The Dragon and the Jewel (4 page)

When they were alone she leaned toward him. “Will, is this marriage what you want?”

“No,” he admitted. “Oh, Jasmine, I have such a deep fear Eleanor will be like her mother when she grows up.”

“I believe your fears are groundless … she’s never known her mother’s influence.” They looked at each other, not voicing their inner fears of tainted blood and what was bred in the bone.

Will sighed. “I’ve insisted she have her own household. Ladies’ quarters have been established at Windsor and she’s to be constantly chaperoned. I’ve provided the best tutors and teachers. She even has nuns and Franciscans in her household.”

“You are footing the bills for the entire upkeep of Windsor Castle, no doubt?”

“And the Order of St. Bride’s.” He shrugged. “I would spend any amount of gold to keep her chaste.”

Poor little girl, she thought. Jasmine’s hand sought Will’s. “Don’t leave her there too long. The best possible influence on her would be you yourself, Will.” She paused. “I would like you to take my sons into your service, Will.”

He was almost undone at the great trust she placed in him. “You honor me, lady,” he murmured huskily.

“Always,” she said, going on tiptoe to kiss him good night.

De Burgh lay stretched on the bed, his arms behind his head. He slept naked and had taught Jasmine to do the same. The green flame in his eyes licked over her curves as she began to undress. “He’s in love with you, you know,” he murmured.

“Will? Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been friends since we were at court together.” Before she removed her chemise, she picked up her hairbrush.

“Let me do that,” he ordered. She came to the bed and absently handed him the brush. The moment his hands tangled in the silken mass of her hair, his erection started. “He loved you then and he loves you now.”

She half turned to look deeply into his eyes. “Surely you’re not jealous of Will?”

“Oh, I’m jealous all right. Jealous of every man who dares look at you, but strangely I’m not jealous of Will. The poor honorable bastard tries so hard to conceal his love from you.”

“He’s different from you. He doesn’t simply reach out his hand to take what he wants.”

Falcon de Burgh made short work of the chemise. “Splendor of God, if I were in his shoes I’d have you on your back in a minute.”

“Would you indeed? I seem to recall it took you longer than a minute to have your perverted way with me.”

“I’ll show you perverted,” he said, dipping his head between her legs and running his tongue up the inside of her thigh.

“It will take more than that to thaw me,” she teased icily.

“No, it won’t,” he said with masculine conceit as he spread her center apart with his thumbs and licked the tiny bud inside the soft folds.

She felt herself begin to melt, but didn’t want to give in to him so easily. “Stop, I think I’m going to faint.”

“I’ll make you faint, by God,” he promised, thrusting his hot tongue deep inside her.

After a few minutes of such delicious intimate play, it was not nearly enough for Jasmine. “Falcon, Falcon.” She knew the cry would bring his mouth up to hers. He loved to taste his name upon her lips. Her fingers slipped down his hard body to encircle his shaft, and she gasped at its size. It never failed to elicit a delicious quiver of fear. He thrust into her hot, wet center, stretching her to the limit, and she went wild with the unbelievable fullness he created inside her. His tongue filled her sweet mouth, moving in rhythm with his hips, and she wrapped her long, slim legs high about his back. Over the years they had learned how to make it last and sustain their pleasure endlessly.

When Jasmine cried out from her release, William Marshal convinced himself it was the cry of a night bird upon the moon-bathed lough.

E
leanor Katherine developed an unquenchable thirst for learning. She practiced her writing far into the night until her companions begged her to snuff the candles. The blotted pages she produced gave her such a disgust of herself that she doggedly persevered until her words flowed across the page in beautiful script. Only then did she begin to correspond with her beloved husband.

She was superstitious about the name Eleanor, preferring to be addressed as Countess of Pembroke, but sometimes she went for weeks answering only to her second name, Kathe.

She had a natural ability to learn languages. She soon mastered French, leaving her companions struggling far behind, while she studied Gaelic with one of the Irish nuns. She devoured history and developed a fascination for religion, realizing that the latter had played a paramount role along the path of history, shaping and molding it, sometimes for better, more often for worse. The Mother Superior of St. Bride’s began to visit with her, passing on theology and her wealth of nursing skills and knowledge of medicinal herbs. She was a stern, no-nonsense woman who scoffed at the physicians and the quacks who came to London in noisy droves. She pointed out to Eleanor
that only ignorance could account for hanging red curtains about the bed of a smallpox victim, placing coral in the mouth to cure heart problems, or hanging asses’ hoofs about the legs to cure gout.

The rich were given powdered pearls, emerald dust, or finely ground gold, and Mother Superior told Eleanor in no uncertain terms the jewels would do the patient more good if they were donated to the church. Eleanor disagreed with Mother Superior on one point. The nun believed that all major ailments came from God and it was sacrilege to interfere, so the two of them enjoyed many lively arguments.

