A Nordic Knight in Henry's Court: Jakob & Avery: Book 1 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  Lizzy scratched her head, considering that possibility. “I suppose you could be right. It was so odd though…”

  Avery’s smile was too shaky for her confidence to be fully believed. Even so, she pressed her theory forward. “I can certainly understand your confusion.”

  “I got chills when I seen him, the other man. You know?”

  The girl’s disillusionment with the logical explanation for a very mysterious circumstance was palpable. The moment of Lizzy’s scandalous discovery must have brightened her life more than Avery could understand.

  Recovering slowly from her shock, Avery patted Lizzy’s hand to console the whore. “It was very odd. And I do hope Miss Blount knows the difference.”

  “That she ain’t mistaking him?” Lizzy blew a sigh, and turned her resigned countenance toward Avery. “You must be right. I mean, do you know how many people in the world look like someone else?”

  Avery tensed. “That is unusual. And surprising.”

  Lizzy didn’t seem to notice Avery’s concern. “I see men what look like other men all the time. Women, too.”

  That was not at all what Avery expected Lizzy to say. “You do?”

  “All the time,” she repeated. “But I’m good about faces. I can see how they’re different, and I don’t mistake them.”

  “That is a very useful skill in your profession,” Avery murmured, unsure how else to respond.

  Lizzy leaned close. “That’s how I know it’s you, my lady. I can spot you a hundred yards away, even dressed as you are.”

  Avery drew a deep breath. She needed to return to her chambers and consider what she had just learned—and if Jakob was truly involved, or that yet another man in London looked startlingly like Henry.

  “I should go back.” She climbed to her feet with Lizzy’s insistent help, though she no longer felt weak. Righteous anger blossomed in her chest, turning her spine to steel.

  “Do you want me to keep an eye on Miss Blount’s house?” she offered.

  Avery paused, wondering if that was necessary. It certainly might provide confirmation of how Henry was involved, but she didn’t want the whore to lose her income in the process.

  “Only if you have the time, Lizzy. You still need to eat, and have a roof over your head.”

  The girl nodded. “That’s fair. But what about the other thing? Has the king had any more trouble?”

  Avery’s hard-won composure shattered again. “Perhaps. One of his carriage wheels was sawed into.”

  Lizzy crossed herself. “Save his soul. Aught else?”

  “A possible attempt at poisoning.” Avery’s core trembled unnaturally. “Did you say it was a groom talking about the arrow?”

  “Yes.” Lizzy’s gaze shifted around them. “Sir.”

  “Have you seen him again?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide.

  “If you do, will you send me word? I shall come straightaway.”

  Lizzy nodded.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All’s well, then. My thanks.” Avery turned to leave.

  “Keep yerself safe, Sir,” Lizzy called after her.

  Avery stalked back to the Tower, infuriated by what she learned tonight—and the natural assumptions to which that information led her. She could not help but wonder if Lizzy’s evidence was as condemning as it seemed. Was Jakob somehow helping Henry commit adultery? Or was it actually the Norseman having the affaire of the cock?

  And once sorted, what might any of this mean for her, her friendship with Catherine, and her undeniable affection for the knight?

  July 6, 1518

  Four days loomed until the tournament; three until the knights’ conversations with Catherine.

  Jakob answered Avery’s questions in perfect Spanish, and wondered why she seemed so distant this afternoon. Perhaps it was because he had not gone to supper the night before.

  He had good reason. On the way back to the Tower he had argued with Henry once again about the wisdom of bringing Bessie Blount to the tournament.

  To be honest, argued was not the correct word, because one does not actually argue with the King of England. One merely suggests another option, and then endures a thorough drubbing, which includes all the reasons which clearly prove how inconceivable the alternate option is.

  In the end, Jakob felt as if the beating was physical.

  Rather than risk igniting the king further by displaying his own irritation, Jakob decided to take supper from a tray in his rooms before reading himself to sleep.

  And to be honest, he did not intend to fall asleep so early. He intended to seek out Avery once the supper hours were completed. But when he opened his eyes to a dark room, and knew by the position of the moon that the hour was well past midnight, he simply undressed and went to bed.

  He thought about sending her a note of apology or explanation, but Askel was not present and he didn’t want to wander the halls to deliver the message himself.

  And to be even more honest, the thought did occur to him that Avery might have come looking for him. His unexplained absence should have piqued her curiosity—at least he hoped it would. And yet when he realized she did not come, he wondered if he had made a blunder somewhere in the challenge over her heart.

  Facing her unsmiling face this morning probably meant that he had done something wrong. Knowing exactly what that something might be, would be quite helpful in making amends. The problem facing him now was how to discover that answer.

  Jakob decided to wait until the lessons were finished to say anything. He remained until Bethington left Lady Avery’s chambers before he spoke, and even then he was forced to step between her and her bedchamber to keep her from escaping his presence.

  Her dark eyes flashed at him. “What is it that you want?”

  “Have I done something to anger you, Avery?” he asked gently. “Tell me and I will undo the thing.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where were you yesterday? When you were supposed to be here, learning?”

  Skitt.

