A Nordic Knight of the Golden Fleece: Jakob & Avery: Book 2 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  Avery laughed and accepted his elbow, but she looped her other arm through Jakob’s. “I shall enter on both of your arms, and thereby be the envy of all the ladies at court.”

  Judging by the looks cast in her direction, she was not wrong.

  Avery took her seat between Jakob and Percival. Her unannounced reappearance, with the foreign husband still in attendance, was clearly wearing on some of the newer court members.

  Those who were part of the Tudor court when Jakob arrived, and had the chance to know him, were for the most part pleased to see Lady Avery happily married at last. And Avery assured Jakob that the lady-in-waiting whom she supplanted by her return insisted she held no animosity toward his wife.

  “It is not an easy position to manage,” Avery reminded him before they descend the stairs for supper. “Pleasing a queen is not a task to be taken lightly.”

  “And so, it is a great advantage to have been her lifelong confidant,” he replied.

  Avery smiled up at him. “Not everyone is so blessed.”

  Henry was sitting in his chair in the center of the raised dais in the front of the dining hall. Catherine was by his side. Both royals conversed with the occupants of the chairs beside them, but not with each other. If that kept up, there would be no hope for another heir.

  Henry’s gaze moved to Jakob and he motioned for the Norseman to approach.

  Jakob did so and bowed in front of the king. “Good eventide, your Grace.”

  “Welcome, once again, to my court, Sir Hansen. I understand your wife has returned to her post as the queen’s chief lady-in-waiting.”

  “Yes, your Grace.” Jakob smiled politely. “And she is very happy to regain her position.”

  Henry’s gaze narrowed. “What are your plans?”

  Jakob shifted his expression to one of supplication. “If I may, I would like to request an audience with your Highness to glean your advice on this matter.”

  “A private audience?”

  Jakob understood what Henry was asking. “I have no objections to the Duke of Suffolk joining us. In fact, I would welcome his wisdom as well.”

  Henry nodded slowly. “Come to the throne room on the morrow at ten in the morning. I shall make time for you at some point.”

  “Thank you, your Grace.” Jakob backed away and returned to his seat.

  “What did Henry say?” Avery murmured.

  “He granted me an audience on the morrow, to discuss my plans.” Jakob sighed. “I shall covet your prayers, dearest wife.”

  September 30, 1519

  Jakob arrived before ten and waited over two hours to be admitted into the king’s presence. Henry knew he was there; making him wait was a statement of who held the power. That Henry felt he needed to do so, gave Jakob hope.

  Either he remembers that he owes me his life, or he wants to make a request of me.

  Whichever situation turned out to be true did not matter to Jakob. Through his conversation with Bethington—which he repeated to Avery before they went to bed—he realized that he did not need the king’s favor, he only desired it.

  In truth, Jakob held the power this time.

  When he was ushered in, the steward closed the door, leaving Jakob alone with King Henry and Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.

  He faced the king and bowed. “Your Highness, thank you for granting me a private audience.”

  Brandon strode forward, smiling and with his hand extended.

  “Welcome back, Hansen. I am sorry to have missed your triumphal return yester eve.”

  Jakob clasped the duke’s arm. “Thank you, your Grace. I am truthful when I say that I am very glad to be back.”

  Brandon indicated a chair facing the king and took his seat on Henry’s right. Jakob sat and faced the king.

  Henry pinned him with a narrowed gaze. “I believe we are to discuss your future, are we not?”

  Jakob dipped his chin. “Yes, your Grace.”

  “I wish to discuss your past, first. How was your time in Norway?”

  Jakob related his tale about his father’s death, his reuniting with his family, and Avery’s contract with his elder brother.

  Henry stared at Jakob for quiet moment. “What occurred when you returned to Denmark?”

  Jakob began the second portion of his story. “While King Christian was glad to have avoided being put in that difficult political position by my vacating the Order, he was very displeased about my marrying without his permission.”

