Jilliana could not speak for the lump that was forming in her throat. These were her people and she immediately felt a bond with them.
Cardinal Failsham approached her, his expression solemn, as befitted the occasion.
"Welcome, Your Highness," he said, bowing to her.
"It is good to see you again, Your Eminence," Jilliana told him.
"I am honored that you remember me. I will be further honored if you will allow me to place the crown of Talshamar upon your head as I once placed it upon the heads of your grandmother and mother."
"Then I would have none other crown me."
"My regret is that you cannot be anointed before the high altar. Nevertheless, I have in my possession the Ring, Crown, Scepter, and Sword of Talshamar."
Suddenly Jilliana felt the blood of generations of queens flowing through her veins. She raised her head, a grave expression on her face.
"We shall not allow the place to deter us, Your Eminence. I am told by Sir Humphrey that we must make haste."
The Cardinal bowed his head. "That is so, Your Highness." He moved to a stand covered with golden cloth where several items had been placed. All those present gathered about as the cardinal turned to their princess royal.
In a clear voice, he uttered the words that had been spoken to crown generations of Talshamarian queens. He spoke first to those gathered near. "Princess Jilliana is your undoubted queen, wherefore all you who are come this day to do homage and service to her say yea."
"We do so come," came the answer from a strong chorus of voices.
"Are you, Princess Jilliana, willing to do the same to your subjects?"
Queen Eleanor had instructed Jilliana in her part of the ceremony, so she now answered in a clear voice. "I am so willing," she replied.
The knights spoke in unison.
"God save Queen Jilliana!"
The cardinal then stepped forward and anointed her with oil, first on the hand, and then on the forehead.
"God crown you with a Crown of Glory and Righteousness, that by the ministry of this our benediction, having a right faith and manifold fruit of good works, you may obtain the crown of an everlasting kingdom by the gift of Him whose kingdom endureth forever."
Jilliana bowed her head while he handed her the Great Seal of Talshamar. This she clasped in her hand and then held to her breast. Then she spoke, her eyes focused on the crown the cardinal supported upon a red velvet cushion.
"I uphold the most valuable thing that this world affords. Here is wisdom. This is the royal law. This seal is the oracle of God."
"God save the queen!" the knights said.
Jilliana could not help notice that the cardinal's hand trembled as he took the crown and placed it on her head. There was a long moment of silence, and she remembered that the last head this crown adorned had been her mother's.
The cardinal then stepped back and many voices spoke in unison.
"Your liege man of life and limb and of earthly worship; and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of foe for your sake."
Jilliana found that the crown sat lightly on her head. She looked at the knights who had just pledged her their lives. She knew them not, and yet they were her subjects and she could feel their warmth reach out to her.
She felt the sting of tears when she saw tears in the eyes of these men who had just paid her homage, their voices blending: "God save Queen Jilliana. Long live Queen Jilliana. May the queen live forever!"
At last Sir Humphrey dropped to his knees and kissed the hand of his queen.
"Your Majesty, I swear my life and my earthly goods to your service."
Barons and knights approached her, each in turn, dropping to their knees and repeating the same pledge. She bestowed upon each a smile and a nod.
When the last man had made his pledge, Sir Humphrey held up his hand.
"Her Majesty is weary and shall seek her bed. On the morrow, we shall begin the long journey to London, and then, God willing, to Talshamar. Let not any man present allow harm to befall the queen."
Sir Humphrey escorted Jilliana to a tent that had been erected for her comfort.
"Good night, Your Majesty. I regret that you will have only one servant to attend you on the journey. Her name is Netta Dermot, and she will serve you until you find someone of your own choosing."
"Thank you, Sir Humphrey. How well I treasure your devotion."
"I had always hoped to live long enough to see you crowned. Tonight that dream came true." Suddenly he looked regretful. "Would that your coronation had been held in the Richmond Cathedral for all your subjects to witness. But, no matter the place, you are still queen of all Talshamar, and your subjects revere you."
