Immortal Unchained(120)

"But-" Helen paused and shook her head, trying to gather her rather scattered wits. "But, this cannot be. Lord Holden is an evil, horrid, cruel man. The king cannot expect me to marry him!"

When Templetun remained silent, his head lowered, refusing to meet her eyes, Helen began to realize that she was indeed expected to do just that. Numbness crept over her, softening her horror, and she sank back onto the trestle table bench. She was to marry that horrid, cruel bastard neighbor of hers. Hethe. The Hammer of Holden. The man who burned villeins out of their homes for no purpose. Dear God, what would he do when he was displeased with her?

"There must be a mistake," Aunt Nell announced firmly, drawing Helen from her miserable thoughts. "Surely the king would not be so cruel as to force my niece to marry that man. Perhaps he simply does not understand. We must travel to court and explain things to him. We must-"

"The king is no longer at court," Templetun interrupted solemnly. "He has gone to Chinon to see young Henry and remove some of the members of his court."

Helen and Nell exchanged startled glances at mention of the king's son. It was Helen who murmured uncertainly, "Remove some of his court?"

"Mmmm." Templetun's face was full of displeasure. "Aye. Henry wishes to arrange a marriage between the daughter of the Count of Maurienne and young John. The count seems interested, but wants to be sure John has prospects first. The king offered to invest him with the castles Loudon, Mirebeau and Chinon, but young Henry objects. He will only concede to this if his father allows him to rule either England, Normandy or Anjou in his own right."




 

 

"He wants more power." Nell sighed with disgust.

"Aye." Templetun nodded his head solemnly. "It was a mistake for the king to crown his son while he himself yet lives. The boy wants the power that goes with the title."

"But what has that to do with removing some of his court?" Nell asked impatiently.

"Ah, well, the king first thought to take Henry into custody as a warning, but he believes some of young Henry's courtiers are sparking these ideas in him and hopes that after the removal of their influence, his oldest son will settle down." He spoke candidly, then, seeming to realize that he was gossiping, frowned and changed the subject back to the matter at hand. "In any case, seeing him would make no difference. His mind was made up. He feels that you, Lady Helen, and Lord Holden should work your problems out between yourselves, and he wishes the wedding to take place at once. I am to see to it."

Helen lowered her head, her gaze landing on the scroll her aunt still held, proof of King Henry's intent in the matter. It had been written plainly in the message, but for a moment her aunt's words had given her hope. If she could but talk to the king, throw herself on his mercy-

Movement and a rustling just beyond her right shoulder drew Helen from her thoughts. Peering back, she spied Ducky. The maid was wringing her hands, grief and fear both twisting her face as she stared at her mistress. Obviously, the woman had heard enough to know what the message ordered, and she was no less horrified by the missive than her mistress. Straightening, Helen forced a reassuring smile to her face for the servant's benefit, then glanced around with a start when her aunt-the sweetest, gentlest of ladies-suddenly bellowed like the veriest fishmonger.

"Where the Devil did he get an asinine idea like this?"

Helen spared a moment to gape at her aunt briefly, then turned to hear Lord Templetun's answer. He did not appear eager to give it. In fact, he was looking quite reluctant. Guilty. The old man was nearly squirming in his seat with his discomfort. Helen was just starting to get the oddest inkling when her aunt suddenly spoke that suspicion aloud.

"You!"

Templetun froze abruptly, the expression on his face not unlike that of a child startled while raiding the pantry.

"It was you," Helen breathed in horror, unsure whether to ask why or simply go for the man's throat. Before she could do either, Templetun was on his feet and easing around the far end of the table.

"Well, I should be getting on now. The king doesn't like dawdling, and, while it is not a long ride to Holden, the day is waning and travel is so much more uncomfortable at night, is it not?"

The question was rhetorical, Helen was sure. At least, the man didn't appear to intend to stick around for the answer. He was sidling eagerly toward the main door now, moving fast, and talking faster still. She wished he'd choked on the food she had served him. 

"I have been informed that Lord Holden is presently on his way home from performing a task for the king," he continued as Helen's aunt began to follow him slowly across the floor, eyes narrowed and furious. "So you will have plenty of time to prepare the celebratory feast. I would guess you should plan it for next week's end. That should be about right. I will send a messenger ahead, of course, so that you can see to any last-minute details." The last was said as he slid through the door.