The Troubadour's Romance Read online

  “Felise, I beg you let us in the door.”

  “Oh, madam, were there ladies-in-waiting there? Was the king with a mistress?” Excitement flooded her so that she barely noticed her father’s dour mood. Lord Scelfton’s eyes were downcast as he brushed past his wife and daughter to enter the hall. “Oh, madam,” Felise suddenly gasped. “Has my lord been called to arms?”

  “Nay, my love,” she said softly. “But he is displeased. Come and help me soothe him.”

  Harlan was already draining a large draught of ale when joined by the women. Felise began to feel the tension in the room, for although Edrea was more controlled, it was discernible that she likewise felt some discomfort.

  Harlan slammed the empty tankard down onto the table. “In one breath we are thanked and called fit guardians, and in the other denied the privilege of completing the chore. By damn, the insult is too great. I have served well these many years.”

  “My lord, no insult was meant. ‘Tis just that Eleanor be given her due now, for without her generosity in the past, we’d not have had these many pleasurable years,” Edrea returned.

  “And now they would be revoked,” he blustered.

  “Nor that, Harlan. Her request is simple and decent, and I pray you remember, she has suffered a great deal. Indeed, though she seems well seated at Henry’s side, it is only for a moment. And then her prison is again her home. Have patience.”

  “Madam, you’ve taken leave of your own good wits. The woman is treasonous and sought to rob Henry of his kingdom. How can I pity her prison when I fought against her sons for my king? And for your part, you sent a missive to her that--”

  “My lord,” she said loudly and with stern conviction to halt his tirade, “let us use measured care with this news. We are without choice, and whether my action was right or wrong, I would have the matter quietly behind us. Now, need you be drunk of ale to speak with our daughter, or will you lower the cup and your voice?”

  Harlan slowly let his hand leave the tankard on the table and strode to the blazing hearth. He turned once to beckon Felise, who stood astounded at her parents’ harsh words. He pointed to the bench near the fire, indicating that she should sit there. Edrea followed and sat beside her. It was many long moments before he turned toward them.

  “The queen requests your presence at court for a few days,” he said, anger still rumbling in his voice.

  Felise’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped. She could not fathom the reason for all their anger and agitation over something that sounded like a gift of great merriment. “She would have me at court?” she asked quietly.

  Edrea took her daughter’s hand and scowled at her husband. “Lord Scelfton only uses his words generously when he is angered. In making simple explanations he is like a strangled bird. Now, listen to me carefully that you might understand this simple request, for it is meant to be entirely in your best interests.”

  Harlan growled something low and uncomplimentary and returned to his tankard to fill it Edrea responded to his action by briefly narrowing her eyes and setting her mouth in a disapproving line. Then she turned back to Felise.

  “Your natural mother was a woman of some importance to the queen, although I can’t say the reason or what has become of her. As the matter rests, the queen generously allowed for your upbringing in Poitou, close enough for her to see that you were cared for. When she was imprisoned, there was naught she could do to ensure your safety, and you were sent to England. When we heard of your plight and took you in, the priest who brought you explained your circumstances. Truly, had Eleanor not revolted and attempted so much against Henry, you would likely have been raised in the palace with many eager to attend you, for it is greatly possible that was the queen’s plan.

  “The missive your father speaks of was mine, written by my own hand. I sent word to the queen in her prison in Winchester that you were in our safe custody, in case she ever thought of your welfare. I do not pardon her action against her husband, but I had pity for her despair. I never gained reply, but then, could she have been denied correspondence?

  “But at this time the royal family is gathering, a rare thing in their troubled midst. And Eleanor has been granted some few luxuries. It appears she is without means but has given thought to you these many years and would see that you are well cared for. She kindly grants your mother’s dower lands, said to be modest, to be added to Lord Scelfton’s dower gifts. This small parcel is in Duke Richard’s Aquitaine. Certainly her years of solitude have lent her a softer nature.” Edrea looked at her grumbling husband. “I suppose she has many regrets and sorrows.”

