Читать книгу The Harlot’s Daughter - Blythe Gifford, Blythe Gifford - Страница 9

As the sun rose to its pale peak on the last day of the year, Solay set aside the astrology tables in despair. She read no Latin, so she could understand none of the text. In a week, the Yuletide guests would be gone, and she with them unless she could create a story from the stars to please a King.

Before she wove a fiction, she had tried to decipher the truth, but the symbols in the chart the old astrologer had drawn blurred before her eyes.

She trusted no one for help except Agnes. When she had asked what ill omens the old astrologer had seen, Agnes’s already pale face turned white.

‘He said the King must give up his friendship with the Duke of Hibernia or the realm would be in danger.’

No wonder the man had been jailed.

Idly, she flipped through the tables of planets, wondering when Lord Justin Lamont had been born. He had the stubbornness of the Bull, but his blunt speech reminded her of the Archer. Perhaps one of them was the ascendant and the other…

Foolishness. She put the tables aside and turned to her real work. Her future lay in the hands of the King, not in the kisses of Justin Lamont.

She studied the King’s birth chart again. Some aspects didn’t match the temperament of the King she knew. Aggressive Aries was shown as his ascendant, yet he seemed the least warlike of kings.

The eleventh house was that of friends; the twelfth of enemies. Surely just a slight shift could move the Duke from one to the other.

A different time of birth would do it.

She turned pages with new energy. She would populate the chart as she wished and suggest it had changed because she used a different time of birth.

Smiling, she began to draw.

By late afternoon, she derived a chart that suited her purpose, and, it seemed, the King much better. A square formed the centre of the chart, Capricorn, his sun sign. Four triangles surrounded it, forming the four cardinal points as triangles from each side. Then, the additional eight houses formed another square around the first.

The shift clustered more planets in the house of friends, but it also described his character more accurately. From this one, she could spin a happy future for the King and, she hoped, for her family.

She hesitated. If it were dangerous to change her own time of birth, what would she risk to change the King’s?

Yet it was the only answer she had. At least she was sensible enough to tell him no bad news. No one was likely to know enough to dispute her conclusions and, if anyone did, she would laugh and say she was only a woman and not a real astrologer.

Justin’s mind wandered as the Court wasted the afternoon listening to bad verse penned by courtiers playing poet. The words flowed around him unheard. He had spent the last week telling himself that he was relieved that the kiss had meant nothing to Solay, though it galled him that she could swoon in his arms like a lover and then laugh. He should have expected nothing less. Even the woman’s body lied.

Across the room, she was fawning over Redmon again. Since he had told her to seek a husband, Justin judged every man she spoke to for the role. She would have few choices. The man must have money, not need it, for she would bring no dowry. He must be acceptable to the King, but not too important, for if he were, he would get a better bride.

She gave the Earl a dazzling smile as it came her turn to present. Then, she licked her full, lower lip, cleared her throat, glanced at Justin and started to read.

They call them men of law, an empty boast

They claim that law means justice

But justice comes quickest to him that pays the most.

His cheeks burned. Though no one looked his way as they laughed, he knew her words were directed towards him. Her poem told an amusing tale of a dishonest lawyer, brought to justice by a benevolent and pure King. The verse lacked polish, but it showed promise. The words were clever.

More than clever. Something about them seemed very familiar.

After the King applauded heartily and the afternoon’s entertainment ended, Justin sought her out. Her small triumph had touched her lips with an easy smile.

‘A pretty poem, Lady Solay,’ he said. ‘Did you suggest the subject to John Gower?’

Solay’s smile stiffened. ‘What makes you ask that?’

He did not dignify her lack of denial with an answer. ‘I did not think him a man to be swayed by kisses.’

She did not blush, which made him think she had not tried physical persuasion of the King’s favourite poet. Odd, he felt relieved.

‘The idea was his, not mine. He told me he was trying something new and if the King did not like the poem, Gower would put it aside. Since the King liked it very much, I dare say he will finish it and then tell the King and they will both think it a good joke.’

‘So now I must keep secrets for John Gower’s sake, not yours?’

Behind the pleading look in her eyes he saw the shadow of resentment. It must gall her to beg his co-operation. ‘You wouldn’t spoil the surprise, would you, just because the verse doesn’t flatter you?’

