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James hesitated, but Cuthbert came to his rescue.

“You can measure a man in spirit, sire, and in his heart,” he said with quiet conviction.

“If Renlow is competing, then you may be sure he will give his all to any tournament, big or small. Moreover, he knows no fear, no doubts, and no hesitation. That is an opponent you should never take lightly. On the right day, he has beaten every knight in the kingdom.”

Prince Raedan frowned. “Even Vawdrey?”

“Even the King’s champion.”

“Even Kentigern?”

“Name any knight of the realm, my prince,” Cuthbert offered with a smile. “My answer remains the same.”

Hal frowned. “On the right day, ’tis true,” he conceded. “But overall...” His words trailed off as he noticed the prince sitting up straight.

“They call my father the lion of all Karadok,” Prince Raedan said, and there was an uncomfortable stirring in the stand, for Wymer was certainly not a large man. Cuthbert looked pointedly at James, as if prompting him to speak again.

“They do, Your Highness,” James agreed. “And with good reason. Your father is fierce in battle and a formidable foe. Moreover, he is a good judge of men. He puts his faith in the best and does not flinch from hard decisions.”

Raedan nodded, clearly not displeased by this description. He looked out over the field in quiet contemplation. After a moment he said quietly, “I should like to meet Sir Renlow d’Avenant.”

“That can certainly be arranged, Highness,” Gunnilde said, giving her father a significant look. “Sir Renlow will be attending tonight’s feast. We can have him seated at the high table with us.”

“You have my gratitude, Lady Wycliffe,” Prince Raedan said, and relaxed again.

Gunnilde’s father passed a hand over his sweaty brow. “I can look to you to arrange this thing, daughter?” he asked hoarsely. She could see he was already panicking about whereabouts on the table this new addition should be placed.

“Of course, Father, do not worry yourself. It can be most easily arranged.”

“So...Sir Renlow dines with princes as well as thieves and murderers,” James murmured under his breath. He had a faraway look in his eye that Gunnilde had come to know well.

“You’re going to write a piece of music about him, aren’t you?” she whispered excitedly, squeezing his arm.

“Perhaps,” James muttered, but Gunnilde could already tell it would be so.

“And you can name it after his family motto,” she said with satisfaction. “ If I breathe, then I strive . I expect the King will like it very much.”

Funnily enough, she and James had lately become great favorites of the King, more so than the Queen. They were often sat with Earl and Countess Vawdrey at functions to denote this fact and seated on the King’s half of the table.

Since Gunnilde had accepted her place among the rank and file of the Queen’s ladies, she had found herself becoming fast friends with Emma Thackeray, a country-bred girl like herself, and Patience Stanhope, whose position as Hal’s beloved had been as short-lived as all the others.

Now Gunnilde was no longer vying for top spot with Mistress Bartree, that lady, too, had softened toward her and showed her a consideration she did not afford the other ladies-in-waiting. Gunnilde was now permitted to fold the Queen’s underclothes on occasion and even tidy them away.

Hal had fallen in love with practically every lady-in-waiting in the palace by the time the Solstice celebrations were over, and he had left court to resume his duties as a squire.

Fortunately, he seemed to remain on friendly terms with all of them, and at the award ceremony for the Squires’ Revels, he had been afforded the loudest cheer.

At the subsequent feast, he had been proudly accompanied by the elderly Ashdown sisters, one on each arm.

Neville and Harriet had become betrothed in the spring with very little interference from Gunnilde.

It was true, she had needed to pave the way with Lady Portstanley a little, and she had achieved this by inviting her to supper parties with the likes of Earl and Countess Vawdrey and Lord and Lady Schaeffer to show off their superior connections.

In truth, she and Lady Schaeffer had bonded over their mutual love of fashion, and they now vied with one another to obtain the tallest steeple hennins and the most elaborate veils at court.

Whenever Gunnilde triumphed, Hester Schaeffer pouted and declared it was because she was “thick as thieves with that wicked creature Bardulf and privy to the latest news from overseas.”