  “Many,” Harlan said without gentleness.

  Felise looked at her mother in some confusion. “Why is my lord angry?” she asked quietly.

  “He despises interference in his household and is worried that the queen will use you against our will.”

  “Would she?” Felise asked. “Surely she could not.”

  “I think not,” Edrea said with a smile. “I suppose she will influence your hand in marriage, since you are of that age and it is our chief occupation. That could only better the prospect. She is without the means to abduct you against your will.”

  “The tale is that Felise’s mother was a prisoner of Eleanor and--” Harlan began, showing still greater agitation.

  “The tale, kind sir, does not include imprisonment. It is said that the lady-in-waiting who bore our Felise was nobly bred and lived a chaste life beside the queen until she was despoiled by some errant knight and killed herself in shame.”

  Felise quickly grasped her mother’s wrist. “There are tales about my mother?”

  Edrea smiled with some tolerance. “Your beginning was prior to the time of Eleanor’s court in Poitou, where troubadours sang of pure and devoted love; indeed, there was some romantic conjecture about your birth.” She shrugged. “As there has been verse of Rosamond and others. I promise you it has not followed your upbringing with us. For all the world cares, you are Felise Scelfton. Romantic speculation was the great pursuit of the time ... before our queen was locked away.”

  Felise swallowed hard, contemplating this. “Yet I go to Windsor. And what tales will I find there? Will they call me bastard and shun me?”

  Edrea’s eyes grew serious. “Nay, darling. They have need of rich beauty such as yours. And your father is a jealous man who holds his own tight within his fist. He babbles when a firm mind would gain him more.”

  “How long must I stay there?” she asked.

  “But a few days, and then we will return to Twyford.”

  “But I’ve never been away from you,” Felise argued.

  “Nor shall you be,” Edrea smiled. “We will keep this residence, but the king has kindly included us in the dinners that you will attend. So you see, there is no worry, but a grand time to be long remembered.”

  Felise looked toward Harlan in wait of some encouragement from him. He was a tall man whose tawny hair held more gray than gold, and his thick jowls were tensed. But finally he seemed to relax his features, whether involuntarily or by effort was uncertain. “Aye, a time to be remembered,” he grunted. “She is right,” he relented. “I am a jealous father and would not have you flaunted about the court.”

  “I suppose it gives no comfort that you despise the queen,” Felise attempted somewhat lamely.

  He looked away from her again, his jaw twitching slightly. “Aye. Though it’s more distrust than hate. But you will go. This one time only.” He forced a smile that was far from sincere. “You may begin to gather your gowns now, for on the morrow we will take you there.”

  Felise looked to her mother and Edrea gave a smile and a nod. She tried to rise slowly and even give a measure of reluctance to her step, but it was impossible. She nearly skipped. Although this tale of her mother had made her slightly anxious, she couldn’t deny a surge of excitement at spending a few days at court.

  When she was out of the room and gaining the stairs, Harlan turned to Edrea with a look
of worried disapproval. “You have allayed all her fears when she should be put on her guard.”

  “I cannot agree,” the lady returned. “There is nothing she can do to guard herself now.”

  “She is being used as a pawn to divide a kingdom to Henry’s advantage,” he blustered, his voice held carefully low.

  “The pawn may achieve the treasure if you are right. Let us see, Harlan.”

  He shook his head. “Listen to me, for you have refused to understand the folly of this. The queen’s motives be damned. Whether she is moved by compassion or selfishness means nothing to me. Henry would not gift her this without his own ends. Eleanor is here for one purpose only: Henry uses her to aid him in his alliance with his sons. He acknowledges some old dowry of lands in Aquitaine for Felise and asks that we include her dower lands in England. With a purse so rich, some English lord of Henry’s can acquire much and make his oath to the king first and hold property under Richard. It is as common a ploy as sending a spy into Richard’s camp. And our daughter, madam, provides the means. If it did not suit Henry, he would deny the original dowry and leave our daughter alone.”

