A Nordic Knight of the Golden Fleece: Jakob & Avery: Book 2 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  “There is a church beside the university,” she began.

  Jakob’s blue eyes shot to hers. “Yes?”

  Odd. “And it appears to be under some sort of construction.”

  Jakob nodded. “Christian is building an enormous tower as a tribute to himself.”

  “Your king rivals Henry with his confidence, I think.”

  “Yes.”

  Avery gave up trying to engage her husband after a while and their walk back to the royal residence was a quiet one. Whatever he had done that day was weighing on him, and as yet he had not chosen to tell her what that was.

  When they reached their apartment, Askel handed Jakob a note. He opened it, read it, and then tossed it in the fire.

  “Was that anything important?” Avery asked.

  Jakob shook his head, smiling. “Hans wants to meet with me and hear about my time in the Order, is all.”

  “So I shall miss you again during the day.”

  “Supper, actually.” He kissed her forehead. “He wants to take me to some duke’s home, so I might be put on display.”

  “Politics?” she ventured.

  Jakob stroked her cheek. “What else do powerful men play at?”

  Avery tried to hide her disappointment at his coming absence, and resolved to breach the university library’s barricade once more in recompense. A woman needed some sort of distraction, after all.

  June 26, 1519

  Jakob climbed into the carriage, which met him in front of the Vor Frue Kirke, and took the seat facing Hans Andersen. “You work quickly, Hans.”

  He shrugged. “The men involved wish for this situation to be resolved quickly.”

  Though the church bells had just rung seven times, the sun was hours from setting this close to the solstice. A warm breeze freshened the inside of the carriage and Jakob turned his face toward the clean air. What he was about to do felt very dirty.

  “So the men have agreed to meet with me. That is something.”

  “Man,” Hans corrected. “We are meeting secretly with Nygaard Wold, Duke of Holstein.”

  Jakob continued to watch out the window. “What about the money?”

  “You will need to discuss that with His Grace.”

  Jakob nodded and said no more until they reached a small manor surrounded by trees, about half an hour outside of København. He let Hans disembark first and then followed, all of his senses on alert.

  A gray-haired gentleman, who had clearly never missed a meal in the last decade, waited in a small room off to the right of the entry hall. “Welcome Sir Andersen, Sir Hansen, to our clandestine gathering.”

  As Jakob approached, he recognized the man from his scattered appearances at Christian’s court. “Your Grace.”

  “Please have a seat. May I offer you sherry?”

  Jakob declined, not caring for the sweet wine. Hans, however, accepted.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, your Grace,” Jakob offered.

  “Thank you for considering your involvement,” he countered. “I doubt Christian was thinking clearly when he set up his most trusted knight to be disgraced.”

  “Formerly most trusted. By his own public statement,” Jakob corrected.

  “Yes, well. Not everyone is wise enough to watch his words. Especially a young king who believes himself to be invincible.” Wold sneered. “Have you seen the monstrosity he is building?”

  “The cathedral tower?” Jakob allowed a crooked smile. “Perhaps the king is compensating for some sort of physical disappointment.”

  The duke blinked, and then burst into raucous laughter. “Very good, Sir Hansen! I believe I shall repeat that jest myself.”

  Jakob waited for the duke to compose himself; eagerness would not serve him well tonight.

  Wold wiped his eyes. “Has Sir Andersen explained what it is that we want you to do?”

  “Not yet.”

  The flamboyant duke nodded. “We want access to Christian, away from the city.”

  Jakob gestured out the window. “Someplace like this?”

  “Precisely.”

  He shifted in his chair. “And what will you do with him, once you have him?”

  Wold put up two fleshy hands. “We only want to speak with him, convince him to see our side, and come to a trade agreement.”

  Next you will tell me that the sun will rise in the west and I will believe that just as strongly.

  Jakob smiled at the man. “All you require of me is to get him alone in a carriage and bring him here.”

  Wold chuckled. “I knew you had a quick mind.”

  “And while you have your discussion, I will return immediately to København, board a ship, and be gone before the king returns.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You guarantee my safe passage, in exchange for my silence and absence.”

  The duke nodded. “We do.”

  Jakob folded his arms over his chest. “You realize that I must take my own steps to assure my safety.”

  Hans, who had been sipping his sherry in silence, sat forward. “What sort of steps?”

  “I will document all that has transpired thus far, and with whom, including the payment amount.” Jakob shrugged. “If I do not return safely and board the ship with the payment intact, then all will be revealed.”

  “Now see here—” Hans blustered.

  Wold cut him off. “I agree.”

  “But—”

  The Duke of Holstein was clearly annoyed. “Oh for God’s sake, Andersen. This is the best way to assure that all goes well. We are asking the man to trust us with his life and his future. Of course he needs to take precautions. I admire him for it.”

  Jakob heaved a satisfied sigh. “All that remains now, your Grace, is to agree on the payment. How far are you gentlemen willing to go to secure your lives and your futures?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  July 9, 1519

  For two weeks Jakob had been impatiently waiting for a private audience with Christian. Unfortunately, some of his frustration had spilled over onto Avery, who was frustrated in her own right.

