by Kris Tualla
“Yes. Percival said—”
“Good eventide, Hansen!” As if conjured out of the air by the mere mention of his name, Percival Bethington dropped into the chair across the table from Jakob, his ruddy cheeks split in a broad smile. “I am glad to see you up and about.”
Jakob slid his attention to the English knight. “Thank you.”
Percival wagged his head while he filled his wine cup. “While I envy you the chance to fight, I do not envy you your battle wound.”
Jakob cleared his throat. “There is no battle now, with Treaty of London. Everyone says this treaty will stop wars.”
Percival pointed his goblet toward Jakob. “And yet, you are pained once again by your injury.”
Avery’s eyes met Jakob’s; her tone was flat. “Your battle wound.”
Jakob gulped his wine, and then refilled his cup. There was nothing for him to say.
“I see you were in the sun again today.” The lilt of Bethington’s voice made the statement a question.
“King Henry led a hunting party. And the Lady Avery just told me that he has decided to hold a—” Jakob turned back to Avery. “What was the word?”
Avery’s furrowed brow and narrowed eyes proved that she noticed every one of his attempts at shifting the focus of their sporadic conversation. Even so, she answered his question.
“Masquerade.”
“Yes. Masquerade. For summer solstice.” Jakob glanced from Avery to Percival, hoping that, by asking his question of them both, he might no longer be the center of their attention. “What is masquerade?”
Avery’s gaze intensified. “A ball where the attendees dress in costume.”
Jakob leaned back. Costume sounded like kostyme so he could assume the word’s meaning. That might prove to be interesting. If he got out of this condemning exchange alive, that was.
“How very stirring, Lady Avery!” Bethington boomed. “Will there be a theme?”
“Greek.” Avery leaned back in her chair as well and crossed her arms over her firmly encased bosom. “In honor of the Order of the Golden Fleece.”
“You said it will be in Windsor,” Jakob prompted.
“Yes.” Avery finally pulled her dark gaze from Jakob’s and addressed Percival. “The queen and her ladies will travel the day after tomorrow. Henry will follow later.”
Bethington tapped his chin as platters of meat pies were set on the table in front of them. His green eyes brightened as he considered Jakob. “How shall we dress, I wonder.”
Choosing what sort of costume to wear was the least of Jakob’s concerns at the moment.
He told Lady Avery that he was injured in a fall from his horse, but he told Percival that he was speared in a battle of war. And of course, the Duke of Suffolk believed he was felled in a jousting match.
He had given each one an explanation which he believed they could understand without question. Because questions were the last thing he needed. The truth still rested in his breast like a burning coal. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider that his varying stories might come to light.
I fell from my horse after being speared while jousting with a warring Swede?
Jakob used his knife to cut the baked pastry top off his meat pie. Inside the hard and inedible flour and water crust, venison bubbled in thick brow gravy. He used his spoon to raise a steaming bite to his lips and refused to make eye contact with either of his supper companions.
June 6, 1518
Avery sat in her room, staring out the window to the courtyard below. Preparations for the costume ball were well underway, as numerous fabrics and designs were selected, and a mask-maker was engaged to make disguises for members of the court.
This afternoon, each court member was meeting alone with the man to whisper their ideas, and to be assured that no one else had picked the same masquerade. Avery was still unsure of her choice, and Catherine refused to reveal hers.
One thing her friend did reveal was how Henry believed Jakob’s leg was damaged: by an angry boar in a hunt. A tusk through the leg, all the way to the bone.
Avery heaved a sigh, unable to stop wondering why Jakob chose to tell different tales of his injury. What was he hiding? Had he done something foolish? Or, perhaps, illegal?
It did seem that each accounting was suited to the man—or woman—who had enquired about it. That ploy might very well have been engaged, so that the incident would not be questioned.
“It is time for truth.” Avery rose from her window seat. “I shall seek out the Norseman and find out what sort of man he truly is.”
And pray I have not judged him better than I should have.
She went to his chamber first.
“Nei.” Askel shook his head. “Sir Hansen is not here.”
The valet learned some English, it seemed. “Where is he?”
Askel’s face reddened, a pinker shade than his hair. He mimicked mounting a horse.
“Riding?” Avery guessed.
“Nei. Ikke riding.” Askel scratched his head. “Trening.”
Avery chewed her lip. “Training?”
The younger man’s expression eased with relief. “Ja!”
“Takk du.”
Avery knew where the stables were, and the grassy area in front of the building was available for exercising the horses. Some men found working with the large animals relaxing. It might prove that Jakob Hansen was one of them.
When Avery approached, she saw Jakob holding a long lead and his huge Friesian stallion cantering in an easy circle around him. Bits of his language floated toward her when he faced her in his own slow circle.
When he saw her, he did not appear pleased. And he did not stop to greet her.
Avery sat on a bench and waited. Either Jakob would have to cease his endless spinning at some point, or drill himself into the ground.
*****
“Why are you here?” Jakob’s dark blue eyes bore into hers.
She rose to her feet. “I want to talk with you.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair, loosening it from the leather tie. “Why?”
