  Over-turned furniture and broken crockery spoke of the violence that precipitated this building’s abandonment, and the stench of rotted food and rat droppings proved that its inhabitants made a hasty exit. Gonzalo walked carefully through the three rooms on the ground floor before climbing the wooden steps to the upper level.

  There were three small rooms up there as well, but because none had an open window it was too dark to see what unpleasant surprises they mig
ht contain. Gonzalo went back down the steps, thinking that this might be the exact thing he was looking for.

  I shall bring a lamp and examine the rooms upstairs to be certain.

  When he stepped out the front door, he pulled it shut behind him and decided not to waste time or effort on the leather hinges.

  “Looking for somebody?” A rather attractive woman approached him, her scandalous clothes declaring her horizontally-practiced trade.

  Gonzalo looked confused and concerned. “Do you know what became of the family that lived here?”

  “He’s gone to the gaol for debts. Fought them pretty badly when they came to take him, as ye see.” She tipped her head to the side. “Were ye kin?”

  Gonzalo played the odds. “To the wife.”

  “Aye, well she high-tailed off with another man. Don’t know where.” The whore shrugged so that the front of her dress gaped, giving Gonzalo a tantalizing view of two large, firm breasts. “Want t’ buy me something to eat?”

  He felt a stirring in his groin and refused to think how long it had been since anything but his own hand had given him pleasure. Buoyed by the discovery of this house and the news that the inhabitants were long gone, he agreed to the girl’s proposition.

  At least she smelled clean. And he liked her perfume. “I will want a nap afterward.”

  She grinned. “I have a very comfortable bed.” She looped her arm through his. “My name’s Lizzy, by the way.”

  § § §

  Avery did the best she could to communicate with Bergdis while they and Catherine worked together on Princess Mary’s dress for the Valentine’s ball following Percival Bethington’s wedding to Anne Woodcote.

  “I want to meet Anne Woodcote personally.” Avery threaded her needle. “I only know her from a distance. And by reputation, of course.”

  “I can summon her,” Catherine offered. “I would like to get to know her a bit better before she nabs our precious Percival.”

  Precious was not how Avery ever thought of Percy. His months-long and unsuccessful pursuit of her hand was one of the reasons her own reputation as the ‘Ice Maiden’ of the Tudor court stuck to her so strongly.

  Of course, no one knew she ran to Catherine’s court for safety after an arranged marriage to a ghastly man who eventually died of syphilis. She declined all propositions in the meantime; she would not risk her salvation for either bigamy or fornication, no matter who pursued her.

  “Please do,” Avery encouraged. “She might benefit from a little fear of the court, from what I have seen.”

  Catherine waved one of her other ladies over. “Paper and pen please.” When they were supplied, Catherine wrote out a note inviting Anne for tea that same afternoon.

  “There is no reason to delay this,” she said to Avery after instructing the woman to have the note delivered immediately.

  Bergdis’ hands rested in her lap and she shook her head. “Øynene mine er for gamle.”

  Avery remembered that øynene meant eyes and gamle meant old. She gave Bergdis a sympathetic look and held out her hands.

  “Gi den til meg.” Give it to me.

  She did. “Jeg beklager.”

  Avery shook her head. “Do not be sorry.”

  Bergdis managed half a smile.

  A side door opened and Princess Mary’s nurse entered the room with the four-year-old in tow. “Beg your pardon, Your Grace, but the Princess was asking for you.”

  A smiling Catherine set her needlework aside and held out her arms. “Come, my darling.”

  Mary walked forward very properly until she reached her mother. Catherine pulled her daughter close and kissed her forehead.

  “Let her stay a little while, Nurse.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The nurse curtsied and settled on a straight wooden chair near the door which she and Mary had entered through.

  Mary looked over the pretty fabrics, keeping her fists clutched by her side; she knew better than to start touching things.

  Bergdis held out a scrap. “Kom her.”

  The words sounded the same in English, so Avery repeated them. “Come here. It is the same. Samme.”

  Bergdis lit up. “Same. Ja.”

  Mary looked to her mother for permission.

  “Go on sweetheart,” Catherine encouraged. “This is Sir Hansen’s mother.”

  Mary faced Bergdis and stepped close enough to claim the fabric. Bergdis patted her lap. Mary nodded. Bergdis lifted Mary onto her lap and began to sing her a song in lilting Norsk, all the while showing Mary how to fold the scrap into a flower.

  Avery watched in fascination. The older woman who moments earlier looked defeated by the demands of the fine needlework, now beamed at the future Queen of England and entranced the girl with the magical transformation of a piece of useless fabric.

