Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 (30 page)

He chuckled. “You should be thanking me that you are
so well rested. The lads have been pestering me since yester eve to find out
what transpired with Henry. It was either my disturbing you or the lot of them.
Since I know how fond you are of my handsome visage, I offered to convey the
king’s message to you this fine morn.”

“And the message is?”

Standing stiff in the role of footman, Albin recited
pompously, “In celebration of the bishops and abbots arrival, King Henry of
England, Duke of Normandy, requests the honor of your presence for a boar hunt
to take place within the hour.” Bowing, he reseated himself.

Fulke glanced longingly at the bed. “I have no choice
but to attend.”

Albin followed his gaze. “How does the lady fare?”

“She has had to endure much these days past, I worry
for both she and the babe, Albin.”

“The lady could stand guard at my back any day, Fulke.
During your tete-to-tete with Henry, I thought we would be forced to restrain
her from drawing her tiny dagger to rescue you.” Albin lowered his voice, “She
called the king mad.”

Leaning back, Fulke sighed. “Aye, with her at my side,
why do I need a bunch of ale-swilling, womanizing knights to guard my
back?”
 
He quirked a brow, waiting.
 

“I see finding happiness has brought out your
quick-wit,” Albin replied sarcastically.

Waving a hand in truce, Fulke grew solemn. Catching
Albin up on his meeting with Henry, the two boyhood friends sat in silence for
a few moments, grateful to have won the day.

“In punishing you, Henry appears to have given you
what you wanted most,” Albin observed.
 

Fulke smiled. “Aye that he has, though I warrant it
was not his intent.”

“Do not be so sure, Fulke.
 
He not only spared your life, he left you
overseer in Rochester.”

 
“I am
convenient Albin, naught else.” He continued in a lower tone, “Other than
himself, the only person Henry has ever cared for was his son. I fear when
William drowned, he lost an important part of himself.
 
Knowing how that feels, I pity him.”

Albin chuckled. “If Henry were to hear you pity him,
he would rescind our banishment and call for our heads.”

Quirking a brow, he asked, “You know what this means,
do you not?”

“Aye, it means we go home,” Albin replied satisfied.

“I am speaking about the fact that you are no longer a
knight of battle,” he pressed.

“If I knew all it would take to be free of Henry’s
service was to get on his last nerve, I would have attempted it years ago.”

“You are no longer given to battle,” Fulke
persisted.
 

“Aye, I know it,” Albin said suspiciously, “What point
are you trying to make?”

“You have always said that a man given to battle has
no right to start a family, you no longer have that excuse to fall back on.”

“I have no use for a wife or family,” Albin sighed.

“Yet, you admit your long held reasoning is no longer
an obstacle?”

“I do.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I shall now profess
that I remain a landless knight with naught to offer a woman.”

Leaning forward to make his point, Fulke said, “That
excuse no longer holds up either.
 
The
king has deeded Castell Maen and the land that surrounds it to me outright. He
can no more take it from me, than he can decide what I do with it.” As
understanding dawned on Albin, he smiled. “I intend to have Rowan divide up
five parcels so each of you has a place to build a home on.”

“You cannot do that, Fulke,” Albin replied in stunned
disbelief.

“You would do no less, my friend,” he replied
sincerely. “I shall inform the rest of the men on Epiphany.”

Albin stammered, “You now have a family to think of,
Fulke. The income the additional land brings in is what sustains you.”

“I am thinking of them, Albin. There is enough land
surrounding Castell Maen to sustain the castle, I have no need for more.”
Glancing towards the bed, he continued, “The only thing I need lays asleep
yonder.”

Albin opened and closed his mouth several times,
before stammering, “That means I shall be expected to take a wife, I have no
training to deal with a wife, Fulke.”

Picturing Reina behind the curtains, his face
softened. “You will figure it out as you go.”

Albin gripped his shoulder. “Truth be told, I am
beyond grateful. I shall weigh in on a later date, whether or not you have done
me a favor this day.”

“When you meet the right woman Albin, you will be
kneeling in thanks at my feet,” he replied smugly.

