PROLOGUE
Palace of Westminster—London—August, 1241
Henry of Winchester eyed the beauty standing next to him. Even now, he longed to stroke her silken skin and bury his lips against her throat—the very thing that had gotten him into this predicament in the first place.
“You’re certain?” he asked, already knowing her answer.
The noblewoman nodded. “I am, your majesty. It’s been two months since my courses flowed.”
“There’s no going back,” he chided gently. “It’s not too late to change your mind. I can always find you a husband among my English barons,” he said, knowing he had already arranged countless marriages for his wife’s Savoyard relations who had followed her from Provence to the English court when she had come to him as a child bride six years ago.
Lucette La Vache gazed at him with yearning a moment longer and then closed her emerald eyes. When she opened them again, he saw determination looking back at him.
“No man will ever touch me again,” she said softly. “I go to God willingly, along with our child.” She rested her hands against her belly.
He winced hearing the words aloud. “Say nothing of your departure to the queen or any of her attendants,” he cautioned. “I will send my priest to you. He will take care of everything. I will provide gold for the nuns’ coffers. It will ensure they care for you for life. And the child, for as long as you see fit.”
Taking her wrist, he rubbed his thumb against it and then placed a necklace into her palm, closing her fingers around it.
“This is not for the nuns. This is for our child. If a daughter, may she wear it with pride. If a son, he should give it to his wife. Either way, I want this babe to have some remembrance of me—and of our love.”
Lucette glanced at her fisted hand without opening it. “Au revoir, mon doux roi,” she said, her voice breaking.
Turning away, she hurried down the corridor and paused briefly at the corner. Henry thought she might look back but Lucette squared her shoulders and turned the corner.
His greatest temptation was now gone. At least, as soon as he could arrange for her disappearance from court. Henry steeled himself and moved in the opposition direction of his lover, through dozens of hallways, and straight into a meeting with his council. As he entered the chamber, his eyes fell upon Lord Simon de Montfort, the Earl of Leicester. The enmity between them ran deep, ever since the nobleman wed Henry’s sister in secret three years ago. Eleanor had sworn an oath at ten and six to remain chaste in front of no less than the Archbishop of Canterbury. Leicester’s seduction had forced Henry to recognize the marriage and the couple already had two children. Leicester’s power among the barons grew to a point where Henry constantly worried. If word got out that the king who was known for his piety had gotten a lady-in-waiting with child and spirited her away to a nunnery, he could only imagine what Leicester might do with that knowledge.
Henry sat through the meeting, listening to the advice of his council, making a few suggestions which he knew would be ignored. Ever since he’d come to the throne at age nine, his reign had been tumultuous and the monarchy had continued to lose power to the barons. First, his father had been forced to sign Magna Carta by the barons and then Henry himself had reissued the Great Charter in order to be granted new taxes. He wondered if his son, Edward, would also be forced to bow to a select group of nobleman when his heir became king.
The meeting adjourned and Henry made his way back to his rooms, calling for his priest. Since he saw Father William regularly, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. When the priest arrived, Henry commanded that all his attendants leave them alone so that they might pray together.
Once the room emptied and the last servant closed the door, he offered the priest a seat as the holy man began to kneel in prayer.
“Sit, Father. We must talk. I have a confession to make.”
The older man’s brow wrinkled in confusion as he rose and slid into the chair. “Then we should adjourn to the confessional, your majesty.”
“Nay,” said Henry hastily. “Too many spies flit about the palace. What I say now is for your ears only. And God’s. My sin is great and must be addressed accordingly.”
Father William smiled benignly. “You are too hard on yourself, Highness. All of England knows what a godly man their king is. You are devout to the Church. You feed hundreds of paupers daily. You help those who are orphaned. You give to every charitable cause to be found.”
Henry’s temper flared. “And I have sinned,” he ground out. “Most grievously.” He paused, trying to contain his anger, feeling his face flush with it.
The priest patiently waited until Henry calmed himself and then said, “Then let me hear your confession, my son. Though we are not in the confessional, I am sure you have examined your conscience and have told God Almighty of your sorry.”
Henry fell to his knees and made the Sign of the Cross. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was three days ago.”
He listened as the priest offered up a prayer to the Most Holy God and said his own prayer to have the courage and strength to be able to admit to what he had done. Once Father William finished, he waited for Henry to speak.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Temptation was placed in my path and I succumbed to it.”
Henry paused, remembering the feel of Lucette’s bare skin against his. Her kiss. Her whispered words murmured into his ear. He pushed the wicked thoughts aside and focused on what must be said—and done.
“I lay with another woman. Not my wife,” he continued. “I betrayed my sacred vows of matrimony.”
Father William’s eyes widened in surprise. Usually, the sins the king confessed were mundane.