James had so far written two of the pieces the Queen had requested.

One about the de Crecys called “Undone by Love’s Cruel Arrow” and one inspired by an incident concerning the Kentigerns called “The Spurning of Love and Beauty.” The Queen had been highly delighted with both, though the subjects of the music had seemed rather less thrilled.

Strange to say, Lady de Crecy had been more offended than Sir Jeffree, declaring it “a great impertinence.” When it had proved a huge success at court, the de Crecys had finally consented to attend a performance and Sir Jeffree had wound up liking it so much he had paid for Masters Billingsley and Chamberlain to travel all the way to Ganfordshire and perform it at his uncle’s prestigious seat, Ganford Chase.

As for Lord Kentigern, he had turned quite purple with rage and looked set to cause an ugly scene until his wife had graciously declared herself charmed with the music.

Baroness Kentigern claimed she had been quite jealous that her sister-in-law Mistress Bartree should have such a beautiful piece of music dedicated to her, and now she, too, had one, she was vastly content.

Gunnilde had been most impressed with the way she had handled her infuriated spouse.

Shortly after, a grumpy Lord Kentigern had requested a private meeting with James.

At this, he had demanded James write a companion piece called “The Acceptance of Love and Beauty,” which James had promised to do, finally mollifying the warlike Kentigern.

After this, James had lost his enthusiasm for completing the Queen’s collection, declaring they gave him nothing but headaches and strife in the aftermath.

Instead, he had turned his attention to private commissions taking advantage of their popularity at court, for “who knew how long it would last.” Gunnilde did not find herself too worried about this, personally.

James’s private commissions had proved so lucrative that he had suggested they buy Master Gregory’s townhouse from him, so that the impoverished musician and his daughter might have access to some ready monies without having to worry about a roof over their heads for the foreseeable future.

This suggestion had gone down very well indeed, and Justina had insisted they had the largest of the bedrooms allocated for their use “whenever they might get sick of that palace” or have friends come to Aphrany and need a place for them to stay.

In addition to this, she and James intended to look for a summer place in Caer Lyoness so they could also escape from the summer court when the need arose. They made many plans for traveling around the countryside over wherever their fancy might take them.

They were finally visiting Wycliffe Hall in June after several months of frosty communications, where James had told his mother unequivocally that she held no sway over his marriage.

After hearing various favorable reports from her acquaintances at court, including her niece Lady Gilchrist, his mother had started to thaw and write much friendlier missives.

Finally, she had enclosed a note to her daughter-in-law graciously welcoming her into the family and stating they looked forward to receiving her at Wycliffe Hall when court returned to Caer Lyoness.

Gunnilde was not deceived but assured James she was more than equal to dealing with his mother on the occasions where they would meet.

“Fie! For shame!” bellowed an enthusiastic spectator from the crowd below.

“I do not think the crowd approves of Sir Maurice taking the win,” James observed wryly.

“Whoever beats him in the next round will receive a hero’s welcome,” Gunnilde predicted.

“Are any of your old friends the Conways here today?” James asked, placing a hand at her middle back. “I never thought to ask. Old neighbors of your father’s, aren’t they?”

“Only old Lady Conway now. She is coming to tonight’s feast, for Father said she hinted quite shamefully until he extended her an invite. She is quite desperate to see if you are as handsome as her daughter described you, or at least that is what Bess says.”

“Thought me handsome, did she?” James asked mildly.

“Of course! Muriel has eyes in her head, whatever else her shortcomings.”

“Well, so long as I do not need to guard you against Sir Arthur, I will make no complaint to his mother ogling me.”

Gunnilde laughed. “She probably will stare but you must be used to such things by now. And when we get back to court, we must look into getting your portrait done, James.”

“Why, so it can be hung in the long gallery and everyone else can ogle me?” He did not sound amused.

“It is only fitting that you should have one,” she responded sternly. “Now you are officially appointed as royal musician, I mean. Besides, you once promised me a miniature, and it is practically the same thing.”

