Bold in Honor (Knights of Honor Book 6)

by Alexa Aston

  Terryn smiled. “I would like that very much, my lady.” He seated himself next to Margery and gave Ancel a sly smile as Agatha poured ale for them.

  Immediately, Ancel came to Margery’s other side and told her, “I am to accompany Sir Terryn back to London for an audience with the king.”

  The look of distress on her face caused him to reach out a hand to touch her face. He quickly dropped it back to his lap before anyone knew what he attempted, least of all Terryn, who was draining his cup of ale and hadn’t noticed Ancel’s indiscretion.

  “Will you be gone long, my lord?” she asked neutrally.

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I may be gone a day. I may not return at all.”

  “I see.” She turned back to her trencher.

  Ancel noticed Margery didn’t eat anything. Instead, she tore her bread into pieces and then tore those pieces into smaller ones. He quickly finished his meal and rose.

  “I need to claim my belongings from upstairs, my lady, and speak to Sir Folcard. I will place him in charge of Highfield’s defenses for now.”

  “Will you send a message if you are not returning?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  Ancel left the great hall, his gut twisting. Surely, this couldn’t be the way things ended. He’d only been at Highfield a handful of days and still had so much he wished to accomplish. He would have to convince the king to let him return if Richard wanted him to remain at court.

  He reached the bedchamber he’d been using, the one her stepbrothers slept in when they were at Highfield. With no squire to help him, it would take longer to don his armor.

  “I can help you,” a familiar voice said.

  Ancel turned and saw Margery standing in the doorway. He rushed to her and yanked her inside the room, slamming the door. His mouth sought hers as he crushed her to him. Need for her filled him as he kissed her deeply.

  He broke the kiss and gazed at her longingly. More than anything, Ancel wanted to make this woman his in every imaginable way.

  “I’m sure the king is merely being cautious,” he said. “The need to keep Highfield and the road to London safe is too pressing for me to be gone from here long.”

  “But what if he wants you to return to London for good?” she asked. “I could tell he places great faith in you, Ancel. He may prefer to send another knight to Highfield in order to keep you by his side so you can advise him.”

  He took her hands in his. “If he does, then I will send for you. It may take a while, for you are a valuable asset to Highfield, indispensable for getting it up and running properly again. But I promise you, my love, we won’t be parted for long. You are as much a part of me as my sword arm. I would be nothing without you.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ancel voiced what was in his heart. “I love you, Margery. Now. Always.” He brought her hands to his heart. “Feel it, my love. Every beat calls out your name. Every breath I take, I think of you. Whether we are meant to be together here at Highfield or in London or even at Kinwick, we will be. This is my solemn vow to you.”

  He kissed her again, the kiss possessive, claiming her, branding her as his.

  “I love you so much, Ancel. So very, very much,” Margery told him. “And I swear I will be faithful to you and wait for you, for as long as it takes.”

  Wordlessly, she stepped away from him and began helping him put on his armor. When he wore every piece except for his helm, she placed two fingers against her lips then raised them to his. Pressing her fingertips against his mouth, she gave him a smile and turned away.

  Ancel watched the sway of her hips as she left the room and swallowed.

  It was time to go to London and see what the king wanted from him.

  *

  Ancel and Terryn reached London without any problems. The road was clear of trouble. They saw many serfs working in fields as they passed, leading Ancel to believe that the rebellion in the east had truly run its course. As they arrived in the city, he saw many buildings had either burned to the ground or collapsed and stood as rubble. It would take the city time to rebuild. He hoped peace would prevail while that occurred.

  They made no stops until they arrived at the royal palace and stabled their horses. Ancel took the time to rub Storm down and see that he got a good measure of oats. The warhorse seemed happy back in his familiar stall.

  “You are to go directly to the king,” Terryn said. “Even if he is with another, you have been granted access to enter.” The knight gave him a wry smile. “If the king wishes you to remain at court, I give you permission to whisper in his ear to have me return and see to Highfield—and the lovely Lady Margery. I’ll admit that I was quite taken by her beauty and grace.”