  He continued the telling, including his subterfuge in aborting the coup, and the subsequent saving of King Christian’s life.

  Henry snorted. “So your new vocation consists of subverting plots and saving kings’ lives.”

  Jakob cleared his throat to stifle the laugh that hearing a statement so similar to Bethington’s prompted. He did not know what sort of response was expected, so he said, “A knight’s vocation is always defined by protecting the king he is serving, your Grace.”

  “Well said, Hansen.” Henry’s expression eased. “And now you have returned to my court, having been banished from Christian’s.”

  Jakob risked Henry’s displeasure by correcting him, but he did not wish to be viewed as desperate in any way. “In truth, I chose to leave.”

  Henry folded his arms over his chest. “Why would a knight—one who was obviously respected and trusted by his sovereign—chose to leave that man’s service?”

  Jakob drew a breath. “My wife was miserable.”

  That was obviously not the response that the king expected to her. “Your wife was miserable?” he repeated, incredulous. “You left a secure and coveted position because your wife was miserable?”

  “Yes, your Grace.” Jakob straightened in his seat. “I did.”

  “And what were your expectations?” Brandon asked.

  Jakob directed his answer to the duke. “I expected my wife to be able to resume serving Queen Catherine, whom she has loved since they were girls together in Alcalá de Henares.”

  “What expectations do you hold for yourself?” Henry demanded.

  Jakob faced the powerful young King of England. “I am offering myself, a respected and trusted knight, into your service, your Highness.”

  Henry leaned back, rubbing a finger over his upper lip, and staring at Jakob. Jakob could not discern whether the sovereign expected that offer or not. Either way, he could do nothing but wait for Henry to speak.

  “What will you do if I decline?”

  Jakob gave the hint of a shrug. “With your permission, I may offer my services to the queen. Or I might live off of my investments, and find another way to occupy my days.”

  This response was clearly not anticipated. Henry turned to look at Brandon. “What have you to say?”

  Brandon hesitated before replying. Jakob saw the shadow of several emotions flicker over the duke’s visage. “Will you wish for Sir Hansen to resume his previous activities?”

  Jakob’s gut clenched. He was ready to decline, and forcefully if necessary.

  Henry returned his regard to Jakob. “I had considered that possibility, though the queen is not currently with child.”

  Jakob dipped his chin, speaking in the most deferential tone he could conjure. “With all respect due to you, your Grace, I am not willing to resume our ruse.”

  “What if I made that a condition of accepting your offer?”

  “Then I would withdraw it.”

  Henry frowned. “And if I banished you from my court?”

  Jakob’s pulse surged. This game of cat and mouse was growing dangerous, but he could not back down. “I would live with my wife outside of the Tower walls.”

  “And if I banished you from England?” Henry growled.

  Jakob slid from the chair to kneel in front of the volatile young sovereign. “Then I would ask why you disliked your own wife so strongly.”

  The Duke of Suffolk stepped into the confrontation, speaking quickly to shield Jakob from Henry’s anger. “He means because the que
en is so much happier and compliant when the Lady Avery is by her side, your Grace. Her depressed state over the loss of her last child might be ameliorated, and surely another child will be conceived quickly as a result.”

  Henry huffed and glared at Jakob, kneeling on the rug in front of him. “I shall need to give the matter some thought.”

  “Of course, your Grace,” Jakob placated. “I did not expect your Highness to make such a decision during our audience.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, your Grace.” Jakob rose stiffly to his feet and briefly rubbed his thigh. “Might I ask one more question of the duke?”

  Scowling, Henry gave a permissive wave. Jakob faced Brandon, choosing his words carefully. “You will recall the groom I killed, the one who mistook me for the king.”

  “Yes, of course.” The duke narrowed his eyes. “What about him?”

  “Since returning this time, I realized that I do not know how his death was explained.” Jakob spread his palms in supplication, but he slid a hard look toward Henry. “It would be helpful in keeping my role in saving the king’s life a secret, if I was able to put forth the same story.”

