The Crown of Destiny (The Yorkist Saga)

by Diana Rubino

  "Aye, as you wish. Just make me feel young again, Amethyst."

  Of course she knew what that meant. He did not want to whip out his lute and begin dancing a pavane. With practiced acquiescence she sat upon the King's lap and began stroking his hair, his beard. She parted the ermine-trimmed robe he was wearing to keep him warm against the wintry drafts in the palace, and kneaded the rigid muscles beneath his linen shirt, feeling the tautness relax under her skillful fingers.

  They both rose together with precision timing and he led her over to the bed, removed her bodice and unfastened her skirts, letting them spill to the floor around her feet. He lifted her as if she were his precious crown itself, and placed her on the bed amidst the velvet coverings and down pillows strewn about.

  He kissed her and she returned his kiss, mechanically, dutifully.

  She closed her eyes, and suddenly, at the unbidden vision of Matthew's rippling chest and muscles, her pulse quickened and she let herself be taken away into the realm of pure fantasy. She straddled him, as they no longer coupled in the missionary position, for his massive bulk atop her would have crushed her bones. She tried to forget his overpowering corpulence as she moved against him, running her tongue over his earlobes, over the thick muscled neck, down the colossal bulkiness of his chest.

  She took his member between her fingers and realized it was not fully engorged, but pliant in her hand, sorely lacking the erect, throbbing urgency on which the King usually prided his sexual prowess.

  "Sire.." she whispered, and he was mumbling something incoherent, controlling their movements, slow at first, then as he too realized that his passion had not been aroused, he began thrusting more rapidly, in a circular motion, his breathing labored and heavy, as she lay atop him, her thighs firmly locked around his huge girth, accommodating his every move. He grabbed her buttocks and futilely tried to push himself into her.

  "Oh, Lord, Amethyst," he panted as he held her trapped in his grasp and began shoving himself against her wildly.

  She waited for him to explode within her, but felt nothing. "Just finish me, finish me..." he panted as she buried her face in his shoulder and felt him straining desperately to fulfill his obligation to her as a man to a woman. But still nothing happened.

  It amounted to a sputtering, stammering apology that embarrassed them both. He blamed his impotence on his preoccupation with the matters at hand, wondering if he could please his future queen if duty demanded it. The only thing that reassured him was that he no longer had Anne to blame for his impotence.

  It bothered Amethyst not that the King was unable to perform, for she knew he was still in deep shock and was not yet ready to function normally. The thought of being his queen gladdened her, but she no longer felt the spark of excitement as in the beginning. Her duty to him would be as a wife first and stepmother to little Prince Edward the Second.

  She made up her mind that she would be queen simply because he was king. There was no ambition in it, and very little joy either, she had to admit, to finally win her heart's desire, but have it prove so hollow a victory.

  Thus this painful state of affairs continued for several weeks, until Amethyst travelled home to Warwick Castle for Christmas at the King's insistence. The mourning continued through the holiday season, and though she would have stayed had Henry wanted her to, she was relieved when he ordered her into a carriage on the first of December and sent her north, for the mood around court depressed her greatly.

  "You will be all right, sire?" she asked, the steam coming in puffs from them as they breathed.

  She pulled her ermine wrap closer about her to block out the biting chill that had lain frost upon the ground as the branches and bushes hung laden under their crystal encumbrance.

  "I shall be fine," he said with an airy wave and a smile that did not meet his eyes.

  "Are you sure you will not come to Warwick with me?" she offered impulsively, truly worried about him. "You would be in warm, welcoming company, and the folk would be so honored by your presence."

  He looked tempted, but then shook his head. "Nay, I shall stay at court, but thank you for the invitation. I shall promise to visit your fair Warwickshire on my next progress. No, I shall stay with my son. As it is his first Christmas, I would like us to spend as much time as possible together."

  "I understand. Kiss him for me?"

  "Of course."

  She grasped his hand, which had grown soft and fleshy, reminding her of the banks of the swollen Avon after a storm, the way her boat slid into its yielding density, engulfing it fast and strong.

  "Sire, I am so sorry the way it all happened, so sorry."

  "No, do not be. I had my Jane for the short time I did, and for that I shall be eternally grateful to you. For you having given her to me for even such a short time, and my son as a result, well, I am very grateful. You are a rare woman."

  She shook her head. "I did not give her to you, my lord..."

  "Had it not been for you, I never would have considered Jane. 'Tis in that regard that Prince Edward is partly yours, Amethyst. Think of him as the son you and I shall never have together."

  She shook her head. "Oh, sire, Edward belongs to Jane! She lost her life in order to give him life, to give him to you. She knew how desperately you needed him..."

  "You shall be his stepmother in every way when you return. Always think of Edward as part of you, Amethyst. Why do you think I named him Edward?"

  Her mouth fell open. "Surely not... Not for my father, sire!"

