King John had a backlog of thousands of cases of law to be settled by the king’s court. He gave his new justices orders that people could buy their way out of punishment by paying large fines. Every dispute over land was settled in favor of whoever gave the king the biggest present of money. He decreed that all heiresses needed his permission to marry and sold them as he had Avisa, to the highest bidder. If he heard a widow had no wish to marry, he dug up a husband for her so she would pay him to leave her in peace. Even cities were expected to give bribes. Finally, his baseness knowing no bounds, he ordered that all Jews be arrested and imprisoned; they would be freed again only if they paid the huge sum of ten thousand marks apiece.
John was making a mockery out of the fine system of law his father had spent a lifetime establishing. The barons were already outraged and, it was rumored, were holding secret meetings. Their worst fears had been confirmed. King John was untruthful, dishonest, and treacherous. He was also profane, tyrannical, and violent.
Jasmine liked her new role at court decidedly better than the old one. Queen Isabella was intrigued by the idea of having her tarot cards read every day. Since no cards were to be found at Westminster, Jasmine was designing and painting Isabella her very own set of cards. The deck contained seventy-eight cards, twenty-two in the major arcana and fifty-six in the minor arcana. She wisely painted Isabella’s likeness on to the faces of the four queens and the empress and used her own countenance for the card known as the high priestess. She painted John’s likeness onto the four kings and also, to amuse Isabella, she used John’s likeness for the Devil.
So eager was the young queen for Jasmine to finish the cards, she often hung over her shoulder as she sat with her brushes, painting the brilliant mystic symbols. Isabella’s face was always vividly eager, lighted with laughter. Giggling, she referred to the cards as the Devil’s pasteboards. Isabella was too impatient to wait until the cards were ready to learn her future, so after much pressing and veiled threats Jasmine reluctantly agreed to perform the ritual crystal gazing. The performance was set for midnight in the queen’s bedchamber. The maids were pressed to find thirteen green candles, and Estelle produced a silver wine goblet a foot tall, embossed in gold with a lion and a unicorn rampant.
Each passing day had brought more nobles to court petitioning John for lands, titles, and castles. Their ladies came with them, agog to see young Queen Isabella, the child-woman with the reputation of a voluptuary.
As midnight approached, Isabella allowed only a handful of ladies into her chamber—the ones who heaped flattery upon her vain head or gifted her with expensive jewels. Dozens of others who were excluded started vicious rumors of what was actually to take place in the queen’s private bedchamber, and inevitably the whispers reached King John’s ears. He would wait until half-past midnight, then force the door to the queen’s chambers to see for himself the vice in which Isabella indulged.
With an air of solemnity Jasmine lighted the thirteen green candles and glided into the magic circle. The candles’ glow made her transparent silver robe shimmer about her nakedness. With a grace and leisure that made it appear that a trance had already transported her to another plane, Jasmine lifted the wine chalice and held it high. Her voice was like chiming, silvery bells as she chanted: “Earth and Water, Air and Fire, Wand and Pentacle and Sword. Work ye unto my desire, harken ye unto my word!”
An eerie silence descended upon the room as all held their breath to hear the words. Jasmine knew the high drama she created and stretched the dramatic silence to its limit, then she quaffed deeply from the magnificent wine goblet and stretched her fingers wide over the crystal ball. As the inside of the ball began to glow and swirl with smoke, a collective gasp was heard about the room. Then she began shrewdly, carefully omitting any specific names.
“The most beautiful woman in this room has left behind her a broken heart. I see a handsome young nobleman who sits with saddened countenance because his heart is weeping with tears of blood.” She paused dramatically. She would make the picture beautifully poignant. “He is a man of honor, a true knight with a pureness of soul seldom found in men. He will never forget the woman he loves. He will hold her in his heart forever. He will never marry another, but will remain true to the memory of this woman whose beauty stands out above all other women.”