  “I have nothing to do, and no one to talk to,” she said yesterday. “And while I was sorry when you were not with me, these last days with you snapping at me over nothing have been far worse.”

  “What will you have me do?” he growled. “I am no happier than you about our circumstances.”

  “We should leave the city,” Avery suggested. “Go to the countryside and stay in a little inn somewhere, take long walks, and enjoy the change.”

  Jakob drew a deep breath. “We cannot.”

  “Why not? Is it money?” Avery began to fumble in her pocket.

  “No. It is not money.” Jakob dragged his fingers through his hair. “The king will not allow us to leave.”

  “What?” Her brow plunged. “When did this begin?”

  “It was this way from the start. I did not tell you because I knew you would be angry.” Jakob rested his hands on his hips. “And he has guards on the docks as well.”

  She snorted. “Are you so important that he goes to these lengths?”

  “There is more going on than you know, Avery.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I cannot.” Jakob closed the space between them and lifted her hands. “I need you to trust me. For your safety and for mine. Will you do this?”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “And how long must I trust you in this silence?”

  “A week. Two weeks. I am not certain. But I promise you that all of our troubles will be over quickly.”

  She gazed into his eyes, hers too dark to see her pupils. “Do you love me?”

  Jakob’s knees nearly buckled. “More than I love myself. You are everything to me.”

  “Then I shall do as you say.” She pulled her hands from his and dropped onto a chair. “We are truly prisoners, then?”

  His heart broke for her. “Yes. For now.”

  Today Jakob was granted an audience, albeit not a privat
e one. Even so, the ability to speak with his sovereign at long last was a huge relief. The sooner this business was concluded, the sooner he and Avery could depart København. He said a silent prayer, asking for God’s provenance.

  Christian sat in his informal throne, in the large room where he met with his subjects. Jakob gave his best courtly bow.

  “Rise before your leg gives way,” Christian barked. “What say you, Sir Hansen?”

  Jakob knew his request would sound strange, and he had struggled for the last two week with how to phrase it. “Your Grace, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Christian cocked a brow. “You ask a favor when your status is so precarious?”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  The king gestured impatiently. “Well? What is it?”

  “My wife wishes to purchase some property south of København. I was hoping your Highness might be willing to ride out with me and give your permission.”

  Christian straightened. “How far south?”

  “Three or four miles.” Jakob cleared his suddenly dry throat. “About one half of an hour.”

  “Will she go with us?”

  “No. Your Grace and I shall travel alone, and not make a fuss over it.” Jakob glanced at one of the scowling noblemen who attended the king and knew he needed to say more. “If you approve, I will make the purchase on her behalf, as she is not only a woman, but also a foreigner.”

  One of the king’s brows lifted. “When did you wish to make this little journey?”

  “At your earliest convenience, your Highness.” Jakob bowed again, but not as deeply. “I am your most humble servant.”

  Christian stared at Jakob through narrowed eyes. Jakob met his gaze and respectfully dipped his chin.

  The king sat back in his seat. “I believe we shall journey on the morrow, after the midday meal. Meet me under the portico at two bells.”

  A surge of relief flooded Jakob’s frame and he felt weak afterward. “Gladly, your Grace. Thank you.”

  Jakob backed away and turned to leave.

  “Hansen!”

  He turned back. “Your Grace?”

  Christian’s intensity trembled in the air between them. “I still expect you to perform your duties.”

  Jakob began to tremble. “Without fail, your highness.”

  Once away from the king, Jakob crumpled on the staircase, and sat with his head between his knees. Anyone who saw him there would assume his leg pained him, and such an assumption would buy him time to think.

  After the king agreed to go with him, he believed the hardest part of his covert commission to be completed. He did not expect the king to remind him of his knightly duties.

  Jakob was not comfortable with intrigue, now that he was married. To risk his own life was one thing; to imperil his wife was another thing entirely. And the war with Sweden had broken out while he was gone—he had no idea what he was returning to.

  Several minutes passed before Jakob felt recovered enough to face his wife.

  He climbed the steps slowly, making a mental inventory of what must go with him on the morrow. There was scant time to prepare, but prepare they must.

  July 10, 1519

  Jakob kissed Avery so sweetly that she pulled away. Her dark eyes examined his face intently, obviously not misinterpreting his heartfelt affections. “What is happening, Jakob?”

  He swallowed thickly. “Everything, my love.”

  She gasped softly. “What shall I do?”

  “Pray for me, wife. If all goes well, our banishment shall come to an end.”

  He kissed her again to keep her from asking any more questions, and then strode from the room. Askel waited in the hallway as instructed and handed Jakob his sword and knife.

  “God be with you, my lord.”

  He patted the valet’s shoulder. “He will be, Askel.”

  Jakob tucked his knife inside his boot and descended the stairs quickly as he could. When he exited the door of the residence, the king’s carriage was in place. He gave a map with directions to the driver, before the footman opened the door and Jakob climbed in.

  How many more carriage rides with a king and a secret purpose must I endure in this lifetime?

