Beloved of a King

Chapter 10 - A Chance to the Throne

Claude Feuillets, the Marquis Gamling, summoned his grandchildren to his estate west of Smyth-Hill.  Hélène and Richard quickly ordered for their carriage and heed their mentor's call.  It was a three-hour ride from Tillbury, and the siblings were able to arrive right before dinner.

"Welcome to Wrenfield Hall, Your Lordship, Your Ladyship." said Eldred, Grandfather Feuillets' Steward of the Household.  The middle-aged man, who most probably is just a little older than their father, wore a khaki hose and green doublet over his white undershirt.  "His Grace is in the study.  He instructed me to take you there."

The Earl Herling tipped his cap in agreement.  Eldred lead the way, going through the most parts of the manor and the Viscountess Humden had her arms around the Earl's all the while.

"Why would Grandfather build his study at the far end of this labyrinth?" Hélène asked her brother as they walk the narrow, bust-lined commute to the Marquis' study.

"I'll be damned if I know," he answered, "maybe he had coffers of gold, or chests of rubies and sapphires hidden there somewhere.  It’s too bad our cousins will be the one to inherit them."

"Forgive me butting in, my lord," Eldred said, "but I can assure you Master Claude wouldn't hide his riches there.  You will find it more like of a civil registry storage chamber than anything else."

Richard let out a slight laugh.

"There, you heard him sister.  No gold coffers for us to steal."

Hélène slapped her brother’s arm in answer.  Eldred finally lead them to a great door made of rosewood.  The portal bore the Feuillet coat-of-arms of portcullis under a singular star emitting three light rays, held on both sides by unicorns.

“After you, Ladyship.” Eldred prompted the viscountess.

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"He likes to believe this will be a son. He's not getting any younger, and so is the queen.  I will bet my life that he is really considering putting Beatrice aside and invest on me, someone still young and fertile." she explained, "He's been playing this game just as you would do it grandfather.  Tempus fugit, so strike the iron while it's hot."

Richard sat across the chair, and they are like the new courtiers from the country once more, having to consult to their grandfather about everything they do.  Claude Feuillets lurched forward, wanting to take a better look at the Viscountess.

“And the child? How many more months, weeks, or days, are we taking into account?” the Marquis inquired, sitting back comfortably.

“Four and a half months.  But Richard agreed to marry Duke Olliver’s daughter.  The other families are closing in, but as long as we have a good number of people my child and I will be safe.  He is recognised—“

“You are too confident Hélène.  If the child turns out to be a girl, what would become of you?  You’ve risen so high that I am most afraid of how you will fall.”

“That’s too morbid of you Grandfather.” said Richard quickly.

All three of them fell silent.  The Marquis pulled out something from the drawer under his table.

Hélène felt really afraid with her grandfather’s words.  She placed her hands over her belly, garmented with a diamond stomacher, as a sign of protection to her unborn child, but the surge of fear was not lessened even a tiny fraction.  She felt a throbbing sensation in her midsection and experienced something she never felt before.

“Richard, the king wants you to replace me in the privy council.  I am old now, I believe it’s about time that the next generation of statesmen come in and make this kingdom prosper.”

Richard could not believe his ears.  His grandfather who does not easily pass on his privileges was telling him this without inhibition.  He took the parcel his grandfather kept hid under his table and pulled out its contents.

“It’s a record of the previous encounters of the kingdom with the other countries.  You will find that the continental regions gave us a fair account of everything, which was countersigned by the treasury.  The records that date back before the king’s marriage with the Parnassian queen, however, is one hair out of place.” he explained.  He drank his wine silently, enjoying the smell of his century old friend.

“What do you mean?” Hélène asked quickly.  She could sense hope shower to her in an instant.

“What I mean, and I’ll walk you through it my dear, is that the queen and her family cheated the king with her dowry.  It’s a very slight maneuver, I wasn’t able to grasp it at first, but if you could build up on this blunder by the queen you would have a chance, one slim chance, unless she dies prematurely and that would be a lot better, to take her down.  Richard will be of use to you, because he will always be beside Henry now.  You two can produce evidences, witnesses to be taken to trial and people to send to the block to die a traitor’s death.  It’s simple once you get the right mix to the pot.”

Hélène was dumbfounded.  Yes she was planning, plotting, praying and hoping for things to come and fall into their rightful places when she climbed the king's bed, but she never thought she would creating be a scheme as infernal as this.  Richard left his cushioned seat and kneeled in front of her, kissing her hands and then her belly.  In return she kissed her brother’s red curls.

“What was that for Richard?” asked the puzzled man from across the table.

Richard stood and folded his arms, facing the Marquis.

“I am merely swearing fealty to the future king of Gaerdin.  Great victories require great sacrifices.  From the moment we arrived in court I knew we were destined for greatness.  We may come to realise it now through my sister’s son, and we would not waste a chance like that.  The Lord doesn’t give that chance to anyone.”

The Marquis’ eyes glistened with joy.  The seed he was watering for the past eight years has grown strong and fruitful.  He took his cane from the side of the table and tried, with all his strength, to approach his grandson and fellow conspirator.

“I was unlucky with my sons, but I thank God I have you.  I was right with my decision to send for you both from that unknown place.  We, the foreign advisers of the land, will claim the throne for us.”

Hélène just had her head bowed down low.  She was terribly shaking, and for a moment she thought she would pass out.

“Hélène?” Richard asked her, breaking the hold of his grandfather on him.

Hélène’s heartbeat was so fast she thought it would skip a beat.  Richard kneeled in front of her again, putting his arms around her.

“Richard, help me.” she whispered to his ears.

“How? What?”

Then, like a groom pouring too much wine on his master's cup that it stains a tablecloth outward, Richard saw blood blotting itself from behind the layered gown of the king’s mistress.