For the King's Favor by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online Page B

seed had not taken root. Bertrice, who was knowledgeable about such things, told her to rinse her woman’s passage in vinegar before she went to Henry because it discouraged conception. Ida knew that preventing pregnancy was a sin but in fornicating with the King she was already beyond a state of grace and the notion of quickening with a child filled her with fear and shame.
    At first she was wary about leaving her chamber, thinking that everyone would be staring at her with the word “whore” on their lips, but the attention she received although speculative was mostly sympathetic. A few glances were admiring; occasionally there was pity. The King’s officials treated her with deference. If there were smacked lips and knowing gestures, no one did so to her face or in her presence. She was the King’s mistress; she wore his ring on her finger, his ermine at her throat, and, as Henry had said, his interest in her was a bright halo of protection.
    More gifts from Henry came her way. Rich cloth for gowns, dainty gilded shoes, hose of the sheerest silk, ribbons, rings, and brooches. Henry liked to have her sit in his chamber of an evening, where she would embroider, or weave braid on her small loom, and he would watch her with an indulgent smile. Having something on which to focus, something she could do well, helped Ida to overcome her anxiety, and Henry seemed to find contentment just by having her there as a background comfort. He liked her to massage his shoulders or rub his feet and sing to him. Often she would receive the summons to his chamber and all he would want was the consolation of company and a soft feminine presence that did not demand intellectual concentration. On the occasions he did want to bed her, Ida submitted to his demands, compliant, if not eager. Becoming accustomed to what he expected and what to expect herself, her apprehension diminished. As familiarity grew, she was even a little gratified to feel the power of being the pleasure-giver.
    Ida even began to feel a certain affection for Henry. He had an endearing way of rumpling his hair when he was thinking, and since she frequented his private chamber late at night, she saw the vulnerabilities he did not expose to the court. Some months before taking Ida to his bed, his mistress Rosamund de Clifford had died in childbirth and the baby with her. Henry was reticent on the matter, but from the bleak and painful little that he said, Ida understood that her death had left a hole in the fabric of his life that no one was ever going to fill. She herself was a pale substitute—a faint flicker of warmth to ease the coldness in the void.
    As her position became established, supplicants began offering her bribes to intercede with the King on their behalf and gain his ear. Ida was shocked and astonished the first time a merchant presented her with a length of scarlet silk and asked her to help him build up a clientele among members of the court. Not knowing what to do, but deciding that honesty would serve her best, Ida took the fabric and showed it to Henry, who laughed aloud and, kissing her, told her what a darling she was.
    “Keep the silk,” he chuckled, “and recommend him, because it will make more patronage for you, and you deserve a reward for your freshness and honesty!” Wrapping a coil of her hair around his knuckles, he added, “Whatever you are given, though, always bring it to me and tell me who gave it to you and what they want in exchange. Let me decide what is to be done.”
    Ida nodded, feeling relieved and pleased. She had negotiated her way through a new and difficult situation and, to judge from Henry’s response, had done the right thing.
    In early March, six months after her presentation to Henry, the court settled again at Windsor. On the cusp of spring, winter launched a rearguard assault. A bitter north-easterly wind hurled flurries of sleet against the tightly closed shutters and extra candles had to be lit to banish the