  Ancel refrained from slamming his fist into Terryn’s handsome face and calmly said, “I will let you know.” He planned to recommend no other man to the king. If Ancel had his way, he would be back at Highfield by nightfall.

  Winding his way through a myriad of halls, he chuckled to think how they had confused him to no end when he’d first come to reside at the palace five years ago. The time had gone by quickly because he enjoyed serving his king but all Ancel wanted now was to be fruitful at Highfield, with Margery by his side, preferably as his wife.

  Arriving at the king’s rooms, he nodded at various noblemen waiting for an appointment with the monarch and made his way past the knights standing guard. Without knocking, he slipped into the first of the king’s rooms. A soldier motioned for him to continue. After passing through five more rooms, Ancel spied the king sitting at a table with Michael de la Pole and Sir Christopher Heron. The son of an upstart merchant who traded in wool, de la Pole had risen swiftly at court and definitely had the monarch’s ear, while Heron was a nobleman friendly with de la Pole. Ancel paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

  “So you think these are the best choices for me? For England?” asked the king. He glanced over and grinned when he saw Ancel. “Welcome back to court, Sir Ancel. Please, come and join us. I’d like you to hear this.”

  Ancel came forward, nodding to acknowledge the others. Looking at the king, it seemed as if Richard had matured since the last time they’d seen one another. Ancel supposed the difficult decisions the monarch had made during and after the peasants’ rebellion would age anyone.

  “We are discussing brides for the king,” de la Pole said.

  Ancel’s brows shot up. “I didn’t know your majesty was inclined to wed at this point.”

  Richard shrugged. “Most kings marry young. I am already ten and four and this war with France keeps dragging on. We must find a way to make a strong political and military alliance, as well as fill our coffers with a large dowry. After all, what father would not want his daughter to wed the king of England?”

  Ancel could see the king’s point. He suspected a large part of the peasants’ uprising had to do with the taxation situation in England, brought upon by the quickly emptying royal coffers, thanks to the lingering war with the French. Ancel’s own father had fought against the bastards at both Crecy and Poitiers over a score of years ago and still the war between the two countries crawled on, draining both countries’ treasuries. The Duke of Lancaster had tried to replenish the royal treasury through a new taxation program but its unpopularity had been the breaking point, causing the peasants to rise up and protest against the policies established by the king’s uncle.

  “Who are you considering as your wife, sire?” Ancel asked Richard.

  De la Pole answered instead. “We have two suitable women, Sir Ancel. I have already sent Lord Myles Peveril to Milan to negotiate with Bernabo Visconti. His oldest daughter, Caterina, would bring a huge dowry with her, as well as pose some interesting trade proposals. I plan to leave London tomorrow and join Lord Myles in the negotiation.”

  “And the other choice?” Ancel asked.

  De la Pole cleared his throat. “I have already traded several letters with King Charles of Bohemia. Sir Christopher leave
s for Prague tonight and he will open up the discussions for me. I will join Sir Christopher after I speak with Visconti in Milan. Anne of Bohemia is the king’s eldest daughter. She is the one we are considering for England’s queen, even more than the Visconti woman.”

  Ancel could understand why. As head of the Holy Roman Empire, Charles was the most powerful monarch in Europe, ruling half of the continent’s population and territory. A marriage between Richard and Anne would be of great diplomatic significance. It was also well known that Charles had no love of the French. Having the Holy Roman Empire as England’s political and military ally would send a strong message to the French king.

  If Ancel had to guess, Anne would be the choice over the Italian noblewoman, no matter what size dowry she could bring to the Crown’s treasury.

  “I think you’ve said your piece, de la Pole,” Richard declared. “You and Sir Christopher need to be on your way. Keep me informed of your progress.”

  “We will, sire,” de la Pole said smoothly. “I have confidence you will have the bride best suited for you and England. Lord Myles will report directly to you once he leaves Milan. Sir Christopher and I will return as soon as negotiations have been completed in Prague.”