“I know my reputation, Father. I am a spiritual man. I am devoted to my patron saint, Edward the Confessor. I focus on my religion and the good I can do in my role as a Plantagenet king. But, I was weak in the flesh.”
The priest frowned and yet tried to look sympathetic at the same time. “All men are weak, sire. Knowing you did wrong and confessing your sin is the first step toward atonement.”
Henry pushed himself to his feet and seated himself in the chair again. “I need your help, Father. This woman is with child.”
Shock caused the priest’s face to flush a bright red. “What . . . what would you have me do, your majesty?”
“She refuses to wed another man, though I have offered her that option. Instead, she wishes to be taken to a convent and have the child there. She would then take her vows and become a Bride of Christ.”
Father William swallowed. “And the child?”
“It’s to be left at the convent. She will not claim it but I don’t want it raised in an orphanage. The babe would be protected inside the walls of the nunnery. I will send enough coin to guarantee the child’s safety. If a time comes when circumstances force me to acknowledge my grave error, I will even send for this child.”
“I see.” The priest folded his hands in his lap. “I am to convey this woman to a convent?”
Henry nodded. “Immediately. One of your choosing. I will expect to hear after the birth whether ‘tis a boy or girl. A yearly report from the abbess is to be sent to you regarding the child. You will share its contents with me.”
Father William countered, “What of the mother?”
Though it pained him, he said, “Never the mother. She will belong to Christ.”
He went to a desk and retrieved a heavy sack that took both hands to lift. “Here is the coin.” He handed it to the priest.
“And the lady? Where am to find her?”
“’Tis one of the ladies-in-waiting my wife brought with her from Provence. Lucette La Vache.”
The priest’s eyes filled with sudden understanding. “She is most beautiful.”
“I never should have succumbed,” Henry said gruffly. “And by Christ’s Wounds, I never shall again. I have learned my lesson, Father.” He rubbed his temples, trying to chase away the ache in his head. “She knows you are coming for her. Leave at once.”
“And the queen?”
“My queen is busy with Edward and Margaret. I plan to see that she will soon find herself busy with another child. I will never speak to her of this terrible mistake.”
Father William rose and made the Sign of the Cross. “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.”
“For His mercy endures forever,” replied Henry.
The priest left, having forgotten to share what Henry should do to be absolved. It didn’t matter. He had already decided his punishment. Retreating to his bed, he raised the mattress and placed a hand under it, his fingers skimming until he found what he looked for. Withdrawing it, he stared at the cilice a moment and then placed it on the bed before walking to the door and calling for his most trustworthy servant.
When they were alone, he said, “Undress me.”
The servant’s eyes fell to the bed. “The hair shirt, your majesty?” he asked hoarsely, grimacing at the sight of the cilice.
“Aye.”
Henry allowed the man to strip him above the waist and then slipped into the coarse garment so that it would rest next to his skin, under his clothing. He would be constantly aware of the shirt as it irritated his skin, causing him discomfort every time he took a breath and even more suffering every time he moved. He swore he would wear it daily until news came of the child’s birth. Only then would he remove the reminder of his sin.
***
Stephen de Blays left the council meeting, making sure to walk out next to Simon de Montfort. The Earl of Leicester was the most powerful baron at court—and Stephen hungered for a taste of that power. He’d made sure to become acquainted with Leicester when he’d come to court with his brother. Humphrey was the Earl of Blackwell and served on the king’s council.
“So, your brother fell ill again?” Leicester asked, annoyance crossing his face.
“Aye, my lord. Sent me in his place.”
Stephen had to bite back the smile that threatened to dance upon his lips since he’d been the one to give Humphrey the tainted brew that turned his stomach. He’d also offered to attend the council meeting in Humphrey’s place. As pain gripped Humphrey’s belly, he’d easily agreed and sent Stephen away.
“You made some keen observations and weren’t shy about voicing your opinion to the king,” Leicester noted as they started down the corridor. “I admire a man not afraid to speak his mind. You seem more astute than Lord Humphrey.”
Stephen laughed easily, pleased by this nobleman’s compliment. “My brother received the handsome visage in our family. I was blessed to lay claim to the intelligence.”
In truth, Humphrey was very intelligent—but Stephen proved shrewder when it came to politics and people. He longed for a title of his own and the power and wealth that came with it. He planned to claim his brother’s.
Soon.
The earl eyed him speculatively. “Never underestimate yourself, de Blays.”
“I won’t, my lord.”
The two men parted and Stephen returned to the adjoining rooms they’d been given within the palace. He found Humphrey moaning in bed, clutching his belly. Humphrey’s son, Godwin, played on the floor with a wooden carving of a soldier. Firmin, their longtime servant, sat next to the earl’s bed and rose when Stephen gestured to him from the other room.