  “And why do you fear?” she asked him. “The land in France is not such a prize. I hear ‘tis a small demesne that’s been managed these many years by a seneschal. The king would not even disclose the location or family name. I say you smell trouble where there is none. Who pleads for the hand of a maid with an unknown dowry?”

  “If the importance to the king becomes known, many will, my lady. And their characters may not be good. Indeed, some may be commissioned by Richard. Or John. I want my daughter neatly settled, not abducted for her wealth and made a prisoner of some oafish knight.”

  Lady Edrea rose slowly, brushing down her heavy velvet gown and raising her chin proudly. “Then make your presence felt, my lord, so that her protection is a known fact. And let us get this matter done to our satisfaction. Your king is no fool, or you would not have battled for him these many years. And while you lay indignities to Eleanor by the score, she is wise in the plights of women and land and will see some purpose served by our daughter’s marriage.”

  “I cannot abide these manipulations,” he growled.

  “Nay, Harlan. You cannot abide your lack of control where it has never before been questioned.” She approached him gently, running a hand along his arm. He looked down at her and she smiled tenderly. His grouchy features smoothed, for he could never deny her sweetness. This woman had held ever strong through the years of labor she endured for love of him. When faced with her firm strength, he could feel as vulnerable as a lad. Her show of meek femininity could make him feel powerful and stalwart.

  He turned her in his arms and put his hands to her still-slim waist. “You turn my most anguished thoughts to sweeter things, my lady. Even now.” He gently kissed her lips, and there, after knowing her so well for over thirty years, he felt the same lilting in his chest from her response. “I would have Felise know a marriage like ours. What chance, when her lands add more flavor than her simple womanhood?”

  Edrea laughed at her worried spouse and planted kisses on his face. “Harlan, you boast such wisdom in fighting and farming and breeding of war horses, yet you know nothing of your own daughter.” She looped her arms around his neck. “What knight of ambition, his arms hewn of the hardest rock, would not crumble to sand when met with her sorceress eyes? What lord of this kingdom would turn away from her winsome smile or mark in cruelty her velvet skin? Aye, her lands become a prize, but no prize greater than her beauty and charm.”

  She kissed his lips long and lovingly, feeling the same surge of passion she knew when first they met. When they parted, she knew that his mind was almost turned to other things. “My lord, allay your fears. Felise will turn the most brutal beast into a lad to do her bidding. Now come, we cannot change a royal command, but we can fill the night without worry.”

  He took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “I hope you are right, lady,” he said. “But meanwhile, madam, you may lead me from worry.”

  “With pleasure, my lord,” she murmured, allowing him to escort her to the stairs.

  Two

  Although the air was cold, there was an abundance of sunshine on the day Felise ventured forth to Windsor. On five steeds they rode, Felise beside her father while behind them were her brothers, Evan, Maelwine, and Dalton. Since it was her first journey to a royal event, she did not know that her retinue was unusual nor that it was meant to impress a particular point upon the people at court.

  Felise was gowned in rich green velvet embroidered with golden threads and cloaked by an ermine-lined hooded mantle. Beside her, her father was garbed in his own rich velvet in the Twyford colors of silver and blue in his chausses, tunic, and mantle. The brothers were in full armor and carried the Scelfton blazon, boasting their family arms and, if that were not impressive enough, their grand size.

  The horses were taken at the gate, and once inside, the family was escorted to the king’s presence chamber. They stood at their leisure for only a few moments before Henry arrived to bid them welcome. Harlan raised his daughter’s hand high on his own and led her toward the king. Just behind this presentation, the Scelfton men moved protectively near, their expressions solemn and foreboding. Henry took his seat and smiled very tolerantly at this display.

  “A handsome family, my lord,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you, my liege,” Harlan replied.

