The progress moved to Warwickshire, that county which was divided into two parts by the beautiful river Avon. To the south lay the Feldon, a beautiful swath of green meadows and pastures dotted with wildflowers. To the north lay the Forest of Arden, and in the far north, which was not tillable, were sandstone quarries and coal and iron mines. While the castles and churches were built of sandstone, the towns were mostly black-and-white timber framing and subject to fire.
The progress visited two great castles in Warwickshire. First Warwick, which stood on a great bluff above the Avon, and then Kenilworth, which was nearer to Coventry. Warwick had originally been a Saxon fort, but two years after the Norman conquest a castle had been begun. In the fourteenth century the Beauchamp family had turned the castle into the magnificent edifice that Rosamund now saw. It was a great and proud fortress that had been lived in by great and proud families.
Kenilworth on the other hand was the most romantic place that Rosamund had ever seen in her entire life. It was neither massive nor imposing like Warwick. Begun in the twelfth century it owed its elegance and its beauty to John of Gaunt, a son of King Edward III, who spent a fortune on the castle that had once belonged to Simon de Montfort, the notorious kingmaker—and troublemaker. The Great Hall of Kenilworth had the most beautiful windows anyone would ever see. Oriel, they were called, Tom had told Rosamund.
In Coventry they attended a high mass at the cathedral. But the highlight of the visit to that great market town was a performance of one of the famed cycle of mystery plays, executed by the local guildsmen. These plays had been enacted for centuries in Coventry and were known far and wide, even in France and Spain. The queen had wept at the beauty of what she saw, and it was whispered among her women that her strong emotions indicated that she was with child again. Hearing the news the king strutted about among his friends very pleased.
The progress now moved north again, making for Nottingham where the king and his court would spend time at Nottingham Castle. It was virtually impossible for Henry to find a secret moment alone with Rosamund, and strangely, she felt relieved. She had fallen half in love with him, but she was not a foolish woman, and she knew that what they had shared was almost over, and must be.
At Nottingham the king indulged himself in sports and in gambling. Some of the younger courtiers introduced the monarch to acquaintances from France and Lombardy. It was not long before the king’s longtime friends noticed that he was losing a great deal of money on dog races, bear baiting, cards, and tennis matches. Will Compton noted that the young English courtiers would entice and taunt the king into foolish wagers. Henry’s pride would not allow him to cry off, and he would invariably lose. When Compton saw one of the courtiers later splitting the winnings with a French friend, he tipped the king as to what was happening. The king quietly sent both the young courtiers and their bad companions from court, informing their families of their misbehavior as well. Then his behavior became genial and jovial once more as befitted the monarch.
Now the time had come for Rosamund to leave court. She asked her cousin to discreetly inform the monarch of their going, for she did want to say a private farewell if it was at all possible. Lord Cambridge managed to engage the king in a quick conversation, catching him alone for a minute as he came from the tennis courts. Stepping into the king’s path, Tom Bolton bowed with an elegant flourish.
“You must teach me how to do that some time,” the king said with a grin.
“Gladly, your majesty,” Lord Cambridge replied. “I thought you might want to know that Rosamund and I will be leaving Nottingham shortly. She is most anxious to get home. She would render her good-byes privily, if that is your majesty’s desire.”
Henry Tudor shook his head. “She is the most loving woman I have ever known, Tom Bolton. I cannot let her stay, but I do regret her going. Aye, I would say our good-byes privily. My body servant, Walter, will tell you when and where.” The king passed on into the castle keep.
The meeting was set for midnight the following night, in a small room in the east tower of the castle. Walter came to lead Rosamund to the place of the assignation, opening the door to allow the lady in, then remaining outside. It was a tiny chamber with but two chairs and a table upon which were two goblets of wine. The king embraced Rosamund, his lips taking hers in a passionate kiss.
“I wish you did not have to leave me,” he said to her.
She smiled, curling into his lap. “You are flattering me when you say it, but we both know I must go. Kate is more than likely with child again. She must not be distressed by anything. She needs your love now more than she has ever needed it, Hal.”
“Pray God she is indeed ripening again,” he said, slipping his hand into her bodice to fondle her plump breast. “Damn! I want to fuck you, Rosamund! I must have you one more time before we part!”
“My lord, but how?” she asked, but she wanted him, too. She had missed his passion and his vigor these past weeks.
He yanked his hand from her breast, and reaching around her, undid the laces of her bodice and pulled it away. He unlaced her chemise and pushed it from her shoulders. Then his hand moved beneath her skirts, and he began to play with her, his fingers twining amid the auburn curls of her Venus mont, rubbing against her slit, pressing and glazing over her love button, even as he buried his face in her bosom, groaning with his longing.
Oh, she wanted him! She could be his whore forever if he would but let her, she considered, shocked by her own thoughts. It was madness, but her juices flowed as she imagined him deep inside her, his manhood where his fingers now plunged. Suddenly he was lifting her up to straddle him, commanding her to raise her skirts, fumbling with his codpiece. He lowered her onto his thick, engorged love lance, and she screamed softly with the pleasure his entry gave her. The walls of her love sheath closed around him, holding him, teasing him.
“Oh, Hal!”she moaned. “Make me soar, my dear lord!”
And he did. When it was over, and she had collapsed on his neck with a deep sigh, he said, “I will never forget you, my fair Rosamund, my beloved lady of Friarsgate.” He held her in his arms for what seemed a long time, and then finally he said, “We must leave our hideaway, my love. It is time our tryst was ended.”
She slid reluctantly from his lap, lacing up her chemise and slipping on her bodice, which he neatly did up for her. He straightened his own garments into a semblance of order. Then together they toasted each other with the goblets of wine, and when the goblets were empty the king said, “It is time, fair Rosamund. I will take you from the tower, but Walter will escort you from the castle to your inn.”
She nodded as they exited the little room. “We leave in the morning,” she told him.
When they had descended the tower and reentered the wider hallway, the king pulled Rosamund into his arms a final time and kissed her hungrily. Then he turned quickly, without another word, and was gone into the darkness. Rosamund turned to follow the king’s body servant, but he was no longer anywhere in sight. It was Inez de Salinas who stepped from the shadows of the hallway.
“I saw you!”she hissed furiously at Rosamund.
Oh, God, that this should happen now, Rosamund thought, but then she said to Inez,“You saw nothing.”
“I saw you in the king’s arms playing the whore,” Inez accused.
“You saw nothing,”Rosamund repeated.
“Will you deny that you were kissing the king? When I tell the queen of your perfidy! Even I was fooled by you, the meek and gentle lady of Friarsgate, but you are no better than the rest of these Englishputas.You all seek to advance yourselves on your backs like French bitches!”
“You are insulting, Inez, and you have no right to be,” Rosamund defended herself. “If you run to the queen you will upset her needlessly. She could lose the child she is carrying. Do you want to have that sin on your conscience?”
“How dare you!” Inez cried. “It is not I who was in the king’s arms this night, and you,you would not upset the queen?You are as bold a creature as I have ever met!”
“It was not the king,”Rosamund said. She had to say something.
