Page 7 of The Silent Songbird

Richard stared at her for a moment. “Everyone leave us. I will speak with my childhood friend.”

The others shuffled out the door as she locked gazes with the king. Finally, all were gone except for two guards who stood discreetly in the corners.

“Now, what is it, Evangeline? You must have something important to say.” The warning in his voice was unmistakable.“But before you say anything, I want you to understand that it is quite an honor toyouthat I have granted Lord Shiveley permission to marry you.”

“Yes, he has made it clear that I am fortunate to be marrying him, since I am only an illegitimate daughter of the king’s dead uncle.”

“Who left you without any fortune.”

So this was the king’s attitude toward her. She needed to be strong, to stand up in dignity to him, even if he thought her selfish. Crying would only confirm to him that she was but a weak female. She bit the inside of her mouth.

“It is true, I have no fortune.” She carefully considered what she would say. “But you do not resent allowing me to live here, do you? I have not cost you much, have I? All I ask is that you not force me to marry Lord Shiveley just yet. Delay the wedding.” It was all she could possibly hope for.

“What is the matter, Evangeline? You are of age. Seventeen is quite old enough for marriage.”

“But I do not wish to marry Lord Shiveley.” Her voice sounded so desperate, surely Richard would take pity on her.

“My dear,” he said after a short pause, “marriage is nothing to be afraid of. And none of us marry who we wish to or whom we have fallen in love with. Love before marriage is for peasants, a foolish notion invented by poets and minstrels. I was fifteen years old, as was Anne, when we married. Two and a half years later, our marriage is as peaceful and pleasant as anyone could wish. I have no doubt that you and Shiveley will be the same.”

This was as she had feared. The king not only would not come to her aid and postpone the marriage—during which Evangeline hoped something might happen to prevent it—but he thought she was selfish and unreasonable for not accepting his will.

“As a king, my situation is always precarious. I must take care to make alliances with the most powerful people I can to preserve our country’s well-being, not to mention my own. I married the woman I believed would bring me the most powerful and influential allies in England’s struggles against her enemies. And I have my own personal enemies, Evangeline, of which you could know nothing. You are safe here at Berkhamsted Castle, while I am the object of hatred for some, not the least of which is the Duke of Templeton, who is even now trying to turn the opinion of the nobility and parliament against me. He would have me deposed and would set up his own puppet in my place. Even though I despise Templeton and he would stab me through the heart if he could, I would gladly marry off my daughter, if I had one, to his son, simply to ensure that he would not someday put that knife through my heart, either literally or politically.”

The king sighed. He shook his head. “As I told you, no one marries for love except peasants or perhaps a merchant or landowner who has no political enemies. But you are the king’s close cousin, the granddaughter of a king, and therefore . . . Shiveley is a good man, you will see. Steady and reliable, he is everything you could want in a husband.”

“I am very grateful for your kindness, I am sure,” she murmured, hoping he would stop talking. But if he stopped talking and sent her away, where could she go except to join Lord Shiveley in the Great Hall for the feast?

“You are pleased, then, with marriage?” Evangeline said the first thing that popped in her head. “What I mean is, marriage is something I have never been near enough to observe. I am very close to Muriel, as we are together every day. I imagine marriage is similar to that—a close sort of depending upon each other. And yet I had hoped marriage could be . . . romantic.”

Richard’s gaze wandered to the ceiling for a moment as though he was thinking. “You have made a good description of it, a close sort of depending upon each other. Muriel is your companion, more than a servant, but marriage is nothing like the relationship between a servant and master. Or it should not be. It is a bit like two souls becoming connected, a stronger bond, even, than friendship or family. You shall understand the mystery I speak of, my dear, once you and Shiveley have been married for a few months.”

Hearing him describe that type of bond was beginning to stir a longing inside her—until he mentioned Shiveley. She had no wish to have that sort of bond with him. In fact, the very thought made her sick in her stomach.

Should she try to convince the king that Lord Shiveley was not as virtuous, perhaps, as he thought? That she sensed an ugliness of character to match his less-than-handsome face? That the thought of kissing the man and becoming his wife made her fear she might never be able to eat again?

“Perhaps I will come with you to the Great Hall after all,” the king said. “I am feeling more rested now.”

“Very good.” Evangeline let out a relieved breath. At least she would not be alone with Shiveley.

They walked down the keep steps to the Great Hall where all the guests were waiting. Lord Shiveley’s eyes widened when he saw the king, and he shifted his feet as Evangeline and Richard approached.

“I thought you would eat in your room, Your Majesty.” Shiveley stood, waiting for the king to be seated at the end of the table.

“I changed my mind.”

They sat at the long table with a few other lords and advisors who had traveled with the king, as well as several knights at a separate table.

Evangeline settled herself a few seats away from Richard, allowing some of the earls and barons to sit between her and their monarch, on the opposite side of the table from Lord Shiveley.

The king caught her eye and motioned to her. “I insist you sit beside your future husband. Come, over here.”

Everyone turned to see to whom the king was motioning.

She tried to think of an excuse. Finally, she had no choice but to stand and move to the other side of the table. With as much dignity as she could muster, she sat primly beside Lord Shiveley.

King Richard introduced Evangeline to the nearby guests as Lionel of Antwerp’s daughter and the soon-to-be wife of Lord Shiveley. Evangeline barely heard the guests’ names as she acknowledged each of them with a nod.

The food began arriving, and thankfully Lord Shiveley and the king were listening to an earl tell about his hunt for a deer earlier that afternoon. She talked with the woman next to her—the only other woman at the table—about her journey. The woman was the wife of one of the courtiers, a baron, and they were traveling with the king but would be separating from his retinue soon to go to their home in Derbyshire.