by Leila Snow
"I cannot!" Madeline started, as his mouth closed over the sensitive peak of her breast.
The king raised his head and met her eye with such a look of desire and longing that for a moment she was spellbound.
"Why not?" he asked, gazing heatedly at her breasts, which were revealed by the untied laces of her dress.
"I am married," she blurted out.
"So am I," he answered simply and without angst. "You are married to an old, sickly man and I am married to a queen, who happens to be with child. So I fail to see why we cannot provide each other companionship and pleasure."
"It is wrong," Madeline retorted. "In the eyes of God and man, it is wrong." She was stunned when he actually smiled at her.
"All my life, I have been told that I am God's representative on earth. As such I am not constrained by the laws or morals of man. Be comforted, I absolve you of any and all guilt in this matter. You have had no choice." And he leaned forward to kiss her again. His tongue caressed across her lips and bade them open. She obeyed and he deepened the kiss, pulling her up against himself. The linen of his tunic was rough against her exposed skin and she shivered with an involuntary physical response to the sensations he was evoking in her.
He bore her down to the cushions, his weight settling on top of her whilst he continued kissing her until she was confused and beguiled. His hand slid sensuously up her thigh and teased at the sensitive juncture of her legs. Madeline groaned and Edward echoed the sound. He pushed her dress up around her waist and before she was aware of it, he pushed himself into her. She cried out in horror and yet pleasure as he rocked within her. Tension began to build up inside of her as he thrust in and out of her body. Suddenly, he shouted out and collapsed upon her. His breathing ragged, he lay within her for a short time. Finally, he rolled off and lifted her to her feet.
Provocatively, he pushed her dress from her shoulders, allowing it to slither down her torso and puddle about her feet. He knelt down in the crush of fabric and one after the other removed her slippers. Standing before her again, he undid his hose and pulled them off, then lifted his tunic over his head.
He was a well-shaped man, lean and long. His face was strong and with a fine bone-structure. Madeline allowed her eyes to rove over him, as he also allowed his to admire her. "You are stunning, my Rosamund," he breathed. He took her hand and led her to the bed.
"We have already..." Madeline began blushing. "I should be back."
"Nay, my Lady, we have only just started," he said deeply as he pushed her down onto her stomach and began to nuzzle his way down her back.
It was many long moments later when he lifted her onto her hands and knees.
"Have you seen the animals in the fields mating?" he asked her breathlessly.
She couldn't see him as he knelt behind her and unable to speak, she simply nodded.
She felt him grasp her hips, his fingers stroking their naked curve, and then he thrust into her. Madeline exclaimed aloud at the pleasurable invasion. As the king continued to claim her body, she felt the tension once again coiling deep within herself, until finally it burst and unravelled. She cried out as she felt the pulsing within her core. The king gave a long groan and one last, deep plunge within her. Together they sank to the soft mattress, the king curling around her as their breathing calmed.
"You are spectacular," he said, stroking her bare side.
Madeline couldn't speak past the tears she fought that were choking her. She had betrayed not only Endle but Nate, and worse of all, her body had betrayed her as well.
The king reached down and pulled a soft fur over their naked skin and within moments was fast asleep. Madeline lay awake next to the sleeping king for a long while. Finally, and ever so quietly, she crept from the bed. Hurriedly, she pulled on her kirtle and gown, thankful for its loose fit. She re-tied the laces with shaking hands and throwing one last look at the slumbering monarch, she silently tiptoed from Rosamund's chambers.
* * *
Cognisant of her state of disarray and praying Endle would still be napping on her return, Madeline slunk along the empty corridors until she found familiar territory.
Her hopes were dashed when she opened the door of her chamber to see him sitting in a chair before the blazing fire. Still cocooned in the blanket she had tucked around him, he sat upright and his clear eyes met hers as she stepped into the room.
"Good eve, wife," he said calmly. Instantly, a wave of guilt overwhelmed Madeline, threatening to knock her to the floor.
