by Kris Tualla
September 29, 1519
Avery stood on the London dock and wagged her head at the enormous pile of trunks, crates, boxes, tack, and satchels which comprised the worldly possessions and lives of her, Jakob, Emily, Askel—and Warrior.
“I do not know where all of this will go.” She shaded her eyes against the late afternoon sun. “We will require different accommodations than our last stay. Now that we will be permanent residents, we cannot sleep either on the ladies’ floor or the men’s.”
“Well, we cannot leave everything sitting here.” Jakob looked down the pier. “I will hire a wagon. Once our possessions are inside the Tower walls, we can secure a guard for them until we know where we shall reside.”
A wagon procured and loaded, Jakob and Avery walked behind it to the gate of the Tower. “I wonder if Higgins will be on duty,” she mused. “It will be nice to see him again.”
Jakob grinned. “It is nice to see all of this again.”
Avery laughed. Joy bubbled up inside her as she and her beloved husband approached the fortress which they had come to think of as their permanent home.
She strained to see if the Tudor standard was flying from the turrets. “Do you think Henry and Catherine are in attendance?”
A gust of wind answered her question, snapping the blue, red, and gold flags with sudden enthusiasm.
“I wonder if Bessie successfully birthed her child.” Jakob glanced at Avery, whose mood was dampened by the comment.
“I cannot wish her or the child harm,” she said. “But if she and the babe survived, I do pray it was a girl.”
“A girl would not present a complication, that is true,” Jakob observed. “And Henry would not need to claim it.”
“Higgins!” Avery ran forward and grabbed the hands of the guard. “We have come home at last.”
The Beefeater beamed, his ruddy face shining with joy. “Aye, and it is good to welcome ye, Lady Avery.” He turned to Jakob. “Good day, Sir Hansen. Ye are looking quite braw.”
“Thank you, Higgins.” Jakob waved a hand toward the laden wagon. “We shall need a spot to unload all of this, and an overnight guard to see our belongings safe.”
“Until we see the queen, we have no idea where we will bide,” Avery explained.
The guard appeared hopeful. “Are ye remaining with us this time, Lady?”
“That is our hope, Higgins. I expect to return to my post as Catherine’s chief lady-in-waiting.”
He shifted his gaze to Jakob. “And yon knight?”
“Sir Hansen has resigned his post in Denmark.” Avery smiled at her husband. “He will offer his services to King Henry.”
Higgins nodded. “Best of luck to ye, Sir.”
“Thank you, again.”
The wagon was pulled into the courtyard, and unloaded into one of the Tower’s many store rooms—one with a lock, thankfully. The satchels which held their immediate needs were left in Askel’s care, while Emily went to the kitchen to announce their return.
Avery knew word of their presence would spread through the servants like a wild fire, so her first priority was to speak with Catherine.
“What will you do while you are waiting for me?” she asked Jakob. “Try to speak with Henry?”
“No, I believe that conversation should wait until your status with Catherine is confirmed,” he replied. “If she reinstates you, and Henry does not wish to retain me, then I can offer my services to the queen in his stead.”
Avery gave him an approving grin. “You have thought of everything, it seems.”
Jakob winked at her. “That is part of my trade and my training, my lady.”
Avery sighed happily. “Where shall I find you after my audience with Catherine, then?”
Jakob combed his fingers through his hair. “I believe I shall search out Bethington. He has certainly returned by now and I am curious about how the Order ended.”
“Would he still reside here?” Avery wondered. “He had his own residence before Henry brought him in to become acquainted with you.”
“I shall soon discover that answer.” Jakob kissed her forehead. “Go see your friend. We shall meet again at seven bells, in the royal hallway.”
*****
Avery asked to be announced to the queen, and the herald was grinning as he did so. Catherine came forward to greet her and the two women hugged each other tightly.
“These months of silence have been so painfully long, Averia.” Catherine loosened her grip and stepped back, still holding Avery’s hands. “We have so much to talk about.”
“My absence was well spent, your Grace.” Because of the other women on the room, Avery used the formal address; but she smiled so widely at her friend that her cheeks ached. “For I have come home to you, unencumbered at last.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “You are here to stay?”
Avery dipped a curtsy. “If you will have me, your Highness.”
“If I will have you!” The queen laughed. “This has been my daily prayer since I saw you last!”
“I am very glad.” Avery glanced at the young woman standing closest to Catherine. “In what position shall I serve you?”
Catherine let her shoulders fall. “You shall once again be my chief lady-in-waiting, of course. Anne has known since I elevated her that, if you were ever to return to court, you would reclaim your station.”
“It is quite acceptable to me, Lady Avery,” the girl assured her. “You are her highness’s dearest friend, and we all understand that.”
“Thank you,” Avery murmured.
Catherine squeezed Avery’s hands. “And now everyone knows of your troubles and your marriage. You did not abandon me, nor the court, on a whim.”
“I am grateful, your Grace.” Avery curtsied again. “And so very glad to have come home to you.”
“And is Sir Hansen well?”
Avery was startled to realize she had not mentioned her own husband. “He is, your Grace. And I have much to tell you about his experiences as well.”
