Chapter Nine #2
Cleodora sat on the stool for quite some time, reflecting on how many times she’d remained silent since she’d come to live with the archbishop.
Since he wouldn’t really let her do anything, or go anywhere, she had a good deal of time to sit and contemplate her life.
Truthfully, sometimes she would just sit and think on the times before she came to live with him and the series of events that led her to his door.
It had been such a fluke, such a bad stroke of fate, because she had been in London with her father as he was trying to find the juice of the opium to feed his habit and he could only do that in the larger cities.
She had come because she was taking care of the man because he was such a wreck.
He wouldn’t eat on his own, or bathe, or do anything that normal people did, so she had been forced to tend to him so he could at least function.
When he wanted to come to London, she simply went along so the man wouldn’t kill himself.
She wished every single day of her life that she hadn’t come to London with him on that fateful trip.
That had been the trip when an advisor of King Henry, who had been alive at the time, had seen her in the marketplace with her father.
With her striking platinum hair and ethereal looks, she stood out in a crowd.
She was so beautiful that the man told Henry and somehow they were able to locate Everald as he wallowed in alcohol at a tavern near the marketplace.
That was where the trouble started.
It was all such a whirlwind of an experience, but Henry’s advisor had told Everald that the king would be very interested in bringing his daughter to court.
That was a huge honor for any noblewoman, so Everald was inclined to agree.
Even in his drunken, diminished state, he understood the prestige that would bring his family.
The problem was that the advisor wasn’t completely honest as to why and what she would be doing at court, and Everald believed that his daughter would somehow be serving the queen.
That was not the case.
The Seven Jewels of London were the elite group of courtesans that were used by the king as political pawns with other high-ranking noblemen.
The moment Henry laid eyes on Cleodora, he saw his Pearl, and after much training with a woman named Margit Barkwith, who owned a brothel on Farnham Street in Southwark, the newly trained Pearl was sent to a very powerful prince of the church in the hopes that she would be enough of a gift to make the man more of an ally than the enemy he was trying to be.
It had worked, for a short while, but with Henry’s death and Edward’s absence from England, Cambridge had ideas of his own and Cleodora had ceased to become a peace offering from the crown.
She simply became a possession.
Her father, however, had been another matter.
When Everald realized his daughter was to become a courtesan to high-powered men and not a lady-in-waiting to the queen, he began to protest. It was enough agitation that Cambridge offered him money and narcotics to buy his agreement.
Everald, being a weak and addicted man, accepted the terms.
And that was how Cleodora found herself in the position she was in today, clad in silver and pearls, waiting to be escorted to a royal feast. Her life hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped, but she comforted herself with the fact that most women could say the same thing.
No one ever got what they wanted out of life.
At least, that was what she kept telling herself.
A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts and Filly, who had been in a smaller adjoining chamber, rushed to the panel to open it.
Cambridge, in all of his silks and robes and fine glory, was standing in the doorway.
Ignoring Filly, his gaze immediately found Cleodora, sitting in what looked like a puddle of silver in the middle of the chamber.
He put his hand over his heart.
“My dear,” he said with great sincerity. “Stand up and let me look at you. Let me see how beautiful you are.”
Cleodora stood up, lifting her arms so he could see the wings on her sleeves. Cambridge appeared genuinely smitten, and quite pleased, as he observed her.
“Glorious,” he said. “Walk to the hearth. Let me see how it moves.”
Cleodora did. She walked all the way to the hearth across the long chamber, giving him a full view of the train of the dress and the embroidery on the back.
It truly was a spectacular piece and he’d paid handsomely for it, clearly pleased with what his money had purchased.
She paraded around a little more until he finally bade her sit and she did, back on the stool.
The archbishop even helped smooth out the train so that it wouldn’t wrinkle.
As she sat there and he admired the gown, Cleodora had the distinct impression that she was being inspected like a prize mare.
There was nothing personal about his observations.
She was simply property.
“Now,” he said, grabbing the nearest chair and pulling it in her direction, “I have something to discuss with you.”