Shocked, he realised he had never even considered it. ‘It is Gower you wronged, not me. You sling borrowed barbs about lawyers, but you know nothing about me at all.’

‘I know you helped Parliament impeach the King’s Chancellor on imaginary charges.’

‘The charges were real.’

‘Not real enough, I see.’ She nodded towards the Earl of Suffolk, laughing with the King. ‘The man is with us today.’

He gritted his teeth. ‘The King released him. Not Parliament.’ Richard had imprisoned the man for a few weeks, then, as soon as Parliament had gone home, set him free as if Parliament had never ruled. As if the law meant nothing.

She lowered her voice to whisper. ‘You say you care about truth, but others say you care more about destroying those closest to the King.’

‘And you let others decide what you think.’

She didn’t answer, but turned to smile at Redmon across the room. The man smiled back, broadly, and she started to leave.

‘I hope you are not thinking of him as a husband.’

She kept searching the room, not meeting his eyes to answer. ‘When you suggested marriage you did not request approval of the choice. In fact, you told me only the King could decide.’

One of the young pups across the room winked at her, elbowing his companion, and she gave him a slow smile.

The boy’s grin grated on him. ‘That one is not looking on you as a wife,’ he growled.

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I am a man.’

‘Well, the Earl of Redmon is.’ Behind the lilt in her voice he heard the edge of anger.

‘Did the stars tell you so?’

‘He was born under the sign of the goat. We should get along well enough.’

‘Did the stars also tell you that he is old and rich with wealth and sons and three dead wives? All he needs is someone to grace his bed. That should not be difficult for you.’

She gasped, but instead of satisfaction, he felt remorse. ‘You fault me for failing some standard of your own devising. What do you expect of me, Lord Justin?’

‘Only what I expect of anyone. To be what you are.’

She dropped the smile and let him see her anger. ‘No, you expect me to be what you think my mother is.’ She turned to leave.

‘So each of us judges the other wrongly, is that what you think?’ He grabbed her hand, stopping her as if he had the right.

The shock was almost as great as touching her lips.

Both of them stared down at their clasped hands, her hand, cool in his, his large, blunt fingers, covering her pale skin.

And something alive moved through him, the feeling of kissing her all over again. Then, he had been in his cups. Easy to explain being set afire by a beautiful woman. But this…He had simply touched her hand and now stood transfixed, unable to—

‘Lord Justin, please.’

He looked up. This time, her slow, sultry smile was for him.

He dropped her hand. As she walked across the room to Redmon, he could swear she put an extra sway in her hips.

He smothered his body’s quick response. He was finished with this dangerous woman. Whether she married or not was none of his affair as long as she did not dip her hand into the King’s purse.

Justin and Gloucester approached the King’s solar shortly before noon on the last day of the Yuletide festivities. Their visit would be short and unpleasant, but at least Solay should be gone at the end of it.

‘Lamont? Did you hear me?’ Gloucester’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

‘Sorry,’ he answered. ‘What did you say?’

‘I’m going to throw this list in his face.’

Justin gathered his thoughts. It would fall to him to keep things civil when the royal tempers slipped loose.

As they entered, King Richard extended his hand, imperially as if it held a sceptre. ‘The list. Give it to me.’

Justin held out the list of grants to be enrolled on the Patent Rolls ‘with the assent of the Council’. ‘The Council has approved these four.’

The King glanced at the list. ‘Where are the rest? Where is Hibernia? Where is the woman?’

‘They have not been allowed,’ Justin said.

‘Not been allowed? It is the King who allows!’

‘Allowed?’ Now it was Gloucester who yelled. ‘You’ve allowed France to seize our lands instead of defending them!’ he snapped, sounding more like an uncle than a subject.

Richard reached for his dagger. ‘You impugn the power of the throne? I’ll have you hanged.’

They lunged towards each other, tempers flaring, while the guards hung back, uncertain whether to protect the King or Gloucester.

Justin stepped between them. ‘Please, Your Majesty, Gloucester.’ Each stepped away, glowering.

Richard gritted his teeth. ‘I will see all these grants allowed, including…’ he looked at Gloucester, hate glowing in his eyes ‘…the one for the harlot’s daughter.’

‘You’ll see none of them,’ Gloucester said. ‘Least of all that one!’ He stomped out of the room without asking for leave.