She stared down at the Great Seal of Talshamar that she still clasped in her hand, knowing it was of great significance, but not yet understanding its power. "I pray that I will be worthy of them."
Sir Humphrey bowed and backed away a few paces. "You are the queen—you are most worthy." His eyes swept her face. "Have I not seen this for myself?" His voice cracked with emotion and he quickly turned away in embarrassment.
On entering the tent, Jilliana saw a woman she judged to be in her thirtieth year. She had flaxen hair and her eager brown eyes were filled with reverence.
"You would be Netta."
The woman dropped to her knees.
"I am, Your Majesty, and it is my honor to serve you."
"Thank you, Netta."
"Your Majesty, so long have we waited for you." She lowered her head, feeling she had said too much.
"Then help me disrobe, Netta, for I am very weary."
Obediently and deftly, the woman complied. Her crown and the Great Seal were placed in a velvet-lined chest, and soon Jilliana was wearing her nightgown, her long hair brushed and gleaming. She climbed onto a cot cushioned with a soft downy mattress and her eyes drifted shut.
Soon she was asleep, unaware that a quiet celebration was taking place among her loyal followers. They drank wine from Talshamar to honor their queen. Two knights did not join in the celebration, but instead stood before the queen's tent, ever vigilant and alert to any danger.
And so it was that the newly crowned sovereign of Talshamar spent her first night as queen, lost in dreamless sleep, not knowing that she had just fulfilled her nobles' dearest wish: to once more be under the rule of their own sovereign.
The sun had not yet broken through the night sky when Jilliana awoke. After a quick meal of fruit, cheese, and a delicious cream-filled bread that was served on a golden plate, Jilliana allowed Netta to dress her.
The woman appeared nervous when she reached for the crown. She held it, not knowing how to place it on her queen's head.
This brought a smile to Jilliana's lips. "Tis only a symbol, Netta, you need not fear it."
"It is what it represents that awes me, Your Majesty. The honor of serving you is too great. That I was chosen out of all the women in Talshamar to wait upon Your Majesty has brought great respect to my family."
Jilliana was having trouble adjusting to her role of sovereign. She had lived a quiet, humble life, and to be suddenly so adored was somehow disconcerting. She took the crown from Netta and placed it on her own head.
"Come," she told the woman, striding to the tent opening, "I do not want to keep the others waiting."
When Jilliana stepped outside, a glorious sight met her eyes. Barons and knights, one hundred strong, were all wearing white, but for their golden chainmail. They were mounted on white steeds, their only ornamentation their family crests and helmets studded with brilliant gems.
Sir Humphrey, also dressed in white, came forward and helped her mount her horse.
"I trust you passed a pleasant night, Your Majesty?"
"Indeed, Sir Humphrey, I slept in comfort. Tis a glorious morning, is it not?"
"That it is, Your Majesty."
She smiled at him. She was finding it less and less difficult to adjust to the life she had
been born to. But there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Sir Humphrey, it must be difficult for you to think of me as your sovereign. You have too often seen me with dirt on my face."
He looked at her seriously. "I always saw the crown of Talshamar on your head. You have ever been my queen."
Soon the long column left the secluded glen and wound its way along the twisted trail until they reached the high road. What a splendid sight they made with scarlet banners flouncing in the wind and golden chainmail gleaming in the sun.
Everyone they met along the way gawked at the lovely young queen, with her stark white entourage. Eleanor had been wise in her choice of white, for how magnificent they appeared to the English peasants.
Word spread quickly to the villages and hamlets along the route, and as the cavalcade advanced, throngs of people gathered to greet them with waves and cheers of delight.
None knew the identity of the beautiful young queen, but all the same, they raised their voices to glorify her.
6
Henry was closeted with his minister and his bishops as they puzzled over the strange news that was filtering in from the outlying villages on the high road to London.