  Brandon understood Jakob’s intent perfectly. “I will discuss this matter with the king and have an answer for you soon.”

  Jakob bowed deeply. “Thank you, your Graces.”

  He backed away, turned, and let himself out of the room. Though his heart was pounding and his hands shaking, he could no longer suppress his grin.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  October 3, 1519

  Henry waited three days before revealing his decision to Jakob. During that time, Jakob kept his mind and his hands occupied by lending his assistance to the preparations taking place in the house he and Avery would soon occupy.

  Jakob believed in his heart that he would not be banished from the Tudor court, so the efforts he put forth would not be wasted.

  Charles Brandon had a clear head, and as much influence as any man was able to have with regards to King Henry the Eighth. Brandon knew what Jakob was doing by ending their audience with the reminder that the king owed his life to the Nordic knight, and he promised an answer.

  And once again, he stepped in to protect me from Henry.

  Perhaps serving as a knight for the King of England was not a wise path, considering Jakob’s habitually blunt manner. He found that he was becoming less tolerant of royal fits and moods as he grew older, and he did not foresee Henry becoming any less arrogant.

  When the day aged and he returned to the apartment which he and Avery shared, the missive with a royal seal waited on a table. Jakob decided to wash and change for supper before he opened it.

  He had achieved a clean shirt and hose when Avery hurried into their rooms. “I only have half of an hour to wash and change,” she moaned. “Emily!”

  The maid was at her side in an instant and began helping her out of her gown. Askel was wiping the last bits of soap from Jakob’s cleanly shaven jaw.

  Avery spied the letter on the table and her eyes rounded. “Is that a note from Henry at last?”

  “I believe so.” Jakob stood and stuck his hands through the armholes of his tunic. “I will open it once we are ready to go to supper.”

  Avery spoke over her shoulder as Emily tied the lacings on her bodice. “Why are you waiting?”

  “In part, so you could be with me when I read it,” he admitted as he fastened the tunic. “And because I do not wish to have time to stew over it, if the message is displeasing.”

  “Curiosity is consuming me.” Avery’s voice was muffled by the heavy skirt over her head. When she emerged, coif unscathed, her next words were quite clear. “But I do wonder about the wisdom of you serving Henry.”

  Jakob chuckled. He had not expressed his own concerns to his wife—she was simply that observant. “As do I, I must admit.”

  Once her skirt was secured, Avery stepped to the table and lifted the note. She handed it to Jakob. “Open it.”

  Jakob noticed Askel and Emily both occupying themselves with mundane tasks, obviously unwilling to leave the room before his fate—and theirs by extension—was revealed.

  He slid his thumb under the seal, which released its grip in the thick paper with a complaining crack. He unfolded the note and recognized Brandon’s handwriting.

  “Brandon wrote this,” he said before reading it aloud. “The king greatly appreciates your generous offer of service. However—”

  “Oh, no!” Avery groaned.

  Jakob put up a reassuring hand. “It is his esteemed opinion that your particular skills might be better suited for serving the Queen in his stead.”

  Avery’s expression brightened. “That is good, is it not?”

  “Allow me to finish,” Jakob chastised lightly, then continued to read aloud. “I have spoken with Queen Catherine, and she will expect your answer this evening.”

  Avery scowled. “She did not say anything to me about this.”

  “Perhaps she did not wish to force you to encourage me to accept the king’s disrespect.” Jakob handed her the note.

  Avery reread the letter. “I suppose you are right, for his dismissal of your offer, and successive handing you off to the queen, would be insulting to most men in your position.”

  “And yet, it is a relief to me.” Jakob gazed into Avery’s eyes. “And I believe it is a relief to you as well.”

  She smiled softly. “I confess that it is. Now we shall serve the same sovereign side-by-side. And a much less precarious one, if I might be so truthful as to add that opinion.”

  Jakob laughed. “I agree.”

