The King's Mistress

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Did she miss the babe? Did she even think of her and what could have been? Did she want another?

  They never spoke of children, but he needed heirs and expected to get them on her. Their frequent relations would, pray God, prove fruitful soon and she would bear his child. Would she trust him enough then to reveal her final secret? Orrick realized that that was the only dark spot within the happiness they had now. She still did not trust him.

  “My mother reminded me of two cousins in my father’s family who might be of a mind to come and live here. So that you may have your own companions when she leaves.” He held out his hand to her. “What say you?”

  “I would say that I have the most considerate husband in the land.” She replaced the veil over her now-braided hair and took his hand.

  “You might not consider me kind if you knew the ways I plan to keep you from your sleep this night.” He wanted to remove the sadness that now lay deep in her eyes. Her wanted her to smile at him once more.

  She did gift him with one, but it did not match in brilliance the earlier one. “Come, my lord. There are many hours before we can retire, and if we begin our tasks, mayhap the day will speed to its end.”

  He was about to open the door to the corridor when she paused and looked at him. Lifting her hand to his cheek, she cupped it softly in her palm.

  “I do love you, Orrick. Truly.”

  Orrick turned her hand over and kissed the place where her palm met her wrist, a favorite of hers. “And I you, Marguerite.”

  As they left and headed back into the busy activities of the keep, he realized that it was the first time she had declared it in words to him. Her body told him in so many ways. Her attention to her new responsibilities showed him. Her attitude toward him and his people spoke of it. But this was the first that the words had passed her lips.

  They reached the hall when Norwyn called to him. She nodded and went her own way, with the now-bedraggled Edmee dogging her steps. He paused and watched her walk away.

  Could there be love without trust?

  The thought bothered him throughout the day and into several more until the answer was forced upon him by the arrival of Henry’s messenger.

  “My lord,” one of Norwyn’s troop of assistants called out as Orrick rode through the gate. “There is an urgent message from the abbot awaiting your attention in the hall.”

  “You just returned from him a few days ago,” Gavin said from his place beside Orrick. “What could be so important that he sends a messenger now?”

  “I suppose I must go and discover the cause of Godfrey’s upset.”

  He led the small company of men with him to the stables and dismounted. Gavin was at his side on the steps leading into the keep, when the keep’s guards sounded their horn. Orrick turned to see what had caused the call. Four men on horseback rode through the gate without stopping. One rode with a banner instantly recognizable to any nobleman in England or on the continent—the two golden rampant lions faced one another on a field of red.

  The coat of arms of the House of Plantagenet.

  Henry Plantagenet.

  Gavin cursed in several different languages as they watched their approach. “What could this be?”

  “I know not, but I have a feeling in my gut it cannot be good.” He turned to Gavin. “Would you go and keep Marguerite from the hall? She is most likely with Wilfrid now in his workroom. I must meet these men in the hall there and I would hear this news first.”

  “Is that necessary, Orrick? She is your wife.”

  Something was not right about this. “Go now and keep her from the hall.” His tone told Gavin it was an order and no longer a request.

  Gavin did not reply, but his angry snort told Orrick clearly what he thought of excluding Marguerite from receiving the king’s messenger. He strode off just as the group dismounted in front of the steps. With impeccable timing, Norwyn came to his side to greet the party.

  Orrick accepted their greetings and invited them into the hall where Norwyn had already ordered refreshments for them. The leader of the party nodded to him and Orrick escorted him into the smaller room just off the main hall where they could have some measure of privacy.

  “My lord,” the man began. “I am Gilbert and I bear greetings and messages from the king to his loyal vassal the lord of Silloth and his wife, the Lady Marguerite.”

  ’Twas not good. He had no choice but to be hospitable and accept the messages and whatever news they contained. The tightening in his gut warned him as it always did. He motioned for the man to sit, but he shook his head. Orrick understood—he would remain standing until his duty was carried out, then seek his ease.

  “And your message?” He sat in the large chair kept in this room for him.

  “I would present it to both you, my lord, and the lady.”

  “I will accept whatever message you bring to my wife,” he said, emphasizing the word wife. Everyone knew of a husband’s right to represent his wife in all matters.

  “My orders come from the king, my lord. I would ask—”

  His words were interrupted by some clamor outside the chamber. After a moment of voices growing louder, there was a knock and a defeated-looking Gavin opened it to admit a flushed-face Marguerite.

  “My lord, I understand that there are visitors to Silloth,” she said as she walked to his side. She had not glanced at the courier yet, but she did as she stopped before him. The expression on her face told him that she, too, recognized the coat of arms the man wore on his tunic and on his cloak.

  “My lady, I bring you greetings from the king.” With a flourishing wave of his hand, Henry’s envoy bowed deeply to her before speaking.

  “The king?” At first she lost all color and Orrick thought she might faint. Then he saw her clench her fists as she waited for his words.

  “I have a letter for each of you and a command to attend to the king in Carlisle on Sunday next. The king’s presence will grace the dedication ceremony of the new charter house at the cathedral there and His Grace requests your presence, as well.”