"Good eve, husband," she returned, forcing a serene timbre to her voice. "How do you feel?"
"Unwell," he said succinctly. "Come near," he beckoned her.
He gestured to the pelt at his feet and Madeline sank down before him. She felt the full weight of his sorrow when he gazed down at her.
"It was no walk in the courtyard, was it?" he asked simply.
She hung her head unwilling to deceive him.
"Look at me," Endle demanded quietly. "I have never known you to lie and I don't expect you will start now, my beautiful wife. I ask again, there was no walk in the courtyard, was there?"
"Nay, my Lord," she whispered brokenly. "The king merely wanted to show me about the castle..." she trailed off, unable to fabricate a story. She closed her eyes and waited for his righteous wrath to descend upon her. But there was silence in the room. Madeline looked up at Endle to see his face drained of all colour, the pupils in his eyes so small they almost didn't exist. He leaned forward and rested his hand against her cheek.
"Don't fret," he uttered faintly. "Not your fault..." he sighed and toppled forward out of his chair.
Madeline screamed and grabbed for him. His face was a pasty grey and his eyes remained closed.
"Endle!" she shrieked in horror and panic. But there was no response. She lay him gently down on the rug and scrambled to the door. Throwing it wide she screamed out into the hall. "Nate!" she cried over and over. But her guards were not present. The king must have dismissed them.
She ran back to Endle and pulled his head into her lap. Stroking his hair back from his face, she sobbed and begged him to wake. His eyelids flickered briefly and then opened. He focused on Madeline's tear-streaked face.
"Don't cry," he bade her gently.
"No Endle," she sobbed. "I will fetch the physicians."
"Nay," he breathed. He gave a great gasp and continued, "My wish was for an heir...for Marbourne," he sighed.
And Madeline lied instantly. "And you have succeeded Endle, we did. Even now he lies beneath my breast."
"Truly?" he asked weakly.
"I have never lied to you, husband," she said, meeting his eyes without wavering.
He nodded and smiled happily before his eyes slid closed again.
"Endle," she begged. "Endle..."
"Madeline!" she heard Nate shout from the door. "Madeline? What is the matter?"
She looked up at Nathaniel, Endle still in her arms. "I killed him Nate," she whispered.
Nathaniel sorrowfully eyed the man lying lifeless on the floor. Striding over to where his love sat holding her dead husband, he bent and gently lifted the good man. Moving to the bed, he lay him respectfully upon it and crossed the nobleman's hands over his chest. Then he turned back to Madeline and held out his arms. She arose and flung herself into them, all her fire and strength flown in that moment. He stroked her back and held her close as he murmured words of comfort against her hair, unmindful as to who might find them.
"I have killed him," she repeated brokenly.
Cowards die many times
before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death
but once.
Of all the wonders
that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange
that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
~William Shakespeare
CHAPTER 23
Geoffrey stood staring morosely into the flames in the fireplace. Nothing was going according to plan. That snivelling maid, Muriel, had given Endle the last of the poison this morning. And whilst it had progressively sickened him, he was, unfortunately, still alive. It seemed likely he was going to have to slit the old fossil's throat himself. The thought brought a wry smile to his face, and he wondered if it might be possible to convince the inept halfwit to do it for him.
He pondered the idea for a moment as he gazed into the blaze within the open hearth. Suddenly, the flames undulated with a rush of air. As if summoned by his thoughts, that very halfwit burst through the door and flung herself into the room. Geoffrey turned to her with one eyebrow raised, she should know better than to come into his chamber uninvited.
As he watched, she collapsed into a nearby chair and put her face in her hands. The sound of muffled sobs drifted to him and he gave a deep sigh. She really was more bother than she was worth. There was no merit even in keeping her for the bedsport. There was an abundance of women, much more adventurous than the meek maid, who were willing to share the bed of the heir to Marbourne.
"What in the bloody hell are you on about?" he growled at the girl.
She looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes and tried to speak past her sorrowful bawling. Geoffrey stared at her in disgust.
"For God's sake, woman!" he yelled. "Out with it, or remove yourself from here."
He wasn't quite sure what she said, as her face was back in her hands, but it sounded like, "Lord Endle is dead."
In a few short strides he was at her side. He grasped her brutally by the arms and lifted her from the chair. Shaking her like a rag doll, he shouted in her red, tear-stained face, "What did you say?"
The maid took a great gulping breath, and choked out, "Lord Endle has died."
"No..." Geoffrey said incredulously, releasing her to drop limply back into the chair. "It can't be."
"Tis true," she blubbered. "I have just come from the earl's chambers. He is laid out on the bed and Lady Madeline is overwrought with grief."
"Truly?" he uttered, a triumphant gleam bursting to flame in his dark eyes.
"Aye, there is no doubt," Muriel said sadly, regaining control over her emotions. "You have my condolences, my dear Geoffrey. To have lost your uncle..." she trailed off when she saw the maniacal smile on her lover's face. "Geoffrey?" she questioned uncertainly.
A depraved laugh welled up inside him and burst forth. "You stupid cow," he snickered ecstatically. "This is the best news I have ever received."
Muriel stared in horror at the vile smirk that transformed his face from the man she thought she knew, to a complete monster.
"My God..." she blurted out with sudden understanding. Struck with shock and revulsion, she exclaimed, "What evil thing have you made me do!?"
"I should think it abundantly clear what you have done, my dear," he said with a smug grin. "And you have my most sincere gratitude for it."
"No…" she whispered.
"Aye," he sneered. "You couldn't really be so half-witted that you didn't realize it was poison? The man grew more ill from the day you began giving it to him."
"I didn't..."
"Oh yes you did," Geoffrey laughed at the incredulous look on the maid's face. "Of course, I was the one who sourced it from that old hag in the woods outside Marbourne, but you, my dear, you were the one who actually gave it to him."
Geoffrey paused a brief moment to allow the little fool a chance to absorb his words.
"And I beg you to keep that in mind, should you decide to become virtuous and self-righteous enough to contemplate telling anyone," he added. "Who do you think they would condemn? The new earl or a simple servant-girl?"
The maid gaped at him stupidly.
"Don't look at me as if I'm some sort of monster," he scoffed. "You loved me. You would do anything for me. You wanted my success. And you, my dear, you were the one who wanted so badly to be countess. Are you telling me that after all you have done to achieve that status you would turn it down?"
She didn't speak but slowly shook her head though the expression of frozen disbelief still remained.
"It's as I thought," Geoffrey taunted her. Then scornfully he added, "Now if you don't mind, I must pay my last respects to my dear Uncle."
* * *
The bedchamber had become a beehive of activity. All three knights of Madeline's personal guard stood about her anxiously. Nathaniel in particular hovered close by, though with so many observers in the room, he was forced to maintain an arm's distance. She was grateful for him, his solid presence was an anchor point for her throughout the long hours following Endle's death. Madeline calmly answered the many questions the royal physicians asked of her and eventually remembered to summon Cedric to notify the king, but she felt as if she was walking in a fog. Gently, Nate led her to a chair before the fire and bade her sit.
Several moments passed in quiet contemplation, before Geoffrey arrived with Aileth. The girl's eyes were red-rimmed and immediately sought out Nathaniel. In the hushed reverence of the room, Geoffrey's melodramatic shout of despair was repugnant to Madeline. He wailed loudly and threw himself to his knees beside the bed of his uncle in a great show of bereavement. His sister knelt quietly beside him, tears streaming silently down her face. Madeline glanced lethargically at the siblings but did not go to them. She had not the energy to comfort anyone. She did, however, watch painfully as Nathaniel moved to stand comfortingly beside his intended. The look of adoration with which Aileth gifted Nate made Madeline's frozen heart crack agonisingly. She looked away, unable to bear it, and her eyes came to rest on Geoffrey. She wasn't surprised to notice his absence of tears. The man had never shown any genuine affection for Endle in life and she didn't expect anything different in death. He looked up at her and caught her dull contemplation.
