The Black Prince's Offer

The Offer

Although Christine's reputation for being a beauty was known throughout the lands, Henry first set eyes on Christine when he entered the great hall. The room was lit by a large fire on a massive hearth, and a dozen hanging candelabra. The air was a heady mix of smoke, roasted meats and sweet pastries but Prince Henry was far more interested in another kind of delicacy.

Christine was every bit as beautiful as he had hoped. She was smaller and looked a little younger than he expected for a woman of eighteen, but that only added to her appeal. Her fulsome cheeks and clean smile enhanced her youthful innocence and so petite that while she sat by her father's side, her silk shoes didn't touch the straw-covered floor great hall. She was perfect.

Henry felt his loins warm, and his cock come alive. He wanted Christine bad. He could think of no better way to punish Bartholome and make clear how things were going to be than to **** him to offer his innocent daughter's hand and subject her to his rule. To add to his excitement was the knowledge that this delicate cherub was the beloved sister of that sanctimonious prick Godfrey. He hoped that even in **** Sir Godfrey would be able to look down and see him defiling the tasty little tart and hear her squeals of pain as her claimed her maidenhead.

The table was thirty feet long, the length of the ancient oak it came from. Bartholomew sat on one side, with his daughter at his side and flanked by his trusted advisors. On the opposite were Henry, the Archbishop and Prince's high-ranking men at arms. Henry wasted no time in formalities before lifting his voice so all could hear.

"Baron Bartholomew, the church has approved my ascension to the throne."

"It was obvious as soon as I saw the archbishop in your company." The baron's tone was cool, but respectful as ever and Henry continued boldly.

"I thought it wise to come and visit you because I know if there was to be a problem it would arise from here. These very walls."

Bartholomew tried to sound surprised. "And why is that?"

"Godfrey, your son, was favourite to succeed the King. And I'm no fool, I know this would then lead to your desires for the throne. But you must believe me when I tell you that I come in peace."

"I trust you, only when you prove to rule fair and just."

Henry fidgeted. The lack of trust hurt him. "Of course. I want to build a new relationship with you. This will be built on trust and honour. "

"You must be a changed man then." Henry stared at Bartholomew coolly.

"Why?"

"A petty man might think you had come to rub salt into my wounds."

The Black Prince had intended to be patient with his father's long-time advisor as he desired his support as much as his daughter. It would be less costly to do it the right way. However, Henry had had enough of Bartholomew's barbed words. "Baron Gerard, watch your tone. I know we fell out in Rennes. But I was a young man then. We have all made mistakes."

"Kingship is a difficult role. Who will be your court?"

"Well. That one reason for my visit."

"Good." Bartholomew felt a glimmer of hope. "Yes, I am old but I can offer my many years of wisdom while you settle into your role. As long as you're willing to listen to me, that is."

Henry perked up. Not all was lost, with the open support of both the Church and House Gerard, few would challenge his claim to the throne. "I will reinstate you as Marshal of the army. But in return, I ask for your daughter. Every king needs his queen." He let his eyes settle on the Baron's daughter. "Christine is reputedly pure as pure can be. It is true, she's still a virgin?" Prince Henry sensed her sharp look of displeasure, but he had seen this type of pride in other noblewomen, and he knew just how to tame the little minx.

"Of course she is." Bartholomew spluttered indignantly but then quickly added a caveat. "But my daughter is not ready for marriage yet."

"Forgive me for being forward," Henry countered easily with another careful look at his intended bride, "but she clearly is. I'm no fool. Look at those succulent breasts. They're those of a woman in her prime." Christine was unaccustomed to having her attribute so brazenly detailed. Especially not at the great table before scores of men, she tried to find the right words to express her displeasure, but her father spoke for her.

"Where is that respect you talk about?" Bartholomew snapped. "When I say she is not ready, I mean it." Prince Henry smiled, pleased at how easily he had goaded the old man into anger.

"I know you have a weak claim on the crown yourself, Baron Bartholomew." He paused to take a drink of wine before leaning in and lowering his voice, "but being a father to a Queen is nothing to be too sad about, hey Bart?"

