The King’s Sister Read Online Free PDF Page A

taught how to conduct himself, but he had not yet been sent to be a page in some noble household, and the heavy significance of the occasion robbed him of any immature confidence that might have been instilled in him by his lady mother. I tried not to sigh. It was not his fault.
    ‘We eat first,’ I explained. ‘The feast is for us.’
    ‘Good.’ His eye brightened a little. ‘I will have some of that …’
    And, served by our steward, he tucked in to a dish of spiced peacock, spoon akimbo in his fist, as if he had not been fed for a se’enight. I was left to choose my own repast and converse with my uncle of Gloucester on my left, who subjected me to a rambling description of a run after an impressive stag and my uncle’s ultimate success in bringing it down.
    I made suitable noises of appreciation. The minstrels sang of love requited, which was patently ridiculous, but I enjoyed the words and the music. My lord ate through another platter that had caught his eye, of frytourys lumbardstuffed with plums, and then drew patterns in the fair cloth with his knife until his mother caught his eye and frowned at him.
    The toasts were made, and our health was drunk once more.
    Then came the dancing.
    The disparity in our heights made even the simplest steps more complicated as we, the newly wedded couple, led the formal procession that wound around the dancing chamber.
    Think of him as your brother. Imagine it is Henry. You’ve suffered his prancing attempts often enough.
    So I did, relieved that my lord did not caper and skip as Henry was often tempted to do out of wanton mischief. We made, I decided, as seemly a performance as could be expected when the groom had to count the number of steps he took before he bowed and retraced the movement, counting again.
    Holy Virgin!
    No one laughed aloud. They would not dare, but I could not fail to see the smiles. It might be a political marriage made in the chambers of power, but I could detect pity and condescension as amused eyes slid from mine. I kept my own smile firmly in place as if it were the most enjoyable experience in the world. I had too much pride to bear loss of dignity well, but I had strength of will to hold it at bay.
    Returning to our seats, the processing done, the musicians drawing breath and wiping their foreheads, I became aware of the boy’s fierce regard.
    ‘What?’ I asked.
    ‘Will you enjoy being wed to me, Elizabeth?’ he asked,surprising me, his eyes as bright as a hunting spaniel on the scent, and not at all shy.
    ‘I have no idea,’ I replied honestly, immediately regretful as his face fell. ‘I suppose I will. Will you enjoy being wed to me?’
    ‘Yes.’ He beamed with open-hearted pleasure. ‘I have decided. I will like it above all things.’ My brows must have risen. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
    I shook my head, unable to see why a young boy was so vehement in his admiration for our married status when it would mean nothing to him for years to come.
    ‘I will enjoy living here,’ he announced.
    Which surprised me even more.
    ‘Do you not go home with your mother? Or grandmother?’
    ‘No. I am to live here. At Kenilworth.’ His eyes glowed with fervour, his cheeks flushed from the cup of wine with which he had been allowed to toast me in good form. ‘I am to learn to be a knight. I am to join Henry in my studies. I will keep my horse here and I can have as many hounds as I wish. I will learn to kill with my sword. And I will go hunting. I would like a raptor of my own, as well as the parrot …’
    As I smiled at his enthusiasms—for who could resist? —I had to acknowledge this new fact, that I would see him every day. Rather than live apart until he grew into adulthood to become my husband in more than name, we would have to play husband and wife in all matters of day-to-day living. I had understood that I could dispense with his company until at least he had the presence of a man. Living in the same household, we would rub