Jasmine stopped speaking and in the hush that fell one woman sniffed, one sighed deeply, another sobbed, and there was not a dry eye in the room save that of the queen. Isabella’s eyes glittered with excitement as the image of Hugh de Lusignan materialized clearly in her mind. He was a man of honor who had been waiting for her to grow to womanhood before he would dream of touching her. How cruel Fate had been to poor, dear Hugh. How could she have helped it if a king had stolen her to be his queen?
Jasmine began to speak again as the smoke inside the glass ball cleared. “The greatest woman in this room is a queen, but the magnitude of her greatness will not come to her because she is queen …” Jasmine paused, heard gasps of apprehension that something dire might be predicted, then she finished boldly. “No, her years of glory will come to her in the future when she is the mother of a king. He will be named Henry after his grandfather and will go down in history as one of England’s greatest kings. While he is a young man, his mother will have supreme power in the land.”
Jasmine thought she had fed Isabella’s ego enough for one night and finished on a lighter note. There had been rumors that the king would travel north, so to ensure that Isabella insisted she go along, Jasmine said, “I see a great journey of more than two hundred miles. It will be filled with happiness and adventure. Every castle will vie for the honor of entertaining their new queen and showing her the beauties of this new land she has come to rule. Every baron who sees her will lose his heart to her. The crystal grows dim, I can see no more.”
The chamber door was thrown open forcefully as King John, flanked by two burly guards, strode into the room. His steps halted as his eyes were drawn to the illuminated figure in the center of the room. She seemed bathed in a pure light from Heaven as if she were an angel. Her pale golden hair fell to her waist, and it too radiated a glowing nimbus. Her aura was innocence; the contrast between his dark, sensual wife and this maiden was so marked, he felt his shaft fill to bursting.
Estelle saw the raw lust in him and was alarmed.
Isabella’s loud laugh rang out as she jumped up and ran toward her husband with outstretched hands to draw him to the center of attention. She was sly enough to trivialize what they had been up to yet at the same time feed his insatiable vanity. “We have been having a little game of trying to foresee the future.”
John dismissed the guards with a gesture and, licking lips gone suddenly dry at the sight of the seminude goddess, he came all the way into the room and stopped just outside the circle of candles. He looked into Jasmine’s eyes and asked, “What did you foretell for me?” His eyes coveted her openly and a great fear was born within her.
She wanted to scream “Death! Death is what I foretell for you!” but Estelle’s training had been so rigid, she lowered her lashes to her cheeks and said, “A son … an heir.” As she stood before him almost naked, she was aware of his greedy eyes feeding on her.
John felt consumed by his desire for her virginity. “I would know more,” he stated. “Tomorrow night you may attend me in my chamber.” He glanced a challenge at Isabella, daring her to object, but she was too wise to worry about John’s infidelities; they were legion. She cared for nothing save that she was the queen. If the predictions of the white witch were true, she would outlive him and her son would be crowned king while still a child. John’s days were numbered.
Chapter 14
Estelle made Jasmine get into bed and brewed her a posset of chamomile to calm her and help her sleep. “Tomorrow night I will go to John in your stead. Somehow I will find the words to keep his lust at bay.”
Jasmine’s fear receded only slightly; in the end, John was the king and the king must be obeyed. T
he chamomile finally made her drowsy, and her thoughts began to float all about her. If John managed to get her alone, what things would he command of her? She had evidence of the lurid sexual appetite he indulged with Isabella, and suddenly she wished that Falcon de Burgh was close at hand. Falcon would let no man touch her. He was the most physically powerful man she had ever seen, and even a king and his commands would mean nothing to him. Sleep overtook her and with a last incoherent thought she said to herself, “I will go to Falcon in my dreams; he will keep me safe.”
Falcon de Burgh was far away to the north, close to the border of Scotland. Salisbury had made Eustace de Vesci captain of the northern fighting forces. Eustace was married to Margaret, an illegitimate daughter of the King of Scotland, and he was therefore most useful in negotiating a treaty for peace between King John and the Red Fox of Scotland.