“Why do you give different accounts about how your leg was injured?” she countered.
Jakob scowled at her. “Because it is not important.”
“Even among friends?”
He huffed an exasperated sigh. “It does not matter.”
Avery stiffened her spine. “I thought we were friends, Jakob. Ice friends. Are we not?”
He grunted his affirmation.
“Ice people can be honest with someone who is like them.” With a sharp slice of guilt sliding through her core, Avery shoved her own dark secrets out of her thoughts and concentrated on Jakob. “You need to tell me the truth.”
Jakob shook his head. “No I do not—”
“Yes. You do.” Avery’s heart thudded against her ribs causing an annoying rushing sound in her ears.
Jakob spread his hands wide. “Why do you care?”
“Because…” Avery faltered.
That was a very good question. By asking the Norseman to be honest with her, she ran the very real risk that he might demand the same of her. Her story was much more precarious than his, of that she was certain.
“Because,” she started again. “When you have lived over three decades in this world, you have experienced many hard things. Ja?”
One side of his mouth curved in rueful acknowledgement. “Ja.”
Avery laid her fingertips against her heart. “I promise you that I will keep your story to myself. But I want to know what it is.”
Jakob’s countenance shifted as a variety of emotions played across it. He scuttled his fingers through his hair again.
“But I do not talk about it. Not ever.”
Avery didn’t know how to respond to that. Platitudes which sprang to her mind were quickly rejected. This man did not need flowery words or false assurances.
“Why not?” she prodded. “Because you failed?”
Avery gasped. Her
palm smacked against her mouth and her eyes rounded. She never meant to blurt such a thing.
“I am so sorry!” she rasped from behind her hand. “I did not mean—”
“Yes.” Jakob glared down at her. “You did.”
He spun on his heel and marched away from her. He turned back and shook a stiff finger in her direction, his lips pressed into a thin colorless line. Then he kicked a booted foot and swung his fists wildly as he let loose a fervent explosion of Norsk profanity.
At least, it sounded that way.
Avery carefully closed the distance between them. “Jakob?”
The knight shook out his hands and scrubbed them over his face. Jakob’s unanticipated and violent reaction pushed Avery dangerously close to tears. Nothing about this encounter was going the way she hoped.
Perhaps all of this was a mistake. Perhaps she should let the man have his secrets, and not drag his pain out into the open for her to selfishly examine.
She spoke her apology softly. “Jakob, I am sorry.”
He grunted again, his eyes covered by the fingers pressed to his forehead.
“Let us forget this entire conversation,” she whispered.
“No.” Spoken from behind his hands, the word had an odd, hollow sound. His hands fell away and he looked directly at her.
Jakob’s eyes were narrowed, but his pupils were huge, squeezing the blue of his irises into reedy rings around their wet blackness. His breaths came in uneven bursts. The muscles in his jaw rippled.
Avery took a step back, afraid of the ferocious emotions her intrusion had prompted. She wanted to say something soothing to the knight, but words had abandoned her.
She clasped her clammy hands behind her back, twisting her fingers into slippery knots. Jakob stared at her, silent and unmoving.
“No,” he repeated after several long moments. “I will tell you.”
She shook her head. “You do not have to.”
“I know.” He began to retie his hair. She noticed his hands were shaking.
Avery swallowed her trepidation and stepped closer to Jakob once more. On the third try, the knot was secure. His arms fell to his sides.
She laid her hand on his forearm. “What do you wish to do?”
“I will tell you of my life.” His gaze moved around the courtyard. “Not here.”
“Jakob, are you certain?” Her voice sounded thin, even to her.
“No.” He sighed heavily. “But it is time. For me.”
Finding a private spot in the Tower grounds proved to be a challenge. Yet the time they spent walking around the inner court gave Avery a chance to calm her thoughts.
Jakob seemed to be gaining determination. His uneven stride had lengthened and his clenched hands worked nervously. The thunderous expression sculpting his features now seemed more resolved than angry.
In the end, they settled on a shaded spot behind the small stone chapel. Jakob sank to the ground and leaned against the building as if to bolster his courage. Avery knelt on the grass, facing Jakob, and tucked her skirts under her legs.
On impulse, she took one of Jakob’s large, rough hands and clasped it between both of hers.
Chapter Fifteen
Jakob stared at the contrast between Lady Avery’s pale and pampered skin, and his sun-darkened and horse-roughened hands. Her grip was soft, warm, soothing. Exactly as he would expect it to be. Even in this very unexpected circumstance.
However did he get himself into such an uncomfortable position as he was at this moment?
By making up stories, of course.
Anything to keep from having to tell the tragic tale over and over, each time reliving the pain and the horror of—exactly how Avery named it. His failure.
Jakob had no idea why he suddenly wanted Avery to know what really happened to him. Something about the creases radiating from her eyes, and the sad set of her mouth when she didn’t believe anyone was looking at her, told him that the lady’s experiences had marked her as well.
Maybe someday he would ask her.
But not today.
Jakob drew a deep breath and met Avery’s eyes. “I fell in love.”
