by Kris Tualla
Jakob looked at her as if she were mad. “Because he is king.”
She grasped at any straw within her reach. “Only that? Nothing else?”
Jakob huffed a dry laugh. “Many men want power. Who would be king if Henry died?”
“Queen,” Avery corrected. “There would be every reason to believe that Mary would have full legal rights to the throne, even if Henry never created an order of ascension.”
“A child cannot rule…”
“No, a regent would be appointed. Probably the Duke of Suffolk and Cardinal Wolsey.” Avery wagged her head. “But I cannot believe that either one of them would harm Henry.”
“I agree.” Jakob shrugged. “A cardinal cannot become king, and I do not think Charles wishes to.”
This conversation was far more disturbing, and far less helpful, than Avery would have imagined. “Shall I say anything to Catherine?”
“Does Henry have a man who tastes his food?”
“Yes.”
Jakob shook his head. “Then I say no to Catherine, but yes to Brandon. He is in the best place to protect Henry.”
“And if he is the culprit after all, the knowledge that he is being watched might stay his hand,” Avery posited.
“This is true.”
Avery gained her feet and looked up at the tall knight. “Thank you, Jakob.”
He smiled at her, and the day grew brighter. “I am glad to help.” Her eyes fell to his lips when his tongue moistened them. “I shall see you at supper, Avery.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He bowed, spun on his heel, and strode away.
*****
“Spanish lessons? For the Norse knight?” Catherine grinned. “That is an excellent idea!”
“Such an excellent idea, your Grace, that your husband, the king, has decreed that Percival Bethington should join us!”
Catherine clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. I shall be closeted with the two of them for—I do not know how long.” She frowned. “When do they plan to leave for Barcelona?”
The queen’s hand dropped to her lap, but she still smiled. “I do not know I’m afraid.”
“It takes three months to sail from London to Barcelona. They would have to leave by the middle of September.” Avery counted quickly. “Two-and-a-half months from now.”
“They could sail from London to Bilbao and ride to Barcelona,” Catherine posited. “That would cut the journey to one month.”
Avery rolled her eyes. “I need them gone, and sooner is much better. Please do not suggest that route.”
“Well then, perhaps we should send them traipsing across the length of France.” Catherine laughed. “That would eat up a month and a half of their time.”
Avery pointed at her friend. “And yet the ‘traipsing’ should be completed before winter sets in. They would need to leave by the first of October.” She clapped her hands. “I should be free of them by that date, at the latest.”
“When do these lessons commence?”
“On the morrow. After the midday meal.” Avery sighed. “At least having Percival present will prevent Sir Hansen from being too forward in his actions toward me.”
“You could always engage Percival with enthusiasm,” the queen teased. “Perhaps Jakob will understand your preference.”
Avery made a face. “If I encourage either man, I am doomed as you well know.” She gave a wry chuckle. “Perhaps I shall dress as a nun.”
“And do not bathe.”
“Or clean my teeth.”
Catherine laughed. “Unfortunately, your beauty cannot be so easily disguised.”
Avery shook her head. “The lines around my eyes betray me.” She held out a hand. “And even though I protect my skin, my joints thicken under it.”
The queen stroked her belly. “And I am thirty-two. Soon I will be too old to bear any more children.”
Avery reached for her friend’s free hand. “This will be a healthy boy, Cathy. God sees your situation.”
Catherine squeezed it. “What about you, Averia? Are you very sad to be childless?”
“No. I truly am not.” Avery’s lips twitched. “And if I did marry the Norseman, as you are so eager for me to do, I would hope we never had any children.”
Catherine gave her a funny scowl. “Why on earth not?”
Avery laughed. “We would be in our dotage before they reached the age of majority!”
Catherine smiled, albeit a sad little smile.
“What sort of student do you believe Percival will be?” Avery asked, hoping to raise her friend’s mood once more.
“Oh, my dearest friend.” Catherine wagged her head. “I do not envy you this task one whit.”
“As I feared. While I do believe he will be cooperative, I do not expect him to excel in his lessons.”
“Jakob strikes me as a very intelligent man,” Catherine offered. “His English improves every time I speak to him.”
“He says he is good at languages.” Avery shrugged. “I suppose he is.”
Catherine’s expression turned happily smug. “Perhaps a little competition between the students would encourage them to place their attention on the subject, and lessen their interest in the teacher.”
Avery exhaled a laugh. “That is a marvelous suggestion! With one sentence, Cathy, you have saved me.”
“You must devise a reward which both men desire.”
Avery held up one finger. “Other than myself, of course.”
“Of course.” Catherine tapped a knuckle against her lips. “What shall it be?”
“What does a knight want?” Avery wondered aloud.
“What does a knight hate?” Catherine countered.
That was an interesting angle.
“Jakob hates jousting.”
“I cannot imagine Percival enjoying it, either.” Catherine shuddered. “It is such a dangerous game.”
Avery peered at Catherine. “Does Henry plan to have a competition any time soon?”
The queen shook her head. “He has not mentioned it to me.”
“Hmm.” Avery sat back. “Well… Does he have any reason to celebrate? Display his skills?”
