by Kris Tualla
Catherine refused to look at Avery. “You have a healthy appetite, Sir Hansen.”
Avery had not taught Jakob apetito, but she would wager that he understood the word.
He patted his flat belly. “Yes. But I must take care, and my appetite is not much healthy.”
Avery laughed and clapped her hands. “Well said, Sir Hansen.”
Catherine cast a sly smile in Avery’s direction. “Clearly we have a winner.”
Jakob stepped forward when Catherine said triunfador. “May I speak? In English?”
“Yes, of course.” Catherine beckoned him closer. “What is on your mind?”
Jakob approached the queen. “I am unable to joust, your Grace. Because of my leg.” He dipped his chin. “I would like to give my reward to Sir Bethington.”
The shadow of a frown passed over Catherine’s brow. “I am sorry, Sir Hansen. That will not be possible. I am afraid the king is already quite distressed that he must lose one of you. Excusing you both will not be permitted.”
Avery stepped forward. “Shall Sir Hansen be excused from another competition instead?”
Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Which one?”
“Wrestling,” Jakob interjected. “It strains my leg, and I am lame for days afterward.”
“So neither the joust nor wrestling for the great Nordic knight?” she murmured. “What will you do, then?”
“Cast the barre, throw the javelin, shoot.” Jakob turned to Avery and gave her a wink. “And not win any of them.”
Avery gasped, horrified. “Sir Hansen! Watch your tongue.”
Catherine frowned and straightened in her seat. “I dislike your suggestion, Sir Hansen, that all men are expected to lose to the king.”
“Forgive me, your Grace, but I believe that besting a man who has treated me so well is ungracious.” Jakob lifted a palm. “But in truth, there are very few men who have the ability to best King Henry in any event.”
Catherine bristled. “But you do have the ability, is that what you are saying?”
“I think I might, in some competitions.” Jakob gave the queen an apologetic look. “But, your Grace, as you can see I am older than he, and injured, and that makes Henry my better.”
Avery did not believe Jakob’s words in entirety, and she thought he was unwise to jest with Catherine to begin with. At least the man had the sense to back away from the assertion.
“Forgive my attempt at humor, your majesty. I am not always good with languages.”
Catherine relaxed a little. “Watch your words, Sir Hansen.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She motioned to the servant again. “You are dismissed.”
“I shall come along and break the news to Sir Bethington,” Avery offered.
The pair followed the servant to the back of the room. He opened the door for them when Jakob whirled around, one finger in the air, and called out, “Potatoes!”
Catherine looked startled. “What?”
“That is the thing I forgot that I ate.” Jakob grinned. “It was patatas!”
Catherine burst into laughter, while Avery pushed a clearly confused Jakob out of the room.
*****
Percival Bethington took the news of his expected defeat like the gentleman that he truly was.
“I hate the joust. It is a contest for the young and foolish.” He emptied his wine glass and set it on the table in the queen’s waiting room. “I shall do my best to lose quickly and fall with grace.”
Percival rose from his seat, and Jakob turned to leave with the Englishman.
“How will you spend the rest of your day?” Avery asked.
Jakob turned back, slowly. “I cannot speak for Bethington, but I plan to prepare myself for the tournament on the morrow.”
“And I as well, my lady. Unless you had something particular in mind?” His tone was unmistakably hopeful.
“No. Nothing in particular.” She smiled at Jakob, hoping he might invite her to watch him practice, but he did not. “Shall I see you at supper?”
Jakob hesitated. “I am not certain.”
She struggled to keep disappointment from her tone. “No?”
He shook his head. “Henry asked me to see to the barres. If they are not ready, I will come back too late.”
“I shall see you both on the morrow then.” Avery whirled around, giving both men her back, and strode down the hallway with a little extra swing of her hips.
Something about Jakob’s story concerning his errand for Henry still nibbled uncomfortably at the edges of her thoughts. The fact that Henry trusted a foreign knight to see to something as important as the implements for his precious tournament was highly uncommon—it was the king’s habit in the past to send his own man to handle those sorts of details. And yet, Sir Hansen was certainly capable of completing the task.
If that is what he is truly about.
Avery turned and redirected her steps, now taking a different path. She needed to find out for certain what Jakob was doing.
Henry was preparing to leave Catherine’s chambers when Avery arrived.
“Please be certain to get enough rest, my love.” The king kissed the queen’s hand. “Your health is of the utmost importance to me. I would do anything in my power to safeguard it.”
Catherine beamed at her younger, handsome husband. “Thank you, my lord.”
Henry turned to face Avery. “Lady Avery, how glad I am to see you.” He held out an elbow. “Will you walk with me for a moment? I would stay and chat, but my carriage awaits.”
Avery shot Catherine a curious look, but the queen only shrugged.
Once they were in the hall, Henry halted and faced her. “I wonder if you would be willing to take your supper with Catherine in her rooms this eventide.”
“Yes of course, your Grace.” Avery tilted her head closer and lowered her voice. “Are you worried about something in particular?”
Henry gave her an intent look. “She says she is tired.”
“Yes, well, the preparations for housing so many noblemen and their families have been quite extensive,” Avery ventured.