Richard stood rigid with shock. Or anger.

Justin repressed his resentment. The King cared nothing for Solay except as a pawn to infuriate his uncle and the Council. ‘Your Majesty, the Council has finished its review. There will be no more grants.’

Richard turned to Justin, his entire face pinched with rage. ‘Be careful, Lord Justin.’ His voice quavered with anger. ‘Your Council may have power now, but I was born a King. Nothing can change that, especially not you and your puny law.’

A shiver slithered down Justin’s back. When this man returned to power, he would grab what he wanted without a care for justice or the law. And Justin had been very, very much in the way of what he wanted.

On the afternoon of the twelfth day of Christmas, Solay was ushered into the King’s private solar to present her reading. The King dismissed everyone but the Queen and Hibernia, an indication that he was taking her reading very seriously.

Solay’s fingers shook as she smoothed the parchment with her new drawing. Her family’s fate lay on its surface.

‘Your Majesty,’ she began, ‘was born under the sign of the goat on the day three kings were in attendance on the babe in the manger. Surely this is auspicious. In addition—’

‘This is all well known,’ Hibernia scoffed. ‘Can you tell us nothing new?’

She put aside the chart. Hibernia had tolerated her for Agnes’s sake, but after what the last astrologer had said about him, he had no love of the art.

‘Well, I believe there may be.’ Her breath was shallow. Now. Now she must risk it. ‘Is Your Majesty sure you were born near the third hour after sunrise?’

Silence shimmered. How could one doubt the King?

‘Of course I’m sure. My mother told me.’

Next to him, Anne put a gentle hand on his arm and gave Solay a look that was hard to decipher. ‘Why do you ask?’

Solay swallowed. ‘My calculations suggest the hour was closer to nones.’ That would have meant the middle of the afternoon.

‘Impossible,’ said the King.

QueenAnne stared at Solay, then turned to her husband and whispered. The King’s eyes widened and they both stared at her.

She swallowed in the lengthening silence.

‘Who told you this?’ the King said.

‘No one. I was simply trying to read the planets. Of course, I am no expert and could easily be wrong.’

‘But you could not easily be right.’

She looked from one to another. ‘Am I right?’

The Queen spoke with her customary calm. ‘Richard’s mother once told me she had put out a false time of birth so as not to give the astrologers too much power.’

Her body burned with a heat that did not come from the hearth. Power. The unfamiliar fire of power. The truth of her startling prediction had given her something she had never before possessed.

Power enough for him to fear.

The King leaned forward, pinning Solay with eyes that held an uneasy mixture of apprehension and curiosity. ‘What new knowledge does that give you?’

She looked down at her chart, trying to think. Too much knowledge would be dangerous. ‘There are differences in the two ascendants. Yours is now Gemini and your moon is in Aries.’

‘But what does that mean?’

Flattery first. Then the request.

‘Your people revere you, Your Majesty. You are a singular man among men, whose wisdom surpasses ordinary understanding.’ She swallowed and continued. ‘And you are exceedingly generous to faithful friends and those of your blood.’

‘Such as you?’ His smile was hard to decipher.

She should have known that a King had heard all the ways to say ‘please’. ‘And so many others.’

His mouth twisted in derision, but fear still haunted his eyes. ‘What does it tell you,’ he whispered, ‘of my death?’

She took a deep breath. If she predicted long life incorrectly, they would only think her a poor astrologer. If she predicted death correctly, she could be accused of causing it.

‘I see a long and happy reign for Your Majesty.’ Actually, some darkness hovered over his eighth house, but this was no time to mention it. ‘All your subjects will bless your name when you leave us for Heaven.’

He leaned forward, his teeth tugging at his lips. ‘And when will that be, Lady Solay?’

She swallowed. ‘Oh, I am but a student and cannot determine such a thing.’

‘You were skilful enough to deduce the correct time of my birth. I’m surprised you could not be so precise with my life’s end.’

She lowered her eyes, hoping she showed proper deference. She had stumbled into a dangerous position. It would take all her talent to balance the King’s belief in her with his fear. ‘Forgive me for my ignorance, Your Majesty.’

He leaned back in his chair, peering at her over steepled fingers. ‘And are some of these things also true of you, since we share a birth day?’

