To Love A King

Chapter Three-2

She turned away from the peacocks and headed for the stables to check on her animals before Matthew arrived. As she crossed the moat towards the east entrance, she noticed an ornate carriage drawn by four white palfreys heading for the gatehouse. Surely that wasn't Matthew. Even he wasn't that extravagant. She broke into a run through the inner courtyard in order to greet them, excited at the prospect of a visitor, and a noble one at that. The carriage halted and the horseman dismounted to help his passenger alight. She didn't recognize his livery; mayhap it was someone calling on Amethyst or Emerald. Several noble gents were wooing the girls, the most persistent being the Duke of Norfolk, who'd had an eye on Emerald for some time now.

She gasped in delight when she saw the passenger daintily stepping to the ground was none other than her dear Aunt Margaret Pole!

“Auntie! God's foot, you look splendid!” And indeed she did. Her golden cloak was trimmed in fur, and the circlet on her head glinted with clusters of sapphires.

“I bring wonderful news!” She greeted her niece with a kiss on each cheek and a small box. “Don't open it yet. I have gifts for all of you.”

“Gifts!” Topaz jumped with delight. Aunt Margaret always had a heart of gold and distributed a large portion of her annuity to the poor. “What is the occasion? Another betrothal party? But I just had one last week!”

“No, my dear, let us all assemble and I shall dispense the glad tidings. Pray tell me your mother and sisters are in residence.”

“Aye, they are. I believe they're in the Green Drawing Room working on their needlepoint.” She led the way.

They entered the private apartments and found Sabine, Amethyst and Emerald in the Green Drawing Room, chatting and sewing. A servant was lighting the logs in the fireplace.

After exchanging warm greetings, Margaret took four small boxes from the velvet sack she held and gave them out. “One for each of you. One for Sabine and one for each of my jewels.”

Sabine opened her gift, a cross made of dark red rubies suspended from a gleaming gold chain. Amethyst's gift was a gold brooch inlaid with a round-cut amethyst, Emerald's was an emerald-cut emerald in a gold bracelet, and Topaz's was a teardrop-shaped topaz suspended from a gold chain. Sabine received a pearl choker.

“They're just magnificent, Margaret.” Sabine slipped the chain over her head and held the cross up to the window. The rubies glowed like embers. “But pray tell us, what is the news?”

“I have just been created Countess of Salisbury by his majesty the king, ratified by parliament. He bestowed upon me the family lands of the earldom of Salisbury, as well as property in Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Essex!” As her words gushed forth, she beamed like a child with a new toy. Sabine squealed in delight, for now she and her sister-in-law were both wealthy, titled noblewomen. Amethyst and Emerald glowed like the jewels they beheld.

Topaz scowled.

“His majesty the king,” she snickered. “No matter how many benevolences he conjures up, he cannot undo what his father did. Is this reversal of the attainder against our father, ten years after his death, going to bring him back? Lands and titles mean nothing to him, they are no sacrifice. Let him give up something that would hurt him to give up.”

“Like what?” Sabine wondered why she even bothered to argue with her daughter anymore on this matter.

“Like the crown, mayhap,” she retorted. With that she twirled away to meet her fiancé.

* * *

On the eve of Topaz's wedding, the three sisters sat in her bedchamber, appropriately named the Blue Boudoir, decorated in an array of blues: French blue silk wallhangings, a lapis satin covered the furniture, and velvet draperies the hue of bluebirds. The two younger sisters sat on the bed watching Topaz smear an oily concoction on her face.

“What is that?” Emerald wrinkled her nose.

“Lanolin, oil from lambs.” Topaz poured some more of the greasy substance into her palm and rubbed her hands together.

“Are you going to do that every night after you're married, also?” asked Emerald.

“Why, of course. Just because I've landed a husband doesn't mean I'm not going to keep myself looking young.”

Amethyst gasped. “God's truth, Topaz, you're only eighteen!”

“We'll be old hags before we know it, children.” She smeared the oil on her throat in firm upward strokes.

“But I'm sure Lord Gilford finds you just as beautiful. You need not make your face all slippery and slimy for him.”

Topaz looked at her sister in the mirror and laughed. “I do it not for him, nor for any other man, dear sister. I do it for myself. Once I am old and Matthew is gone and my looks are withered away by the ravages of time, I'll have naught but my wits to see me through. Men don't age as quickly as women, but I daresay look at your King Henry in the next few years, after a war or two and a few personal tragedies, and I can assure you he will begin showing his age. He won't be the pretty boyass he is now.”

“Topaz! What a way to talk about our king!” chided Emerald.

“Your king, you naive child, your king. I referred to him as such as I feel generous tonight, and do not wish to insult him.”

“I've heard you say worse things about your own husband-to-be,” said Amethyst. “And he's the one you'll be abed with every night.”

“Every night? Posh. I plan to maintain my own chambers, into which he will not set foot uninvited.”

“Surely you won't lock yourself away in separate apartments on your wedding night, Topaz!” Amethyst was at that age where curiosity about such matters fairly burst out of her. “I look forward to my own wedding night.”