Catherine thought for a minute. “He said something about the French ambassador being expected to meet with him. He assumes the reason is to procure a copy of the Treaty of London for his king to sign.”
“And when that task is accomplished, what better time to demonstrate his power?” Avery smiled.
Catherine clasped her hands together. “I do believe you are right.”
“Then I shall inform the men that, whoever has gained the most proficiency in Spanish before Henry’s next games, will be excused from the joust.”
“And sit beside me!” Catherine added. “To show my favor, and squelch any rumors of their inadequacy or cowardice.”
Avery had not thought of that. “That is a very good idea. Knights do have their pride, after all. Thank you.”
Catherine’s lips twisted a little. “How will you judge the men? You know well that you must be impartial.”
Avery chuckled. “I am afraid the competition will not be very close.”
“Even so,” the queen cautioned. “We do not always have an accurate assessment of our own skills.”
Avery grinned and spread her hands. “Taking that fact into consideration, then I believe that they shall converse with you. Completely in Spanish. Then you will judge which man has a better grasp of the language.”
Catherine nodded. “I can do that.”
“Swear to me that you will be impartial,” Avery prodded. “Because I do know that you have a clear preference between the men.”
Catherine appeared hurt. “Yes. Sadly, I do love Percival, even if you cannot.”
Avery wagged a quashing finger at the queen’s jest. “And if you love me, you will play the game honestly.”
“I cross my heart.” Catherine completed the action, her smile returned. “May the
best knight triumph.”
*****
“Spanish lessons?” Bethington’s brow creased. “I suppose that does make sense…”
Jakob poked the other man’s shoulder. “I go from Norsk and Latin to English. Now I go to Spanish. This will be easy for you.”
Bethington shook his head. “My grasp of Latin is weaker than yours.”
Jakob shrugged. “And my grasp of English is weaker than yours. We help each other.”
“Yes, we shall do exactly that.” Percival’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. “At the very least, our task master will make every lesson a pleasant one.”
Jakob pressed back the jealousy surging through his chest. The language lessons would provide him with the chance to spend time with the reluctant Lady Avery, and he intended to direct her attention and praise toward himself whenever possible.
“What about Norsk?” Bethington’s question brought Jakob’s thoughts back to their conversation. “Do you still intend to teach me Norsk as well?”
Jakob grinned. His own suggestion to Lady Avery did hold actual intent, though he was not certain how to implement the task.
“Yes. I believe we can use Norsk in the Order to have secrets, as we said.”
Percival’s eyes widened. “I am afraid my head will explode.”
“Not if we do Spanish and Norsk at the same time.” Jakob clapped a friendly hand on the knight’s shoulder. “Then you—we—see how words are the same as words we know.”
A slow nod confirmed Bethington’s agreement. “I suppose that makes sense as well.”
Jakob gave his friend’s shoulder a shake. “Will you say this to Lady Avery?”
Percival’s eyes shifted to Jakob’s. “Me? Why?”
Jakob affected a concerned expression. “If I say it, she will think I am trying to …hindre? …her lessons”
“Hinder?” he guessed.
Jakob grinned. “Hinder. See how easy that was?”
Chapter Twenty
June 22, 1518
Avery determined that the language lessons should take place in a drawing room on the first floor of Windsor Castle. The less private the room choice, the better the situation would be for everyone involved.
Especially her.
She spent the previous eventide preoccupied with how best to begin. And after that, how to proceed. Nearly two decades had passed since she sat with Catherine and their private tutor, so her memory of the man’s tricks and talents had dimmed considerably.
When Jakob appeared at the door, he wore the blue-and-pearl tunic, which made his eyes seem bluer than the deepest summer sky. Damn him.
He grinned, and gave her a courtly bow.
Avery beckoned him in. “Por favor, entre y siéntese.”
Jakob lifted one brow—and one corner of his mouth. “Entre is enter. Por favor? For favor? Hmm.”
He walked into the room and sat in the chair beside hers. “Sién—?”
“Siéntese.” Avery gestured over him and nodded. “Take a seat.”
Sir Bethington strode through the door. “Good day, my lady.”
Avery smiled politely. “Buenos días, Señor Bethington. “Por favor—”
“Entre y siéntese,” Jakob correctly completed the sentence. His pronunciation was hesitant, but the words were correct.
Percival frowned, his gaze bouncing between Avery and Jakob. “Am I late? Have you already begun?”
Avery shook her head. “No, my lord. I have only said the one sentence.”
The English knight walked into the room and claimed the third chair in the little circle. He faced Jakob. “And you learned it?”
Jakob shrugged. “It was two words. Entre—”
Percival turned to Avery. “Enter?”
She nodded. “Sí.”
“Y siéntese,” Jakob continued. “The lady indicated the chair.”
“Por favor?” Avery prodded.
Percival shrugged. “That sounds like ‘for favor’ so I suppose it’s a Spanish form of request?”
“Sí! Bueno!” Avery turned to Jakob. “Y buenos días?”
“I think días is day, so perhaps…good day?”
“Bravo.” Avery leaned back in her chair. “And that, gentlemen, is your first lesson. Repita a mí.”
