The Innocent (9 page)

Perhaps there would be more time later—and they could spend some part of the night together, in his bed, rather than another snatched moment such as this. She would have to be careful if she was to get what she wanted from him.

He strode to the door and turned to look back at her. She did make a winsome picture as she languorously laced her breasts back into her gown, a faint smile on her face. Yes, it would be entertaining to have them both for a time, Aveline and Anne. Anne, a virgin, would not know how to accommodate him initially—though it would please him to teach her—but meanwhile this one had real skill and could always provoke his lust, even if he forgot her almost completely between the times he had her. He could smell her on his fingers and that was exciting. Amazing—he could feel himself stir again.

He shook his head. “Mind you, look sharp now. Your mistress will wonder at your absence for so long.”

The slight smile he directed at her as he pulled the door open made her smile even more widely back at him. Then he was gone, and she stopped smiling. Yes, she needed some real time with him—just a few hours—and she would find a way to get him to give her pleasure, too, this next time. And after that, well, then she would tell him.

Even though he had been gone less than fifteen minutes, Piers returned to find the banqueting hall becoming rowdier by the moment. Perhaps it was his father’s excellent wine, but wherever he looked there were red faces around the hall, and even those sitting at the top table were joining in, taking their lead from Edward. His father frowned when he saw him and beckoned sharply. Piers put a suitably dutiful expression on his face and hurried up to the top table, gracefully sinking down on one knee before his father and Edward.

“Piers, my scapegrace son, Your Majesty.”

“New coat, I see, young man.”

Piers flushed but managed to hide his annoyance. “Sire, all is made new by the radiance of your presence in my father’s house.”

The king laughed warmly. “Well, Master Mathew, you are lucky in your household—and the grace of your son.” Waving a chicken bone with practiced aplomb, he signaled that Piers might retire.

Piers backed away while bowing deeply, careful not to trip on this new set of trailing sleeves, until he found his place at the trestle-board immediately under the dais upon which the high table stood.

A moment later, Aveline slipped back into her place beside Anne behind Lady Margaret’s chair. “You can go now,” she hissed. “I’ll attend Lady Margaret.” Anne was about to protest but another vicious pinch from Aveline made her yelp before she could stop herself, causing her mistress to turn and look at them both.

“Aveline, there you are. Run and fetch my pomander, this close atmosphere is making my head swim.”

“But, mistress, cannot Anne…?”

Lady Margaret frowned at the older girl. “No, Aveline, I particularly desire that you fetch it for me.

Anne is busy here.”

Sitting below the high table, Piers watched the tension mount between the two girls; watched Aveline’s quick curtsy before she sullenly hurried away; watched Anne working her way from guest to guest, filling the cups on a look from her mistress.

The king, too, appreciated the girl, charmingly flushed now as she tried to concentrate on her task. He was watching Anne covertly, enjoying her graceful movements and enchanted by the beauty of her skin and hair, as he made small talk with his host.

“Master Mathew, I hear that you credit Lady Margaret’s late recovery, for which we all give thanks this day, to the taking of herbs. A mighty power they must have; perhaps you should be selling them to the doctors for the good of us all.”

“Ah, sire, it is truly a miracle, and no one, not even the learned physicians who attended my wife, have been able to explain her cure, except in the terms we scarcely dare credit.”

“And what does the Lady Margaret herself say?” Edward asked, still watching Anne. The girl had lovely hands, too, he noted, and she was very clean, unlike some of the ladies of his court.

“Sire, I believe it was the prayers of my husband and this household, and also the strength in the herb teas and the special foods I have been taking, that have brought me to this board today,” Lady Margaret explained. “Anne, tell the king how you prepared the tisanes for me—and the puddings.” Anne looked up from her work, startled as King Edward turned, surprised, to his hostess.

“This girl had a hand in your recovery?”

“Indeed, I believe she did, sire. Anne came to us not eight months ago when I was truly lying in the shadow of the dark angel, but within some days of her arrival here, and after drinking the teas she prepares from the herbs she gathers herself, I had enough strength to eat again. And she fed me special puddings made from fresh blood and eggs and then—well, as you see…”

“Come here, girl.” The king beckoned Anne to him as the entire table of dignitaries looked on with interest. “Do you truly believe that you aided your mistress with your medicines?”