Trapped by her lie, she decided the truth might serve her well. ‘It is interesting that you ask, Your Majesty. Since I have come to court, I found that I, too, was misinformed about the time of my birth. I was not born on the same day as Your Majesty.’

He smiled, pleased, and did not ask when she was born.

Hibernia pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. ‘You can hardly take this seriously, Your Majesty.’

He would be wise to say so. The old astrologer was right. Hibernia was bad for the King. She simply chose not to say so.

‘Of course I don’t,’ the King said, chuckling, as if relieved to be given an excuse. He rose and nodded at Solay. ‘You shall have a new, fur-trimmed cloak for your work.’

‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ She sank to her knees in what she hoped was an appropriate level of deference for an extravagant gift.

‘And Lady Solay. You shall not read the stars again.’ The faintest sheen of sweat broke the skin between his nose and his lips. ‘For me, or for anyone.’

She nodded, murmuring assent. Her work as a faux astrologer had accomplished its purpose. Her uncanny prediction had raised the least bit of fear in the King. Useful, if managed carefully.

Deadly, if not.

She must make it useful in finding a husband.

The King had turned back to Hibernia, whispering, leaving her again on her knees.

‘Safe journey home,’ the Queen said as she left the room.

This could not be the end. ‘I had hoped—’ she began.

The two of them turned to see her kneeling, as if surprised she was still there.

‘I had hoped,’ she continued, ‘that Your Majesty might take an interest in my family.’

The King exchanged a glance with Hibernia. ‘Ah, yes. “Generous to those of your blood,” you said. What kind of interest?’

You’ll get no money, Lamont had said. Better to ask for a husband.

She cleared her throat. ‘In my marriage, Your Majesty.’

Hibernia smirked. ‘Marriage? To whom?’

She let a cat’s smile curve her lips. Would it be too bold to suggest the Earl? ‘Any man would be honoured to be recognised by his Majesty.’

The King eyed her warily, indecision in his frown.

The Duke leaned towards the King, chuckling. ‘She seemed to enjoy kissing Lamont. Marry the two of them.’

She felt as if a bird were trapped in her throat, desperately beating its wings. ‘Oh, no, Your Majesty, that was just under the Lord of Misrule. Meaningless as the Duke’s kiss of Agnes.’ A kiss, she belatedly remembered, that was not meaningless at all.

But the King was not listening. ‘Marriage to Lamont. A very interesting idea.’

Her damnable want warred with her family’s need. She wanted no marriage to an enemy of the King, yet she dare not criticise the Duke’s suggestion. ‘How kind of the Duke of Hibernia to suggest it, but I’m sure Your Majesty was thinking of someone else.’

‘You wanted a husband. If I choose to provide this one, are you ungrateful?’

Still kneeling, she looked down at the floor, hoping her deference would mitigate his anger at her small show of defiance. ‘Of course not, Your Majesty. It would be just the expression of your generous ascendant planet to bring Lord Justin so close to the throne.’

She looked up through her lashes to see him frown at her subtle reminder that he was elevating an enemy.

A light flared in his blue eyes. ‘And for my magnificent generosity, I ask only one thing of you.’

‘Anything, of course, Your Majesty.’

‘You will keep me informed of his actions for the Council.’

Suddenly, his purpose was clear. This marriage was to be for the King’s benefit, not hers. She should never have thought otherwise. ‘Do you not think they will be in constant contact with Your Majesty as well as Lord Justin?’

‘That’s what you are to discover.’

She bowed her head in defeat. ‘Of course, Your Majesty.’

‘Do your part and perhaps I will provide a grant for your family next year.’

Next year, when the Council’s charter expired and she would still be married to a man who hated her. ‘Your Majesty is ever generous.’

King Richard waved to a page standing outside the door. ‘Summon Lord Justin.’

The King’s summons bode ill, Justin thought, as he entered Richard’s chamber with a brief bow to what looked like twin kings.

Solay stood before the King and Hibernia. She touched her lips when he entered and his blood surged as he remembered the taste of them.

The King’s fury of two hours ago had been replaced with his dangerous, calculating look. ‘It seems the Lady Solay would marry.’

Startled, he ignored the twist in his stomach. Was this not exactly what he had suggested? ‘Most women do.’ He should be grateful the King had backed down from a confrontation with the Council over the woman. Belatedly, the amount she needed seemed minor.