Henry was pensive as he spoke. "Say you that the cavalcade is dressed all in white, from tip of head to their steeds, and that they are led by a beautiful young noblewoman?"
"Yes, Sire. By my faith it is so. It is reported that they are even now within sight of London. Shall I have them detained at the gate?"
"Are they armed?"
"Indeed they are, but they have posed no threat to anyone along the way. In fact, it has been reported that they throw gold coins to the people as they pass."
Henry looked disgruntled. He always distrusted such generous gestures. "When they reach London, allow only the woman and two of her followers to enter the city. Disarm the others and place them under guard."
"Yes, Sire," the minister said, hurrying out of the king's bedchamber to follow his orders.
The mystery intrigued Henry, but he had no time to ponder his strange visitors. He moved slowly from his bedchamber to the throne room. This day he must render judgment on Prince Ruyen, a distasteful but necessary business.
Harshly whispered words rippled between the nobles who had gathered to hear King Henry's final judgment against the upstart Prince Ruyen and his sister, Princess Cassandra. Conjecture was widespread and wagers were placed involving the outcome of the king's ruling. Most believed the prince and princess would be condemned to death.
When at last King Henry entered, he ignored the waiting courtiers, focusing his attention on the light spilling through the high stained-glass windows, his mind already racing ahead to his decision. Whatever he decided today would be unpopular with many of his own subjects. But he would not tolerate audacious hotheads who supported his treacherous sons. Prince Ruyen would be an example to deter others who might be tempted to follow his troublesome offspring. Besides, the Isle of Falcon Bruine already as good as belonged to England.
Henry Plantagenet, the greatest lion of them all, was not an old man, yet his cropped short hair was heavily grayed, and his gray eyes had lost much of their luster. His complexion was ashen and he was now prone to obesity.
Though betrayed time and again by those closest to him, his shoulders were still straight, his head erect. He was a powerful man and those whom he counted among his enemies trembled at the thought of displeasing him, for his might was commanding and his reach long.
He had lost almost everything that really mattered, but not England—never England. He thought of Eleanor, imprisoned for plotting against him, and of his two remaining sons, Richard and John, who warred between themselves as well as against him. The vast lands he had conquered would likely be lost after his death, for which of his sons had the power to keep them?
"Bring in the prisoners," Henry told his lord chamberlain.
Prince Ruyen, although in chains, walked unhesitatingly beside his sister, his arms about her, supporting her, for she was ailing and weak from her imprisonment. He raised his head proudly, his eyes riveted on the man who held their fate in his hands.
King Henry's brow furrowed as he glanced at the haughty young prince, who many referred to as the Golden Falcon. He was a caged bird now. There was insolence in those dark eyes, but Henry knew how to deal with his sort. Prince Ruyen had been a formidable opponent— pity to destroy such a warrior. Grudgingly, Henry admired him, wondering if the young prince knew it was his own mother's betrayal that had caused his capture.
Princess Cassandra was a different matter, however. She was clearly ill and out of compassion he ordered a stool for her, but she shook her head, choosing to stand beside her brother. Henry had been told that she was but fourteen, and she held the hint of future beauty. There was a time when the sight of her would have stirred his blood, but no more. He was getting too old for the pleasures of the flesh.
Again, Henry looked at the prince, whose eyes still smoldered with the fire of rebellion. Oh, how well he knew what Prince Ruyen was feeling. Had he not once felt those same fires smoldering within himself?
"This is a sad moment for me," King Henry said in a voice that carried to the back of the large chamber. He shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable position for his bulk.
A page, seeing the king's discomfort, rushed forward with a cushion, only to receive a scowl for his troubles. Henry did not like to show weakness before his subjects.
Henry continued to speak. "Your guilt has been pronounced by the high court, and it falls to me to render sentence for your crimes. As you know, rebellion must be punished or it will grow and fester into a cankerous sore. Although it would please me to be merciful, justice must be served."