Rising, Albin glanced towards the bed. “Perchance, yet
do not wager on it. The only women worth having have already been spoken for.”

Fulke shook his head in mock sadness. “Is there not a
man among you who is not besotted with my wife?”

“Aye there is one,” Albin called, heading to the door.
“her brother.”

Laughing, Fulke crossed to the bed to wake Reina with
a kiss.

Blinking sleepily up at him, she sat up, a line of
concern marring her smooth brow.
"What is it,
Fulke?"

He sat on the edge of the bed to ease her back onto
the pillows. “All is well, my love. Henry has called for a hunt.” Caressing her
pale cheek, he ordered, “You are not to leave this bed until you are fully
rested. If you are up to it, I shall summon us a bath upon my return.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him closer
for a kiss.
“I shall be up to it, my lord.”

* * * *

She woke a short time later to a slight fluttering in
her belly. Placing a hand lightly over the spot, she smiled in wonder.
 
Moving to the window, she drank in the
pristine white winter landscape.
 
Turning
her face up to the cloudless sky with a thankful heart, she smiled.
 
They would be going home soon.

Dressed in Fulke’s black silk dressing gown, she
inhaled the crisp clean scent of his sandalwood soap.
 
Curling up in the window-niche, she picked at
dried fruit while she waited for his return.
 
She stood when a pack of bloodhounds broke from the forest.

Catching sight of Fulke in the returning party, she
hastened to refresh herself. She had just finished pinning up her last curl in
anticipation of their bath when he opened the door.

He crossed the room to gather her in his arms. “You
look well rested, my lady.”

“Summon our bath, my lord,”
she replied, reaching up for his kiss.

Relaxing against him in the warm water, a look of
astonishment entered his eyes as his hands spanned the breadth of her belly.
Feeling for himself the slight flutter within, he drew her around to straddle
him.

“My daughter grows my lady,” he marveled.
 

“Your son will not be pleased to
hear that you are intent to call him lass, my lord.”

“Be it lass or lad, so long as the child has your
eyes, I will be the most joyful of men.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, she pulled back to cup
his face.
“Will you tell me something, Fulke?”

He leaned back. “I will tell you anything, my love.”

She arched an eyebrow.
“Have you
ever made love in a tub?”

Laughing, he pulled her closer. “It will be a first
for us both, my lady.”

Escorting Reina that evening, it was as if the
incident of the previous night had not happened. Flanked by his grave knights,
Fulke led her through a gauntlet of preening nobles with a protective arm wrapped
around her shoulders.

Fulke shared a knowing look with Albin as they pressed
forward to the doors.
 
By the friendly
salutations, it became evident Reynold had been busy.

Ignoring all, he drew to a halt before the entrance
where Reynold waited with Arabella meekly by his side.
 

He stepped forward as the men moved as one to flank
position. Nervously eyeing the towering knights, Reynold bowed down before
Reina.

Rising, he addressed Fulke without taking his gaze
from her. “If her ladyship were able to understand me, I would humbly apologize
for my unjust accusations during the feast.”

Reina lowered her eyes, before meeting his gaze in
acceptance of his words.

Other than the high collar on his velvet tunic to
conceal his neck wound, it appeared he suffered no lasting harm from Henry’s
vicious attack.

Fulke was not so forgiving. “It is indeed fortunate
for you that my lady is more benevolent than I. She tends to forgive those I
deem unworthy of her forgiveness.”

Swallowing nervously, Reynold shifted his eyes to
Fulke. “Then I find myself fortunate I am the subject of her ladyship’s
benevolence.”

Bowing once more to Reina, Reynold turned away to
escort Arabella into the hall.

Surrounded by nobles seeking their notice, Reina fixed
a smile on her face as she had for so many evenings as Fulke frowned at the
sheer hypocrisy of it all.
  

With a nod to his knights, he brushed past everyone to
guide Reina into the hall.

Seating himself beside her, he clasped her hand under
the table. “I did not tell you how beautiful you look this evening, my lady,”
he mouthed, leaning into her.