  Henry looked past Felise to the sons. “You would be confident of arms with these,” he said. Felise thought perhaps she noted a hint of envy in the man’s eyes. It was a well-known fact that Henry battled with his sons, and it was ever the question as to who might win. In the Scelfton household there was no envy or competition. The wealth was firmly divided, with Evan earning his right to Twyford by being firstborn.

  The door at the side of the presence chamber opened and Eleanor entered, four ladies in tow. Though Felise could not remember the queen’s features from her youth, there was no question who she was. She wore a rich gown lined about the neck and wrists with fur, and her hair was covered by an elaborate wimple. If her state was impoverished, her clothing did not show it. And if she was old, it was not obvious in her face or gait. She was proudly erect, her skin still smooth and velvety, and her demeanor spoke of power, not submission. Eleanor’s reputation was not the best, yet in this figure it was difficult to surmise cruelty, for the queen’s smile was gentle and her eyes alert and compassionate.

  She bowed first to her husband and Felise wondered what passed between them. Was there yet love, after Eleanor had battled him and he had imprisoned her for so many years? Was this submission true, or did the queen bide her time and play her game before Henry while she plotted in her mind? It was romantic intrigue indeed, for Henry responded with what appeared to be an amiable nod and Eleanor took her seat, leaving the guests to wonder what odd alliance these two had.

  The four ladies stood about the room. There were a few fettered knights, a few servants and courtiers, but even though more than a dozen people other than the Scelftons were there, this was in all a private audience. Eleanor leaned forward in her seat. “Take away your cloak, child, and let me look at you,” she instructed softly.

  Felise self-consciously pushed her hood away and unhooked the fastening at her throat. Harlan helped her from behind and slowly drew the cloak away from her shoulders. One of the women from Eleanor’s group came forward to take the cloak from Harlan; she seemed transfixed by Felise’s appearance.

  Felise did not pose, but simply stood erect and tried to keep her fluttering stomach calm. She had appraised her own choice of gown and coiffure before leaving the inn and decided it would do, but she had not learned vanity and so did not consider herself above the fairness of any other well-dressed woman. But the appearance she gave was exquisite to those in the room. Her lustrous hair was bound in a thick braid that had been wrapped about her head. The gown she wore gave depth to her large eyes and brought out more of
their green than blue, and her cheeks and lips appeared to have been ever so lightly brushed by a peach. She was taller than many women--taller than Lady Edrea and, the woman who took her cloak. Her slender form and narrow waist only emphasized her full bosom and long, graceful fingers. She was quickly recognized as beautiful and lithesome.

  It seemed to her that long moments had passed while she was being scrutinized by all eyes. Her father tried to ease her discomfort and draw the attention away from his daughter. “Your Majesty,” Harlan said quietly.

  Eleanor’s attention was easily gained. She straightened and smiled at Lord Scelfton. “Quite right, my lord,” she said with a little laugh. “We mustn’t make Lady Felise fear us by our rude stares. My dear, your loveliness is uncommon. You’ll forgive us?”

  It was then that Felise noticed that the woman who held her cloak stared up at her with a mesmerized expression. When Felise met her eyes, the woman lowered her gaze and returned to her queen’s side, holding the cloak and stroking it almost reverently.

  “Your point is well taken,” Henry said to Harlan, a slight chuckle in his voice. “Having never met the maid, I could not have known why you would fear to have her out of your protection.” He gestured again to the men behind Felise. “Would you have them stay to guard her bower door, or will you trust me to protect this valuable prize?”

  “I am at your service, my liege,” Harlan said with assurance.

  Henry rose and stepped down from his dais. He extended a hand toward Harlan. “I cannot keep her from being ogled by every fuzz-faced lad that catches sight of her, but I will see her virtue untainted for her future husband. You may turn your army to other pursuits.”

  Harlan bowed. “Yea, my liege.”

  “Bring your lady tomorrow and we will dine together.”