The King's Artist

Ch 72: Livres Tournois

The reality, the change in tide, almost knocked Adelaide off her feet as the news rattled through her brain like music. The smiles on Henry and Jasper's faces threatened to split their cheeks and the feeling was more contagious than a cold.

They actually had support. Legitimate, tangible support. They now had more than just vague, flickering shelter under a Duke that fell ill far too often. King Charles had agreed to lend Henry 40,000 livres tournois. The money was to be doled out in installment, but the inconvenience wasn't great enough to dull Adelaide's enthusiasm. They had the encouragement and the financial backing of a King. It was a pleasant thought knowing that even people across the waters were hostile towards Richard and his rule of England. 

Furthermore, Henry informed his company that a letter from his mother had arrived shortly before they fled Brittany. He had only just remembered it, though, and had opened it shortly after settling into their designated quarters at the French castle, where they were currently gathered. 

"It should come as no surprise to anyone here that my mother managed to slip past Richard and deliver me a letter," Henry said with a soft chuckle. 

Marcus shook his head and snorted. The rest of the room's laughter was in clear agreement to the sentiment and Adelaide felt somewhat put out that she had never met Lady Margaret Beaufort before. The woman's cunning and tenacity had built her quite the reputation and Adelaide found she was hoping a day would come when she'd be able to meet Henry's mother. But the feeling soured quickly when she remember that it was Lady Margaret who had struck up the deal to marry Henry and Elizabeth of York. 

"Well, my mother tells me that she's managed to set aside some money for us. We're still some coin short, though, so tomorrow I will be speaking with some of the French Councilors in hopes of obtaining a loan from one of them. We have about five hundred men already within our entourage, and with the money from my mother and King Charles we should be able to hire more, but we are still in need of funding for more ships and weapons."

Before Henry could continue, a knock sounded at their door. Puzzled, Adelaide locked eyes with Kayden who wore a similar look of confusion. Simultaneously, the two scanned the room doing a quick headcount. Everyone who had made the dash for France was present. 

With a shrug, Henry motioned with his head for Anthony to answer the door. 

To Adelaide's surprise, and to the surprise of everyone else present, in the doorway was Thomas Grey accompanied by a very enormous Harry, an irritated Lance, and a Lewis whose face was as red as his hair. With a distasteful grunt, Lance shoved Thomas further into the room until he stood directly in front of Henry and Jasper. Adelaide made brief eye contact with Lance who inclined his head respectfully at her before stepping back and standing next to Harry. Lewis, on the other hand, moved ahead of Thomas and shot daggers at him as he addressed Henry. 

"My Lord," he said bowing. Adelaide noticed the tick in Henry's jaw as his gaze roamed over his future half-brother-in-law. 

"Your report, Terrier?" Henry asked, his voice uncharacteristically threatening as his eyes locked with Thomas'. 

"We managed to intercept him at Compiègne. As you suspected, he was fleeing for England." 

The blood in Adelaide's veins ran cold and her face screwed up maliciously. Thomas must have felt her glare because his attention darted towards her for a split second. He took a deliberate step away from her as Adelaide's body moved on its own. Kayden's hand darted out and gripped her elbow tightly to keep her rooted, but the fury currently flooding her was threatening to wash away all her earlier elation and blind her into doing something horrid that she wouldn't be able to undo. 

"When we searched him, we found some letters of correspondence," Lance filled in, his disgust so evident it was as if he was smelling something terrible in the air. "It would seem that Lord Grey here had heard that his mother had come to some sort of agreement with King Richard and was attempting to desert us and flee back to England."

For several stiff moments, the room hung in uncomfortable silence. Henry stood tall and proud in from of Thomas with his hands folded behind his back. He was doing his best to restrain his anger, but Adelaide could see it flashing in his dark eyes. Betrayal was not something he hastily forgave. 

"I'll deal with you later," Henry's tone was heavy and threatening. Thomas flinched like he'd been struck across the face. 

Without a second glance, Henry turned to leave the room with Jasper easing into step beside him. Adelaide and Kayden moved to follow, but Thomas' voice had them stalling. 

"You were spying on me?" Thomas snapped. He bore his teeth like a cornered dog, and took a step forward, trying to rise to his full, unintimidating stature. 

Henry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Of course, I was having you monitored. Did you really think I would just simply trust you, let you hear our plans, and learn our strategies, without precautions? Just because you are the elder half-brother to my future wife?"

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but Adelaide had had enough. 

Moving before Kayden could grab her again, Adelaide swung her fist up and into the Marquess of Dorset's gut, knocking the words—and the air—out of him. His eyes widened and his breath snagged in his throat, as he clutched himself and sank to his knees. He wheezed several times, fighting to regain oxygen as his face reddened. 

Adelaide knelt in front of Thomas with a violent sneer plastered across her face. 

"Let us go, Arthur," Henry said softly. "As I said, the matter of Thomas Grey will be dealt with tomorrow."

Adelaide nodded and disappeared into the more private chambers of their quarters. As the door swung closed behind the four of them, a contemplative silence fell over them. 

XXX

Jean de Paris couldn't contain himself as he shuffled down the corridor with the King's sister beside him. Though trepidation flickered in Anne's eyes, the French regent still felt the excited flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She rarely saw her favorite artist this excited. And, according to him, the excitement wasn't even because of something that he himself had crafted, which was strange. 

Regardless, the two entered Jean's working quarters accompanied by a few guards. With light feet, Anne was directed to stand in front of a canvas painted with flourishing flowers of red, black, and white. The site stole the breath from her lungs as she took in the painting. 

She took a step closer as she admired the strokes of chalk and the rendition of one of nature's more beautiful attributes. In her opinion, at least. 

The flowers were in various stages of bloom, some still just small buds, others fully flourishing, with a few even drooping, their petals wilting to the ground slowly as if carried by a breeze. Anne felt a flood of emotion overwhelm her as she absorbed the masterpiece before her. Depending on where her attention landed, it made her either hopeful or despairing, happy or sad. 

"Who painted this?" She breathed in amazement. "Bring them to me."