She had purposely chosen a garnet under gown and cream
silk kirtle with gold embroidery on the sleeves and hem, to compliment the
strand of pearls resting against her heart. A servant had braided the front of
her hair, pulling it back and winding it into a coiled coronet. The rest of the
shining mass flowed loose down her back, reaching beyond the cover of her veil.

Staring at him in his formal attire of red undershirt,
gray tunic and hose with black leather boots, her smile lit her eyes to
brilliance.
 

Fulke squeezed her hand, swallowing hard.
 
Fighting against his sudden arousal, he
summoned a servant for a cup of mead.

Courtiers, courtesans, thanes and nobles took their
seats to the announcement of the king’s arrival.

The visiting archbishops, bishops, and abbots came
first, followed by Matilda on Geoffrey’s arm. King David escorted Adeliza to
her seat as Henry followed alone.

Henry stood to welcome the assemblage before announcing
a meeting of the barons would convene after Christmas Mass the following day.

During the king’s prolonged speech, Reina reached for
her goblet more than once.
 
She brushed
absently at her brow with a shaky hand, drawing his attention.
 
Noting her pallor, Fulke realized she was on
the verge of fainting. Easing her against him, he supported her against his
shoulder, fanning her face the best he could with a linen napkin.
 
He could not leave in the midst of the king’s
speech.

From across the table, a courtier handed him a folding
fan, gesturing to a place at the next table where it originated. Gratefully
accepting the fan, he looked up to find Arabella with a resigned smile on her
face.

With a sincere nod of thanks, he turned back to Reina.

She slowly came to with a cold sweat beading her pale
brow. Seeing his look of concern, she smiled to reassure him.
 
Dabbing her brow with a napkin, she accepted
the glass of mead he handed her.
 

Taking a sip, she timidly glanced around.
 
Apart from a few curious stares, everyone’s
attention remained focused on the dais.

After the king had finished his speech, the servants
once again began to make the rounds. Pushing back his chair, he assisted Reina
to stand.

His hand spanning her waist, he escorted her to an alcove
in the passage. Tipping her chin up, he asked, “Are you feeling unwell, my
love?”

“I fear I was a little
overwhelmed by the crowd, my lord,”
she said to reassure him.

Feeling her brow, he said, “I shall summon the king’s
physician.”

Reina grabbed his forearm.
“Please do
not, Fulke, the man’s solution to every ailment is bloodletting. I assure you
all is well.”

Fulke caressed her cheek. “As you wish, my love.
Should it reoccur, I beg of you to tell me the moment it begins to happen.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she smiled.
“You shall be the first to know.”

* * * *

In anticipation of the late night ahead, the castle
was silent the next day. With the exception of servants, the passages remained
largely empty.

With Reina in a warm bath before the fire, Fulke
assisted her to wash her hair. Easing her against the back of the tub, he began
to comb it dry.

Drowsy from his tender ministrations, he wrapped her
in a dressing gown before carrying her to the bed.”
 

“I love you, Fulke,”
she yawned.

Bending to kiss her, she was asleep before he reached
her lips.

* * * *

That evening found them standing at the back of the
crowded chapel foyer with an assemblage of English and Norman Barons.
 
With Fulke’s arm resting around Reina’s
waist, they remained close to an exit should the crowd become too much for her.

Shouts abruptly rang out from the front of the hall as
a tide of voices rushed back to them like a crashing wave.

Guiding Reina to his men, he faced her. “Something is
amiss with the king’s party. Guy, remain here with your lady, the rest of you
come with me.” With a loving glance at Reina, he started pushing his way to the
front of the crowd.

People were craning their necks to see as Guy stood
protectively by Reina’s side. The crowd began to move into the chapel and
still, Fulke did not return. Wringing her hands, she craned her neck,
attempting to see to the front of the hall.

She turned to Guy when he lightly touched her
sleeve.
 
Keeping his back to the crowd,
he said, “There is no need for concern, my lady.”

With a sigh, she allowed herself to relax.

The passage cleared considerably by the time Fulke
appeared, followed by the rest of the men. Directing his comments to Guy, he
gazed at Reina. “It appears a quarrel erupted between the Archbishop of York
and the Archbishop of Canterbury over which one was entitled to place the crown
on the king’s head.”

