The Lion Rampant, page 26
Slowly he rolled her off onto her back to lie beside him. When he glanced at his palm the light from her candle showed him the milky white fluid of female orgasm. He’d encountered it only twice before, in his youth, adventuring with his father. ‘Am I still a virgin?’ she asked timidly.
‘You are. You’re a special virgin …’ He held up his open palm. ‘See this? Few women show their joy this way.’ She glanced at his palm but her attention moved to his new erection. ‘Please ignore that thing,’ Henry said. ‘He’s my most disobedient subject. I should fling him into an oubliette. Am I the first man with whom you’ve had pleasure?’
‘Yes, Sire. But I wanted you to break me inside and make me bleed.’
He groaned. ‘I’d love to open your rose.’ He fell into silence. Beside him Eveline was holding her breath in anticipation. After a while he added, ‘Kings have more responsibilities than ordinary men. I can’t do it. Some other man must have the honour of your virginity.’
She began breathing fast, on the verge of a storm of tears. ‘I’ve disgraced my family by coming to you!’
‘You’ve delighted me, Eveline! For almost a year I’ve thought of you. I’ve pictured your beautiful face and your lovely, young body …’ His declaration made her burst into sobs. ‘Stop it!’ he ordered. ‘You’ll make us unhappy when we should be happy. I’ve ridden hundreds of miles just to see you.’
She stopped crying. ‘I’m madly in love with you, Sire. I have been since we first met. You said you’d like to confiscate me.’
At the servants’ door he took her in his arms and kissed her properly. ‘Farewell, angel,’ he murmured.
When he woke next morning he wondered if he’d dreamed the whole event. His penis had woken him during the night, rearing and jumping like a horse with a burr under its saddle. Now it throbbed. A dull ache pulsed in his testicles. He covered himself and rang for a page. The boy entered timorously, his eye on the mastiffs. The King asked that Richard come to the chamber. ‘Can you find me a milking maid?’
At breakfast the King embraced first the Chancellor then the knight who had impersonated him on the ride to Striguil. Strongbow was absent, as was Eveline. She hurried in, flushed, and served Henry’s food. Her look of adoration told him the night had not been an illusion. Suddenly her brother strode into the chamber. ‘I beg your pardon, Highness. Please forgive me for being late. I had some matters to attend.’ His gaze fixed on Eveline who, seated at the far end of the table, away from the men, blushed crimson. Strongbow turned to the King. ‘Would you excuse me and my sister for a moment?’
‘Certainly.’ God’s teeth! Henry thought. He’s discovered she was in my bed. The Earl pushed her roughly as they exited. Everyone in the breakfast chamber could hear their raised voices outside followed by Eveline’s scream.
Henry stood and the thirty men at the table leapt to their feet.
Eveline cringed against a doorway through which she had tried to escape her brother. She was holding her hand against a blood-red cheek.
Strongbow strode back and forth, attempting to calm his temper. ‘I apologise, Henry, that my sister whored herself to you last night. A house churl told me. I checked it with your guards. They heard the dogs aroused and were about to rush to your protection. But then they heard a woman’s voice …’
Henry took his friend in his arms. ‘Strongbow, my dear, there’s been a misunderstanding between you and your lovely virginal sister. This exquisite flower did come to my sleeping chamber last night to ask my help in finding her a husband. She was overwrought. She was crying. She screamed. She fears being married off to a brute. I promised I’d speak to you about it this morning. As you are a brother to me, Eveline is a sister. I’m honoured she sought my help.’
The Earl looked from the King to the weeping girl.
Henry thought, He’ll know from the servants I had a milking maid this morning. That makes what I’ve said more plausible. Strongbow walked to his sister and drew her away from the door. ‘I’m sorry, Evie. I apologise for striking you. I ask your forgiveness.’
Eveline gave a small, sad smile that Henry returned. ‘Find her a good husband. I’ll add to her dowry.’
The three returned to the breakfast chamber where the Chancellor looked from one to the other, avid with curiosity. ‘Find out what happened,’ he whispered to Richard.