  Bergdis looked up and reached for her needle and thread.

  Avery handed it to her. Bergdis sent it through the base of the flower a couple times and then tied a knot. Avery handed her mother-in-law the scissors without being asked.

  Mary held up the flower, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Mother. A flower for me.”

  Catherine looked loving at her only living child. “Do not forget to thank Lady Hansen for her kindness, Mary.”

  The girl turned to Bergdis, her expression earnest. “Thank you, Lady Hansen. Will you make me another?”

  Chapter Five

  Bergdis communicated that she wanted to lie down and rest, so after Mary left her mother’s chamber with her nurse, Avery escorted Bergdis back to her and Jakob’s house and gave her over to Emily and Askel’s competent care.

  Askel was more than happy to act as translator for Jakob’s mother, which probably had to do with Jakob’s insistence that the valet abandon Norsk and become proficient in English.

  Anne Woodcote, daughter of the Earl of Oxford, appeared in Catherine’s presence promptly at three o’clock. If she was at all nervous appearing before the Queen, she did not show it.

  Anne executed a perfect curtsy. “I am honored by your invitation, Your Grace.”

  Then she turned to Avery and curtsied again. “I am also well pleased to finally meet you, Lady Avery.” She straightened. “Percival has told me quite a lot about you and Sir Hansen.”

  “Come and sit, Anne.” Catherine indicated the empty chair near their low table. “We want to get to know the woman who snared our dear Percival’s heart.”

  Avery smiled at the petite blonde. “Unfortunately, Percy has told us little about you in return.”

  Anne flashed a knowing look. “Other than the reason for our hasty marriage, of course.”

  Avery recoiled and cut her glance to Catherine’s.

  “You are overly direct, Lady Woodcote,” Catherine chided.

  Anne looked unapologetic. “I cannot abide secrets that are not actually secrets. Once I birth an eight-pound son less than six months after the wedding, what will people say then? I would rather be honest now.”

  “I shall be honest,” Avery bristled. “He says you claimed to be a virgin when he took you.”

  “And I was, my lady. I assure you.” Anne winced. “I was swollen and in pain for a week afterward.”

  Catherine’s expression was pensive. “Has he bedded you since?”

  “Yes.” Anne blushed at that. The deepening pink of her cheeks highlighted the pale turquoise of her eyes and the flaxen color of her hair. The girl truly was stunning.

  She lifted one shoulder in a shy half-shrug. “But it no longer hurts.”

  Though he was thrilled now, Avery tried to imagine how Percival received the news of a baby. Even more so, “What did your father say when he discovered your condition?”

  “He was not pleased, and he threatened to castrate Percy.” Anne shook her head. “But I told him it was my idea, because I was in love.”

  Avery and Catherine exchanged a look.

  “You are in love with Percy?” Catherine asked.

  Anne’s demeanor as she answered could only
be described as wistful. “Oh yes. He is the most handsome man I have ever met.”

  Avery agreed that the big, brawny, brunette knight with blazing green eyes and perpetually ruddy cheeks framing an easy grin was an attractive man. Dozens of women had fallen under his charm and into his bed over the years.

  Percival Bethington never lacked for female companionship, that was certain.

  “How old are you Anne?” Avery asked.

  “I will be twenty in two months. And I know that Percy is ten years my senior.” A pretty frown formed over her brows. “But that is not unusual.”

  “No, it is not,” Avery agreed. “But you are aware that he has had several… encounters. With women.”

  Anne’s head fell back and she laughed delightedly. “Lady Avery, you are being so sweet to try and spare my feelings.”

  “So you are aware of his reputation?” Catherine pressed. “A well-deserved one?”

  Anne nodded, still smiling. “I am. In fact, Percy does not remember this, but we first met about eight years ago. That was when I decided.”

  “Decided?” Avery glanced at Catherine. “You were only twelve. What did you decide?”

  “To marry him, of course.”

  That left Avery speechless.

  “Does he know that?” Catherine asked.

  “I told him, yes. But he does not recall the occasion.” Anne shrugged. “And why should he? I was still a child, and there were plenty of grown women present.”

  Avery shook her head. “This is a most unusual story, I have to say.”

  “My father says when I set my mind on something, I am like a stallion who has taken the bit in his teeth.” Anne flipped one unconcerned wrist. “Gender differences notwithstanding.”

  The flame of understanding sprung to light in Avery’s mind. She looked at Anne with new respect.

  “You knew that the only way to make him marry you was to give him your virginity and conceive his child.”

  Anne waved a finger in denial. “Not the only way. He had to fall in love with me first, as deeply as I had with him.”