  “Henry asked me to go with him to—” Jakob cleared his throat to stall for time. “To see to the making of new hammers, barres, for the tournament.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And where was that?”

  Jakob recalled what he could about yesterday’s winding path through London. “A blacksmith. Up the river, maybe a mile.”

  The realization that, if someone had seen the carriage, then they only saw one man inside—the man they believed to be their king.

  “He took me there, and asked me to stay and watch for mistakes when the barres are finished.”

  Her expression, though still skeptical, softened the tiniest bit. “How long were you there?”

  Jakob rolled his eyes for effect. “Hours. I returned after the supper bell, but I was filthy.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Did you eat?”

  “Askel brought me a tray. Once I had washed and eaten, I decided to read until all others are finished with supper.” He gave a little shrug. “But I fell asleep.”

  Avery stared at him for a moment before asking, “And you did not awaken?”

  Jakob shook his head. “I was more tired than I knew. All the lifting and swinging of the barres to test them. When I did wake, it was past midnight.”

  The lady’s gaze still pinned his. Jakob needed to divert the direction of her enquiry before he was forced to lie to her further.

  He tilted his head and gave a little smile. “Are you angry because you missed me?”

  “I did note your absence,” she stated. “Whether I pined for you is another question, indeed.”

  Jakob stepped closer and ran his finger along her jaw. “Did you pine for me, my lady?”

  He saw her conflicting reactions play out over her features. “I trust you, Jakob. Please do not make me regret that trust.”

  “I would never agree to do anything, if I knew it would hurt you, Avery.”

  Jakob knew he
was twisting the meaning of those words, but the oppressive weight of his guilt pushed him to do so.

  Avery let her arms fall to her sides. “Thank you.”

  Jakob smiled his relief. “May I escort you to supper this eventide? And perhaps take a stroll in the yard afterwards?”

  “Yes. That would be nice.” Avery returned his smile, but her eyes had lost some of their sparkle. “I shall see you then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jakob stood in the hall, waiting for permission to enter the king’s presence. He drew long, slow breaths to try and corral his anger which, if released, might well destroy the rest of his life.

  Charles Brandon opened the door. “Come in, Hansen.”

  “Thank you.” Jakob walked into the room. “Will you stay?”

  “I normally am at the king’s side for all of his interviews,” Brandon replied, his expression wary. “Do you wish privacy?”

  Jakob met the man’s gaze. “No, your Grace. I wish you to remain.”

  Clearly curious, the Duke of Suffolk led Jakob toward Henry. “Your majesty, Sir Hansen has requested an audience.”

  Henry seemed annoyed. “Yes, Hansen. What is it?”

  Jakob opened with a powerful thrust. “I came to warn you, your Grace.”

  “Warn me?” Henry scowled. “What mischief are you about?”

  Jakob kept advancing with his grievance, hoping to stick some sense into Henry’s head. “The Lady Avery has made note of my absences from her lessons, absences caused by my impersonating you.”

  “Of course she would. Half of her students were gone.” Henry glared at him. “What is your point?”

  “Because of the circumstance when the note was given to me, she knows I go with you to do your bidding.”

  “And?”

  “Today she heard that the king was riding in his carriage—alone.”

  That parry struck Henry and he recoiled. “And she asked where you were?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you say?”

  Jakob took a risky step closer to Henry. “I said you took me to a blacksmith, and left me there to watch over new barres for the tournament.”

  Henry grinned broadly and turned to Brandon. “I told you Hansen was perfect for this commission.”

  Charles nodded. “That was quick thinking on his part, to be sure.”

  Henry returned his sobering regard to Jakob. “So what sort of warning are you giving me? I think you handled the situation perfectly.”

  Jakob held up one finger. “The king must be careful that our absences cannot be matched.”

  Henry stiffened at the suggestion that he must do anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jakob did not allow him the chance. He held up a second finger.

  “The king should mention why I was gone yesterday, so that Lady Avery does not ask more questions.”

  “See here, Hansen—” Henry blurted.

  A third finger went up. “You asked me to do this for you because you say you trust me. You agree that I have integrity.”

  Henry’s face was turning violently red, but Brandon stepped protectively between Jakob and the king. “Your Grace, I believe Sir Hansen does not intend to offend, but has found himself in a position where he was forced to concoct a lie to protect your agreement with him.” Brandon swiveled to face Jakob. “Am I correct?”

  Jakob heaved a steadying breath, understanding at that moment that the Duke had just saved his skin. He struggled to calm his internal storm. “Yes, your Grace.”

  “And if I may go even further…” Brandon faced the king again. “Part of Sir Hansen’s discomfort stems from to whom he was forced to lie.”

  Jakob felt the blush creep up his neck. His jaw clenched.

  Henry leaned to the side and peered at him around the duke’s bodily obstruction. “Is this true?”

  Charles stepped out of the way and Jakob gave the king half a bow. “I have very little to my name, except my name, your Grace. To know I am not being truthful to someone whom I care about is painful.”

  “Is it.” Henry rubbed his finger along his lower lip. “And how do you propose to solve this dilemma?”

  Jakob straightened. “If your majesty wishes the success of the ruse to continue, he may wish to vary the time of day, so that my absences are not noticed.”