Henry snatched a moment to say to Eveline, ‘When you’re married we can be lovers.’ He still remembered the dream he’d had weeks earlier when Rachel had told him, ‘Soon you’ll meet she whom you’ll love your whole life.’ Surely, not Eveline de Clare, he thought. She’s lovely. But she needs to be married and I’ll not spend my life assuaging some jealous husband, or meeting her in secret as poor Papa had to do with Eleanor. I must have misunderstood what Rachel said.
A path from the castle led down to the river where the royal ship was at anchor. It was too steep to ride, although the horses could manage the path if led slowly. The mastiffs went bounding ahead, barking with excitement. Thomas was annoyed because he said he’d twisted his ankle; actually, he was in a rage because now he knew Richard was infatuated with the King. The boy had refused to return to his apartment the night before, making an excuse about needing to write up a report of the journey in Wales. He decided to keep an eye on the pair of them as they sailed for Exmouth. Henry announced that en route they would visit Tintagel, a castle that was said to have been built in one night by faeries. They would put ashore at Land’s End and a half dozen other spots along the coast. Men who had yet to travel to Westminster to pay homage would have the opportunity to do so. He had arrangements in place for those who declined. The people of the south had always been for the Matilda cause, and many remembered Henry at the age of sixteen, when he had fought his way from Scotland through King Stephen’s lines, to the coast.
By now it was winter and despite bitter winds at every stop crowds flocked to the seashore to welcome him. Henry took Thomas ashore for these celebrations. He’d observed how dyspeptic his Chancellor seemed since Striguil and decided to turn his mood. ‘My Chancellor and member of my inner circle,’ he announced at each reception. He held up Thomas’s gold-laden hand. The Chancellor reclined his head in regal acknowledgement of the attention crowds gave him. He wore colours Henry considered vulgar: a bright pink robe beneath a dark green cloak; a yellow robe with a cloak of pine martin fur. All to attract attention to himself. On ordinary days the King wore plain brown hide.
One morning, while Thomas was arranging the royal chapel for the prayers of terce, Henry took Richard aside. ‘You may begin your service as a courtier,’ he said. ‘Be more agreeable to the Chancellor. Applaud his elegant gestures. Admire his gowns. Tell him I’ve remarked on how splendid my subjects find him, how impressed they are when they see him. Assure him of my admiration for him. For his elegance, his talents, his graceful walk …’
After some days on board ship Henry invited Thomas for a private discussion in his cabin. The wind had strengthened and a gale threatened. The ship lurched and already some men were seasick. Becket was as immune as the King to a storm at sea, steadying himself on a handrail as he entered the cabin. Henry patted the mattress of his narrow bed for him to sit. Thomas believed he had managed to disguise his feelings since they left Striguil, but as he sat down they lurched against each other and his heart raced.
‘He-He-Henry, I’m so happy you’ve asked me …’
The King cocked an eyebrow.
‘… because I have to confess to you …’ Henry’s shoulder knocked against his again. The sea itself conspires to bring us together. The monarch felt what was coming and raised a hand to silence him, but the Chancellor rushed on. ‘You enslave me!
Your love is matchless. I cannot …’
Henry thought, He’s mad. But too valuable to become an enemy. ‘Tom,’ he said gravely, ‘I know you’re very fond of Richard …’
‘I’m not! I’m sick to death of him. You know who I love.’
‘And I love you, Tom.’
Thomas’s eyes shone with expectation. ‘So you’ve not forgotten Hereford?’ he murmured.
‘I’ll regret what happened in Hereford all my life.’
‘How can you be so cruel!’
‘Cruel? A knight cut down in the flower of youth?’ His temper was rising.
Becket thought, He’s determined to deny what he did. ‘Henry, you’ve ordered me to speak truthfully, and I will. I know you from your soul to your skin. You gave away your secret years ago, in the scriptorium, when you told me about the game you played as a boy.’
He’s raving. ‘Tom,’ he crooned, ‘My Tom.’
The Chancellor closed his eyes.
Henry waited in silence. When Thomas appeared to have collected himself the King continued in the same soothing tone. ‘Tom, I’m happy to hear you no longer love Richard, because I want him to leave the scriptorium.’
