Bruce Trilogy - 01 - The Crown in the Heather by N. Gemini Sasson

Author:N. Gemini Sasson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 0982715803
Published: 2010-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

*****

King and queen were first to retire as the sun slipped behind the treetops, but I lingered and caught up with Piers at the foot of the old motte tower. I parted him from friends and led him by the sleeve toward the shade of the sprawling oak halfway up the hillside. He climbed the steep slope beside me with his chin forward, the lips of his fine mouth unbending. As ever, he was resplendent in his white-plumed hat with an upturned brim, an ermine trimmed gown split down the sides that swept the ground and his bicolored hose of red and gold.

“The tournament was bland as bean pottage without you in it, Brother Perrot,” I said, trying to curry favor with him. “You would have won against Bruce ten times over.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to me. “I heard the news.”

“News?”

“That you are to be plighted to Isabella of Valois. They say she is beyond beautiful.”

I laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “She is to be my consort. To bear me sons. A union devised purely for political convenience and posterity. Nothing more.”

Piers turned his face aside and fell silent as a small group of twittering ladies passed by.

“Besides,” I added, desperate to salve his wounds, “she is several years too young yet to... She is a little girl still.”

He shook his head and I saw the glint of a tear in the corner of his eye. “You will forget me.”

“How could I ever? You will become dearer and more important to me with every year.”

“You say now.”

“And I will prove it. You’ll see. Lands, office, titles – I will hold nothing from you that, in your devotion, you have not shown yourself worthy of.”

He looked down. His mouth twisted with worry. “But you? Will I have you?”

“Do you doubt? You have me now, don’t you?”

“And Ponthieu? Nothing would mean more to me than the fief of Ponthieu.”

“I would give you the sun if it would not burn my hand to reach for it.”

His fingers crept up and closed around mine. He stroked my hand and smiled, satisfied.

“You’re right. I would have won. Bashed the Scotsman’s bloody skull in.”

In that moment he was all to me: shining and tender. I would have stood against an entire army to keep him at my side. He tugged my hand, then let it drop as he went toward the great oak that clung with fierce stubbornness to the hillside.

“Shall we hunt tomorrow, Edward? Just... you and I. Leave Gilbert and the others behind.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid.” I hung my head and scraped at the earth with the pointed toe of my shoe. “The king and I are to leave within a fortnight for the north. Parliament has approved the funds, although they quibbled terribly over it. Nasty lot of cantankerous old men, more concerned with their wine cellars and rabbit warrens than anything. Neville recently routed Comyn from Selkirk Forest, but not without losses, and so my father is bent on revenge.”

“I see.

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