Falcon had been wined and dined at Eustace de Vesci’s great castle on the border, but he had refused the offer of a comfortable chamber and a plump maid to ward off the chill, preferring instead to sleep in the field with his men. The scarlet silk tent provided all the comfort the hardened soldier required, but as he lay in his furs oblivious to the rigid earth beneath him, his senses were filled with an unendurable longing for Jasmine. His fingers tingled with the need to touch her. He would play with her nipples, then fill his palms with the heavy fullness of her luscious breasts. His hands would sweep lower to be filled with her delicious heart-shaped bottom, then he would part her soft thighs and let his fingers play to their heart’s content. First he would wet the tips of his first two fingers in his mouth … or hers. Then he would make contact with the marvelous slippery flesh at the front of her mons. He would not probe or press, but wait for her response. When she gave it he would move his fingers down to her opening and gently enter so just the pads of his fingertips would be inside. He could feel himself filling now, until he was hard as marble and throbbing. He could taste her mouth as his tongue deeply explored it, and his nostrils were filled with the scent of her womanliness. He actually felt himself shudder as he imagined her hair brush across his face.
Now he would sensually flutter his fingers to give them more penetration. With his other hand he would gently play with her little erect bud while his other two fingers were inside her. He would not jump on her when she was ready, but stay with it at least another ten minutes. When Jasmine began to beg and told him she had to have it, he would not give it to her. He would tease. He would make her want it as she’d never wanted anything before.
Jasmine’s dream began with King John. He held out imperious hands to her as he lay in the royal bed. “Come and fellate me!” he commanded. She turned and fled. She did not stop until she reached Falcon de Burgh’s scarlet silk tent. There she felt safe, secure; there nothing could harm her. Falcon de Burgh lay on the ground and beckoned to her. He did not speak. No words must disturb the magic. She knew he was naked beneath the furs. Slowly, like the rising sun, the realization of what was happening to her dawned on Jasmine. His eyes bored into her, understanding her arousal, slightly mocking it but at the same time encouraging it. Whatever deed would be done, she had silently agreed to it. She was a gift, a divine sacrifice to his passion. Her beautiful virginity was wide open, there to be taken. Her lifelong innocence had primed her for this headlong descent into abandonment. She heard herself begging him as she slipped inside the furs, “Please hold me, my love! Please never leave me alone again!” Then in blissful collusion she allowed him to ravish her.
The sound of her own sobbing awoke her. She sat up shivering, trying to blot out the wicked things she had urged him to, but her body felt pleasurable sensations in all her most intimate places. She hugged her knees to her breasts and vowed with clenched teeth that she would never be wanton, that she would never, ever beg him to touch her; she’d die first.
Falcon de Burgh came awake with a violent start. He was covered with a light perspiration though the night was chill. He cursed under his breath at whatever had awakened him, for it had put an end to the unbelievable magic of the erotic dream he had just had about Jasmine.
Estelle did not wait until the hour of midnight the following night, but knocked upon King John’s privy chamber at eleven. He was clearly annoyed at her intrusion. He wore a flamboyant, rich bedgown embellished all over with rampant stags. A warm supper sat waiting beneath silver covers along with an infinite array of wines from the provinces of France.
Estelle’s mouth quirked with a slightly derisive sneer as she looked pointedly at the crown he wore. Even when he intended seduction he needed the added confidence the symbol of the crown lent him. Dame Winwood began her denunciation of his intentions without preamble. “A man burning with desire wonders why he should not give full freedom to his sexual desires. But if he is unchecked by custom, morals, or laws he will never understand that sex is a river of fire that must be banked and cooled by a hundred restraints if it is not to consume in chaos both the individual and the group.”
He refused to be thwarted. “I thirst for her!”
“Jasmine’s magic powers as a white witch are unlimited because she is a virgin. If you destroy that power because of your selfish lust, you are playing with the will of the gods and could bring Hellfire down upon your head.”
“Think you I’m afraid of Hellfire?” he asked, laughing.