“And the next four days will be exhausting for even the strongest among us.” Henry’s tone held a stern warning. “The queen must not be overtaxed.”
Avery gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise to keep a watchful eye, your Grace. I know how much you care for her.”
Henry unwound his arm from hers. “Thank you, Lady Avery. Of all the women in her court, I knew you would be the most diligent.”
Avery glanced over her shoulder. “Why the secrecy, my lord?”
Henry gave a conspiratorial look. “She hates it when I make a fuss. Please do not let on that I have asked you to do this.”
Avery dipped her chin. “No, my lord.”
He straightened. “I have some details to see to myself, so I will not be at supper either.”
“Details?” Avery risked. Asking a king about his business was never done—not if one wished to remain in the sovereign’s good graces.
Henry didn’t seem to notice. Or if he noticed, he did not care. “For the tournament.”
“You must be certain to get enough rest yourself, your Grace,” Avery chided. “A tired warrior is a defeated warrior.”
Henry lifted one brow, turned on his heel, and walked away from her.
“What was that about?” Catherine asked when Avery returned to the queen’s presence.
“You husband is worried about you,” she began.
“And he asked you to play the nursemaid?” Catherine chuckled. “I absolve you from that responsibility.”
Avery smiled. “Begging your pardon, your Grace, but the man outranks you.”
Catherine made a face. “But which one of us has your loyalty?”
“You do, Cathy. You know that.” Avery sat beside her dear friend. “Do you object to my joining you for supper here, per your husband’s request?”
“Never.” Catherine heaved a sigh. “But I am
tired, so we shall sup early and then I shall retire.”
Avery tucked a stray bit of hair under Catherine’s headpiece. “I am rather worn out as well, so I shall put forth no objections.”
*****
Avery snuck down the servant’s hallway in her mannish clothing shortly after the clock struck half past six, and wondered what she might discover.
Catherine proved true to her word and sent Avery away at six. Earlier, when she heard from both men that they would be absent this eventide, her plan began to form. As soon as she was dismissed, Avery confirmed through the servants that both Jakob and Henry were not currently present in the Tower, and she put her thoughts into action.
Selecting a particularly nice chemise from her wardrobe, Avery tucked it inside her manly tunic, not taking time to wrap it. She hurried down the steps as quietly as a cat on the hunt, and slipped out the doorway.
Leaving the Tower and crossing the courtyard when the sun was not yet fully to bed was risky, so Avery kept her head down and her hands jammed into her pockets. Her worn boots scuffed the gravel on the pathway. She tried not to rush; hurrying would only attract unwanted attention.
Higgins’ jaw dropped when she stepped inside the guard’s tower. “My lady, what are you doing?”
Avery hid behind the door. “I need your help, Higgins.”
The guard’s eyes shifted to the scenes outside, searching for danger. “Is someone after ye?”
“No, it is the opposite,” she said softly. “I am looking for someone.”
The guard’s gaze moved back to hers. “Who?”
“Sir Hansen, the Nordic knight. Do you know him?”
“Sure, I know him.” Higgins chuckled. “He’s hard to miss.”
“Has he gone out tonight?”
Higgins nodded. “He and the king left in the king’s carriage about two hours ago, or so.”
Considering her suspicions, that made sense. “But they have not yet returned?”
“No.”
Avery reached into her tunic and retrieved the chemise. “I did not have time to wrap it.”
Higgins grabbed the delicate item in his huge hand and quickly jammed it inside his skirted uniform without looking at it.
“Thank ye.” He shifted his stance. “Ye have no idea how nice a bit of softness feels between myself and the woolens.”
Avery chuckled. “I can imagine.”
The guard relaxed a bit. “So what is your plan?”
“I only want to see the men, together, when they return.”
Higgins’ face twisted in confusion. “As they drive by?”
“No…” Avery had not yet planned how she would see them, without being seen by them. “I need to be closer.”
Higgins lifted his large hat and scratched his head. “How do ye propose to do that?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I am not certain.”
Higgins considered her for a moment. “They’ll stop and let the king dismount under the awning, before they drive the carriage to the stables in back of the Tower.”
She nodded; that was the usual routine. “I suppose I shall walk behind the carriage when it returns, and then make my way toward the stables.”
The guard waved a finger at her. “Be careful ye don’t get caught.”
What would happen if I did?
Avery did not want to think about the scandal. The Ice Maiden dressed like a man? She knew well enough that there were both men and women who preferred their own gender over the other choice, but in noble society that preference was hidden away, not brazenly flaunted.
If she was discovered to be dressing like a man and sneaking away from the Tower—or worse, meeting with a whore—no other explanations would be believed. Her reputation truly would be ruined, and the slime of it would splash all over Catherine.
No, she must not be found out.
“I will not be caught,” she murmured. “I shall be careful.”
“I wish there was a way I could help ye.”
“Thank you Higgins.” She heard the sound of approaching wheels on the wooden bridge. “Please tell me when you see the king approach.”
Another half hour passed before Higgins said softly, “He is coming, my lady. Make your way.”