“My lord?”
He sat facing her. “Do not be troubled,” he said. “You’ve not done anything wrong. This is not a rebuke. But there is something troubling me and I must ask you a question.”
Cleodora nodded. “Anything, my lord.”
He pretended to be pained over the mere thought of what he must ask her, but he forced himself to continue.
“My dear, how loyal are you to me?” he asked.
“What I mean to say is… is there any gratitude in your heart for me for what I have done for you over the years? For the home I’ve given you, for the clothing I have paid for? Do you appreciate me for it?”
She seemed surprised by the question. “Of course,” she assured him. “You have been most kind and generous, not only with me, but with my father. It has been an honor serving you, my lord.”
He smiled. “Good lass,” he said. “That is what I want to hear.”
“It is the truth, my lord.”
“And you would do anything I asked of you, out of that loyalty?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Whatever you wish, my lord,” she said. “How may I be of service?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sat back in his chair and seemed to be pondering the reply to her question. As if he were wrestling with it.
He was making a convincing show of it.
“Would you truly like to know?”
“Of course I would. Please tell me.”
“I would be most grateful if you could return the generosity I have shown you in kind.”
“I would be happy to,” she said. “I always want to show my gratitude for what you’ve done for me.”
“I hope so,” he said sincerely. “Because I am going to ask something very important of you. You can make the greatest difference in my life and help me tremendously.”
“Then tell me what it is I should do and I will do it.”
He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Have you enjoyed your life at Oakington Castle?” he said. “When we are not in London, we live in my bishopric at Oakington and I’ve never been sure if you enjoy it there.”
It was another unusual question, but she nodded. “I enjoy it very much, my lord.”
“We have a great deal of freedom there,” he said.
“My family’s lands stretch through Nottinghamshire and, as a whole, we enjoy a great deal of freedom and revenue.
It is a rich property that provides me with income.
That means it provides you with these beautiful garments and your maids and your horses.
Even the sweets you eat. It gives you this wonderful life that you enjoy.
More than that, it provides your father with what he needs in order to help his… sickness.”
It wasn’t often that they discussed Everald and whenever they did, Cleodora always became suspicious.
She knew what Cambridge did for her father and she further knew that because of it, her father would do anything for the man.
Moreover, he would force Cleodora to do anything for him, too, so at the mention of her father, Cleodora’s guard went up.
“You are most compassionate to help my father with his sickness, my lord,” she said. “I will forever be grateful for it.”
He put up his hand as if to silence her. “I did not say that so you would thank me,” he said. “At least, not with words. Words are empty. But actions will truly convey your gratitude.”
Now they were coming to the meat of the discussion and Cleodora’s guard went up even more. “What would you have me do, my lord?” she said. “How can I show my gratitude for all you’ve done for my father and me?”
He smiled again, but there was no warmth to it. His dark eyes remained dull and hard. “I am glad you are willing to show me how much my generosity has meant,” he said. “The truth, my lady, is that with the king returned to England, everything that helps your father—my properties—is now in danger.”
She cocked her head with concern. “Is that so, my lord?” she said. “I did not realize that.”
He nodded. “Now that Edward has returned, he will be watching everything I do,” he said.
“The man has always been jealous of the Gainsborough fortune. So was his grandfather, John. My own grandfather had a good deal of trouble with John and I fear that now that Edward has returned, that threat has also returned. It threatens my family, my very livelihood, and most of all, the help your father receives. I need you to help me and help your father. I believe you can.”
“How, my lord?”
He sat forward in the chair, his dark eyes fixed on her. “It was quite fortuitous that you made the acquaintance of a king’s knight yesterday,” he said. “What did you say his name was? St. John?”
She nodded. “Aidric St. John.”
“Aidric,” he repeated as if to remind himself. “You have asked what you can do to help me, Cleodora. I shall tell you. I want you to cultivate a friendship with Sir Aidric. Become his friend. If he wants more than friendship, I want you to give it to him. Do you understand me so far?”