‘You’re banishing him from court?’
‘I’m appointing him as my personal Remembrancer. It’s a new role I’ve decided to create for England.’
‘You slash my heart.’
‘God’s eyes, Tom! I want his brains, not his body.’
The Chancellor’s voice was small. ‘Is that true?’
‘I thought you might have observed I favour women.’
‘So …’
‘So in England, Richard is to work for me exclusively. Except in battle. Where I go, he goes. What I hear, he hears. He’s my second set of ears and eyes. He’s my shadow.’
‘The maggot! He’s wormed his way into your confidence! Just as he wormed his way into mine. He’s a fiend. I tell you, Henry, that boy has more evil in him …’
‘I know his background is execrable. But he has a genius. I intend to use it for the good governance of the realm.’
Unshed tears made Becket’s nose run.
Henry grinned. ‘Of course, if you still find some charm in him – and he’s willing – you’re welcome to keep him as your chou-chou.’
‘I’d prefer to fuck a sow.’
The King’s face stiffened. ‘You overstep the bounds of civility, Chancellor. You may leave.’
Thomas trembled slightly as he asked, ‘May I kiss your hand?’
Henry turned away to look out a porthole as he extended his arm.
Outside the cabin the Chancellor adopted a broad smile. ‘Where’s Richard-the-scribe?’ he asked in a cheerful tone. A sailor pointed to the bow.
Next morning Richard had a black eye. The Chancellor’s nose was broken, he had a split lip, a black eye and a chipped front tooth.
‘Thomas lost his sea legs in the storm,’ Henry remarked to his men. Everyone laughed. Some had heard Becket shouting at the scribe and his scream of shock as the youth hit him with something. This was followed by bellowing for towels to staunch the blood from his wound.
Waves buffeted the ship so roughly that after mass the normal Kiss of Peace was impossible to exchange. Noses banged against cheek bones, lips landed on ears.
At the conclusion of prayers the King loitered in the makeshift chapel in the bow of the ship.
Now’s my chance to get his forgiveness for my rudeness yesterday, Thomas thought. I’ll ask him to exchange the Kiss of Peace. Clearly he’s waiting until the others have left for something he wants to discuss. It must be Hereford.
‘Taken to fist-fighting, Tom? One of the oarsmen, was it?’ Henry asked.
He’s forgiven me, he’s making light of yesterday. ‘I tried to kill a dormouse. Beastly thing stood on its hind legs and whacked me with a chair.’
Henry chortled. ‘Mice! Vicious, treacherous beasts. Terrified of ’em m’self. In Westminster, one attacked me with an axe.’ He continued to chuckle. ‘Yelled at me I’d insulted its mother.’ They laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.
Becket inhaled deeply. ‘Henry, we’ve not yet exchanged the Kiss of Peace.’
‘We’ll do so now. Come here, mouse slayer.’ He wrapped his arms around the Chancellor, who steadied his back against the hull. He admits it! Out of sight of everyone, he admits we’re lovers.
Their bodies supported each other against the swaying of the ship. The Kiss was normally an instant’s formal touch, a brush of skin on skin. Thomas licked his lips. He pressed them against the King’s and as the ship bucked pushed his tongue inside Henry’s mouth.
Imbecile! Henry thought. But I won’t show I’m disgusted.
Thomas thought, I’ve won! And once I have you in my bed it’s you who’ll be enslaved.
By now the King was weary of the company of so many men for so many months and looked forward to the wit and charm of the ladies of the court, especially and foremost, his wife. Eleanor had written to say she had arranged the Christmas Court to be held in Bordeaux, where the weather would be milder than England, ‘and the wine far superior’.
After a calm night’s sailing, the following morning Henry once more performed the royal duty of leading his men into prayers. As he knelt, still wondering what amusements the Queen would have for him, he felt a coolness, like a breeze on his face, although the candle flames stood straight and the damask on the altar did not tremble. The Guardian said,
‘Keep your Remembrancer out of sight of the Queen as much as possible. Dismiss as courtiers’ malice anything she asks you about him. The reason for this will be revealed in years to come.’