At first, Anne opened her mouth to reply to the king and no sound emerged. Then, seeing her struck dumb with his attention, and those of the magnates around him, he reached over for her hand, patting it gently, and smiled at her encouragingly. The girl let out her breath in a deep sigh and, gathering courage, said simply, though her voice shook, “Sire, my foster mother has a physic garden and taught me the making of medicines and simples from the time I was a child. I believe that if Lady Margaret profited from the poor help I was able to give it was because our good Lord wished it so.” And she sank into a deep curtsy, dropping her eyes to the rushes.

This little speech was delivered with such modest and winning grace, and so clearly sincerely meant, that the king applauded, as did those around him. Then, reaching across to Anne, he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin, saying softly, “Bravo. An excellently fair and clever little doctor. We must see that your talents are properly used.”

Now, with the king’s dark blue eyes looking down into hers, the same delicious shivering rush Anne had felt earlier prickled its way up and down her spine and lodged in her nipples and groin with a buzzing warmth that made her squirm, though she tried to hide it. She smiled up at Edward tremulously, then once more dropped her glance as he handed her to her feet.

Lady Margaret, wishing to help the girl recover her composure, smiled warmly at her and issued a suitably diverting request: “Anne, would you find more lampreys in saffron for my Lord of Warwick, please—and then I should like you to ask Jassy to come to me for a moment.”

Below the dais, Piers found his attention caught by the charming Lady Rivers, kinswoman of the queen. She had a remarkably fine pair of breasts, so nearly exposed in the very low-cut, tight-laced bodice of her gown it was hard to look elsewhere, but he saw something of what was happening at the high table out of the corner of his eye.

Piers was enraged to see his stepmother’s younger maid having her head so comprehensively turned by the king’s attention. With Edward’s reputation, today’s small dalliance might not be the end of the matter. He might have to move fast. Perhaps very soon, indeed. And he smiled at that thought: the chase was sweet after all.

His smile delighted Lady Rivers. The new powdered carmine in her cleavage was clearly a success; this rather good-looking young man might also enjoy her newly gilded nipples a little later also!

A further hour passed and it became apparent that the king was restless to be gone. Margaret caught her husband’s eye and, using Anne as an intermediary, gave him a message that she felt the feast should end soon, and would arrange it if her husband was willing.

He looked back at her and nodded discreetly, proud of the good show she and his household were making. In truth, Master Mathew had had just about enough of this rowdy crowd from the court. For all his desire to advance, he was not a court sycophant, and even though he was sure that entertaining this motley crew of aristocrats and magnates would advantage his business, he was heartily sick of their patronizing ways—especially toward his beautiful and cultured wife who, he reminded himself with a snort, was better bred than most of them. He watched with admiration as she signalled, unobtrusively, for Anne to once more fill the king’s cup; clearly she felt this would give him the opportunity to gracefully take his leave.

“Your Majesty, would it please you to have more of these comfits—or a little of the sack?” Anne kept her eyes down and her head modestly lowered as she proffered the last of the sweetmeats to Edward.

“No, sweet child—I have eaten and drunk my fill at your master’s board,” Edward said, then raised his hand to the herald, who had stood behind him, unmoving, for the entire feast.

The herald, a good-looking boy with the first fluff of a beard on his bright pink cheeks, called out in a surprisingly deep and loud voice for one so young: “Pray silence. Silence there for His Majesty.”

“My friends, it is time for us to depart and leave Master Mathew and Lady Margaret Cuttifer to the enjoyment of their day without this swarm of locusts to further waste their substance!” The ladies laughed gently behind their hands at this sally from their king—clearly he wanted them to laugh because he was smiling easily. “Sir, and you, lady, I have something for your name day and in celebration of Lady Margaret’s miraculous restoration.”

And with that, William Hastings, the king’s Lord Chamberlain and greatest friend, moved forward and with the deepest of bows held out a blue velvet bag, embroidered with the leopards of Anjou, to the king. Edward rose from his chair and from the inside of this bag drew out a handsome heavy gold chain made of interlinked S s studded with carnelians, crystals, and small, exquisite enamel medallions.