“So you should, but to me, I have my own reasons for this marriage, least of which is the bliss of the marriage bed.”

“But you love Lord Gilford, do you not?”

“Love, sister? No, I do not love him. But it matters not to him, because he has enough love in him for the both of us. He is a lucky man, for very few people find love within marriage. I am marrying him for reasons of my own.”

“And what reasons may they be?” Amethyst asked, as Emerald had lost interest in the conversation and was now pawing through Topaz's wardrobe. “Surely 'tis not for Kenilworth Castle.”

Topaz turned to face her younger sister and looked deeply into her eyes. “A son, Amethyst, that is what I want more than anything, more than these empty titles, castles and lands to build them on. I want a son, an heir, to carry my legacy through history. And I'll be breeding as of tomorrow night, pray God. This is my mission. And I shall carry it out.”

Amethyst understood, as the younger Emerald couldn't, and what their mother Sabine dared not, Topaz's rants. She never quit this rampage about being the rightful queen. And poor Matthew Gilford, smitten as he was, was no more than the provider of the fuel.

* * *

Topaz's wedding day bloomed with a quilting of sunshine illuminating the clouds. The trees unleashed their papery leaves, carpeting the castle grounds with a matting of red and gold.

The great hall sparkled with Warwick Castle's magnificent array of plate. The butler laid the high table with gold cloth and set the salt cellar just below the middle of the board. The coppery tile floor shone like a mirror, reflecting each burst of candlelight. The massive stone fireplace housed the crackling logs. Sparks spewed forth and died within the fire's lustre. This was her autumn wedding, decorated with an autumn theme. Huge cutouts of leaves made from cloth of gold hung from the gallery and fluttered as the servants scurried about. A horn of plenty graced each table, a cornucopia of plump grapes, apples, nuts from Spain and colorful nubby gourds.

Matthew and 16 village lads wearing blue bridelace and sprigs of broom tied round their arms led the wedding procession into the tiltyard. A party of Morris dancers, musicians, and the village fool followed. Serving maids came after them, carrying spiced bridal cakes, and a village lad bore the bride cup full of sweetmeats, decorated with broom and streamers. Topaz rode atop a white stallion liveried in gold, gleaming in the sunlight as her horse's graceful muscles shifted in his noble stride.

When the noon sun had reached its zenith, the actual ceremony began.

Inside the small chapel sat their families in the carved wooden pews. Candles glowed in the chandelier above, sending their warmth to the arched stained glass windows above the altar. With Matthew at her side gazing at her, she stood at the altar before the priest, draped in white robes. She smiled lovingly at her groom. Matthew spoke his marriage vows as if reciting a prayer. She echoed them, thinking ahead to the day she would hold her first child in her arms.

They swept down the aisle, the kingdom's newest man and wife, her satin gown shimmering in splendor, her butterfly headdress fluttering as they glided through the corridors to the great hall.

The guests poured into the hall, the marshal seated us at their proper places, and the feasting began.

The minstrels played rondos and humoresques throughout the feast of autumn dishes of stockfish and red herring, fresh from the ocean. From the river they'd procured salt-eels and salmon. Topaz smiled in contentment at her new husband satiating his healthy appetite. She relished the garden gatherings, the delicious array of peas, squash, and carrots seasoned with cloves, ginger, saffron, and mustard. At the end of each course, servers brought a magnificent pastry to the table, shaped to represent the Holy Trinity watching over them.

There was no bedding ceremony; none of Matthew's attendants accompanied him to the bridal chamber singing bawdy tunes, preparing him for his wedding night. Topaz had always considered the tradition degrading to the sacrament of marriage, and especially to the bride, and would have none of it. The bride and groom simply mounted their palfreys and rode back to their new home at Kenilworth.

* * *

Matthew brought two silver goblets over to the fire where Topaz lay luxuriating on a pile of feather pillows, her hair splayed out like a fiery sunburst.

She sat up to take one goblet and clinked it against her husband's. “I hope to be breeding as of tonight, my lord.” Her voice lilted in anticipation.

“Tonight?” A twinkle shone in his eye. “That would be a noble feat indeed.”

“It would be, but I doubt your prowess not one bit, my lord.” Topaz rested her gaze over her husband, her choice alone. She sat at eye level with his nether region. He lowered himself to his knees to tend the fire, and she scrutinized his every feature with discerning female curiosity. The dark blond hair brushed the top of his collar. A jagged gash interrupted the smoothness of his jawline. And he's all mine! Topaz displayed a racy grin as she anticipated Matthew hard and demanding against her, wanting her, begging her.

He lay down next to his bride with a leisurely stretch. She ran her hand over his nightshirt of fine Holland cloth, straining against his muscles.

“We shall create many beautiful children. We have time aplenty, our entire lives ahead of us. Oh, my darling.” He stroked her hair. “I want to give you all the love in my heart.”

“You are truly one of a kind, Matthew.” And she knew he was. In a land of political alliances secured by wedding vows, love was as rare as spun gold. He held her tightly, and she'd never known such comfort and safety as in this man's arms. She returned his embrace and let his warmth seep into her.