She was soon allowed to be tutored by the Franciscan, Adam Marsh, whenever he visited with Henry. The learned monk soon realized Eleanor’s intellect put the king’s in the shade.

She learned to play the harp and the lute and to imitate Lady Isabella Marshal’s exquisite manners and pretty gestures. William Marshal supplied them with the finest Thoroughbreds from Ireland and falcons and hawks from Wales, and whenever Richard returned from Cornwall, they joined him in the hunt.

As Richard’s visits became more frequent, Lady Isabella had begged Eleanor never to leave the two alone. Eleanor realized Isabella loved Richard and sympathized with her lovely companion’s plight. Like her own love for William, it must remain unrequited. A lady’s reputation must be without blemish. In fact, the very first lesson Eleanor’s nuns and chaperons instilled in her was that, without virginity, a girl had no value for marriage. Her husband would repudiate her, ruining her, if he found her unpure.

And so it was that the Countess of Pembroke grew into young womanhood with a vast knowledge of the world, yet not worldly in any way. She grew up innocent and ignorant of all venal matters. In fact, she was the antithesis of her mother at the same age. The only things Queen Isabella had passed along to her youngest child was her breathtaking beauty and an inordinate love of elegant, exquisite clothes in vibrant colors, encrusted with silvery thread or precious gems. Luckily her husband’s wealth allowed her the luxury of acquiring anything her heart desired.

* * *

The day Henry turned eighteen he called a special meeting of the council and presided over it. He announced he would assume the full powers of his kingship. Hubert de Burgh, who had been regent up to this day, wisely decided not to earn the king’s hatred by thwarting him. In return Henry made him Earl of Kent and told him to set about filling the royal coffers. As a result all owners of land and castles by royal patent were ordered to bring their proofs to Westminster to secure confirmation. A fee was charged and Henry stood to raise a hundred thousand pounds by this plan.

The great barons of England were unhappy and blamed Hubert de Burgh. The Tower of London was in Hubert’s hands, and he had resided there a good deal of the time, but now he built a palatial residence that he called Whitehall on a valuable piece of property close to Westminster. He was castellan of every important castle in England—Dover, Canterbury, Rochester, and Norwich. The king gave into his care the great towns of Carmarthen, Cardigan, and Montgomery along the Welsh border. He was sheriff of seven counties that oversaw everything from inquests to tax collection and the revenues came into his enormous purse.

The barons grumbled louder. Hubert blithely ignored them and provided Henry with money to build additions to the Tower of London. They added the Water Gate, the Cradle Tower where Hubert’s baby daughter resided, and The Lantern, a new bedchamber for Hubert with a magnificent view of the river. It kept the king’s mind from the frustration of his wedding plans. First he had been turned down by the Austrian princess and then by the Princess of Bohemia. He was now considering the Princess of Provence and asked his brother Richard to go and take a look at her, for he was a connoisseur of beautiful women.

When he realized that his reputation for being tightfisted was ruining his chances for procuring a bride, Henry made an effort to pay the dowry still owed to Germany. In return his brother-in-law, the Emperor of Germany,
gifted
him with three leopards. With them came the idea to create a menagerie at the Tower of London.

* * *

Being the premier Marcher Lord of Wales kept William Marshal busy, and the de Burgh twins soon learned that the Welsh were every bit the wild barbarians that the Irish were. William owned vast holdings in Wales. His principal county of Pembroke overlooking the Irish Sea was administered by Welshmen totally loyal to him. The twins were greatly impressed by William’s Welsh archers and immediately took lessons to become proficient with the longbow. They were able to inspect their father’s castles of Mountain Ash, Skenfrith, and Llantilio. Their uncle Hubert, whom they had favorably impressed, asked them to inspect his new acquisitions at Cardigan and Carmarthen and to give him full reports on the strongholds.

Within the first year they had earned their knighthoods; within the second they had Welsh castles of their own to command. The high craggy cliffs of the County of Pembroke were only a spitting distance across St. George’s Channel from William Marshal’s Irish holdings in Leinster, and it was nothing for these rugged men to quell an uprising in Ireland and put down insurgence in Wales within the same month.

It was years before Rickard and Mick de Burgh finally set foot in London. Because they were closely connected to Hubert and were among William Marshal’s best captains, Henry welcomed them with open arms, hoping to lure them into his own service.

The king insisted his newly returned marshal must see the improvements he had made to the Tower of London. When he arrived Henry and his old comrade-in-arms Hubert proudly gave him the grand tour. Hubert had just shown off his little daughter Megotta in her Cradle Tower, then urged William to visit the menagerie.

As the men descended the stone steps, they saw a barge had just arrived at the Water Gate. Richard, Duke of Cornwall, helped a breathtaking creature adorned in red velvet edged with sable down the gangplank.

“Who is the ravishing beauty Richard is courting?” William asked with appreciation.

The king’s high-pitched laugh caused the new arrivals to glance up. “William,” Henry said with a laugh, “that is your wife.”

