Once Upon A Time (Historical Romance) (4 page)

"As am I," Ruyen agreed in a resigned voice, looking disinterestedly about the small quarters. There were several chairs, a scarred table, clean rushes on the floor and a warm fire burning in the hearth. Through an arched doorway he could see two small bedchambers.

Cassandra noticed her brother's exhaustion. Taking his hand, she led him closer to the fire. "Since you have no squire, allow me to aid you with your armor."

Wearily, he agreed.

"Have you eaten?"

"I want nothing," he said. "English food would stick in my throat."

After his heavy armor and chainmail had been removed, Ruyen took his sister's cold hand in his. "If it were in my power, 1 would spare you this." His free hand fell on her shoulder. "I am prepared to meet death, Cassandra, but I shall bargain with Henry for your life."

"Never! If you are to die, I shall stand beside you. I care little for a life without you and father. Do not ask any favors of Henry Plantagenet."

Ruyen lowered himself into a chair and leaned his head back, feeling bone weary. His thoughts turned to Lady Katharine Highclere, his beloved and his betrothed.

"Did you hear anything about Katharine? Is she safe?" he asked his sister.

"Mother told me that she and her father fled the island soon after you departed for battle."

He looked at her for a moment, sensing her disapproval. "Katharine's father must have forced her to leave. She would not have gone of her own will."

Cassandra did not share Ruyen's faith in Lady Katharine. Her brother was blind to his betrothed's many shortcomings. Why did he not see that she would always do what was in her own interest?

"You should take comfort in the fact that she is safe," was Cassandra's noncommittal reply.

"It is fortunate that we had not yet married, or she would be sharing this prison with us. My regret is that I shall never again look upon her face."

His sister's words cut into his thoughts. "Do not think about that now. You must rest."

He stood, moving to the smaller bedchamber. "Aye, I do need sleep."

"Ruyen," she said, her voice stopping him at the doorway, "will the winter last long?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I overheard a guard saying that political prisoners of import are rarely executed until spring. It seems Henry likes to turn the execution into a celebration."

"Father was fond of saying that as long as there is the flicker of life, there is hope."

"But then father is dead," she reminded him. Tears glistened in her eyes. "What a sad end for a proud and noble family."

He came back to her and pulled her into his arms. "If only Richard were king of England."

"Yes, if only," Cassandra said, brushing away her tears. "We must not think that. No one can defeat Henry, he has the power of the devil on his side."

Ruyen lay upon the narrow cot, too weary to think. His sister was right about one thing: they were the last of the Rondache family.

Now the crown of Falcon Bruine had fallen into King Henry's power-hungry hands.

3

The wind rattled the shutters while chilling drafts stirred the tapestries on the wall.

Queen Eleanor sat gazing beyond the moat of the impregnable walls of the castle. An ache that would not heal throbbed within her heart.

Once she had held sway over the most dazzling court in all Europe. She had been surrounded by brilliant scholars, poets, artists, and courtiers. Now, her husband had imprisoned her in this dreary, cheerless castle. It had become her exile from life, her tomb.

Ominous clouds swept across the skies and rain began to fall in great torrents, casting the world in darkness. Her eyes appeared incredibly sad as she glanced down at the parchment clutched in her hand. With a resigned intake of breath, she closed the window, shutting out the fury of wind and rain.

At length she rose and turned to her maid, Ameria. "Tis time to summon Jilly. Bring her to me at once."

The servant nodded, then disappeared into one of the many corridors that led off the Great Hall. Her footsteps were noiseless as she ascended the wide stone steps that curved upward into the dark recesses, her candle flickering into the hidden shadows, casting them into muted light.

Jilly was halfway between waking and sleeping when her bed curtains were pulled aside and someone called her name. She sat up, blinking her eyes, to stare in bewilderment at the queen's maid.

"Mistress Jilly, Her Majesty awaits you in the Great Hall. She's asked that you come at once."

Without hesitating, Jilly pulled on her crimson velvet-dressing robe, wondering why the queen would send for her at this late hour. Sliding her feet into soft velvet slippers, she nodded.

"I am ready."

They left the bedchamber and descended the stairs into grotesque shadows cast by the single candle carried by the maid.

But when they entered the Great Hall, Jilly was astonished to find dozens of candles ablaze. King Henry only allowed Eleanor a pittance, forcing her to conserve even the candles that lit her dreary existence.

Eleanor was seated on a cushioned chair and motioned Jilly forward, indicating that she should sit on the stool at her feet. There was affection in the queen's eyes as they rested on the lovely young woman who had been her pupil for more than three years.

"Your Majesty, you are not ill, are you?" Jilly asked in concern.