  Christian’s gaze dropped to the sword at Jakob’s side. “I see you heeded my expectations.”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  The king motioned out the window of the cab and the carriage began to move.

  Once more, Jakob’s senses were on high, as he listened for the sounds of hooves and tack, proof that this meeting was not between only a few men. His heart thumped in his chest, hard but steady. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He shifted his foot and felt the pressure of the knife against his calf.

  He could not be more ready.

  The house came into view, visible in vertical stripes between the sheltering trees. “We have arrived, your Grace.”

  Christian banged on the roof of the carriage and the driver slowed the horses. They approached the house at a walk.

  “Get down and stay down, your Grace!” Jakob instructed Christian once their progress halted, and hove himself from the conveyance.

  He stood outside the carriage, waiting.

  The door of the house opened and Nygaard Wold appeared. “Have you brought what we requested?”

  “I have.”

  Wold barked a command and several armed men ran around the corners of the house.

  “What is this, Wold?” Jakob shouted. “You said you only wanted to talk!”

  Wold chuckled and called out, “Honest men are the easiest to fool.”

  He gave a signal and the men slowly approached the carriage, weapons at the ready.

  As the men moved forward, a trumpet sounded in the woods. Before a single arrow was loosed in in Jakob’s direction, the king’s guard emerged from the forest on horseback, swarming the brigands from every point on the compass.

  Jakob spun and pulled himself up next to the carriage driver. He retrieved his bow and quiver from under the seat. His task was to keep anyone from actually reaching the king.

  He shot one man in the neck, and nearly removed another’s arm with his sword.

  “Bring the traitors to the carriage!” Jakob bellowed over the fighting. “And bring them alive!”

  The frantic and bloody confrontation did not last more than five minutes, as out-manned as the treasonous rebels were. When the uneven battle was over, two dozen men lay on the ground, dead or dying. Not one of the fallen wore the king’s colors, Jakob was pleased to note.

  Five disheveled Danish noblemen had been trussed. Some were bleeding or bruised, and all were prodded toward the carriage to face their king.

  Jakob climbed down as King Christian stepped out of the conveyance, his sword still at the ready in the event one of the noblemen acted even more foolishly than they already had.

  “What have we here?” Christian walked a slow circle around the men. “I see the houses of Orlamünde, Regenstein, Gleichen and Everstein are all represented. And I expect your leader to be the esteemed Duke. Am I correct?”

  Nygaard Wold lifted his multiply-layered chin and sniffed. “We five are but the top of a very large iceberg. Sweden will triumph gloriously over Denmark in the end.”

  King Christian looked at the officers and soldiers surrounding them. “I accuse these five gentlemen of treason against their king and against their country. Has anyone any dissenting evidence?”

  Of course, no one spoke; Wold’s words had already condemned them.

  Christian motioned to his captain and the man dismounted, along with two lieutenants. “Kill them. Then load the bodies in the wagon.”

  Two of the men—both of them still in their twenties—began to cry. One middle-aged man tried to charge the king, but Jakob’s sword stopped his progress. The man stared stupidly at the hilt protruding from his chest before dropping lifeless to the ground.

  Jakob rested a boot on his shoulder and removed his sword. He wiped the blood on the man’s
tunic.

  The captain and each lieutenant slit the throats of the two sobbing men, and another man who seemed to not understand what was happening. The only man left standing was the duke.

  Christian stepped in front of him. “Should I say I am surprised, Nygaard?”

  His brow twitched. “Are you?”

  Christian made a disgusted face. “Not in the least,” he sneered before taking three large steps back. “Sir Hansen?”

  Jakob planted his boots at shoulder’s width and gripped his sword with both arms. Nygaard Wold stared at him, his faced twisted in fury.

  Jakob met the man’s gaze. “Dishonest men believe themselves invincible.”

  He swung his sword with all his strength, neatly removing Wold’s head from his body. Jakob looked down at the detached face. The man’s eyes rolled wildly for an instant, before the pupils dilated, sightless.

  The king clapped him on the back. “You have redeemed yourself this day.”

  Jakob whirled and knelt in front of his sovereign, careful not to put his knee in a bloody puddle and ruin his hose. “It was my honor, your Grace.”

  “Rise, Sir Hansen, and accept the accolades which are due you.”

  When he rose, King Christian was smiling at him.

  *****

  Avery vomited her lunch, too nervous and frightened to keep it down. Emily offered her a wet cloth and a cup of tea, stroking her hair in a soothing manner. A dull headache threatened in spite of the maid attempts to calm her.

  Whatever was Jakob about? She prayed through her rosary over and over again, each time adding a plea for Jakob.

  Please, Father, keep him safe. Do not allow him to do anything foolish.

  Askel was of no help—he had no idea what his master had been up to these past weeks.

  The church bells in the distance rang four times. Avery’s nerves were shredded like boiled meat and she could not concentrate on anything productive. Instead, she paced the length of the apartment, from the hall door to the bedchamber window and back, rosary beads dribbling through her fingers.

  When she believed she must truly lose her sanity, Askel threw the door open. “Sir Hansen has returned!”