Eleanor waved to Henry and called, “We’ve come to see the elephant.” Then her eyes fell on the broad shoulders of the man beside him and her hand flew to her throat. “William,” she whispered.

The river breezes snatched his name from her lips and carried it up to the stunned observer. All the other people seemed to recede. He was vaguely aware of Richard helping his sister Isabella Marshal from the barge, but William had eyes only for Eleanor. He was rooted to the spot so she came to him and sank into a graceful curtsy, which sent her velvet skirts billowing out across the gray stones. The crimson color made her seem so vibrantly alive, like an exotic bird of paradise captured for Henry’s menagerie and totally out of place in cold, gray London.

“Well come, my lord,” she greeted him graciously in soft tones as her deep, sapphire-blue eyes shone with joy.

“Splendor of God, Marshal, I bet you’re kicking yourself for wasting your time in Wales while your bride languishes for you in London.” Hubert de Burgh gave Eleanor a hearty buss on the cheek. “You are grown
into
a beautiful woman, my dear. You look exactly like your mother, who at one time was reputed to be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

William had to stifle an urge to smash his old friend in the face. He had seen the startled shock on Eleanor’s face when de Burgh had handled her, and a rush of protective feeling almost overwhelmed him.

Bluff Hubert kept at her. “How old are you now?” he asked, frankly assessing the swelling curves of her young breasts.

“Fifteen, milord, an’ it please you,” she said breathlessly.

“It would please any man with blood in his veins. Fifteen is just the perfect age for a bride, I always think.” He nudged William suggestively.

Her lashes swept to her cheeks. She hoped William thought so too.

“That is exactly the age of my bride-to-be, Eleanor of Provence,” the king announced. “We’ll celebrate. Tonight you shall all dine with me at Windsor and I will show you the new wing I’m having decorated for my queen.”

William raised Eleanor’s hand to his lips and heard Richard
say “Lady Isabella, you must join us; you haven’t had a chance to visit with your brother in years.”

Isabella blushed and moved forward to kiss William. He smiled at her warmly to thank her for the exceptional job she had done with his countess.

Henry was all boyish enthusiasm as he showed them his menagerie. There were strange shaggy beasts known as buffalo, Barbary apes, lions, leopards, and finally the elephant. Henry insisted upon entering its cage to feed it an apple. “Look! Only look how it takes it to its mouth with its great trunk.”

Hubert seemed quite tickled, but Richard caught the marshal’s eye and shrugged apologetically as if to say “When will he grow up?”

Hubert was pleasantly surprised to be invited to dine with the king. Usually it was the other way about; Henry’s nobles and the wealthier London families were expected to wine, dine, and entertain their young monarch so his own household would not have to bear the expense.

William Marshal looked on with amused tolerance as the king showed them a new diadem he had had designed for his queen-to-be, studded with precious gems at a cost of thousands of pounds. He had also ordered her a complete wardrobe with chaplets, rings, and jewel-encrusted girdles. Henry’s inconsistencies were unbelievable; he pinched pennies with one hand and spent lavishly with the other.

A wedding date hadn’t even been set, but the Bishop of Lincoln had been dispatched with orders to finalize the arrangements no matter how small the dowry might be. Richard had just returned from Provence and had told Henry bluntly that its ruling family was penniless, although its princesses were every bit as lovely as they were reputed to be. He warned his brother that the Provençals were grasping and so wily they had just married one beautiful princess to Louis of France without providing a dowry at all.

Henry, however, had set his mind on Eleanor, the princess they called “La Belle,” and nothing would alter it. The Plantagenets were very open in front of their justiciar and marshal, realizing the two kingmakers knew every detail of their lives since they’d been born anyway.

“Where did the money for all this come from?” Richard asked, indicating the luxury of the newly furbished dining salon where they were eating.

“It isn’t paid for. I went into debt,” Henry said quite matter-of-factly.

“Well, how the hell do you expect to pay that debt?” Richard asked bluntly, determined to keep his own purse closed this time.

“That’s Hubert’s problem,” said Henry, turning expectant eyes upon his justiciar.

Hubert washed down his beef with a goblet of Gascony wine and said, “Well, the wedding and coronation of the queen are perfectly legitimate expenses. I think a grant of two marks on every knight’s fee of land wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

Richard looked quickly to William Marshal to gauge his reaction because Parliament had to agree to all taxation. “Do you think the council will agree for a queen who will come virtually empty-handed?”

“They will agree,” William said shrewdly. “They will think it most advantageous to have Louis of France as brother-in-law.”

Eleanor cast him a glance of admiration, and thereafter he was lost to the conversation about him. He was enthralled at the transformation that had taken place. A poetic phrase floated through his mind: Where a rose is tended, a thistle cannot grow. She had been a beautiful child, of course, but she had also been a willful, wild little animal bearing no resemblance to the graceful lady with exquisite manners and regal bearing who sat beside him, softly conversing with his sister about the country of Provence.