  And then I may spend my allotted time with Avery.

  “He has a point, Henry.” Charles Brandon faced the king again. “This was not a situation that we had anticipated, because we never considered a path like this one before. Not until Sir Hansen appeared, displaying features so similar to yours.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “I will take your suggestions under consideration.”

  Jakob bowed fully this time. “Thank you, your Grace.”

  “You are dismissed, Hansen.” Brandon approached him. “I’ll see you out.”

  When the men were nearly to the door, Henry called out after them. “What did you say I was getting from the blacksmith?”

  Jakob turned around. “New barres. To cast at the tournament.”

  “How many?”

  Jakob shrugged. “I did not say.”

  The king addressed Charles. “See that six new barres are ordered on the morrow.”

  Jakob gave the King of England his back, smiling he left the room.

  July 9, 1518

  The day of the Spanish challenge came upon Avery faster than she imagined it would. She decided to sit in with Catherine, and determine the men’s conversational prowess for herself. Though she knew which man was most likely to win, there was a slight possibility that she might be surprised.

  Jakob and Percival rolled a pair of dice to see which man should go first. Percival had the lowest total, so he was the first man to enter Catherine’s spacious outer chamber.

  “Good day, my Queen,” he said in slow Spanish. Then he bowed.

  “Good day to you, Sir Bethington.” Catherine smiled as she replied in kind. “And how does it go with you today?”

  Poor Bethington looked like a cat in a roomful of hungry dogs. “Good. Thank you.”

  “Return the enquiry,” Avery prompted in English.

  Percival nodded. “How does it go with you? Your Grace.”

  Catherine spoke slowly, and clearly to aid the knight’s comprehension. “I am actually quite tired this afternoon, sir. I think I shall sup in my room tonight.”

  “Good.”

  Catherine raised a brow and glanced at Avery. “Tell me, what have you eaten today, Sir Bethington?”

  Percival’s brows pulled together. “Ham. Eggs. Shoes. Bread. And futility.”

  Avery pressed a hand over her mouth. Laughing at the knight would not be kind, no matter how outrageous his missteps.

  Catherine struggled to maintain her composure. “How were the shoes prepared?”

  “In hot water.” Percival glanced at Avery. “Very hot water. With… salt?”

  Avery lowered her hand and nodded her encouragement.

  “And the futility. Was it fresh?” Catherine caught her lips in her teeth and raised her brows. Her cheeks reddened.

  “Yes. Very fresh. Very red. And very sweet.” Percival looked quite pleased with himself.

  After several more minutes of slow, simple exchanges, Catherine waved a hand of surrender. “That is enough. Lady Avery, is there anything you wish to say to Sir Bethington at this time?”

  Avery gave Percival a compassionate smile and addressed him in English. “You did rather well, Sir Percival. I do want to remind you, however, that potatoes are patatas, and zapatos are shoes.”

  The knight blanched. “I told Queen Catherine that I ate boiled shoes?”

  Avery struggled to hold back her laughter, and coughed to cover an escaping chortle. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  His face flushed even pinker than normal. “Was there anything else?”

  “Yes, actually.” Avery’s gaze slipped to Catherine. The queen’s face was contorted with silent mirth. “Strawberries are
frutilla. Or fresa.”

  “What did I say?”

  “Futilidad.” Avery coughed again. She was rapidly losing her battle with hilarity. “Futility.”

  Percival’s jaw dropped. His rounded eyes moved to the queen and back to Avery. “I said I ate futility?”

  “You said it was fresh, red, and very sweet,” Catherine reminded him with a comically serious expression.

  A laugh broke free of Avery’s restraint, followed by an avalanche of glee. She waved her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry to laugh, Percy… Forgive me.”

  Bethington tossed his head back and let loose a good natured bellow that would shame a bull. Tears ran down his cheeks. He leaned over to slap his thighs.

  “Shoes! And futility!” he wheezed.

  Catherine laughed openly now, and wiped her eyes.

  “This was a very interesting conversation,” she said between gasps. “I have not been so entertained in years.”

  Percival straightened, managing some little bit of control. “I cannot wait to tell Hansen! Eating futility!” He wiped his eyes. “That is brilliant.”

  Catherine waved to a servant, who escorted Sir Bethington out of the room. Once she and Avery regained their composure—an endeavor requiring several comical minutes—Catherine motioned for the servant to show Sir Hansen in.

  Jakob faced Avery, smiling. “I think you have amusement, yes?” he said in Spanish.

  “Did Sir Bethington tell you about his conversation?” she replied in kind.

  “Only it was happy.” His smile widened and he turned toward Catherine, bowing. “Good day, my Queen. How goes it with your majesty today?”

  Catherine gave the same response. “I’m actually quite tired this afternoon, my lord. I think I shall sup in my room tonight.”

  Jakob laid a hand on his chest. “I am sorry to hear this, your Grace. I wish you health.”

  “Thank you.” The queen leaned forward. “What have you eaten today, Sir Hansen?”

  Jakob chuckled as he was ticking the items off on his fingers. “I eat ham. Fish. Cheese. Bread. Butter. Eggs. And, I am forgetting something…”