Telepathy of Hearts (4 page)

“I fear the Queen is quite barren, Matheus.
”

The King sat upon his throne, his right leg raised upon a stool. He was pained with gout, and his brow was pinched and his eyes winced.

“I bed her as much as a man of my years is able. As in our vows, she has always been bonnie and buxom in bed. But since the babies born to us are without breath, her body has become tired. There has neither been a stirring in her womb nor the curse in her month.
” The King took his nep
h
ew
's hand, his eyes pained and tired as he spoke.

His Uncle had aged in recent times. The King
's face was as if it charted a course through the decades of his so
v
ereignty. Threads of tiny, broken veins patterned his grey pallor. It was as if his skin was paved with flagstone, all rough and cracked. There was a strain to sovereignty that few recognised. To be a fair and thoughtful prince was a
l
ways in conflict with the strong and ruthless one the safety of the nation permanently demanded.

Matheus smiled back at the King. A little gesture but comfort enough for his Majesty to continue.

“You are my favourite nephew. If God in his mercy had graced me with a son, I would like to think he would be as you. Strong in the arm, long in the loins. A knight of skill and bravery. Matheus, you are a man a father could be proud of and one
in which
your sovereign is
indeed proud
.

“We are weakening, The House of York has hungry eyes, and they look to my throne. They see no rightful heir, and they wish to claim it.
”

Matheus knew the Kin
g looked to him to once again
serve him. He had an idea of the service that was going to be required. Anxious to know if he was correct he asked him to continue.

“Eleanor of Lancaster is off my sister
's womb. She is most pleasing to the eye. Hazel eyes that change from earth to nature
's green and glorious, flaxen curls. The royal blood of princes and kings flows rich in her veins.
”

Matheus was now confident in his assumption he would be the knight charged with the safe delivery of His Majesty
's niece to her betrothed.

Richard Slin
e h
as been called by the King for an aud
i
ence. I
t i
s most likely
him;
he has Yorkist blood. Yes, that
's the match
.

He puffed his chest. Not one to gloat, he did however revel a little
in his reputation of being the
best man
of all the king
's knights.

The King grinned a little as he continued to speak.
“B
e
trothed but unwed. Her intended food for the fish I
'm afraid. Eleanor is an untried maiden and yours for the taking. Matheus, you have been a widower too long she will be a treat for your battle sore bones. Keeping hands busy, your bed warm.
”

Matheus stood quietly, his expression stoic and his manner quite unchanged. From outward appearance it would seem the King was making arrangements for any common occurrence of court.
Perhaps the hunt or joust. Not the a
r
rangement of a marriage.

It was as if he
were a swan on still water. Outwardly Matheus appeared impassive, like the bird above the wate
r
line gliding with no visible effort. But as with the swan, the calm exterior belied the turbulence under the surface. As the legs of the swan thrashed to stay afloat, Matheus was endu
r
ing the sinking feeling of his guts thrashing to keep him afloat.

“I wish for your betrothal. It will produce a Lancastrian heir, of course. But as you are also alive with the blood of York, they will accept such a union. The child could be king
… Do you hear me
…King. Matheus what say ye?
”

Matheus stared back at his Lord and Master with an e
x
pression of disbelief. Raking his hands through his hair, he shook his head. The realisation he was not escorting the King
's niece to her marriage, but was going to be the groom, had startled him.

The king may have asked his nephew. However, this was not a question. If he wished, he therefore commanded it. Matheus knew it too. Under his breath in shock he uttered,
“Holy mother
…for the love of God
…I am to be wed
?
”

Slapping him upon his back. The King
's delighted, booming laugh rang through his throne room.
“The maid E
l
eanor, does she agree your Grace?
”

The King mistook Matheus
's tone for the desperate voice of a man in need of a wife.
“The Bull is eager,
yes
.
” He chuckled as he gave Matheus another slap on the back.
“She is a woman. Of course she will do as she is told. Mot
h
er Bear has her ear, I am told. Knowing that woman, her birch will be close at hand.
”

The comment met with Matheus
's disapproval. He would rather a willing bride than a beaten one. He was not a vain man. But his male pride felt the blow as the idea that a woman would be forced to marry him dented it.

“They say she is a witch you know.
” The King r
e
marked.