  "Just do not tell anyone. Any son that would have been born of our love would have been named Edward. So why not my prince? Just do not mention it to any Warwickshire folk, especially your sister, for I believe her head would swell."

  Amethyst laughed. "I believe Topaz's head is well set, my lord, and she has settled back into the Warwickshire country life quite fittingly, with her menagerie and her caring for the poor."

  "Well, you bid her a fond greeting from me, for she has been behaving impeccably since her release." He handed her a bag of gold coins. "And give this to her for the people of Warwickshire."

  "Why, thank you. She will be pleased. My lord, I know my sister. Nary a word of a rebellious nature has escaped her lips since she once again set foot upon free soil."

  "Perhaps this means she and her husband will reconcile?" he wondered aloud.

  An unexpected stab of jealousy shot through Amethyst and she tore her gaze from the King into the outlying meadows, following the fluffy white dots in the distance as the sheep grazed carelessly, dumb and simple and aimless as they were.

  "Perhaps, sire. But they have been separated for so long—"

  "There is nothing keeping them apart, now, is there?"

  A blatant contradiction ran through her head as her mouth formed the words that Topaz didn't want Matthew back. She'd never loved him, and all he wanted was to be free of her. That in fact he might be requesting permission to divorce, and marry….

  But before he had a chance to speak, Henry exclaimed, "But no matter now. You must be gone, lest you encounter a storm on the way. I daresay these clouds look fraught with heavy snowflakes! I bid you Godspeed, my Lady Amethyst."

  They kissed, lightly, quickly. She waved to him as the carriage lumbered through the long inner courtyard and past the gates of Hampton Court Palace. She strained her neck to watch as the gatehouse flanked by its crenelated towers shrank into the distance.

  She was on her way to her family, her beloved Warwick Castle, and Matthew, at last. She could not help feel her heart lighten with each passing mile. But all the same, Henry had given her a lot to think about on her journey home. No, surely, not…. Matthew and Topaz again, after all he had said?

  But if he could not divorce… And now with Jane gone? Nothing had really changed between them, and yet now everything had. She sighed and ordered the coach to go faster. Only when she arrived at home would she truly know the lay of the land, and perhaps a moment's peace.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN


  "Why do you wish to visit him?" asked Topaz, her tone edged with curiosity as Amethyst summoned a groom to fetch her mount to take her to Kenilworth. "The boys are happily re-settled with me now."

  Why, indeed? Amethyst thought. Her nephews had been the only logical link between her and Matthew and now that they were with their mother once more, there was hardly any reason to see her former brother in law. Except that she was in love with him…

  "He's the father of my nephews and we are neighbors and friends," she answered, immediately angry at herself for having even offered an explanation. "He is entertaining the Duke of Norfolk and his retinue this Christmas and invited me. Does it bother you?"

  Topaz waved the idea away. "Nay, not in the least. I've no use for him. We are civil to each other, that is all. We do not associate otherwise."

  "Then I shall be on my way. I shall see you in a few days' time."

  The fact was, he'd invited Sabine as well, but she'd declined, offering her duties at Warwick as an excuse. However, Emerald was already in attendance at Kenilworth, for she and Norfolk had just been betrothed.

  Matthew greeted her carriage at the gatehouse and gathered her into his arms, lifting her out, her feet not even touching the ground. His eyes sparkled against his ermine cloak, which blended with the newly fallen blanket of snow sprinkled over the ground, dusting the trees.

  He lifted his face to the sun and its rays glinted like flecks of gold in his eyes, as clear and bright as a lush green meadow. A sun-bleached streak running through his hair caught the sun's radiance as his lips parted in a gleaming smile.

  They embraced warmly, his body straining to come closer to her through the layers of robes and wraps. His eyes conveyed an unspoken message. Their lips met briefly, her mind's eye traveled back to that evening and once again she was with him before that fire, stroking his hair, his lips hot and demanding.

  "How fares the King and our new Prince?" he asked as they entered his solar, candles ablaze, echoing the two roaring fires on either side of the oak-paneled chamber.

  "Oh, Matthew, he is in a bad, bad way. The loss of Queen Jane has put him into a state of melancholy even I cannot fetch him out of. Pray God the company of his son, along with Elizabeth and Mary, will bestow upon him a speedy recovery."

  "Aye, that was quite a shock to all of us, the death of Queen Jane. Had she not travailed for so many hours in childbirth—"

  "Of course we all know that is the reason. She was not strong enough to withstand it all. But the King blames Anne! That's all he rambles on about now, claims that Anne still casting spells from beyond the grave! I cannot reach him, Cromwell, his most prominent advisor, cannot reach him. I worry for him so."

  "Yet you are here?" he asked in surprise.

  She bit her lower lip and nodded. "He insisted and the mood was so bleak I have to admit that selfishly, I agreed."

  "Has it affected his physical health?"

  "Well, his appetite has returned, with a vengeance. He's become quite... portly, actually." She never thought she'd hear herself admit that her revered king, her lifelong idol, would be described with anything less than splendid.