  The two men left and Ancel asked, “So Anne of Bohemia is the true choice and Caterina Visconti is merely a negotiating ploy, I assume?”

  Richard shrugged. “Something like that. I don’t care which of them I wed and bed. But ‘tis good to see you, Ancel. I have missed our talks, my friend. And I have much to share with you. Have a seat. In fact, pour us some wine first.”

  Ancel did as asked and returned two golden goblets to the table.

  “I want to hear about Highfield but first I must tell you what I’ve decided upon with my advisers and new royal council’s input.”

  “I am eager to hear what you have to say, sire.”

  “First, the battle at Billericay did end the insurrection in the east. Order has been reestablished. Because of that, I am rescinding the previous grant to rebels. The royal charter I signed a few weeks ago was done so under duress. It has now been revoked. However, I did truly listen to what the peasants had to say and have made changes in my royal council. I will grant pardons to almost all of the rebels, with a few of their leaders being the exception.”

  The king drew in a deep breath and expelled it. “Most importantly, there will be no more poll tax to try and fund the French war. Uncle was wrong about that in ways too numerous to count.”

  “What?” His words shocked Ancel. “Do you mean to seek peace with France?”

  Richard nodded. “It’s time, don’t you think?”

  Ancel chose his words carefully. “I think the people as a whole will be pleased.”

  “I also plan to raise rural wages. I want noblemen throughout the kingdom to follow suit. We are sorely lacking in laborers, Ancel, both from the losses due to the Black Death and now the large number of serfs killed in this uprising. We are going to have to pay the poor a living wage in order to keep them in line, both now and in the future.”

  “I think these are wise decisions, your majesty. It may take the noble class more time to be accepting of your ideas, though.”

  The monarch slammed his hand upon the table. “They will be accepting, for I am their king! I am determined that the threat to my royal authority will never occur again. I will not be challenged by anyone, be they noble or poor.”

  “And what of your uncle, John of Gaunt? You’ve implied that Lancaster’s policies led to much of the recent troubles.”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Uncle is fortunate that he was away from London when the peasants revolted. True, they burned his palace to the ground but at least he is alive—unlike many of those he surrounded himself with. I have ordered him to stay away from court for the time being until things quiet down. He is only uncle to the king—not the king himself. I fully assert my rights, Ancel. No one is in charge of this nation but the king, and I am he.”

  Ancel hoped the young monarch knew what he was doing.

  “I do plan to send a force throughout England to quell any thought of uprising that might linger. Four thousand armed troops will be sent across the land.” Richard paused.

  “I would like you to be one of the leaders of this army, Ancel. What do you say?”

  Chapter 14

  What did he say?

  Ancel wanted to refuse. But what knight could deny the wishes of his king? Ancel took his knightly oath seriously. His purpose in life was to serve both king and country, putting aside any personal desires. But maybe the monarch would agree to a compromise.

  “Sending out an army of that size would send the desired message, sire. ‘Tis a wise idea and would thwart any smoldering ideas of rebellion.” He paused. “But what of Highfield? At your request, I have been working on the castle and its defenses, as well as patrolling the road near it that leads to London. With the estate’s proximity to the city, I believe it should be a priority. In fact, I was going to suggest to you that you send another two dozen troops there for now until you are assured that the situation to the east is in hand.”

  Ancel saw the king was torn but he pressed on. “Mayhap I could spend some time with this army and then attend to things at Highfield afterward.”

  At this point, he’d already pushed Richard enough regarding the issue. Ancel must accept whatever order came from the monarch’s lips.

  “Hmm. It seems as if I need you in both places.” Richard pressed his lips together, lost in thought. Finally, he said, “I like your suggestion. Spend the rest of the summer with my army, Ancel, then you may return to Highfield in the fall to follow through and make sure the estate is well guarded and provides protection to the area, as well as see that it is prepared for winter. If everything is to your liking, then you may return to court and my royal guard by year’s end.”

