The Duke's Pawn

Chapter 9: A reluctant guest

It was made of thick, bright red velvet, with a wide collar and cuffs embroidered in gold and blue threads, figuring vines and grapes. The colors of Burgundy and a symbol of fertility. She didn't fancy quite the train that was going to make walking difficult, or the narrow sleeves, but it was the last English fashion set by Queen Elisabeth Woodville, and she would have to endure it.

Opening her jewellery box, she picked a large gold and rubies brooch that she pinned on the brim of the coif, and an assorted chain and pendant. A gold belt gave the last touch to her attire and Alienor sighed in relief. She was ready.

Before Isobel could finish tidying up the room, Richard was knocking at the door. Alienor beamed at him. He was very handsome in his knee-length pleated blue doublet, the padded shoulders and wide sleeves emphasizing his narrow hips. Assorted chausses, calf high soft boots and a black chaperon completed the outfit, whilst a heavy gold and enamel collar, and a dagger hanging from his belt, revealed his rank.

Grinning, he took Alienor's hands and kissed her knuckles. "His Grace the Duke of Clarence just arrived, he is representing the King. We will begin the ceremony as soon as he is refreshed."

"As you wish, Richard, I'm ready."

"No quite, I'm afraid."

Alienor stared at him quizzically.

Taking a sapphire ring off his little finger, he slipped it on her left hand. "This looks far better on you, I believe."

Her cheeks suddenly red, she curtsied. "It is beautiful, I am very grateful, my Lord husband."

Mimicking her gesture, he bowed ceremoniously to her. "It is my pleasure, my beautiful Lady wife."

Alienor smiled and he presented his fist for her to rest her fingers.

"Shall we?"

Alienor didn't have to wait. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a servant rushed to inform them that the Duke was exiting his chambers. They remained in the small landing area, so as not to be seen by the guests crowding the main Hall.

George, Duke of Clarence and brother to Edward IV, was a man of twenty-five and great ambitions. Having rebelled against his King, married against the royal will to his worst enemy's daughter, the wealthy heiress Isabella Neville, and grovelled to get a pardon, he was now trying to gain his brother's good grace in the dispute with his other sibling, Richard, who was also his brother in law. The parliament was to state on their respective wives inheritance in May, and attending the wedding of a lowly Crown servant in the King's name was a token of obedience that Clarence hoped might influence their decision. But it didn't mean he was happy to be there.

Superb in his long overgown embroidered at his Arms, he stopped on the last step, adding to his stature. Richard bowed low and Alienor kneeled, as customary in front of a person of royal status. The Duke stared down at them, a forced smile placated on his thin lips. He let a couple of minutes pass, knowing that none of them could move until he allowed it. Eventually, he uttered: "Sir Fenton, are you going to introduce this woman to me?"

Richard clenched his teeth. Despite his title, he was nobility, not gentry and should be addressed as 'Lord', not 'Sir'. His wife was a lady by birth as well as alliance, which George couldn't possibly ignore. And from the barely hidden smirks of the courtiers behind him, his entourage got the point.

"Your Grace, may I present you Damoiselle Alienor Bernard, LADY Fenton," he answered, emphasizing his wife's title.

"Is she Lady Fenton already? What am I doing here then? This is embarrassing!" George bellowed, turning to his friends for support. They cackled in response, willing to remain in the good graces of their patron.

Indignant, Alienor intervened. "The wedding was celebrated by proxy, and is still not complete, your Grace."

The Duke glared at her. "I struggle to believe that you are of noble birth, DAMOISELLE Bernard. Where are your manners? Were you not taught not to interrupt your betters? I cannot fathom how you were ever considered for an alliance into an aristocratic family."

Richard's knuckles turned white as he tried to refrain from punching the contemptuous royal to the ground.

Alienor lowered her head in fake shame and then stared straight into the Duke's eyes. "I beg your Grace's forgiveness for my unruly behavior. My family lives away from court and my education may not have covered conversing with persons of royal blood. But I can assure your Grace that I master the more basic matters, such as avoiding to insult your host in his own house, and I promise that I will follow my husband's guidance in the future," she said, mustering her best expression of mortified naivety.

"I'm so sorry my ignorance caused you to question my Lord Duke Charles and his Grace King Edward's choice as a bride for my Lord Fenton," she added sweetly, beating her eyelashes.

In cauda venenum -in the tail, the venom-, she thought.

The Duke stood still for an instant, unsure of what to answer. This young lady had led him into troubled waters. With a few seemingly innocuous sentences, she had managed to both chastise him and made his words appear as a public disavowal of his liege's decision. This woman was not an empty headed female. Clarence chose the safest option; he laughed whole-heartedly. "Now I can acknowledge the wisdom of their decision! Welcome to England Damoiselle Bernard, I hope to see you at court soon," he retorted, waiving his hand for her to stand. "What are we waiting for? We have a wedding to attend!" he shouted to his retinue.

He offered his fist to Alienor and, leading her, he crossed the Hall towards the chapel.

Richard's eyes were boring holes in his back. What a fool, he thought. If there was one thing to avoid when you were a notorious plotter and traitor, it would certainly be angering the King's Master Spy. The foolhardy and overambitious royal loved malmsey wine too much, sure that his birth would guarantee him impunity, despite having previously betrayed his brother with Warwick. But he had been the heir at the time. Now that Edward had male children, Clarence was disposable.

A sinister smile stretched Richard's lips. From now on, he would make sure that the Duke would be surrounded by a net so tight that a mosquito couldn't fly through unnoticed. He just had to wait. The conceited idiot would bring his own downfall.