"My dear Lady," he gushed as he rose and moved towards her. "We are bound by our mutual sorrow."
Madeline felt Nate draw near but held up her hand. "Indeed we are Geoffrey," she said softly. "May your sorrow inspire you to be as honourable and kind a man as he was. I bid you leave now."
Madeline saw a flash of irritation and ire in his cold eyes.
"Perhaps you should be more respectful, aunt," he threatened under his breath. "After all I am earl now," he said quietly and stormed to the door. "Come along Aileth," he commanded. The gentle girl sent Madeline a sorrowful look of sympathy but obeyed her brother's order. As Endle's scrawny nephew followed his sister through the doorway, he turned towards Madeline and shot her a faint smirk of triumphant glee.
* * *
Geoffrey had hardly departed when the king arrived. He immediately ordered every person from the room, including Madeline's guard. Nathaniel stood his ground despite the glare from the king until Madeline gave him a sad smile and nodded.
"Thank you Sir Nathaniel," she said softly. "You may go. I will summon you again shortly."
He tipped his chin to her and sent a dark look towards the king as he left.
"He has always been very protective," Madeline explained vaguely. "Please do not punish him for his insolence."
"Indeed, quite the opposite. I expect I should reward his vigilance," Edward said quietly, dropping down onto his knees before her. "How do you fair, my beauty?" he asked compassionately.
Madeline's eyes filled with tears once again. Edward's presence in front of her was a painful reminder of the part they had both played in Endle's death.
"Oh my sweet," he said, reaching up to grasp her hands.
"I killed him, Edward," she whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek. "He guessed. He knew where I had been. And the sorrow of my betrayal killed him."
"Nay," the king said, shaking his head. "He was ill long before your arrival to Woodstock. I also feel an intense sorrow at what he discovered between us, but it is not what killed him."
"Do you not think?" Madeline uttered despondently.
"Nay, I do not," he reiterated. "And remember
, I have already absolved you of all guilt. If there is any, I will take it upon myself."
"He was a good man," she began to weep once again.
"Indeed, he was," the king agreed, his own eyes filled with sorrow. "It is an immense loss for me as well. I will ensure that he is given a worthy send-off to his eternal reward, which verily shall be great."
Madeline nodded, unable to speak.
Edward continued. "I wish for you to be comforted with the knowledge that I will not plead for your presence in Rosamund's chambers again until an acceptable time has passed, though I will pine for your absence. But pray thee, do not grieve long. You are young, beautiful, and full of life. Lord Endle would not have wanted it." He stroked her hand gently for a moment and then stood. Bending down, he pressed a brief kiss to her cold and trembling lips.
"I will summon Cedric and direct him accordingly," the king explained, taking charge.
Madeline stared at the floor as he spoke. Edward moved to the door and she heard him call out for Cedric and also bid her guards enter. Nathaniel immediately moved to her side once again and sent a searching look her way, which she chose to ignore in her gloom.
"Cedric," the king ordered. "Have Lady Madeline moved to the blue room. She will find the view of the gardens soothing. And convene the appropriate women to care for Lord Endle. He is to be given the same respect and esteem as I would be granted."
The steward bowed. "Immediately sire," he agreed. "There is one thing," Cedric mentioned slowly, "Lord Endle asked me to give this to you before he passed."
Edward's eyes opened wide. "He speaks from the grave," he said soberly, accepting the parchment reverently from his steward. Carefully, he broke the seal and scanned the contents of the letter. He turned toward where Lord Endle lay in peaceful repose on the bed. "You have my word, my Lord," the king uttered solemnly. "It shall be done as you desired."
To the steward he said, "Fetch Lady Aileth."
* * *