Smiling down at her, he presented his arm. “Shall we,
my lady?”

Fulke guided Reina through the crowded chapel to a pew
reserved for the barons near the front.
 
Taking their seats, the king entered in full regalia, flanked by the
archbishops.

Waving a hand for the service to begin, the archbishop
stepped forward to begin the Latin service.
 
Resting her head on Fulke’s shoulder, she struggled to stay awake in the
stifling chapel.
 
She raised a hand to
conceal a yawn when the archbishop intoned, “
Ante
Dei vultum nihil unquam restat inultum
.”
^[3]
   

Observing heads turn to lean close in whispered
conversations, Reina glanced up at Fulke for an explanation.

“The archbishop is subtly reminding the barons that it
would be in their best interest to swear allegiance to Matilda,” he mouthed.

She nodded, covering another yawn behind her
hand.
 
Shifting on the hard bench, the
lengthy service and forced inactivity began to lull her to sleep.

Pulling her close, Fulke raised a hand to ease her
head down on his shoulder.
 
Snuggling
against him, she gave in to her weariness.

The feast immediately following the service turned out
to be the most remarkable event Reina had ever witnessed. Wearing a crown set
with Edward the Confessors’ famed sapphire and full ceremonial robes, Henry
followed an assembly of archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, thanes, Scotland’s
King, Empress Matilda, Geoffrey of Anjou and Stephen of Blois.

Minstrels in the upper galleries serenaded the
jubilant crowds celebrating the season.
 
Scores of servants maneuvered through the hall under heaping platters of
sumptuous fare.
 
Dining on silver plate,
they were served the finest spiced wines, ales, ciders and meads.

Taking in the general splendor, Reina caught Fulke’s
loving gaze resting on her.
 
Raising her
hand to his lips, he slanted his eyes to the front of the hall.

Standing to announce the start of the assembly, the
king explained the importance of the forthcoming vote. Pointedly staring at
several of the barons scattered throughout the hall, he took his heat.

At the foot of the dais, the king’s herald began to
announce each noble house. After being formally summoned, the baron would rise
to approach the dais to swear allegiance to Matilda.

From her lofty perch on the dais, the empress either
stared haughtily down on the baron kneeling before her or ignored him
altogether.

When it was Fulke’s turn, he gently squeezed her hand.

Reina watched with pride as he made his way to the
dais. Her heart overflowed with love as she watched him kneel.
 
Placing a fisted hand over his heart, he
glanced up to swear his allegiance.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed Matilda pay close
attention to him, admiration in her gaze.

Making his way through the tables back to her, she
noticed for the first time how the men glared at him with envy even as their
wives stared longingly after him.

Reseating himself beside her, he turned to smile at
her.

She responded by twining her arms around his neck to
pull him down for a breathless kiss. Pulling away, she smiled at his look of
pleased surprise.

Seeing the envious stares the kiss provoked, she
smugly returned her gaze to the dais.

Fulke watched her glance around the hall as
understanding dawned on him. With a low chuckle, he wrapped his arm around her.

Turning to watch the rest of the proceedings, they
witnessed history as each baron stiffly swore allegiance to a woman. After
Reynold left the dais, he joined a large group of barons surrounding Stephen.

Not to anyone’s surprise, the tally declared Empress
Matilda would be the first Queen of England and Duchess of Normandy. Henry
acknowledged the barons with a regal nod as he expressed his appreciation,
declaring an end to the assembly.

* * * *

On the afternoon of Epiphany, Fulke gathered his men
together in the chamber he shared with Reina. The traditional day for gift
giving, he informed Talan, Gervase, Guy and Osbert of his intent to deed them
each a parcel of Castell Maen land.

As each in turn humbly thanked him for the extravagant
gift, Albin grumbled, “I would be wary of thanking him overmuch, lads. Next, he
will be expecting the lot of you to take a wife.”

Brushing off Albin’s remarks, they began to boast of
the fortified manor house they would build on their land, getting more complex
in the details as each tried to best the other.

Slipping away from the group, Gervase approached
Fulke. “With your permission my liege, I would like to share the news of my
good fortune.”