Percival scratched his head. Jakob chuckled. And then each man said good day, asked her to please enter, and to take a seat.
Sir Bethington sighed his apparent relief. “I can accomplish this, I do believe.”
“I said this to you yesterday,” Jakob encouraged. “Find words in English or Latin which sound like Spanish.”
Avery smiled at the Norseman. “That is why you have done so well with English, Sir Hansen.”
His blue eyes locked onto hers. “Gracias.”
“O muchas gracias.”
Jakob laid a hand over his heart. “Muchas gracias.”
Avery dragged her gaze away from his and looked into Percival’s bright green eyes. “To encourage you gentlemen to apply yourselves to your lessons, Queen Catherine and I have devised a competición and a recompensa.”
“A competition?” Percival guessed.
“What is a competition?” Jakob asked.
“It is a contest of sorts. Or a challenge. Somewhat like Henry’s games,” Avery explained. “Comprende?”
He grinned. “Sí. Y recompensa?”
“Recompense, yes?” Percival ventured. He turned to Jakob. “That would be a reward, or a payment. In this case, the prize.”
Avery gave Percival an approving smile. Clearly Jakob was going to surpass Bethington if she did not offer the robust Englishman ample encouragement.
“Sí. Muy bueno, Sir Bethington.”
“What will the competición entail?” Jakob asked.
Avery addressed them both. “The next time Henry stages his games, you two gentlemen will converse with Queen Catherine en Español beforehand. She will determine which of you displays the most advancement in the language.”
Percival’s eyes rounded and he threw a worried glance at Jakob before asking, “And the prize?”
Avery purposefully did not look at the Norseman. “The winner will be able to forgo the joust, and sit at the queen’s side in its stead.”
Jakob leaned forward to claim her attention. “What if the joust is not part of the day?”
Avery gave the answer which made the most sense. “Then he may choose to forgo any one of the challenges. That would be his choice.”
The two knights regarded each other.
Jakob nodded. “This is fair.”
“What about the rest?” Percival’s ruddy cheeks split in a broad grin. “We shall have a competition in that as well. What shall the prize be?”
Avery was lost. “What are you gentlemen referring to?”
Jakob gestured toward Percival. “Tell Lady Avery what you asked of me.”
Bethington faced her. “I asked him to teach me Norsk.”
“Oh, but—”
Percival interrupted her objection as if she hadn’t spoken. “He and I wish to be able to converse in secret at the Order. What better time than these lessons to learn both?”
“That is all well and good,” Avery huffed. “But there is no point for a competition. Sir Hansen speaks the language.”
Jakob spoke directly to her. “And you, my lady, do not.”
His challenge shocked her. “That was merely a jest. Surely you do not expect me to learn Norsk?”
“Why not?” He pointed at Bethington. “Two competicións will be more interesting.”
“Competiciones,” Avery corrected him without thinking. “What would the prize be?”
She immediately regretted asking that question. First, doing so signaled that she was considering complying with the pair of knights’ ridiculous plan. Secondly, she dreaded their response, wondering what sort of mischief Jakob might be up to.
“Absolutely not,” she stated before either man could answer her. “There is no reason for me to learn Nor
sk.”
Jakob grabbed Percival’s arm. “My friend has asked this of me and I have agreed.”
“That does not mean—”
“And there may be Norsk words that help him learn Español, while I improve my English.”
“I doubt that will—”
Jakob tilted his head. “What are you afraid of, my lady?”
“Stop interrupting me!” Avery stiffened and straightened her gown. “I am not afraid of anything. I only wish for our time to be well spent, and not diluted with unnecessary distractions.”
Percival slid forward in his seat and reached for her hand. Clearly having the Norseman present was not going to dissuade him as effectively as she hoped.
“Lady Avery. Please allow Sir Hansen to instruct me in Norsk as you instruct us both in Spanish. In Español.”
She noted that Jakob’s steely gaze rested on her trapped hand. The Norseman was jealous. A thrill of pleasure pulled her attention from Percival, and she forced it back with a will forged by hardship.
Percival was still staring into her eyes. “I promise this will not distract. And I think you will enjoy the lessons more when you learn.”
“There will be no Norsk competition,” she growled.
Jakob raised his eyes to Percival’s. The Englishman was clearly disappointed by her assertion. “Not unless we make a prize you wish for.”
“I do not believe—” She stopped, assuming he would interrupt her again. When he did not, she continued. “I do not believe there is anything which I desire, which I do not already have.”
Jakob shrugged. “This may be true. We shall see.”
“In the meantime, you will allow it?” Percival’s expression was comically hopeful.
Avery sighed and retrieved her hand. She was outmanned, but not yet out maneuvered. “I suppose so.”
“Bueno.” Jakob grinned and switched languages. “Det er bra.”
“Braw?” Percival smiled. “That’s how the Scots say good.”
Jakob turned to Avery. “You see? Det er en bra idé!”
Her brow furrowed. She actually understood his words, as they sounded enough like the English that is a braw idea. Perhaps she could keep far enough ahead of Percival to squelch the men’s plan of her having to compete to win something from them.