Eleanor arranged a small but sumptuous Christmas Court, with the choicest wines from her territories. There were a half dozen boar and scores of cranes so cunningly presented they appeared to be still alive. With a deft whisk from the chefs, their feathers fell away leaving the succulent cooked meat exposed. The Duchess, as she was here, had engaged jugglers and dancers to entertain the guests, including women from Andaluse who shook tambourines and flashed their legs. Some of the prelates excused themselves. After each banquet the Duchess herselfled the hall in songs of the south, many of them written by her grandfather.
‘Don’t tire yourself,’ Henry urged her. ‘We need energy for making a child.’
While they lay together he returned to his scheme for taking the House of Capet without bloodshed. ‘Our young Henry. Their Margaret. On Louis’ death, our Henry will be King of France.’
Eleanor had been thinking over the plan herself and considered her husband too optimistic. ‘Louis’ passing could be decades away – and by then he could have a son himself.’
Henry knew she wanted him to go to war against Louis, defeat him and seize his throne. Only then would she feel fully revenged. Having no sense of the uncertainty of battle, she favoured war to a diplomatic alliance. After a silence she asked, ‘Henry, why don’t you win Toulouse for me?’
He stroked her forehead. ‘One struggle at a time, Cousin. I’ve decided to take back from that brat in Scotland the counties his grandfather, King David, won from Stephen.’ The Scottish monarch, now fourteen years old, delighted in war as much as his grandfather. Years earlier Henry had vowed to David that, were he to become King of England, he would allow his heirs to keep the northern counties of Cumberland, Westmorland and Northumberland. All were territories the Scots had seized from England’s feeble monarch. The foremost warriors in the battle for them had been Douglas and his regiment and the young Anjevin brothers, Henry and Guillaume.
Henry turned to his wife with a half grin. ‘David would be ashamed of his grandson. The lout’s treatment of Douglas has changed my mind about the vow I made that under my reign his heirs would keep those territories.’
‘Where is Douglas?’ Eleanor asked suddenly.
Henry shrugged. His voice became listless. ‘Who knows? Living in a cave somewhere …’ Douglas was in Edinburgh where Henry had dispatched him to convince the Highland regiment that the King of England was prepared to take Scotland up to Dundee if their boy monarch defied him. ‘Not only do I have to teach that Scottish brat a lesson, this coming year I must subdue Wales.’
Eleanor recognised the determination in her husband’s tone. Louis had been candle wax. But once this husband’s mind was set, she had no chance of remoulding it. She glanced out the window. She could see the yellow glow of a full moon rising from behind a stand of cypress pines. An angel rides on its beams, she thought. It brings a son. ‘Let’s turn our minds to joy, sweet Cousin. I’m eager for another child conceived here in the south.’
She nudged Henry onto his back. ‘Let me ride,’ she said. After a while she realised he was not present. ‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing.’
‘Why are you so—’
‘I was thinking about the war in Wales.’
She panted with displeasure. ‘Thank you, husband, for donating your seed. I hope it can sprout inside me.’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘When I begin to think of a battle…’
Without warning Eleanor bent and bit his neck so hard the salty, metallic tang of blood covered her tongue. Henry reared away. ‘I told you never to bite me!’ he shouted. ‘Never!’
‘Your father enjoyed it,’ she sneered, gathered her bedrobe from the floor, walked out and slammed the door.
Within a few weeks she knew she was pregnant.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Before winter ended Henry left his continental domains for England where he wrote to Malcolm, King of Scots, inviting him to a meeting in Derbyshire. ‘I would love you, Nephew, to enjoy the spring festivals of my realm; hunting, feasting, fairs, Maypole dances and my subjects’ joy when sacred relics are paraded through garlanded streets.’
Richard stood beside the King as he dictated the letter. The Remembrancer was overseeing how well the scribe he had trained was performing his task for the monarch. ‘Will he suspect?’
‘What could he possibly suspect?’ Henry asked. He turned innocent eyes to his Remembrancer.