“Possibly not, your Majesty. But if you have any common sense at all you will be afraid to call down Salisbury’s wrath upon your head when he commands all your armies. If you defile his love child, it will set his sword against you. Moreover, it would be an act of incest, which carries with it, as you know, an ancient curse.”
These words had the desired effect to cool his ardor. His eyes hooded. He would bide his time. As an unmarried maiden she was under the dominion of her father, Salisbury, but what if he found a husband for her? Then she would be the property of her husband, and every husband at court was willing to share his wife with his king, if he so desired her.
Estelle knew her stronger will had prevailed … for the moment. She hoped she wouldn’t need to take stronger measures and brew him a potion that would render him impotent, or worse.
In Scotland, Eustace de Vesci had managed to negotiate a treaty of peace with King Alexander. England would promise to control her northern barons from raiding across the borders from their castles in Cumberland and Northumberland and in return Alexander, the Red Fox, was to relinquish his claim on those lands. Alexander had finally agreed to the terms of the treaty less because Eustace was his son-in-law than because England’s armies sat on his doorstep.
King John was to travel north to sign the treaty, yet he feared to travel through the land of his own northern barons even more than he feared the French. Salisbury had to send a company of one hundred knights and two hundred mounted bowmen to accompany the royal court north. Even then King John refused to go farther than Eustace de Vesci’s stronghold on this side of the border. He would leave the queen and court at the great fortified castle of Nottingham, where he commanded that the entire army be on hand to accompany him north to sign the treaty.
Estelle and Jasmine were now in fashion. The women clustered about them like puppies at a bitch’s teat. Jasmine noticed a beautiful young woman who always hung back shyly, yet she could tell the girl was bursting with unasked questions. She took her aside the day before they were to travel north and asked simply, “What is it you wish to know?”
Mary-Ann FitzWalter, who had accompanied her father to court to settle a dispute of land, blushed to the roots of her hair as she explained the unhappy situation in which she found herself. “Oh, Lady Jasmine, I am so far gone in love there is no help for me. His name is Robert, Lord of Huntingdon. We were pledged until one day I was riding in Barnisdale Forest and Roger de Longchamp, a friend of King John’s, abducted me. Before he could force marriage upon me, Robert rescued me. He is the strongest, bravest man in England and I will love him till I die!” she cried defiantly. “Robert slew Roger de Longcha
mp, and the king declared him outlaw and took his lands and title. Now even my father forbids me to see my love.” A tear stole down her cheek and her throat was so tight with unshed tears, she could speak no more.
Jasmine was amazed at the similarities of their abductions, yet de Burgh had gained by killing de Belamé, while Robert had been declared outlaw. Jasmine took the velvet cloth from the crystal and gazed into it for long minutes. “Mary-Ann, let your heart be light, for you will see your Robert when we arrive at Nottingham Castle. You need have no worry for him. He is fearless, strong, and before he is done his name will be legend. Your path will not be smooth, but good will triumph over evil. It seems that you are not the only one to have affection for this man. He draws friends like a lodestone. He is a great leader. Mary-Ann, never refuse to do as he asks. He will protect you with his life.”
“I know that, Lady Jasmine. I would do anything for him. For just one more kiss I would gladly die. I melt the moment he touches me.”
Jasmine’s thoughts flew to her dream and her cheeks stained a delicate pink. What must it be like to be deeply in love? Pray God she never found out if it brought her to Mary-Ann’s besotted state.
In spite of her silliness over a man, Jasmine liked this girl. They were both out of place at this court where the queen’s vicious words were as sharp as any dagger and all around were her allies, the cunning tongues of her ladies. “Ride beside me tomorrow when we leave for Nottingham?” Jasmine suggested, and Mary-Ann quickly agreed.
The servants had been up all night readying the king and queen and their entourage for the trip north. The courtyard at Westminster was a seething mass of humanity. The master of household was trying to create order from chaos as he organized the baggage train, which would stretch out over a mile. Grooms stood trying to calm the horses as the people traveling with the court came from the castle to mount the animals they would ride north.