  “What if Thurstan Vivers never returns to Highfield? What if he was killed in the peasants’ rebellion, as I suspect?” pressed Ancel.

  The king looked blank a moment and then nodded. “Ah, I remember the situation now. So there’s still been no sign of the man who should be the new baron?”

  “None at all, your majesty. Though we found the bodies of his father and younger brother, Thurstan Vivers was not among the dead.” Ancel patiently waited, hoping he wouldn’t have to prod the king to remember what had been dangled as a prize for Ancel.

  Richard came to a decision. “Then I will make good on my promise and give you the land and the title. You deserve a reward for your service to me. My grandfather chose well when he asked you to watch over me these past five years.”

  “And the lady?”

  The king smiled. “Oh, she was a rare beauty, that one.” He studied Ancel a moment. “So you are interested in wedding her?”

  “Aye,” he said firmly, not expanding on his answer. Let the king think what he would. “When will the army march forth?”

  “They leave at dawn tomorrow.”

  “Then with your permission, sire, I would like to return to Highfield immediately. I want to place Sir Folcard in charge and discuss with him what should be done this summer before I return in the autumn. And, hopefully, share with him that you will send more men.”

  “I grant you this request and swear to provide the soldiers you seek. Be back ready to ride in the morning.”

  Ancel excused himself and left the king’s rooms. He passed many courtiers but chose not to linger. In the limited time he had, he only wanted to get back to Margery. Retrieving Storm, he decided she needed a surprise other than Whitefoot. He was glad now that he’d brought the pup back to her, for the dog would help keep her company until he could return to Highfield—hopefully, for good. And if Thurstan Vivers appeared in the meantime?

  Ancel still would claim Margery as his bride.

  Cantering through the streets of London, he came to a shop where he had purchased luxurious fabrics of silk and satin as gifts for his mother and Alys. His little sister, Nan, fav
ored dressing as a boy despite her beauty, so any feminine gift to her would have gone to waste. His remaining sister, Jessimond, had only turned five recently and didn’t need beautiful clothes—yet. Already, Ancel could see that the youngest de Montfort girl would turn many a man’s head in the future.

  Entering the merchant’s shop, Ancel browsed until he found the bolts of cloth he desired. The owner measured and cut silk, velvet, and taffeta in colors of scarlet, green, and a deep russet. He hoped Margery would be pleased with his selections. Now that Highfield had a seamstress, Christine Morley would make certain that Margery was clothed appropriately for her station. Ancel never wanted her to feel out of place and he planned to take her with him when he next saw the king.

  He gathered his purchases and made a hasty retreat to Highfield. Ancel would squeeze as much time as he could with Margery before he returned to London and the king’s army.

  *

  Margery stopped and scooped up Whitefoot, burying her nose in his fur. The puppy had slept with her last night and followed her everywhere she had ventured today. The lone exception had been mass this morning. She hadn’t wanted to bring him into the chapel and face Father Martyn’s wrath, though she doubted his old eyes could have seen the dog from a distance.

  Knowing Ancel had planned for Will Artus to leave to deliver a missive to Ancel’s parents at Kinwick, Margery had pulled aside another squire and bid him to take Whitefoot back to the kitchen and watch over the dog till she returned to break her fast.

  “But I will miss mass,” the boy protested weakly while he eyed the dog longingly.

  She hid her smile at his show of reluctance. “You have my permission. Keep the puppy occupied and out of trouble.”

  “Aye, my lady.” He’d grinned and lifted Whitefoot from her arms.

  Once Ancel left for London with Sir Terryn, Margery reclaimed the dog and he fast became her shadow, moving from room to room as she went throughout the keep. The carts with all of the goods that Ancel had purchased arrived and she spent the morning directing where everything should be placed. The keep looked more settled now with bedclothes on the mattresses and pillows placed atop the beds, as well as kitchen goods replaced and new candlesticks for all of the bedchambers.