  The messenger reached inside his pouch and took out several packages. Handing a thin one to Marguerite, he held out two more to Orrick. Waves of nausea passed over him as he accepted the parchments that he knew would change his life. Uncertainty of how it would change made his hand shake in spite of his best efforts not to show his discomfort.

  “The king wishes Lord Orrick to attend him?” Marguerite looked from the letter she held back to the man.

  “My lady, the king specifically requests your presence and sends this as a token of his esteem.”

  Orrick would always remember praying that she would not take the box the messenger lifted from his pouch. He prayed with all his might that she would not reach out. That she would not accept the gift and what it meant to them. He swore his heart seized when a smile broke out on her face and she held out her hand.

  “The king wants me to attend him?”

  The joy in her eyes nearly struck him down. He heard nothing else said in the chamber for her words had destroyed everything he had hoped for these past months. She still loved the king.

  Still clutching his messages, he stood and pushed past both of them. In the corridor he called out to Norwyn to see to their needs. He could not breathe. He could not bear to look on her. Giving the parchments to his steward, Orrick only knew he needed to be away from here, away from her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She waited for two days to explain, but he avoided her. ’Twas like in the days when she first arrived—she could hear the disapproval in the voices of the people of Silloth and see and feel it in the hard stares that followed her every step.

  Orrick did not return to his chambers and, for the first time since giving herself to him, she slept alone. If truth be told, sleep did not enter into it, for all she did was toss and turn through the long, dark nights. All she could see when she closed her eyes was the stricken expression in his eyes as she’d reached out to the
messenger.

  Over and over, the scene repeated itself until she wanted to cry. And she did. But none of this would end unless she could explain to Orrick what had happened in that chamber.

  A summons from the king was a command and not a request, and Marguerite knew preparations must be made if they were to arrive in Carlisle in time. On the third day, she decided to begin those arrangements. When Norwyn answered her orders with a benign sort of ignorance, she went to the only person in the keep who could do anything. She sought out Lady Constance.

  She found Orrick’s mother in her chambers. From the expression the lady wore when she realized who knocked at her door, Marguerite was not certain she would allow her entrance.

  “My lady, please,” she said, pushing against the door. “I must speak to you.”

  Once in the room, she waited for Lady Constance to excuse her servants before saying anything more. When they were the only ones left, she faced the older woman.

  “You know that the king has summoned us to Carlisle.” Every living person in Silloth knew about it. Nothing ever stayed a secret within this keep or village. Marguerite held out the letter she’d received from Henry.

  Lady Constance said nothing as she took the letter and read it. “This is not what I expected.”

  “What do you mean? ’Tis simply a letter requiring my presence on Sunday next. I assume Orrick’s letter was the same.” Orrick’s mother did not respond. Then Marguerite remembered that he received a thin and a thick packet from the courier.

  “Lady, he must attend the king! If he refuses without good reasons, the king’s reaction will be terrible to behold. I have seen this before and Orrick must realize he has—we have—no choice in this matter.”

  “My son must have his own reasons for ignoring the king’s call,” Lady Constance said quietly, but her voice betrayed her lack of faith in her own answer.

  Marguerite moved closer and touched her hand. “Please, lady, speak to your son since he will not speak to me. Make him understand….”

  “I believe he understands more than you think.”

  She gasped as she realized what the woman meant, what Orrick suspected. “The king summoned both of us.”

  “The gift was only for you.”

  “And I will give it back to him when I see him. I want nothing from the king. Surely Orrick knows this.”

  Lady Constance did not answer, which made it too clear to Marguerite. They all believed that the king wanted her back. And, for one brief instant, when the messenger said his words, she had believed it, as well.

  Apparently the difference was that, in spite of his call and his gift, she knew she did not want the king back. Orrick’s lack of faith in her cut her to her core, but there was no time to waste feeling sorry for herself.

  “I must speak to him. Please tell me where he is.” She grabbed his mother’s hand and begged. “Please.”

  “Why should I take your side in this? All you have done is bring sadness and shame to my son’s heart and to his honor.”

  The words stabbed at Marguerite’s heart and she could only imagine what Orrick thought if his mother dared to voice these.

  “Henry will not tolerate being disobeyed. He will destroy Orrick and the people of Silloth and all of your lands will suffer for my lord’s disobedience.” She knelt before the older woman. “I know the king. We must answer this summons,” she said, pointing at the letter. “And if I must give myself to him once again to save Orrick and his people, it is a price I am willing to pay.”

  Lady Constance paled and Marguerite climbed to her feet. “The preparations must be made and I will go alone if he will not. Norwyn will not obey my word. If you love your son as I do, you must make him cooperate with me.”

  The older woman trembled and Marguerite decided she must find Orrick without her. Picking up the letter from where it fell, she turned and walked to the door.

  “I will speak to him.”

  Marguerite nodded and left without another word.

  By the time the people ate their evening meal, baggage was packed, horses and supplies allocated and men assigned to escort her to Carlisle. The journey would take nigh to a week, first through Abbeytown then onto Thursby and to Carlisle. She had still not seen or heard Orrick, but his mother must have been successful in convincing him.

