The King’s Sister Read Online Free PDF

shoulders daily. I wonderedif his enthusiasms for all things with fur or feathers would pall on me.
    ‘… and then I will have a whole stable full of horses,’ he continued to inform me. ‘As Earl of Pembroke it is my right. Do you know that I have been Earl since before I was three years old? I wish to take part in a tournament. Do you suppose they will let me?’
    ‘I think you will have to wait a few years.’
    ‘Well, I quite see that I must. I will be very busy, I expect. You won’t mind if I don’t come and see you every day, will you?’
    ‘I think I can withstand the disappointment.’
    ‘I will find time if you wish, of course. And will you call me Jonty, as my nurse does?’
    He chattered on. How self-absorbed he was. It could be worse. He could have been loud and boorish, which he was not. But I was not sure that I liked the idea of having him under my feet like a pet dog.
    ‘If I cannot yet fight in a tournament, will they let me have one of the brache puppies?’
    I looked across the table to Dame Katherine for succour, but knew I could do that no longer. I was a married woman and must make my own decisions, even though my husband could not.
    The feast and music reaching its apogee, with a flourish and a fanfare the Earl of Pembroke and I were led from the room with minstrels going before in procession, the guests following behind.
    ‘Now where are we going?’ the boy asked, his hand clutching mine. ‘Can I go and see the brache bitch and puppies now?’
    ‘No. We must go first to one of the bedchambers.’
    His brow furrowed. ‘It’s too early to go to bed.’
    ‘But today is special. We are to be blessed.’
    And I prayed it would be soon over.
    The bed was huge, its hangings intimidating in blue and silver, once again festive with Lancaster and Pembroke emblazoning. With no pretence that we would be man and wife in anything but name, the boy and I were helped to sit against the pillows, side by side with a vast expanse of embroidered coverlet between us and no disrobing. Not an inch of extra flesh was revealed as our chaplain approached, bearing his bowl of holy water, and proceeded to sprinkle it over us and the bed.
    ‘We ask God’s blessing on these two young people who represent the great families of England, Lancaster and Pembroke. We pray that they may grow in grace until they are of an age to be truly united in God’s name.’
    There was much more to the same effect until our garments and the bed were all sufficiently doused.
    ‘Monseigneur …’ The chaplain looked to my father for guidance. ‘It is often considered necessary for the bridegroom to touch the bride’s leg with his foot. Flesh against flesh, my lord. As a mark of what will be fulfilled by my lord the Earl when he reaches maturity.’
    I imagined the scene. The boy being divested of his hose, my skirts being lifted to my knees to accommodate the ceremony. My fingers interwove and locked as I prayed that itneed not be. And perhaps the Duke read the rigidity in my limbs.
    ‘I think it will not be necessary. John and Elizabeth are here together. There is no evidence that they seek to escape each other’s company.’
    The guests who had crowded in to witness our enjoyment of our married state smiled and murmured. Everyone seemed to do nothing but smile.
    ‘What do we do now?’ the Earl asked.
    ‘Nothing. Nothing at all,’ my father replied. ‘That will all be for the future.’
    I did not know whether to laugh or weep.
    We stepped down from the bed, on opposite sides. My husband was taken off to his accommodations by his mother, the dowager countess now, who saluted my cheeks and welcomed me as her daughter by law. I returned to my chamber, where Philippa awaited me with my women to help me disrobe.
    Instead, Philippa waved the servants away and we stood and looked at each other.
    ‘Do you know what my husband will be doing as soon as he has removed his wedding finery?’ I asked.
    She shook her head.
    ‘He