“Ah...” She nodded.
“But the life of a knight is hard.”
“Yes.”
Now that it was started, the telling grew easier in tiny, loosening increments. “I was twenty-three, and she was eighteen. I had been at the palace in København for six years.”
Avery smiled. “Was she beautiful?”
Jakob closed his eyes and, for the first time while he was awake, allowed a vision of Uma to grow in his mind. She came to him in a palate of pastel colors—yellow hair, pink lips, pale blue eyes.
He held the fading image for as long as he could tolerate the memory, and then opened his eyes to consider the dark and entrancing beauty facing him now. “Yes. Like no other I had ever seen.”
“And did she love you in return?”
Jakob nodded slowly. “She did.”
Avery’s brow twitched. “Were you married?”
“You are getting ahead of the story, my lady.” Jakob wagged a finger at her. “To hear it all, you must have patience.”
Avery dipped her chin. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
“We wished to be married. But her family objects. She is high born.”
“But you were already a knight?”
Jakob nodded. “I was.”
“I don’t know about Denmark,” she admitted. “But in Spain that would give you a high status.”
“And that is because most knights come from families with high status.”
Understanding smoothed Avery’s brow. “And you do not.”
Jakob shifted his position and leaned forward a bit. “My family is very strong. And old. And has good position. Much respect.”
Avery caught the one attribute he left off the list. “But not money.”
Jakob shrugged. “Money is here, then gone. My father owes a debt.”
“And to satisfy the debt…”
“He gives a son to the king’s service.”
“You.” She tilted her head. “And that was not good enough for her family.”
“No.” Jakob pulled a deep breath, preparing to speak a name he had not said aloud for eight years. “Uma. Her name was Uma.”
Jakob’s body tensed and stilled; he expected a bolt of lightning to strike him, or perhaps the earth to split open and drag him under. Some sort of epic response to his voicing the name of his lost love.
But there was none. Nothing disturbed the mild afternoon but the intermittent caws of the Tower’s ravens. A capricious breeze teased his hair. Lady Avery’s hand still held his. In the bright light of day he could finally see the pupils in her dark brown eyes.
“That’s a lovely name,” she murmured.
Jakob nodded, wondering if his voice still worked. He cleared his throat before trying to speak.
“For one year, we tried to make her father give a blessing.” Good—he sounded normal. “But he would not.”
Avery gave him a wary look. “What did you do?”
Jakob cleared his throat again to discourage the thickening that was starting to grow there. “We married in secret.”
She sucked a little gasp.
“Because I live in the knight’s quarters at the palace, I took her to an inn after the vows.” Jakob felt his face warming at the memory. “We made our marriage complete. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Of course.” An enchanting blush colored Avery’s cheeks. “And then you told her family? Once there was no turning back?”
Jakob’s lips twitched, recalling the encompassing haze of bliss which followed their private wedding. “We waited some days.”
A soft laugh escaped from Avery. The blush deepened in color. “What happened when you finally told them?”
Jakob’s mood dimmed; all these years later, he was still stunned by her parents’ incomprehensible reaction. “They said that she is no longer their daughter.”
“Uma…” Say her name again. “Uma was angry.”
Avery’s attention was riveted on him. “At you?”
“No. At her father. She said she was a Hansen now, and happy to be.” Jakob felt a twinge of pride at the memory. With God as his witness, he had loved her so much at that moment that he thought he would die of it. “But I felt very bad for her to lose her family.”
Avery nodded. “Of course. What did King Christian say?”
Jakob winced. “I did not have his permission to marry, so I did not tell him.”
Avery’s mouth rounded, but no sound escaped.
“I continued my duties at the palace, but I slept at the inn.” Jakob tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. “For one week.”
“Only a week?” Avery frowned. “What happened next?”
“Fire.” Jakob rubbed his free hand over his face, surprised to find his cheeks were damp. He didn’t realize he was crying.
“I was very late returning to the inn that night,” he rasped. “I was not there when it started.”
“But Uma got out…” Avery’s stricken expression betrayed her hopeful words.
Jakob shook his head. “Many men tried to stop me, but I ran inside the inn to get her. Fire had already burned the beams—do you understand? The upper floor was falling.”
“Oh, Jakob…”
“I heard a loud boom—like a cannon. I felt hands pulling me back. I looked up.” Jakob was breathing hard now. Sweat coated his skin. His heart ricocheted painfully against his ribs.
He couldn’t see Avery. The horrible vision of the falling and flaming beams filled his mind’s eye. “One beam fell on me. On my leg. I have never felt such pain.”
He sucked one deep breath, and then another, feeling unable to fill his lungs. Black dots danced in his eyes. “I was pulled outside. I think I was screaming her name. Uma! Uma! Umaaaaa!”
He pulled his hand away from Avery’s and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I do not remember what happened after that. My leg was broken. And burned. And I was eaten by pain. Pain in my body. Pain in my heart.”
The memories, so long denied, swamped Jakob like a raging flood. His ears rung with the roar of the flames. His thigh throbbed. He still felt as if he could not breathe adequately.