“He is here, with you?” Catherine confirmed.
“Yes, of course.” Avery decided to go on and broach the first awkward subject. “But that raises a question…”
Catherine’s brow wrinkled. “What question is that?”
“Where shall we reside?”
The queen laughed. “Of course! Now that you and your Nordic husband have come to stay, you will want your own residence.” She let go of Avery’s hands and waved the herald over. “Would you find out which of the houses inside the wall might be available?”
He bowed. “Yes, my Queen.”
“And find out how soon one might be prepared for Lady Avery and Sir Hansen.”
“With pleasure, your Highness.”
Catherine returned her attention to Avery. “As you did on your last visit, you and your husband may occupy your apartments in the meantime.”
Avery smiled her relief. “Thank you.”
Catherine instructed Anne to see that the rooms of that apartment were freshened immediately, then she shooed all the ladies away. Once the door closed behind them, Catherine led Avery to a pair of upholstered chairs.
“I wanted to speak with you freely and in private, my dearest friend. I, too, have much to say.”
Avery sat down after the queen did, her heart suddenly heavy. “What has transpired, Cathy?”
Catherine’s demeanor shifted and the queen seemed to age ten years in that moment. “Bessie birthed a boy.”
Avery gasped. “Oh, no! When?”
“Three months ago.”
“And is he—” Avery did not know which question would be less painful, but settled on, “Healthy?”
Catherine heaved a shuddering sigh. “He is positively robust.”
Avery scrambled for any encouraging word for her friend, but came up short. “What about Henry?”
“Do you want wine?” Catherine rose to her feet. “I do.”
Avery stood as well. “I will pour, Cathy. You
sit.”
The queen sank back into her chair. Avery crossed to the sideboard and poured two glasses, moving back into her role seamlessly, and glad that the wine was a familiar red. She returned to their chairs, handed Catherine one goblet, and then reclaimed her own seat.
Catherine stared at the burgundy liquid, her voice low. “Henry claimed the bastard. Named him Henry Fitzroy.”
“Henry, son of royalty?” Avery shook her head, aghast. “I assume, then, that he is certain of Bessie’s fidelity.”
Catherine huffed and took a large drink of the wine. “I would not trust the wanton if she swore that the sun rises in the east. But the child looks like Henry, so it was his seed that sprouted.”
Avery slumped in her chair. “I am so very sorry, my dear friend.”
Catherine shot her a fierce look. “Henry may have claimed the bastard, but my Mary will be queen. I swear this on my own life.”
Chapter Thirty
Jakob found Bethington in the same apartment in which he resided before the pair of knights departed for Barcelona. When his valet, Denys, responded to Jakob’s pounding on the door, a wide grin split the man’s cheeks.
Jakob put a finger against his lips to forestall Denys’s greeting. “Is Sir Bethington in?” he whispered.
Denys nodded, pulled the door open wider, and stepped out of Jakob’s way.
“Who is it?” Percival called from the other room.
“A father whose daughter you have defiled!” Jakob shouted.
Percival bolted through the door. “Sir, I assure you—” He stopped dead. “You bastard!”
Jakob laughed. “Is that the way you greet your long-missed companion?”
Percival strode toward the door, green eyes twinkling over his ruddy cheeks. He clasped Jakob’s outstretched arm. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Lady Avery went to Norway!”
“We did. And then we went to Denmark.”
“But was your father still alive when you arrived?”
Jakob put up his free hand. “I have much to ask and much to tell. Where do you wish to talk?”
The tavern crowd was thinning as common Londoners went home to their early suppers. Jakob selected a table by the window while Percival bought a pitcher of ale.
The English knight poured a stein for each of them, then plopped, grinning, into the seat across from Jakob. “Tell me everything.”
Jakob took a fortifying gulp of ale and then told Percy about his visit to his family, his last words to his father, and the man’s last breath.
Bethington reached across the small table and gave Jakob’s arm a solid pat. “Condolences, my friend. I am glad you were able to say what you did.”
“As am I,” Jakob admitted. “I feel as if a door has been closed, and that part of my life will no longer haunt my thoughts.”
Percy refilled his stein. “What happened when you went to Denmark? Was Christian accepting of your marriage?”
Jakob chuckled. “No. And he dragged me through quite a mess as punishment.”
Bethington’s jaw fell slack as he listened to Jakob’s tale of international intrigue and his secret role in the king’s plan. This time, he smacked Jakob’s arm hard.
“Is this your new calling? Saving kings’ lives?”
Jakob froze. He racked his brain, trying to remember how the death of the groom who mistook him for King Henry had been explained, but he could not recall any sort of story. Perhaps the incident never was clarified, and the truth was buried with the man’s body.
He waved his hand dismissively. “Even so, I needed to collect my investments before telling Christian that I was leaving. He was quite angry then, as well.”
Bethington frowned. “But he did give you permission to leave his service?”
“Begrudgingly.” Jakob sipped his ale. “But Avery, Askel, Emily, and Warrior were already safely aboard the ship when I asked him. Or told him, rather.”
“Was he aware of that?”
“No. The guards were removed after the business with the traitors was completed.”