  "Well, that is a good sign. He would be in a bad way indeed were he not eating at all as Topaz did while she was in the Tower."

  "But he uses it as an excuse, a comfort... He's lost interest in all his favorite activities, tennis, hunting, even music..."

  What she couldn't tell her dear Matthew was that the King had also lost interest his favorite activity of all—lovemaking. Even her enticing overtures, her lace and Chinese silk chemises, the almond and jasmine and violet oils she spread over her body, no longer aroused his interest.

  When she tried to reason with him by telling him that Jane would have wanted him to go on with his life and not mourn her so terribly, he simply scowled and sank his teeth into another chicken leg or cherry tart.

  "Is another wife in order?"

  He looked at her questioningly, and she could detect in his eyes that silent plea. Her heart surged with warmth for him as she received his unspoken signal...

  "He...asked me to marry him, but I told him to wait until after the Christmas season, for he is still in shock from Jane's death and should not be contemplating remarriage right now. He's got his heir now, and two daughters who love him dearly. He's got Cromwell and his fool to cheer him and of course, myself for companionship and comfort. He must help himself out of this. Then perhaps discussions of marriage would be in order."

  "I see."

  He might have said more, but now two servitors entered the solar with trays of sweets and a jug of wine with two goblets. "The main meal will be in the great hall when Emerald and Norfolk get back. My, she's turned out to be quite a lady."

  She nodded, recalling when she had last seen Emerald, on her previous visit, and how she too had noted her much improved in looks and manner. She had indeed grown into a beautiful young lady, her honey beige hair falling in ringlets around her slim shoulders, clear blue eyes ringed with thick tawny lashes. She'd mastered the art of shaping her brows to perfect arches, echoing her heart-shaped face that tapered into a strong chin.

  Sabine marveled at how much she resembled their aunt, the devout Margaret Pole, at her age, and indeed, holding their miniatures up side by side, one could barely tell the difference.

  "Have she and Norfolk decided on a wedding date?"

  "Nay, but she said something about wanting a winter wedding, with the newness of the chaste virgin snow around her."

  She smiled fondly. "That sounds like Emerald. Ever the family poet."

  "As you are the family beauty," he said evenly, not in a flattering way.

  "That is debatable," she countered.

  "Do you... Do you intend to remain at court? If you do not marry the King, I mean," he hesitated, and she wondered if he was afraid of sounding too brusque. "I mean...do you ever find yourself longing for Warwick Castle?"

  She wanted to tell him how she found herself longing for him, but remained silent upon that subject, merely replying, "Aye, all the time. But the King needs me more. Especially now, with the loss of Jane."

  "He does depend on you, doesn't he? Do you consider it a burden at times?"

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Nay, I do not consider it a burden. It is my duty, as it is the duty of all nobility in the kingdom to serve if they are called upon. And on a personal level, I am glad to be able to repay his kindness when he needs me most. He has done so much for me... Made me a member of the court when I was but a young novice, brought me under his wing, showed me how to love... And of course, he spared Topaz."

  "Her saving grace was Queen Jane's birthing of Edward. But it ultimately was your idea."

  She nodded. "Ah, aye, but he told me he would never execute her. Had Jane not brought forth Edward, Topaz would simply have remained a prisoner. A comfortable prisoner, but a prisoner nonetheless."

  Matthew inched closer to her, lowering his head to speak. "Amethyst, do you truly believe Topaz was sincere in her forfeiture of the crown?"

  "Oh, aye, Matthew. She got on her knees and thanked God with racking sobs when I delivered the news that Jane had given the King a male heir. I never saw her humbled so before God or any man. Topaz humble herself? Never. She always held the loftiest position in the land. Until now. Aye, her quest failed and it is history."

  He sighed. "You were right when you said I did not know my wife at all. All her anger, her resentment, I thought her incessant wailing was her only outlet. I never knew she would carry out her plans. She seemed to ebb and flow like the tide. After one of her tirades, she would calm down, be almost jovial. Her sense of humor would come shining through, she would sit with the lads and read to them, we would spend hours laughing, joking. She was fun to be with then, dazzling. She would be on an even keel until... Well, it seemed to go with the phases of the moon, or her monthly flux at times."

  "Interesting. I do believe you are right," she said, understanding lighting her e
yes.

  "After a while it got to be like the moon dial on the clock. I would dread its full face coming round to show itself, for that was when Topaz would begin her tantrums, and keep it up for five or six days, until the moon would wane. Then her mood would languish right along with it, until the next time around."

  "How about when she was breeding?"

  He sighed even more heavily. "Then she was subdued... Not jovial, not sprightly, but cool and aloof. I could not get near her. Then during her confinement she became nearly invalid. She implored me to hold her hand or rub her belly. But I never knew her, Amethyst. I never really, intimately knew her, the way a husband and wife should. I can see that now. I married a stranger, a cold, calculating stranger."