“I’m not having one done unless you do too,” he responded immediately. “One for my own personal enjoyment.”

“Oh, yes?”

“You must be horned for it and wearing a flaunting gown,” he said with relish. “Perhaps a new one with lots of slashes and open sides. I see it quite clearly in my mind’s eye.” His hand slid up and down her back.

The crowd cheered and Gunnilde realized two new combatants had entered the field, but she could not bring herself to look away from her husband’s warm gaze. She cleared her throat. “Now you are just trying to bribe me, husband, for you know I never can resist a new gown.”

“I do like buying you gowns,” he admitted.

“And new shoes. And new stockings. In fact, everything you led me to expect from a frugal husband turned out to be entirely false,” she pointed out lightly.

He smiled. “Oh, I am not remotely sensible where you are concerned, wife. Now bestow on me a kiss. It would be a kindness.”

Gunnilde leaned forward and planted an obliging kiss to his lips before drawing swiftly back. James still looked so startled whenever she did such things, it never failed to make her laugh.

“I expected to have to convince you,” he protested when she succumbed to mirth.

“You should know by now that I am never reluctant to kiss you. Did I not boldly kiss you at our wedding feast, immediately securing your love?”

“You did,” he agreed in a low voice. “But do not try to evade me now, come close again.”

Gunnilde shook her head. “We must concentrate our attention on the field,” she said primly. “Everyone else is paying close attention but we two.”

“Did you see who is listed for the next bout but one?”

“No, who?”

“Sir Douglas.”

“Ah yes.” Gunnilde sobered. “I did see his name on one of Father’s lists. He has not brought Constance along with him though. A shame.”

“You think so?”

“Her heart might soften if she were to see him compete.”

“From what I hear, it is not her heart that needs softening.”

“You mean, Sir Douglas now holds her at arm’s length?”

James shrugged. “So the rumor says.”

“Poor Constance,” Gunnilde sighed.

“She was extremely lucky the annulment did not go through. He wanted it to, you know.”

“I know. But I think that was a matter of hurt pride.” He shrugged but said nothing, his eyes still on the competitors.

Gunnilde found she was the one who could not concentrate on the tourney now.

“Maybe you should write them a piece of music?” she suggested.

“‘The Failed Annulment,’ something like that?”

He winced. “Gods no, do not forget how close we came to finding ourselves dragged into that whole mess!”

She took his hand between her own and patted it reassuringly. “I know, but all that is now passed. We are one of the most celebrated couples at court, you and I.”

He relaxed at her words and closed his fingers around her own. “True, and rightly so. Did I tell you I have a surprise for you? It’s packed away in my trunk. I shall retrieve it for you later.”

“Another present? James, you shouldn’t have!”

“It’s nothing that you wear,” he told her. “You will never guess. Shall I give you a clue?” She nodded and he traced a fingertip over her wedding ring.

“But you wear jewelry,” she pointed out.

“Think of the inscription,” he hinted.

“To my beautiful rose from your undeserving worm?”

He laughed, “Precisely.”

“What is it?” She hesitated, glancing around and lowering her voice. “Not...lewd poetry?”

He nodded. “From Master Shadbolt’s own pen.”

“James, you did not pay him to write me a poem!”

“I did. I had to. I mean to court you in all the ways I never got to during our nonexistent courtship.”

“Really?” He nodded. She gnawed her lip. “I hope it is still about the rose and the worm, or I will not be able to make out its meaning at all.”

His smile broadened. “You can hardly mistake it, my love. This time, I told him to make it more appreciative and less punitive in tone, but the metaphor remains the same.”

“So, it is about a happy worm and a beauteous rose living together in perfect harmony?” she ventured.

“It is about an ecstatic worm and his most remarkable rose, living together blissfully forever and ever,” he assured her.

“Well, that does not sound so bad,” she admitted, snuggling into his side.

“Bad?” His arm closed around her, drawing her close. “It is the most wonderful thing in the world.”

THE END

I do hope you enjoyed this story.