hidden sachet, smoothed her skirts, and tightened her grip on the crucifix in her palm, a parting gift from her mother.
She inhaled deeply as she stepped over the threshold, dismayed to see her royal mistress seated at the king’s right hand. Ermintrude stood nearby, looking smug. It was the first time Peri had seen Maud, except from a distance. An image of the contents of the chamber pots she removed thrice daily danced behind her eyes.
A pang of pity for Geoffrey pierced her heart.
Since her arrival at Westminster, she had caught nary a glimpse of Henry. She stared at the old man seated on the throne he had occupied for more than a quarter of a century. She feared a strong breeze might carry him away. He was robed in what appeared to be a richly embroidered shroud, as if expecting death at any moment.
This was the powerful ruler of England and Normandie, until recently arch enemy of Angevins. He was not known for his brutality, unlike his father, but he was crafty, rooting out opposition and making alliances with those who would help him protect his realm. She was a pawn in that game. He held her fate in his grasp. What move did he contemplate as he beheld her quaking before him?
Ermintrude slithered down from her place on high to stand behind Peri, shoving her forward. “Kneel, girl.”
Peri feared that if she curtseyed she would fall over and be unable to rise again. Henry saved her. “There is no need. Approach, child.”
She walked towards him, her head bent low, not understanding how she still remained upright when her legs had churned to butter. Inches from the throne, she stopped.
“You are Peridotte de Pontrouge in Anjou, daughter of Robert de Pontrouge?”
Henry’s voice was strangely kind, and seemed to hold no threat.
“ Oui ,” she replied in a voice she did not recognise.
Ermintrude poked her hard in the back.
Sweat trickled between her breasts, releasing the perfume of the potpourri.
“ Oui , my liege.”
Henry’s nose twitched. His gaze came to rest on her breasts for a brief moment before he turned his attention to a stout man standing nearby. “Chancellor, read the document.”
Document? A warrant for her arrest? The deed of judgement detailing the place and time of her execution?
A high pitched voice interrupted her thoughts. She dragged her eyes to the richly attired Chancellor. Surely such a voice could not emanate from a man as round as a barrel, bejewelled with more rings than he had fingers? She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of his words.
“...Ellesmere...morrow...”
She gasped. She was to die on the morrow. But where was Ellesmere?
“...betrothed...marriage...”
The pompous Chancellor seemed suddenly to turn on his head. The chamber was spinning. Nothing was as it should be.
I love Geoffrey and he loves me. I cannot wed another.
The strange voice had fallen silent. A beefy face loomed over her. She was lying on the floor. “I must have fainted,” she babbled as she was carried forth from the Throne Room by two burly guards. “What did the lord Chancellor say?”
CHAPTER TEN
Cool air wafted over Peri’s face. Someone called her name. She peeled open one eye. Francine was fanning her with a rolled up parchment, smiling broadly. “You’re awake. Thank goodness.”
Peri inhaled deeply. “What happened?”
Francine laughed, offering Peri a hand to help her sit up. “You fainted in the Throne Room. Caused quite a stir, apparently. The battle-axe is beside herself.”
Peri stayed Francine’s hand, still waving the parchment. “I am recovered now.”
Francine giggled, thrusting the parchment at Peri. “This is yours.”
Peri furrowed her brow. “What is it?”
Francine clasped her hands together, gazing at the ceiling. “No wonder you fainted—overcome with happiness, you lucky girl. I wish I was marrying an Earl’s son. It’s your betrothal agreement.”
Peri stared at her friend, her innards doing a strange dance. “Betrothal, but
She inhaled deeply as she stepped over the threshold, dismayed to see her royal mistress seated at the king’s right hand. Ermintrude stood nearby, looking smug. It was the first time Peri had seen Maud, except from a distance. An image of the contents of the chamber pots she removed thrice daily danced behind her eyes.
A pang of pity for Geoffrey pierced her heart.
Since her arrival at Westminster, she had caught nary a glimpse of Henry. She stared at the old man seated on the throne he had occupied for more than a quarter of a century. She feared a strong breeze might carry him away. He was robed in what appeared to be a richly embroidered shroud, as if expecting death at any moment.
This was the powerful ruler of England and Normandie, until recently arch enemy of Angevins. He was not known for his brutality, unlike his father, but he was crafty, rooting out opposition and making alliances with those who would help him protect his realm. She was a pawn in that game. He held her fate in his grasp. What move did he contemplate as he beheld her quaking before him?
Ermintrude slithered down from her place on high to stand behind Peri, shoving her forward. “Kneel, girl.”
Peri feared that if she curtseyed she would fall over and be unable to rise again. Henry saved her. “There is no need. Approach, child.”
She walked towards him, her head bent low, not understanding how she still remained upright when her legs had churned to butter. Inches from the throne, she stopped.
“You are Peridotte de Pontrouge in Anjou, daughter of Robert de Pontrouge?”
Henry’s voice was strangely kind, and seemed to hold no threat.
“ Oui ,” she replied in a voice she did not recognise.
Ermintrude poked her hard in the back.
Sweat trickled between her breasts, releasing the perfume of the potpourri.
“ Oui , my liege.”
Henry’s nose twitched. His gaze came to rest on her breasts for a brief moment before he turned his attention to a stout man standing nearby. “Chancellor, read the document.”
Document? A warrant for her arrest? The deed of judgement detailing the place and time of her execution?
A high pitched voice interrupted her thoughts. She dragged her eyes to the richly attired Chancellor. Surely such a voice could not emanate from a man as round as a barrel, bejewelled with more rings than he had fingers? She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of his words.
“...Ellesmere...morrow...”
She gasped. She was to die on the morrow. But where was Ellesmere?
“...betrothed...marriage...”
The pompous Chancellor seemed suddenly to turn on his head. The chamber was spinning. Nothing was as it should be.
I love Geoffrey and he loves me. I cannot wed another.
The strange voice had fallen silent. A beefy face loomed over her. She was lying on the floor. “I must have fainted,” she babbled as she was carried forth from the Throne Room by two burly guards. “What did the lord Chancellor say?”
CHAPTER TEN
Cool air wafted over Peri’s face. Someone called her name. She peeled open one eye. Francine was fanning her with a rolled up parchment, smiling broadly. “You’re awake. Thank goodness.”
Peri inhaled deeply. “What happened?”
Francine laughed, offering Peri a hand to help her sit up. “You fainted in the Throne Room. Caused quite a stir, apparently. The battle-axe is beside herself.”
Peri stayed Francine’s hand, still waving the parchment. “I am recovered now.”
Francine giggled, thrusting the parchment at Peri. “This is yours.”
Peri furrowed her brow. “What is it?”
Francine clasped her hands together, gazing at the ceiling. “No wonder you fainted—overcome with happiness, you lucky girl. I wish I was marrying an Earl’s son. It’s your betrothal agreement.”
Peri stared at her friend, her innards doing a strange dance. “Betrothal, but
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