Chapter 257: I Have Done Nothing
"I have done nothing, Stephen." Lionel said.
"I believe you." Stephen’s posture changed. "The king approaches."
Both men turned at once and stood to attention. Henry crossed the courtyard, dressed for travel, cloak dark, gloves in one hand.
"Lionel."
"Sire."
"The Lord Chancellor will preside over the council in my absence," Henry said. "Geoffrey has the seals and written instructions. He will act as Keeper of the Realm until I return. You know what to do."
Lionel bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Make sure my mother knows nothing of Madeleine," Henry said.
"The men stationed at the holding chamber are not permitted to leave their posts, Your Majesty. Food is passed through trusted hands."
Henry glanced over his shoulder. Livia stood several paces away near the archway, Tabitha behind her like a small, severe storm cloud in human form. He had to turn back to Lionel before he did something unforgivably public. "Lionel," he said quietly.
Lionel understood. "With my life," Lionel said but he was actually responding to Stephen’s earlier question.
Henry placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Safe journey, Your Majesty," Lionel said.
Henry turned to Stephen. "Shall we?"
"I am always ready."
Henry began walking towards his horse. The animal stamped once against the cobbles, impatient to leave. He reached the horse and set one hand on the saddle.
Then he looked back. Livia was still there. She lifted one hand in a small farewell.
Stephen came to stand beside him. "My lord. All of Whitehall already knows who she is. You know you want to. You might as well give them gossip enough to occupy themselves in your absence."
Henry stared at him. "You think you know me so well, do you? Did you know I plan to throw you overboard once we reach the sea?"
Stephen smiled faintly. "I would say you love me too much."
"Son of a bitch."
Stephen’s smile widened by the smallest, most intolerable amount. He was right, of course. Henry looked back at Livia.
If he rode away like this, with only a distant nod and a polite hand raised between them, it would not be enough.
He released the saddle, turned and walked back towards Livia. He walked with steady steps. Livia saw him coming.
Confusion appeared on her face first. A slight parting of her lips. A question in her eyes. Had he forgotten something?
Henry held her gaze. The whole damned courtyard could watch.
Let them.
Livia took a couple steps forward then hesitated. Why the hell would she not meet him halfway, the damned woman?
As soon as Henry reached her, he pulled her into his arms. Livia made one startled sound before his mouth covered hers.
Henry kissed her with the frustration of leaving, the fury of loving, and the crude satisfaction of ensuring every soul present understood precisely who she was to him.
His.
Livia’s fingers caught at his cloak. Her mouth softened under his. That would have to carry him through France.
A poor provision, but better than none. He drew away before he embarrassed them both beyond repair. Though, considering the way one groom had suddenly become fascinated by the scene, repair had likely been abandoned already.
Livia stared at him. "What was that for?"
"A reminder," Henry said, "that when I return, you will marry me."
"You have not won the wager yet."
"Something tells me I do not need to." Henry turned and walked back to his horse feeling every stare in the courtyard gather around him. Stephen’s face was carefully blank, which meant he was amused beyond endurance. "Shut up," He said as he mounted.
Stephen gave a small bow in Livia’s direction from afar, pointed enough to suggest he approved of the whole display. Then he mounted his own horse.
Henry gathered the reins and rode out.
*****
Bella wondered what the Queen Mother wanted with her. A summons from Her Grace was a hook.
As Bella made her way through the quieter passages towards Theodora’s apartments, she tried to arrange her face.
Had Theodora heard something of Madeleine? Perhaps Her Grace had begun digging. Perhaps she suspected Bella knew more than she should.
That would be unfortunate.
When she reached the Queen Mother’s apartments, the guards admitted her without delay. A silver tray sat untouched on a side table, and the usual women who hovered around Her Grace were absent.
"Your Grace?" she called.
Theodora’s voice drifted from within. "Bella. Over here."
Bella crossed towards the inner chamber. Before she entered fully, she heard a faint cough. Even illness sounded suspicious on Theodora. Bella stepped inside and found Her Grace in bed, propped against pillows, a coverlet drawn up beneath her arms. Her face looked pale. A linen cloth rested near her hand, and a cup of some dark draught sat beside the bed.
"Your Grace," Bella said carefully, dipping into a curtsy. "Are you unwell?"
Theodora gave a weary smile. "I shall be fine...A little weakness. Nothing more."
"Should I send for the physician?"
"No."
Bella lowered her eyes. "As you wish."
Theodora adjusted herself against the pillows, then gave another soft cough into the linen. "I needed your help with something."
"Of course, Your Grace."
Theodora turned her head on the pillow, watching her with pale, clever eyes. Ill or not, the woman had lost none of her venom. "I am too sick to go to mass tomorrow...I need you to go on my behalf and give a message to the archbishop."
"Yes, Your Grace," Bella said.
"You must remain through the entire mass," Her Grace said.
Bella lowered her eyes. "As you wish, Your Grace."
"And afterwards, you will wait for the Archbishop’s reply. You may take a companion," Theodora added, "if you think you will be bored."
How generous, Bella thought.
Aloud, she said, "That is kind of Your Grace."
Theodora coughed again into the linen cloth. "Have my woman bring my herbs."
"Of course."
"The winter damp has entered my bones early this year. Whenever the weather turns, I feel dreadful."