They had an insatiable thirst for knowledge of England and had plied William with questions of the king, court, barons, politics, and even its women all through the meal. Finally Jasmine’s voice raised in protest. “Enough! You’ve behaved like louts, monopolizing Will all evening. You act as if you’re straight out of the bog … uncivilized pair.”
Rickard grinned wickedly. “That’s because we haven’t been polished at court, Mother.”
The twins excused themselves, knowing William Marshal would be generous enough to spend the next week answering their questions.
“You walked right into that remark, Jassy,” Falcon de Burgh said with amusement. They rose from the table and Jasmine took Will’s arm as the three of them repaired to the solar that overlooked the whole length of the lake, or lough, as it was called in Ireland.
“I know I can’t keep them any longer. They will grow to resent me,” Jasmine acknowledged.
“If only they realized what they have here,” Will said, throwing out his arm to indicate the unparalleled vista. “It’s like a Palatinate. They live like young princes, with total freedom and without the corruption of the English court. When they fought for me in Offaly last year I knew they were better-trained soldiers than any of Falkes de Bréauté’s mercenaries.”
Falcon de Burgh poured William a horn of ale. “They must be allowed to spread their wings. They envy you and me because we fought in France and took castles in Wales. We supped with kings and queens, and now we’ve both married princesses.” Falcon’s eyes swept possessively over Jasmine. “Have no fear, when they have had a taste of England and Wales, when they have experienced for themselves the greed of the court with its petty jealousies and empty promises, they will return better and wiser men.”
“You are right, of course,” William said. “When they compare the two lives, they will find one infinitely inferior. They’ll go into Hubert’s service, of course.”
“No!” Jasmine said quickly, then blushed for interfering in men’s decisions.
Falcon teased, “She’s had one of her visions.”
Her lavender eyes darkened to a deeper shade of purple. “My reasons are tenfold! Hubert de Burgh is too ambitious. He flaunts his wealth and position. The barons bitterly resent him. Peter des Roches, the Bishop of Winchester, is a deadly enemy who won’t rest until he brings him down.”
William said quietly, “It was I who got rid of des Roches. He had too great a hold on the young king and had installed his relatives and creatures in all the posts of importance. He intended to control national affairs.”
Falcon de Burgh said, “I agree with Jasmine. I don’t want them to go into Hubert’s service, though not for the same reasons. Life would be too soft for them. They would become rich and spoiled. I want them to earn preferment … to get their lands and castles by rendering loyal service, not receive them as gifts from an indulgent uncle.” Falcon grimaced. “I hear now that he is married to Princess Margaret of Scotland they travel about with a long train of knights, men-at-arms, scriveners, confessors, body servants, cooks, barbers, and bloody jugglers —ass-kissers, all.”
“Well”—William laughed—“perhaps his train doesn’t quite run to acrobats. His influence on Henry and Richard is infinitely preferable to that of Peter des Roches, whose first loyalty will always be Rome. Because of the money owed to the Vatican, the Bishop of Winchester allowed the Pope’s representatives to come into England to supervise the collection of funds. The money is paid through Italian banking houses. Florentine financiers have set up moneylending businesses all over London. Almost too late I discovered every church appointment that paid a fat living went to an Italian. There are actually canons who haven’t bothered to leave Rome. They were paying clerks starvation wages, and my investigations revealed that over seventy thousand marks had left the country. Meanwhile the king’s coffers are empty. England has been drained of money by war debts, Crusades, and greedy foreigners.”
“What manner of man has Henry turned out to be?” Jasmine asked.
“That’s his trouble, I think. He isn’t yet a man though he is nigh eighteen. He’s too easily influenced. He is addicted to favorites; luckily it’s Hubert at the moment. Oh, he’s not cruel and wantonly destructive as his father was, but he’s selfish, willful, contemptuous of his barons and advisors, and as a king he is unskilled and unpredictable. It is a pity that Richard wasn’t the eldest son. He is a finer man in every way. He’s a good soldier, highly intelligent, has a natural charm where Henry’s is superficial. The barons look to him to influence the king to fulfill the obligations of his office. Richard also has a genius for building …” He broke off, laughing. “I’ve talked you to death. You must have been wanting to seek your chamber hours since.”
Falcon de Burgh stood up and stretched his powerful limbs. “I’ll go up, if you’ll excuse me, though I’m sure Jasmine has lots more questions for you.”
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.
4
Eleanor 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 He
nry 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.