“Close the door,” he ordered quietly and Firmin did as he was told. The man always had followed Stephen’s orders without question, ever since childhood when Stephen had defended the servant against those who teased him because of the firemark on his neck. Firmin had only been a few years older than the de Blays brothers but he’d been drawn toward Stephen. Though a year younger than Humphrey, Stephen had been the one brimming with confidence and the more assertive brother. Even now, Firmin would do anything Stephen asked, though Humphrey was the earl.
Even if it meant ridding them of Godwin.
“How was the council meeting, my lord?” Firmin asked eagerly, always ready for a bit of gossip.
Playing on that, Stephen had them sit as he confided in the man what had taken place at the table and how two of his suggestions were met with enthusiasm by the other members and even King Henry himself.
“The Earl of Leicester made a point to let me know how much my ideas were appreciated,” he added, pleased to see approval in Firmin’s eyes.
The servant shook his head. “’Tis sad you aren’t the earl, my lord. You would make a fine one.”
“I think so, too,” Stephen began, treading lightly, knowing what he must now ask. “I’m worried about Humphrey’s health, my friend.”
Firmin’s brow wrinkled. “The earl has been unwell frequently.” He looked at the closed door. Humphrey’s groans could be heard through it.
Humphrey had become ill on several recent occasions—all thanks to Stephen’s help. He’d begun to slowly add the poison to his brother’s food and drink. Another few doses and he felt certain Humphrey would succumb.
That only left Godwin in the way.
Firmin looked back. “I don’t know how much longer Lord Humphrey will live. That will leave wee Godwin as the earl.” He brightened. “You will be able to guide the boy if it comes to that.”
“What if Godwin were also gone?” Stephen asked softly, his eyes boring into Firmin.
The servant squirmed uncomfortably. “The boy’s never ill, my lord. Not once in his six years.”
Stephen shrugged. “Accidents happen. All the time.”
Firmin swallowed. “They do.”
“People fall. Drown. Die in a fire.”
“Aye,” the servant agreed, his eyes darting about nervously.
“You say I would make a fine earl, Firmin. How would you like to help me become the earl?”
Panic filled Firmin’s face. “Wh-what do you mean, my lord?”
“You would have to do something for me.”
A look of dread filled the man’s face. “Do . . . what?”
“Humphrey will die soon, I predict.”
“He has been frightfully ill,” Firmin said reluctantly.
“And we agreed that accidents happen.”
The servant ran his finger along his collar uncomfortably. “They do.”
“I think Godwin is going to have an accident.”
“He is?” squeaked Firmin.
“Aye.”
“What . . . kind of accident, my lord?”
Stephen sat back and crossed his arms. “I think I’ll let you decide that for me, Firmin.”
“Me?”
“You,” Stephen said firmly. “You have been with me since childhood, Firmin. You know I would make a great earl. You are the only one who can help me.”
“I can?”
He nodded. “You can. Take young Godwin down to the harbor. Let him see the ships coming in.” Stephen handed over a few coins. “Buy him something to eat from one of the stalls.”
“And then?” Firmin’s eyes welled with tears.
“Whatever you think, my friend,” he said gently. “Godwin might trip and hit his head. Run out in front of a team of horses. Fall into the water and drown. He’s a curious little boy who often sticks his nose where it shouldn’t be. It surprises me that nothing harmful has happened to him before.”
Stephen leaned closer to the servant. “I think you would make a fine steward, Firmin. You have a head for numbers.” He smiled. “Why, the position of steward comes with a cottage.” His smiled widened. “I’ve seen how you look at Mary. You could wed her. Give her a home.”
Firmin shot to his feet. Fear filled his eyes. Stephen watched steadily, waiting, waiting . . . then saw the moment when Firmin came to his decision.
The servant moved toward the door and opened it. He walked to the earl’s bedside. Stephen followed, pausing in the doorway.
“My lord, you’ve said I can do nothing for you. How ‘bout I take young Godwin outside the palace? We could see a bit of London. Walk down to the harbor and see a few ships come in and dock.”
Godwin’s eyes lit up and he leaped to his feet. “Can we, Father? I’d love to see the ships.”
Stephen watched Humphrey muster a smile. “’Tis a good idea, Firmin. Godwin’s been cooped up with me for far too long.” He grimaced and turned away from the pair.
Firmin held out a hand. “You’ll have to hold my hand, Master Godwin. London’s full of crowds. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
Godwin grasped the servant’s hand. His eyes looked to the doorway.
“Uncle Stephen, Firmin’s taking me to see London’s harbor and all the ships.” Excitement danced in his nephew’s eyes.
“Have the time of your life, Godwin,” Stephen uttered as a ready smile touched his lips.
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