Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 122: Pawns

That night, the dinner banquet continued into the small hours. King Kenneth was known as a prolific drinker and insisted the Devon princes keep him company after most other guests had retired.

William had the foresight to slip a coin to one of the servants to ensure at least some of the wine served to him, had been watered down. Rufus, however, foolishly tried to match the king drink for drink, only to find himself horrendously ill after midnight and vomiting in a corner of the hall. Kenneth laughed uproariously at the sight.

William hadn’t been able to walk Camilla back to her apartments but had at least managed to send a message via Meg Vere. He’d warned Camilla to remain vigilant and lock her chamber doors at all times. Sensing Kenneth’s near constant watch on him, there hadn’t been time to whisper more to Meg.

The next morning, William awoke with a blinding headache and almost gagging from thirst. Despite this, he stumbled out of bed and quickly washed and dressed. Before he could make his way to Camilla’s apartments however, his head page whispered that the King of Moraigth was requesting his company for breakfast. Biting down on a string of curses, he reluctantly made his way towards the castle’s eastern wing.

"Let His Majesty know I’m here, at his request." William mumbled to the Moraigthian bodyguard dressed in dark green, posted outside King Kenneth’s apartments. The guard disappeared inside the doors.

"Send the boy in!" A deep voice boomed from inside. William took a moment to steady himself before he faced the man who insisted on treating him as if he were nine, not nineteen, summers old.

He found Kenneth sitting at a table stacked high with bread, meat and fruit, holding a large goblet. A cask of what smelled like strong wine was already open.

"Ah, my young prince. Good morning." the king gave him a wolfish grin. "Let me pour you a cup."

William bowed, feeling his already queasy belly churn at the thought of more wine. His throat felt parched. "If it’s all the same to you, Sire, I prefer to just stick with ale this early in the day."

Kenneth snorted but let go of the wine cask, instead pouring from the ale pitcher on the table. He handed the goblet to William and indicated a chair for the young man to sit.

"Still feeling the after effects of last night, are you?" Kenneth rumbled with a hearty laugh. "Your poor cousin drinking himself sick was one of the funniest sights I’ve seen in a long time. I didn’t realise the royal house of Islia produced such soft men." He took another gulp of the potent wine.

"Did you wish to speak to me about anything in particular, my lord?" William shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Kenneth laughed again. "No, but why such a rush to leave? I’m rather enjoying getting to know you." His voice was starting to slur, meaning he was already at least reasonably drunk. "You seem like a decent enough little lad, I’m sorry to leave you without a betrothed but I’m sure your uncle can use his influence and find you another chit to marry."

"Your Grace, please think about what you’re saying. My uncle won’t break my betrothal with your niece. There are too many benefits to both of our nations to break it."

Kenneth sneered at William, swallowing another large mouthful of wine. "Tell me, why are you so determined to marry her? Are you that desperate to fuck her? Or do you actually care for the little wench?"

William knew confessing his true feelings would get him nowhere and was instead likely to backfire on him. "I know how hard the two courts have negotiated the treaty between our houses. I don’t wish to disappoint my uncle." William said carefully. "Besides, you’re already a married man, my lord."

"The pope will annul my marriage, I’ve no doubt about that." Kenneth replied with the calm confidence of a man who’d already thought the issue through carefully. He drained his goblet.

"Based on what grounds?" William felt his own voice rising. Despite reminding himself that he must remain calm and rational when dealing with the man, he could feel his rage rising to the surface and threatening to spill over.

"Are you slow? Why do you think? Fourteen years of marriage with the same woman and what have I to show for it?" Kenneth growled like a wounded beast, his face flushing red. "Four dead babies and a single, useless girl in the cradle! Does that sound like a wedded union blessed by the heavens, boy?"

William went quiet at the vitriol in the king’s voice.

"Do you know how it feels to not have a single live son, when you see your useless bastard brother sire healthy boy after healthy boy?" Kenneth’s voice was thick with bitterness. "The pope will see things my way. He knows a king with no heir is but half a man."

"But Your Majesty, your queen is now expecting another child, isn’t she?"

"Aye," Kenneth shrugged with little interest. "And for her sake, there had better be a strong boy in her belly. I cannot tolerate another one of her failures."

"But if she is carrying a boy, it makes no sense to end your marriage yet. Better to wait until the child is born and see if your wishes are granted first." William tried to appeal to the king’s logic. He knew that by the time the Moraigthian queen gave birth - whatever the outcome - Camilla would be his wife. No man would be able to come between those vows, not even a king.

Surely Kenneth must understand the importance of waiting out his wife’s pregnancy, thought William.

But the king didn’t reply. Instead, he gave William a slow, pleasant smile that set the prince’s nerves on edge. "Do you know how to play chess, boy?" His voice was oddly gentle.

William was thrown off course by the sudden change of subject. "Yes."

"Well then, you’re obviously not very good at it. In chess, you don’t just think only one move ahead. You must think five, ten, fifteen moves ahead and position your pawns accordingly, so you can secure a victory under many different conditions." Kenneth smiled wider and refilled his cup.

"For that reason, I’ll keep Robert’s daughter at my side regardless. If the queen fails me again, I can have her put aside and marry a new, young wife. I’m sure I can get sons off Camilla, given her own mother was fertile."

William shook his head in revulsion. "But if your queen has a boy..."

"Then Camilla can be my mistress, help keep my bed warm during the months I’m not allowed to lie with my queen. Even if Antonia gives me a boy this time, babies die all the time. I need two, if not three sons to make sure my line is safe. Wife or mistress, I don’t really care who bears them for me. See how I’ve lined up my pawns to advantage, boy?"

"Please, my lord, Camilla is your niece. The truth can’t be denied."

"And I say she is not." Kenneth retorted. "Who are you to contradict a king? You’re merely an untested child, born of a second son. You know nothing."

"But if she is your flesh and blood, even if there’s a slight chance...isn’t it better to err on the side of caution, Sire? You’ll burn in hell for eternity if it turns out you’re wrong." If the threat of eternal damnation wasn’t enough to shake the king, William couldn’t think of a worse deterrent.

"Not if the pope absolves my soul, I won’t." Kenneth hissed like a snake.

"The pope never would-"

The king burst out laughing. "Oh, the idealism of youth! You think everything is right in the world and that no one can be steered from their moral compass. It would be amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic!"

Kenneth leaned forward until his face nearly collided with William’s, his bloodshot eyes full of scorn and his wine soured breath washing over him in an unpleasant cloud. "You’re wrong if you think the pope can’t be persuaded to give a soul absolution by a hefty gift of gold. Or if you think your precious king can’t be gifted land that will happily convince him to break your betrothal."

William’s jaw dropped at the mention of his own uncle. Was King Edward on board with Kenneth’s plans? Would he be willing to betray his own nephew?

Kenneth leaned back into his chair and grabbed the nearly empty wine cask off the floor. "The pope is a man of business and so is your king. Gold, land, sons. We all understand there are no more important things in this earthly realm. And I’d rather make sure I get my share in this realm, than worrying about what may or may not happen in the afterlife. I want that chit. She’ll serve my needs, not yours. If you value your pretty head on your neck, don’t try and get in the way of a king."