"Nay, my dear, I am fit enough."

Jilly felt a rush of relief, for she adored her benefactress. She waited patiently for Eleanor to tell her why she had summoned her so urgently.

The queen looked at her speculatively. At nineteen, Jilly was no longer the lovely young girl who had come to her, she was a beautiful woman. The ebony hair that tumbled about her face was a perfect frame for her pale skin. Her blue eyes were so deep in color that they immediately drew one's attention. Yes, she was lovely, and Eleanor hoped that would make the task she would set for her easier.

"How much do you remember about your early life?"

Jilly's brow furrowed in thoughtfulness. "My first memories are of the convent, and of the prioress, Mother Magdalene. She was the only woman who was constant in my life." She smiled in remembrance. "I believe Mother Prioress did not know what to do with me."

"She did as she was instructed, following my plan for you exactly. What else do you recall?" Eleanor prodded.

"I would have been lonely had it not been for Humphrey, the gardener. He is the man who brought me to you. He was a dear man, and I miss him every day because he was my one true friend. As I think about it, I cannot recall a time when Humphrey was not nearby."

"I had not meant for you to be so lonely, Jilly. But you will soon understand why it was necessary for you to be kept in seclusion."

She looked thoughtful. "How long was I at Our Lady of Sorrow, Your Majesty? I am not quite certain of what age I arrived there."

"You were taken there when you were but two years old, Jilly, and I had you brought to me when you were sixteen. On your next birthday, you will be twenty." Eleanor took her hand. "Have you no memories other than the convent?"

"Nay, Your Majesty, nothing." Jilly look reflective. "When I was young, I would pretend that I was the daughter of some great lord and that he would one day come to rescue me." Her eyes met the queen's. "How could I have imagined that you, Your Majesty, would be the one to take me away from the convent and give me a home?"

"Have you been happy here these last three years you have spent with me, child?"

"Oh, yes, Your Majesty. I have never known such kindness and contentment. I never want to leave you."

"This prison is not for you, Jilly. You are young and there is much you have yet to do with your life."

Jilly caught her breath, looking at the queen with growing distress. "You will not send me away, will you?"

"You are of an age when most women are already married, with babes clinging to their skirts."

Jilly swallowed hard, wondering what Eleanor was trying to tell her. "Have I displeased you in some way?"

"Nay, the opposite is true. You have been dutiful in your lessons and have not complained when you were forced to study long hours," the queen said, with a softness in her eyes. "Listen well and heed my words, so you will understand why I have insisted that you be as well educated as any man."

Jilly could only stare at Eleanor.

"We live in a society, constructed and administered by men," Eleanor continued. "I was once the heiress to a great duchy, Aquitaine. Our lives are not as different as you might believe, Jilly. My grandfather made Louis of France my guardian upon his death. Louis made certain that I married his son, also named Louis." Eleanor raised her brow in mockery. "The French are fond of the name Louis, and it is sometimes difficult to keep the numbers straight in my mind."

"Your Majesty, how are we alike?"

"You will see the comparison in good time. But I was speaking of myself. Being a woman, and not having the knowledge to govern, I was at the mercy of three kings. First Louis, my father-in-law, then Louis, my husband, and later, my second husband, Henry." Eleanor leaned against the back of her chair and studied her hands that were sparkling with jeweled rings.

"I was once beautiful, and the most powerful men in the world knelt at my feet."

Jilly looked at the queen's face, which was magnificently framed by a wimple and topped with a golden crown. She knew that the once glorious golden hair was heavily laced with white, and the queen's waist was thick from bearing many children. Still there was something beautiful and ethereal about Eleanor.

"Your Majesty, you are the loveliest of all women," she said in earnestness.

The queen's smile was soft. "Bless you, child, I think you are sincere. But I am growing old and I know it."

"If only ... if only the king would let you out of this prison. I am very sad for you."

"Ah, yes, well, that's another story. Henry knows that if he releases me, I would again plot against him. It is the way it must be between us. As it is, he sometimes allows me to attend Christmas and Easter Courts with him and my children. I can't say that I enjoy it, other than the change in scenery—I don't like my sons very well; they have become thorns in my side. Richard, of course, being the exception."

"I have oft heard you speak of Richard with great affection. I would like to meet him someday."

"He will one day be king, although Henry would have it otherwise." Eleanor smiled. "My husband was furious when I made Richard duke of Aquitaine, although it was his right as our eldest living son. He wants the Aquitaine for his beloved John, as well as the throne of England." She looked annoyed. "How such a weakling as John could have issued from Henry and myself is beyond understanding."

"Why did you marry King Henry, Your Majesty?" Jilly asked.