“Eleanor?
”

Matheus chuckled.

The much relieved King replied,
“No
,
mother Bear
,
L
a
dy Bruce. Eleanor is a s
he-
wolf mind, so don
't let
those eyes
of hers
and that delicate face framed with a lustrous mane of gold fool you when you see her. She may well bite
. Again he laughed.
“
Come back to court when you have finished hun
t
ing and seat yourself at the back. You will not need direction to know her. You will soon notice her beauty
…fret you not
…she will be your wife before the year is out
…and birth a child before we barn our harvest again. Matheus, oh my, she is fair
…mighty fair.
”

He feared his bride-
to-
be, may not be as fair as His Ma
j
esty had implied. Matheus had seen knights married at the King
's bequest to women so ugly the wild boars of the woods shuddered at the sight of them. His body followed his thoughts and he too shuddered.

He had hardly been at
Court in the last few years, pr
e
ferring to work through his grief by way of his blade, on the field of battle astride his destrier. Therefore, he had little knowledge of Eleanor of Lancaster, and to be honest, he would rather it stayed that way.

Priests bones, for she sounds like a Kobold, with her flaxen mane of wild curls. An oval face dominated by big h
a
zel eyes and her small stature.

He was laughing at his thoughts. Then he checked hi
m
self.
Why am I jesting? I am a fool for
'tis me who will call the wild Kobold wife?

It wasn
't the idea of marriage that frightened him. He longed to touch a woman he called wife once more. He had been whoring for some years. Seeking comfort from ladies. Missing the love of a wife.
That was a woman you hold in your heart as well as
in
your
arms.

Matheus had married his childhood sweetheart, Eliz
a
beth. Spending their short marriage making a playground of each other
's bodies, and enjoying all the undiscovered plea
s
ures between them.

Their combined bliss provided sustenance to each ot
h
er
's souls. That was the point; he had fallen in love, and now the King was asking him to accept an arranged loveless ma
r
riage for the sole purpose of producing an heir.
“I am not o
n
ly the Lincoln Bull in battle. I am to be so in bed
—for the love of
G
od
,
I am to be sired out by my master!
” Matheus
groused
as he walked away from the King.

Richard Sline slapped him on the back. Turning to him with a wicked grin and an edge to his voice, he jested,
“Well, they call you the Bull of Lincoln, my friend, so pe
r
haps
'tis only a change of bull that is needed. Obviously, you are the King
'
s favourite
…beast.
Perhaps the King should let you cover the Queen.
”

“Your jest may see our heads on pikes at the bloody tower, Richard. I will have to take my chances with this E
l
eanor of Lancaster whether she looks like a sow or not. For is not one maiden much like another?
” Slapping Richard back he continued,
“How difficult can a mere weak maiden be too bed?
”

Richard Sline, Master of the Horse, wore a strange e
x
pression.

Perhaps he too thinks he is seeing the King to be given Eleanor
's hand just like I did
.
His face is most sour and his smile quite fake, more of a grimace to be truthful.

Richard Sline sighed, obviously a little bereft that he would not be the master of Eleanor. He turned to Matheus, a tone of pique to his voice,
“I for one would enjoy well the ride upon such a filly. Her maidenhead untouched and her body quite undiscovered
… I speak no untruth when I tell ye that Eleanor of Lancaster is truly the most prized bloom of all the Lancaster roses if not all the English roses. Dear God her hair is like that of an angel
—
”

Matheus interrupted.
“Sline
,
I doubt you have ever seen an angel for you spend too much time at leisure your head anchored upon the breasts of wenchs.
”

“As I was saying, her hair is like an angel
's,
'tis quite gold and falls about her breasts not pinned nor braided. Her body is full and seductive. Hips a plenty and breasts well
—
”

Once more Matheus cut across his words, not quite jea
l
ous of the way he spoke of the maid he was to marry. But he chided a little.
“Seems with that libido for my intended
,
you should be the betrothed, Richard.
” Matheus smiled. But his voice told his companion that enough had been said about his wife to be.
Changing the conversation, he chuckled,
“Look at Lady De Montfort. She too was a maiden fair. It was said that on her bedding she was so sour to the Earl
's advances and her hymen so hard it was
as if
granite, that the Old Goat broke his shaft trying to claim her.
”