  Avery laid the letter on the table and Jakob offered his wife his arm. “Let us adjourn to our supper, where I shall inform Charles Brandon that I shall serve Queen Catherine gladly.”

  Avery stood on her toes, eyes twinkling like obsidian, and kissed him. “And later, dearest husband, perhaps we can celebrate.”

  Jakob led her from the apartment, more content with his life at that moment than he ever believed he could be.

  Postscript:

  The Order of the Golden Fleece was first created to have a grand master and twenty-three knights, but membership was increased to fifty-one in 1519. The Order was founded to defend the Roman Catholic religion, to uphold the usages of chivalry, and to settle disputes between its knights and members, who had the right to trial by their fellow members on charges of rebellion, treason, or heresy.

  Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, Third Duke of l’Infantado, Alvaro de Zuniga y Guzman, Second Duke of Béjar, Pietro Antonio San Severino, Duke of San Marco, and Laurent de Gorrevod, Comte de Pont de Vaux were all living knights of the Order.

  Nygaard Wold, Duke of Holstein, is fictional, as was the attempted Danish coup in 1519. In 1520, however, Christian II invaded Sweden in a battle known as the Stockholm Bloodbath. His cruelty led to his being deposed in 1523, at the age of 42.

  Henry VIII continued his affaire with Bessie Blount long enough to get her with child a second time. A daughter, Elizabeth Tailboys, was born in the spring of 1520 and surnamed for Gilbert Tailboys, Bessie’s official fiancé.

  As for Henry Fitzroy, for the first time since the 12th Century, an illegitimate son was elevated to peerage, becoming the Duke of Richmond and Somerset. However, the young Duke’s career came to an end, when the flawed Tudor genes intervened, and he succumbed to consumption in July 1536 at the age of twenty-seven.

  In 1535 at the age of fifty-three, the Bavarian prince Frederick II, Elector Palatine and member of the 1519 gathering of the Order of the Golden Fleece, married the oldest daughter of King Christian II of Denmark and Norway. Dorothea was just fifteen at the time. In 1536 and 1537, the prince was involved in two unsuccessful coup attempts against King Christian III of Denmark-Norway.

  Thomas Windsor, Duke of Merthyr Tydfil, is purely fictional.

  An

  Unexpected

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  Romantic Suspense T
rilogy

  in The Hansen Series

  Chapter One

  Hollis McKenna walked into the hotel foyer and spotted him across the space, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes flicked back and forth, examining the largely female crowd with unexpected seriousness. She assumed he must be one of the cover models, dressed as he was in costume—though fur and leather were unfortunate choices on this roasting summer evening in Phoenix.

  “Thank God for air-conditioning,” she murmured into her chilled glass of complementary Chardonnay. Even with the cooling system blasting, the gathered attendees made the ballroom foyer uncomfortably warm.

  Hollis was attending this convention alone at the urging of her boss, who insisted she needed the break from work. The museum’s unexpected bequest of several thousand European artifacts made the hiring of an additional collections manager necessary—and was the only reason Hollis was in Arizona. As far as she was concerned, work was the point. Not some stupid romance novel event.

  Her boss insisted, however, claiming that a weekend spent with a bunch of fun authors and hunky young guys was just the thing Hollis needed. Admittedly, because she had been working such long hours, she hadn’t had time to make many friends here. While it did limit her social options, and Hollis was okay with that, she finally gave in rather than waste any more time or energy arguing about it.

  Besides, Miranda paid for her non-refundable ticket.

  What she really needed, she grudgingly admitted to herself, was a break from the monotony of what her life had become now that she was thirty. This was one reason she accepted this job and moved halfway across the country. The other reason was Matt.

  After spending a decade of loving and living with her college boyfriend, Matt ended their relationship over a year ago. Said he wanted time to ‘rediscover’ himself. Become ‘a better man’ for her. What he discovered, however, was a sudden fiancé and quick, yet enormous, wedding.