  Unwilling to face the hostility in the hall, she had a tray delivered to her. She tried to settle her spirits by reading, but even the beautiful book taunted her in her unhappiness. She hoped she would not have to pay the price she’d named to Orrick’s mother, but as she examined her conscience she knew she would be willing to do it to save Orrick from the king’s wrath.

  And then what? Where would she go? Orrick would never take her back. The king would only do this to punish her for loving someone else. As she had warned Orrick, her life would be destroyed. Even her now loyal servant Edmee had deserted her by accepting Orrick’s offer of a place to live.

  Marguerite did not know what drew her attention to the window, but she would have recognized his form anywhere. Orrick stood below in the yard speaking to some of his men. As she pressed her face against the expensive glass and whispered his name, he looked up as though he had heard her. Their gazes met for several moments until he turned away and finished talking to the guards. Without looking back, he climbed onto his horse and rode through the gate and headed into the village.

  He went to Ardys.

  Shaking, she slid down onto the cushions. She knew that she owed him an explanation for her reaction to the messenger’s words, but he was not blameless. If he trusted her and loved her as he professed to, he would have waited for that accounting of her actions before throwing her aside and seeking the arms of another.

  In the moments just before despair and hopelessness took control, she felt the anger of the old Marguerite growing within her. It strengthened her resolve that Orrick would hear her before throwing away the precious gift she had given him.

  Damn him! Why did he now act like all other men when she needed the differences she’d grown accustomed to in him? His lack of faith was not what she would have expected from him and he should answer for it.

  Tossing her cloak over her shoulders, she left her chambers and the keep determined to follow him and confront him. She had never considered that the guards would bar her way.

  “Move aside,” she demanded as three guards stood between her and the gate.

  “My lady, we cannot do that,” the tallest one said. “Without Lord Orrick’s expressed consent, no one leaves the keep at night.”

  “I am your lady and I order you to stand aside.”

  “Lady, they cannot do that.”

  She whirled around to face the Scot. He towered over her but she held her ground. “I will leave, Gavin.”

  At the stalemate, she decided on the direct approach and simply ran at the guards, hoping to push her way through. With little effort, they pushed back and she stumbled to the ground. ’Twas the Scot who lifted her to her feet.

  “My lady, please do not force us to restrain you,” the shorter one pleaded.

  “They carry out the orders of their lord and if you force them to hurt you, they will also bear his wrath. Go back to your chambers, lady.”

  She turned to him and grabbed at his tunic, bringing his face down nearer to hers. “I must speak to Orrick. I know where he is and I would go there now.”

  “Are you certain of that? Do you want to see what you fear to find?”

  “Do you defend his inconstancy? You would—you are his friend in every way.”

  The Scot’s face hardened and she feared she might have overstepped his control. Even the guards gasped at his glare and they probably thanked the Almighty it was directed at her and not themselves. “I am not with him, am I? Mayhap I do not approve?”

  “Then tell them to let me go. I would have my last say before I leave in the morning. I deserve at least that.” He looked as though he might agree. “You can console yourself with the kno
wledge that, after the morrow, I will be gone and all will be as they were before I came here.”

  He took in a swift breath. “Gone?”

  “We both know that Orrick will never take me back if I answer the king’s call. And, Gavin, I think you know that I must. So, tell them to let me pass.”

  The Scot took another deep breath in and let it out. Looking over her head to the guards, he nodded. “Let the lady pass.”

  They stepped aside now at his assurance and she ran through the gate, down the hill and onto the path she knew led to Ardys’s cottage. The light of the three-quarters moon lit her steps and in a few minutes she stood before the door. The window’s shutters were closed against the cool night air and wisps of smoke floated out of the roof.

  Marguerite stood there for some minutes, unable to take the next step. So many things needed to be said. So many things needed to be answered for. So much needed to be explained. She reached for the knob and pushed it open.

  Do you want to see what you fear to find?

  Gavin’s words came to her as she saw the woman Ardys wrapped in her husband’s arms. Orrick kissed her over and over and his hands moved over the woman’s well-endowed body even as they had on her own. Trying to convince herself that he did it simply to show her that he could, did not ease the pain and shock of it. He raised his head and met her gaze with passion-filled eyes.

  Passion felt for another and not for her.

  Feeling her world crashing down around her, Marguerite staggered away from the cottage. Looking around, she realized she had nowhere to go.

  “You are more mean-spirited than I ever thought possible, Orrick.” Ardys pushed him away. “Did you not see how much you hurt her?”

  Orrick stepped away from Ardys and closed the door of her cottage. He did not know where Marguerite went and did not care.

  He did not care.

  Those words might not be true yet, but he would put all his efforts into believing them until they were. He walked to the table and drank deeply from a cup of ale there.

  “You must seek her out, Orrick, and speak with her. Tell her this was all a false display. The lady loves you,” Ardys said, taking his arm and tugging until he faced her. “She loves you.”