Avery stepped out the door of the guard’s enclosure and began to amble toward the Tower. Thankfully, the day had dimmed, and twilight robbed everything of color. Even so, her heart pounded with the dread of discovery as the jangles and hoof beats of the king’s carriage intensified behind her.
The carriage passed by her and she looked up, but nothing inside was visible in the darkness. Afraid of losing her opportunity, she began to trot behind the carriage, trying to look like a stable hand hurrying to help with the horses.
There are plenty of servants here at the Tower, she justified. I just might be a new one.
Avery followed the carriage, rounding the corner at the back of the Tower, and then stumbling backwards to get out of the unexpected lamplight illuminating the space under the awning. She waited at the edge of the shadows, and watched as King Henry climbed out of the conveyance.
He was dressed oddly, but something about his apparel was familiar. She had seen that tunic before. And those trousers—quite different from his usual short pleated pantaloons,
When the second figure emerged, she stared in stunned disbelief. What she believed could not possibly be true, was now fully manifesting in front of her eyes.
Jakob was wearing Henry’s clothes.
And Henry was wearing Jakob’s.
Avery slowly tiptoed backwards, the urge to run making it hard for her to breathe. She turned when she thought it safe, and began to make her way toward the servant’s entrance.
A waking nightmare engulfed her as heavy footfalls rushed toward her from behind. She leaned into a sprint, but her pursuer was faster than she. A large hand gripped her arm and yanked her around, jarring every joint in her frame.
Jakob—still in Henry’s clothes—snarled at her, “What are you doing, boy?”
Avery lifted her chin, until the moon’s light shone in her eyes. Her lip quivered, infuriating her with that display of weakness, but after the debilitating jolt of fear, she felt as if she had no control over her body.
Jakob’s eyes widened. He let go of her arm, and then stepped back, his face visibly pale even in the dim moon’s light.
Without a word, he turned and trotted back toward the carriage.
Avery crumpled to the ground.
She was caught. Her life was ruined.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The sprite was nothing,” Jakob reassured Henry as they climbed the servants’ circular stone staircase together. “A ragged boy. I frightened him and sent him off.”
“Who did he believe you to be?” Henry pressed.
Jakob tried to appear calm in spite of the shock zinging through him. “He did not seem to have enough wits to know. Or care.”
“Good.” Henry nodded. “See you at the tournament on the morrow, Hansen!” The king stepped through a door, disappearing into his chamber.
Jakob continued up a level, pulling off the kingly tunic, and walked down the servants’ hall to his own quarters.
What the hell was he going to do now? Lady Avery saw him dressed as Henry, and saw Henry wearing his knight’s clothing. After discovering him at the masquerade impersonating Henry, she must know what he was doing.
But she could not know why, he mused. So what will I tell her?
Jakob changed clothes quickly, deciding not to say anything to Askel about his encounter with Avery. He left the puzzled valet to his duties, and hurried toward Lady Avery’s apartments.
The sooner he spoke with her, the less likely it was that she would run off and tell Catherine what she had uncovered. Jakob believed he could catch her in time. After all, she needed to change her clothes as well.
Jakob stopped as suddenly as if he hit a stone wall.
So concerned about being caught with Henry and exp
osing their ruse, he had not taken the time to consider his own startling discovery. Lady Avery was outside of the Tower, and she was disguised as a man.
He played the scene over in his mind, examining the details.
She wore a hat. One with a wide brim that shadowed her face. She also wore a tunic over a linen shirt, and both fit her well enough not to draw attention, but not well enough to hug her womanly curves. Woolen hose and tall boots completed her costume.
Jakob started walking again, slower this time. A woman wearing only woolen hose and no skirts was shockingly exposed. The shape of her thigh would be visible—her entire leg if the boots were short and cuffed.
He tried to remember what Avery looked like as she attempted to flee, but the dusky night and his own panic blurred the picture in his mind.
Skitt.
At any rate, it was obvious that this was not the first time the elevated Spanish lady-in-waiting had outfitted herself in such a manner. Clearly, Avery held some secrets of her own. That was somewhat comforting, as it gave Jakob information to bargain with.
He would press Avery to keep his secret, and in exchange, he would promise to keep hers. Whether she would tell him why she went out in such a disguise might depend on whether he explained his own tasks.
“She has already guessed much of it,” he mumbled. “There is little more to reveal.”
Jakob stopped in front of the door to Avery’s chambers and drew a deep breath. His heart thudded as if he had completed some arduous task, which in some ways he had.
He lifted his fist and knocked.
*****
After her encounter with Jakob, Avery stumbled back to her rooms and collapsed on the carpet. Sobs of grief consumed her as she recalled the stunned look on Jakob’s face when he realized she was the miscreant he had captured.
He will hate me now.
Whatever shenanigans Jakob and Henry were up to would be forgiven in light of the king’s royal and powerful position. Not so a mere lady-in-waiting, no matter her friendship with the queen.
Avery always knew she ran a risk, dressing herself in such a manner and sneaking out at night to meet with a whore. And yet there were times when she was able to gather tidbits of information which proved valuable to Catherine—and by extension, to Henry. Though she never revealed her informant, the worthiness of her whisperings had proved themselves.