Overcome by a dark and bitter hatred, Prince Ruyen spoke. "And you have ever been known for your mercy, have you not, Henry? Your wife is in prison and your own sons despise you. Tell my sister more about your mercy, maybe she will believe you, but I do not."
"By the eyes of God!" Henry roared, "your insolence will be the death of you. If you care not for your own life, care you not for your sister? If I had any notion of leniency, it is all but gone."
Ruyen was in a grip of rage and striving to keep his self-control. His voice was composed, hardly above a whisper, causing those in the back of the chamber to strain to hear. "I ask one boon of you, Henry."
Henry grinned, leaning forward and perching his chin on his folded hand. "You would ask a favor of me? Whatever can it be?"
"I ask only that you allow my sister to go free. She is innocent of any wrongdoing and should not suffer because of me."
Henry knew that if he provoked the young hothead he would surely condemn himself with his own arrogance. It was precarious condemning a royal family. He had been careful to gain the sympathy of the people, thus quelling any dissension in the ranks of his own nobles.
"You should have considered your sister sooner! You have no rights here since you have been tried and convicted of crimes against England."
Prince Ruyen clamped his lips in a severe line, but said nothing.
Suddenly, there was a stirring at the door and the two men-at-arms barred someone from entering the chamber. All attention turned in that direction.
"Determine the trouble at once," Henry said harshly to his lord chamberlain.
As the man rushed forward and then quickly returned, he bowed before the king.
"Well, speak," Henry demanded sourly. "Who has dared interrupt these proceedings?"
The lord chamberlain was accustomed to Henry's dark moods, so therefore was undaunted and leaned closer, whispering so only the king could hear.
"What?" Henry looked astounded. "What you say is preposterous! Have I not searched for..." His voice trailed off. "This cannot be."
"She claims to be Queen Jilliana of Talshamar and insists that she be allowed to attend this hearing because it concerns her."
Henry stroked his chin with a satisfied smile on his face. "So, after all these years
in hiding, the young queen comes to me. If indeed she's telling the truth." He turned to the chamberlain. "But she is mistaken when she says this sentencing concerns her. Inform her that I shall grant an audience in my private chambers at the conclusion of these proceedings."
To Henry's amazement, a young woman appeared, dressed in white with a golden crown set atop her head. She glared at the guards who blocked her path. "Stand aside and allow me to pass," Jilliana ordered, pushing away the sword of one of the men. She advanced boldly into the chamber, flanked on either side by Sir Humphrey and Cardinal Failsham.
Silence fell over the chamber as they moved toward King Henry. Jilliana could hear whispers rippling through the crowd.
"Who can this beauty be?"
"Whence does she come?"
But her eyes were on the man who sat upon the throne. She stopped in front of Henry and stared into his puzzled eyes.
"Sire, I am Queen Jilliana of Talshamar," she said in a voice that carried to the far corners of the room. "If you condemn Prince Ruyen and Princess Cassandra to death, then you must also condemn me, for I carry within my body Prince Ruyen's seed."
King Henry was stunned, but no more so than Prince Ruyen. Henry's eyes went to the girl's stomach, but it was impossible to tell her condition since she wore a flowing surcoat.
Ruyen stared at the woman as if she had lost her mind. How dare she make such an outrageous claim. His sister looked at him in astonishment.
Suddenly, Ruyen remembered the baffling message he had received a fortnight ago. The servant who usually brought their meals had been replaced by another. As he served the food, the man had hurriedly whispered, while casting furtive glances over his shoulder at the guard. He had urged Ruyen to be alert for the chance that would come for him to save himself.
Ruyen had assumed that the man was sent by Richard. But as days passed and nothing happened, he forgot about the incident. And now this woman appeared—surely this was the opportunity the man had meant.
"You claim that you are Queen Jilliana of Talshamar," Henry said skeptically, "but how can we know that you speak the truth? It has long been our belief that Jilliana died in childhood."
Once Upon A Time (Historical Romance) Page 6