"Oh, but Henry was magnificent when I first saw him." Eleanor's eyes took on a dreamlike expression. "Not handsome—more than that—powerfully built with a stock of red hair and an air about him that made other men seem like mere shadows. At that time, I was married to Louis, and was queen of France. I loved Henry at once. There are moments when I love him still." She sighed. "And this is where it has led. I am floundering in stagnant water, kept from the mainstream of living, forced to view life from the windows of my prison. And as for Henry, I have merely become an irritant to him. Where once I led armies against him, I am now no more to him than a boil on a horse's rump."

Eleanor smiled as if she knew a secret that no one else was privy to. "But this boil will join you to a golden falcon, the Golden Falcon, who will help you strike at Henry's pride." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked hard at Jilly. "That's what Henry values most, you know, his pride. Kill his pride and you kill Henry. You will be my lovely instrument to inflict misery on my husband."

Jilly looked puzzled. What was Eleanor trying to tell her?

"There was a time when I was powerful," Eleanor continued. "Everyone listened to the sound of my voice. Now my words carry no farther than Salisbury. When I was first imprisoned, I was consumed with rage and later sorrow and then devastation. I am ever guarded by the watchful Fitz-Stephen, a noble loyal only to Henry."

"Fitz-Stephen is a most unpleasant man. 'Tis clever the way you smuggle messages in and out of the castle without his knowledge."

"True, true."

"Your Majesty, it is not fair that you must endure such a constricted life."

"Have no pity for me, child," Eleanor said. "I, who have traveled to Jerusalem and Antioch, been queen of two courts, both French and English, adored by knights and lords too numerous to count."

"It must have been glorious."

"Ah, well, now my days are spent listening to my ladies chatter, sing sad songs and spout bad poetry. Slowly I have begun to emerge from my prison, at least in my mind. I have found a purpose—a reason for being—a way to defeat Henry without ever leaving Salisbury."

"How will you do that, Your Majesty?"

"You may indeed ask. You see, Jilly, you shall be my weapon." Eleanor laughed softly and laced her slender fingers together. "Oh, how Henry will rage when he discovers that I have had you hidden away all these years, and when the time is right I'll make certain that he knows this was my doing. Even now, I can hear him roar and threaten. But in the end, he will be helpless to do anything about it. I have planned this carefully, waiting for the right moment—that moment is now! I bless the day your mother made you my ward."

"I am your ward, Your Majesty?"

"Of course. Did you think you were some little nobody that I took into my household out of pity?" Suddenly the queen's eyes were hard and cold. "Oh, no, my girl. There are those who would give much to find you. But I have hidden you well and waited ... waited."

"Please tell me who I am," Jilly said, unable to believe that she might at last discover her identity.

"In good time, child, in good time."

It was clear that Eleanor was reflecting on her life tonight, and although Jilly was anxious to know about her own past, she must wait until Eleanor chose to enlighten her.

"I once entertained the thought that you would marry my Richard, but then I realized that might eventually please Henry, so I decided against it." A smile transformed the harsh lines about her lips. "The husband I have chosen for you will send Henry into a frenzy."

"But who am I, that you would consider me as a proper wife for Prince Richard?" Jilly cried, shaken by Eleanor's confession.

Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. "Your blood is as pure as any royal, more so than most. You are from a revered and noble family."

Jilly's mind could hardly comprehend all the queen was telling her. She was of royal blood!

"I vowed, Jilly, that what happened to me would never happen to you. I have made certain that you were taught by only the best scholars. It was no accident that I placed you under the tutelage of the prioress at Our Lady of Sorrow. She is a woman of great insight and wisdom. I only wish my sons were as learned as you."

"I have much to thank you for," Jilly said gratefully.

Eleanor looked pleased. "I am certain that your mother would be proud of the woman you have become. You will be able to best any man, Jilly."

"This is the first time you have mentioned my family to me." Jilly raised troubled eyes to the queen. "Is it because my mother and father were not married that I am unable to use my surname?"

"I can assure you that is not the case." Amusement danced in Eleanor's eyes. "Your father was a handsome devil, and I liked him quite well, even though he was impervious to my many charms. He loved only your mother. Unfortunately, he died before your birth."

Jilly was saddened to hear that the father she had just discovered was dead. She hungered for more knowledge about her parents. "Please, Your Majesty, what more can you tell me about him and my mother?"

"Your mother was an exceptional woman of great integrity, who placed loyalty and devotion to duty above her own life. I owe her more than I can ever repay. She stood my friend when it was dangerous to do so, and when many others turned away. She put herself between my husband and me, and even stayed Henry's hand when he would have struck me down. For her loyalty to me, your mother suffered Henry's wrath, and that is what ultimately caused her death."