‘You seemed to enjoy her kiss.’

No reason to deny the truth. ‘What man would not?’ He felt a flare of envy for the one who would be her husband and have the right.

‘So, then, you will be pleased to have her as your wife.’

Lust surged through him from staff to fingertips, drowning logic. To be able to bed her, to take her, seemed the only yes in the world.

He saw a flash of fear in her eyes, but she blinked and it was wiped away. Lips slightly parted, she looked up through her lashes as if she were at once trying to seduce him and play the innocent.

He was sure, and the thought brought him pain, that she was not.

His mind regained control over his body. The woman had neither honour nor honesty in her. ‘She is not what she seems,’ he said, the words shaken up through a rusty throat. It was long past time for truth. ‘She does not share a birth date with Your Majesty.’

She flinched and he fought the feeling that he had somehow betrayed her.

‘So she told me,’ the King said. ‘She was misinformed about her birth.’ He smiled. ‘As was I. Lady Solay seems to have some talent as a reader of the stars.’

‘Or so she has convinced you. Did she also confess that her flattering verse was borrowed?’

Her eyes widened in surprise. Justin smiled, grimly. Had she expected he would keep her secrets for ever?

The King frowned, shifting on his chair. ‘So you already know what a clever woman she is.’

‘I would prefer an honest wife to a clever one.’ It was not only the King he must dissuade. It was himself.

‘You have difficult requirements, Lamont,’ the King continued. ‘You’ve already turned down two honest heiresses most younger sons would have embraced with fervour.’

He met Solay’s eyes again, full of fresh pain. Just as that first time when she entered the Great Hall, he could not break away from the force that flowed between them.

‘Speak.’ The King’s voice seemed to come across a great distance. ‘Will you have her?’

What would the King do if he said ‘no’? Give her to Redmon? The man likely pushed his last wife down the stairs when she became quarrelsome over his dalliances.

Solay mouthed the word ‘please’. Her pleading, desperate eyes held echoes of another woman, another time. He had not been able to save that one.

For a moment, nothing else mattered.

‘Yes,’ he said, his gaze never leaving Solay.

The word stood between them, a pillar of fire. She released a breath and a smile trembled on her lips.

Having broken the spell, he found a kernel of sense left in his brain. This time he would not sacrifice his happiness for a woman he could not trust. This time he would be sure there was an escape.

He faced the King. ‘But I have a condition.’

The King frowned. ‘Condition?’

‘I must be convinced that she loves me.’

She gasped and he smiled at her. It was an unusual demand, and, in this case, an impossible one. Yet he had seen the disaster of a marriage forced. He would not brook it again.

The King dismissed him with a wave. ‘I never thought you a man who believed the love poems, Lamont. Love can come later as my dear wife and I discovered.’

Having planned his escape, he found he could breathe again. ‘Nevertheless, the Church requires we both consent freely. If I have stated a condition that is not met, the marriage will not be valid.’

He and Richard glared at each other. Even the King could not deny the power of the Church.

Solay glanced at the King. ‘Allow us a word, Your Majesty.’

They stepped out of earshot of the King. As she touched his arm, he struggled to keep his mind in control.

‘I know you care nothing for my life, but have you no care for your own? You are angering the King beyond reason.’

‘I told you not to let him force you. And I won’t be forced either.’

‘There is fire between us, Justin,’ she whispered, but her fingers choked his arm. ‘I am willing and I shall learn to love you.’

He steeled himself against the fear in her voice. ‘If I believe a word of love you say, I’ll be sadly deluded. I have bought you some time to find a man you really want to marry. Perhaps you can convince some other fool of your love.’

He stepped away from her to face the King again, relieved to be removed from her touch. ‘I stand by my word.’

‘Nevertheless,’ the King said, smiling, ‘I shall have the first banns read next Sunday.’

Sunday. The reality of what he had done pressed on his shoulders like a stone.

‘So soon?’ she asked. ‘We cannot wed until Lent is over.’

Hibernia cut in. ‘There’s time enough for you to marry before Lent begins.’

‘We won’t be married at all unless I am convinced of her love,’ Justin said.

The King shrugged. ‘Very well. Lady Solay, you have until the end of Lent to convince him of your love.’ His look turned menacing. ‘And, Lamont, you have until the end of Lent to be convinced.’