“Thank you for the information, Your Grace,” he said tightly. “I am appreciative.”
Edward was watching the man very closely as he struggled with his sorrow. He wanted to ask him more questions and come to know him better but he suspected that now was not the time. As selfish as Edward was, he was not without compassion. The king glanced at his advisors, who also seemed to be under the same impression he was;better to speak to the Scorpion tonight when he has calmed. He returned his focus to Kevin.
“We will feast tonight and celebrate your father’s life,” Edward said, trying to lighten the mood. “It is my intention to reward you for your great service in the Holy Land for you have given me a source of pride without even being aware of it. To have the great English knight known as the Scorpion in my arsenal is a prideful thing, indeed. Tonight, we will feast and I will show my thanks. To whom did you swear fealty to before you went to the Levant?”
“To my father.”
“Then I shall accept your fealty now. You will serve me.”
Kevin was sinking more and more into a daze of grief but managed to nod his head. “Indeed, Your Grace,” he said. “I am honored.”
With that, Edward motioned to a hovering house servant and the man took charge of Kevin and the other two knights, directing them from the hall so that they could be shown a place to rest.
As the trio of knights followed the well-dressed servant, Edward’s gaze continued to linger on the man who had identified himself as Sir Kevin Hage.Scorpion.Perhaps the only unselfish thing Edward had done all day was allow Hage to rest and come to terms with his father’s passing instead of pressing his own agenda and demanding stories of his adventures in theLevant. Unselfish, indeed, but tonight would see none of that restraint.
Edward wanted to know more about the man known as the Scorpion and he wanted to inform the man of his new responsibilities. He’d called it a “reward” for service in the Holy Land but the truth was that it was more of a gift to the man who would receive Kevin’s services rather than an actual reward for Kevin personally. Now that Kevin’s service belonged to Edward, he would do with him as he pleased. He had plans for the man.
Sir Victor de Ferrers, Duke of Dorset and a powerful cousin to the king, would soon be receiving the services of the Scorpion in payment for all of the funds and manpower de Ferrers had supplied the king for his battles in Wales. Victor was enormously rich and Edward had relied heavily on his cousin’s wealth to fund his war machine. As a reward for his generosity, Victor would be receiving two great gifts this night– the mighty Scorpion and also the first glimpse of his betrothed, the luscious Lady Annavieve Fitz Roderick. Indeed, Victor was to be a very fortunate man this night. He hoped that Hage viewed his new assignment as an honor as well.
Deep down, Edward seriously doubted it.
CHAPTER THREE
Later that evening
“Ihave spentthe past fifty-eight years of my life unmarried and quite happy about it,” an older man, big and gray-haired, spoke angrily to the king. “Did you not think to ask before saddling me with a wife?”
Victor de Ferrers, Duke of Dorset, was facing off against his cousin, a confrontation that had been two months in the making. In the small feasting room adjoining the royal apartments, they had gathered to share a meal with courtiers and honored guests. Victor and Edward were the only men in the room at that moment, which was a good thing, because Victor had a great deal to say to his cousin. Having arrived at Thorney Island an hour earlier, he hadn’t waited to vent his rage. He went straight to the source.
Edward hadn’t been prepared for such resistance but, in truth, it didn’t surprise him. He had expected something of a reluctant stance from his lifelong bachelor cousin; it was a common rumor at court that Victor de Ferrers kept male lovers, preferably young and beautiful, but Edward had never seen proof and he frankly didn’t care. The man was going to do what Edward wanted him to do– he was going to accept aprestigious knight and a bride of noble blood because Edward didn’t relish the thought of paying the man back for all of his contributions. Gifting him with a wife and a knight seemed like fair compensation for those things.
“I realize that your life is your own, cousin,” Edward said evenly. “But you are growing older and a man has a need for heirs. You have none, not even bastards that I have heard of. Dorset will become mine when you die if you do not have an heir. Surely that is not an appealing prospect to you.”
Victor put his hands on his hips in an angry gesture. “Heir,” he grunted, turning away. “I do not intend that my wealth and title should go to an heir.”
Edward frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
Victor simply shook his head, now kicking at the floor with sharp, frustrated movements. “Just that,” he said. “I have no use for a wife or heirs. You take all of my money as it is, so my title and wealth may as well go to you when I die. If it goes to an heir, you will simply take it anyway. You needn’t be so coy with me about your intentions.”
Edward sighed heavily, turning to sit at one of two large feasting tables in the room. This is where he had cozy suppers with his wife and close advisors, and sometimes even his children. It was a room he felt comfortable in, one that his father and his father before him had used, with a series of long, slender windows that overlooked the Thames. He could feel a chill breeze coming in off the river.
“It is my intention to reward you for your generosity towards the crown,” Edward finally said. “Why must you make it sound as if I am punishing you?”
Victor eyed his cousin. A shrewd man with a head for business, Victor was cunning and calculating. He knew why Edward was gifting him with people instead of property. He knew very well that the man didn’t want to pay him back forall of the money and men he’d donated to his cause. He was therefore gifting him with things he could not use– namely a wife he did not want. Edward thought it was an honor but Victor didn’t view it that way.
“Because you are,” Victor said. “You are forcing a wife upon me.”
Edward poured himself some wine from a pewter pitcher on the table. “She is the bastard daughter of Rhodri ap Gruffydd,” he told his cousin what the man already knew. “She is his only daughter. Her mother is a Marshal, a descendant of William Marshal’s brother, Gilbert, but do not ask me how the Marshal woman and Rhodri came together for I do not know. The woman was serving at Lioncross Abbey when all of this happened and the Marcher Lords of de Lohr turned the child over to me when she was born. Much like her female cousins, daughters of the great Welsh princes Dafydd and Llewelyn, the infant was sent to a priory of my choosing far from the Welsh Marches. She has spent all eighteen years of her life there.”
Victor was standing near the hearth, arms crossed unhappily. “Then send her back,” he said. “Or find someone else to marry her, for I do not want her.”
Edward lifted an eyebrow as he contemplated the contents of his cup. “This is for your own good, Victor,” he said, his voice low. “I am giving you a wife of Welsh royal blood. Half-blood, in any case. Think how magnificent a son would be from her bloodlines and yours. It is my intention to rule Wales any way I can, even if I have to breed loyalty from the very loins of those who would resist me. I am breeding her to you because of your English royal blood. I want that bloodline to continue, too. Do you understand what I am asking of you? Breed a son for me, another Duke of Dorset, who will be loyal to the crown in all things. I am asking you this, Victor, as both your monarch and your cousin. Breed a son for me of such magnificence that I canbe proud of and let us water down the Welsh blood with that of English strength.”
Victor could hear the passion in the man’s voice as he spoke of breeding the Welsh into submission. There was hatred infused in that tone, and desperation and desire. All of those things were in Edward’s voice as he spoke and even as Victor resisted the idea of a wife, he knew that his resistance would do no good. Edward’s mind was made up. But Victor still wouldn’t give in so easily.
“You have so many vassals,” he said, moving away from the hearth and heading towards the wine. He found he needed it. “Why me? Why not some other family on the Marches? A marriage to a woman of royal Welsh blood would mean more to them. Surely de Broase or Clifford have sons you could marry her to.”
Edward shook his head. “You are of royal blood,” he pointed out. “Your mother was a sister of my grandfather and she married into the great de Ferrer family. Can you not see the genius in a son with the mixed bloodlines of English and Welsh royalty? Don’tyouwant to take pride in a son, Victor? If you don’t, then there is something wrong with you.”