"I'm not prepared to discuss this any further." Henry could see that Bartholomew was unlikely to be persuaded this way, so like a skilled warrior, he tried a different tactic.

His fist slamming onto the table silenced the room. "You've always refused me. Castigated me. Hated me."

"Hate is a strong word." Instead of responding to his anger, Baron Gerard met his eyes without blinking. "Sit down your Highness, this behavior is not helping your cause."

Henry breathed a loud sigh to curb his anger. "But you have also misunderstood me. I come not in lust. But love."

"Love?"

"Why? Her beauty is famous. Look at her. Christine is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." Henry turned and smiled at Christine. But she gazed down at her plate and refused to meet his eyes.

"Now is not the time."

Christine muttered. "It never will be."

Henry stared coldly at Bartholomew "You better educate your daughter that It's not wise to refuse the future King."

Bartholomew needed to defuse the situation. It was becoming dangerous. "You're right. It is not. And for that reason, it will be discussed further in future. But not tonight. I have a lot to digest, the **** of a King, my dying wife. Let's drink in their honour as well as your kingship." Bartholomew rose to his feet. "To the late King. And the future King Henry."

Henry stood. Then raised his goblet. His smile was convincing and hid his dark intentions. He had already made his decision. Made up his mind. "Let's toast, gentleman."

Christine sensed the tension in the air. It was thick and suffocating. She met Henry's expressionless gaze for a second. In spite of Prince Henry's thin smile and diplomatic words, his eyes were as cold and dark as those of a snake. When he saw her watching him, his carefully masked expression broke for moment, and she saw the raw hunger and hate beneath the veneer. The Bastard Prince reminded Christine of an illustration of the Devil in her father's bible.

That look scared her, it scared her to the core.

For this reason, Christine avoided eye contact with Henry and his entourage for the rest of the night.

And she fled to the stairs.

At the landing Christine was glad to see that her trusted guards were as alert as ever and protected the sleeping quarters in the keep. Inside her chambers, Mariangel was waiting to help her change for the night. The bubbly young lady-in-waiting wanted to hear all about the great feast as she helped her into her nightwear, but Christine was in no mood to chat. Her blonde maid curtseyed and left her in her room when Erik arrived shortly after. Erik would be sharing her room as Erik's was taken by the prince, so Mariangel would have to share a bed in the servant's quarters. Her brother had followed her up to the sleeping quarters and it was comforting to see how quickly he drifted into sleep on the hastily prepped bed in the corner under her window.

~

It was a hot summer night and it had been a busy day, but Christine did not sleep. She even briefly considered the small dark vial of sleeping drops that Erik took each night with wine to help him relax. She dismissed the idea quickly, she was more than tired enough to sleep, she was just wound up. Her mind was a whirl of emotions and anger. She was annoyed that her father had not outright refused Henry her hand. To her mind, he should have tried much harder to protect her from the coarse proposal. The open end to the discussion riled her.

Then there was a commotion outside.

The still of the night was often broken by a drunken dispute or a messenger at the gates. But this somehow sounded different. There was shouting. Lots of shouting from confused men. Then came the screams and the clashing of steel on steel. Horses' neighs and whinnies and the blare of trumpets completely shattering the peace of the night.

The sound of killing. Her brother, Erik, was still groggy from the apothecary’s drops, but the clash of steel outside their room was enough to send him scuttling first to the window overlooking the courtyard and then to the door.

Christine felt scared and pulled the sheets up to her neck. Erik ran to his sister's bed. He didn't say anything as he got under the sheets and snuggled into her side.

"Erik, what's going on outside?"

"Fighting. I can't see who it is. But I could hear father’s men at arms running down to the hall. We must be under attack."

"Of course we are. But who is it?"

"I haven't a magic ball." Erik was as nervous as she was, and just as scared too. “What do we do?"

Christine felt like the little girl she was. "We should wait for father to come."

Who gets to the bedroom first?

1) Bartholomew

2) The Black Prince