Percival nodded his approval. “Good plan.”
“Yes.” Jakob gestured toward Percy with his ale. “When did you return?”
“Around mid-June.”
That was surprising. “Did the meeting of the Order go so long?”
“No, we adjourned two weeks after you left.” Bethington chuckled. “We all grew wearily tired of the constant bickering between France and Spain. So, I quoted the Treaty of London once again, we voted for France to do as they wished, and hastily wrapped up the rest of our meager business in a neat package.”
“If the Order was finished by the first of April or so, why did it take you so long to travel back to London?” Jakob asked.
“I did not depart immediately.” The Englishman’s lips twisted in a sly smile. “I remained for another month.”
Though he guessed the reason, Jakob still asked, “What held you there?”
“The weather was so beautiful. Much warmer and sunnier than here.” He tipped his head toward the gray evening sky. “I wanted to enjoy the climate as long as I was able.”
Jakob was skeptical of that explanation. “So you stayed in Barcelona for the weather?”
“Well, to be truthful, other aspects were quite warm as well.”
“Ah—there it is.” Jakob grinned. “What was her name?”
Percy’s expression turned wistful. “Their names were Anna, Eucilia, and Carmen.”
Jakob’s head fell back and he laughed. “Still the same Percival.”
“Admit it—you would have worried about me if I was not.”
Jakob nodded. “This is true.”
“During your travels, did you hear anything about Spain’s triumph?” Bethington asked, his joviality dimmed.
“No.” The shift made Jakob nervous. “What occurred?”
“The Spanish retook the city of Algiers by themselves.”
“And the Ottomans?”
“Never arrived.”
“So the threat was not as severe as we were led to believe?” Jakob wagged his head. “I am glad we did not force France to be involved.
Percival regarded him over the rim of his raised stein. “And now you are back in London. What will you do?” He took a sip.
Jakob refilled his own cup. “My wife expects to serve the queen once more. And I—” He stopped, realizing once again that he could not mention that he had saved Henry’s life. His actions of more than a year ago would always remain a strictly guarded secret. “I will offer my services to King Henry first.”
“And if he declines?”
“Then I will offer them to Queen Catherine.”
Bethington peered at him. “And if she declines?”
Jakob did not have a third plan, because he truly did not believe he needed one. “I suppose I will live off my investments and find some other industry to occupy my time.”
Percival nodded. “How much did you escape with, if you do not mind me asking?
“I do not mind, because I will need advice as to whom I should invest it with in London.” Jakob leaned closer. “I have what amounts to about four thousand pounds sterling.”
Percy’s brows shot upward toward his unruly hairline. “That will support you for the next twenty years—and in a courtly manner—even without interest!”
Jakob nodded. “And Avery has her shipping business, remember. In fact, her first contract is with my older brother.”
Bethington slapped the table but kept his voice low. “You two will become rich as royalty!”
That thought turned Jakob’s mood to a more serious vein. “But we will not have children to pass our wealth to.”
Percy frowned. “Are you certain of that?”
“Avery is thirty-five and I am thirty-three. We are too old to start raising a family.”
I hope.
The English knight made a sign of blessing. “In that case, my good sir, you shall become a philanthropist extraordinaire
and better our society when you take your leave of it.”
“Perhaps you shall be right.” Jakob laughed and drained his stein.
*****
When Jakob and Percival returned to the Tower, he was directed to Avery’s previously occupied chambers. Arriving at the apartment, he discovered that Askel had unpacked his satchel and made him every bit as comfortable as he had been on their last visit, several months earlier.
“Catherine is procuring us a house within the Tower walls,” Avery chirped happily as she arranged her things. “We should be able to move into it within a fortnight.”
This was good news. Obviously it meant that Avery was reinstated as the queen’s chief lady-in-waiting. “How was your visit with Catherine otherwise?”
Avery stopped her activity and whirled to face him. “Bessie birthed a boy.”
Jakob heaved a heavy sigh. The answer to his next question would speak volumes. “And did Henry claim it?”
She nodded. “He named the boy Henry Fitzroy.”
Jakob snorted. “I do not suppose he could be any clearer than that.”
“Catherine is devastated.”
“Of course she is.” Perhaps he would bypass Henry and offer his loyalty directly to the queen. At the least his ruse had successfully remained a secret. “And now Henry will be informed of our return.”
“Yes. He should not be surprised at supper.” She returned to her puttering. “A surprised Henry is not always a pleasant Henry, I am afraid.”
The clock in the hallway chimed. Jakob brushed his hands over his tunic and hose. “We should go.”
Bethington met them at the bottom of the stairs. “My Lady Avery, you are as strikingly beautiful as ever.”
“And you are as charming, good sir.” Avery smiled at the knight. “It is good to see you again, Percy. I want to thank you again for all of your help in Barcelona.”
“Do not for a moment believe that any of it was a hardship,” Jakob interjected. “He was as happy as a cat in a dairy the entire time.”
“Perhaps so, but Thomas Windsor, Duke of Merthyr Tydfil’s skillful assistance was crucial nonetheless.” Percy offered Avery his arm. “Let us leave this ingrate behind, shall we?”