Carefully he dropped the chain over Master Mathew’s head. It was a particularly fine piece of work—altogether a princely gift—but the largesse was not yet done. Stepping gravely to where Lady Margaret had sunk onto her knees beside her husband, the king placed in her hands a small object, an exquisite little Book of Hours richly illustrated in glowing colors and gold leaf, with an embossed cover of worked gilded leather, again studded with gems, in this case garnets and topaz bound with gold wire.

Lady Rivers was not the only member of the court who was interested to see the extravagance of the king’s gesture to Master Mathew and his wife. Earl Warwick, too, was caught by surprise. This gift-giving was fascinating indeed and might signal a shift in the wind. Perhaps the king was about to have a need for money and plenty of it—else why so suddenly single out a jumped-up merchant—even if he did have a well-born and excellently connected third wife?

Master Mathew’s cup was full to overflowing. The clear evidence of favor the king had bestowed, and his princely generosity, made it hard for him to gather his wits as he slowly rose—the king holding out a hand to him, another honor—and assisted his kneeling wife to her feet. “Sire, never shall this day be forgotten by me and mine. And may you ever know that my house, and all that is mine, is at your disposal while I have breath in my body.”

The king laughed in warm amusement. “Now, Master Mathew, that is a remarkable and most generous offer, and before witnesses! But I shall not hold you to it, or not yet, at least. But I give you fair warning: should the queen present me with a babe each year, as she has loyally declared she will, and I am thus threatened with being eaten out of hearth and home, I may have need for you to remember your words to me today.”

It was a jolt, yet why did Anne feel such disappointment when His Majesty mentioned the new queen?

Was it not natural in a married man to want a family and to enjoy the lawful pleasures of the marriage bed? But then how could he have looked at her with such interest? Did she just imagine the warmth in his eyes because she wished it were there? It was mortal sin to think carnal thoughts about a married man, she knew that. When she confessed, Father Bartolph would give her penance and she would deserve it.

Her contemplation was broken as the chattering company began streaming out of the hall behind the king and her master and mistress, as they walked together to the great front door of Blessing House.

Once again, she and Aveline bore up Lady Margaret’s train, though Anne saw with some anxiety that her mistress was exhausted now, standing stoically beside her husband to bid her good-byes to each member of the court as they left her house.

Mathew, too, was worried—he could see how tired Margaret was—and some of his salutations became a little brusque as he tried to encourage late-stayers out of his door, while trying to preserve the mask of a good host.

With the last straggler gone and the front doors closed again, Mathew touched his wife’s hand and gently said, “Come, wife. This day has taken its toll. Aveline! See that the bed is warmed as I walk your mistress to the solar.”

Turning to Anne, Aveline snapped, “Fetch coals immediately and make sure you get enough for two pans. Hurry now, I want this done before Lady Margaret reaches her bed.” Then she turned away to pick up the train of the blue dress once more, as Anne, walking as quickly as she could, set out for the kitchens.

Of course Anne knew her way around Blessing House now as if it were Deborah’s garden in the forest, and once out of sight of the hall she hitched her skirts up and ran. But still it took her several minutes to reach the great doorway leading into Maître Gilles’s domain.

Before today, she had been careful to avoid looking at the lolling stone woman on the lintel, conscious of Aveline’s words about guarding her reputation with the menservants in the house, but now she paused a moment and looked up at the heroic face and body above her. The look on the woman’s face was arresting: eyes half open, mouth slightly parted and smiling, she was enjoying the tug of the baby at her nipple and one of her hands was opening the top of her robe as if to free the other breast for the baby’s, or the onlooker’s, further delight.

Perhaps it had been the heady events of this day, but the smile on the woman’s mouth and the clear pleasure she had in her own sensuality affected Anne in a way she’d not experienced before. It was clear that the sculptor had real skill, for the two very male bodies that supported the gigantic woman had also been lovingly shaped so that each knotted muscle appeared flexed. Tentatively, the girl reached out to touch the carving where there was a solid bulge under the loincloth of each giant.