Rebellion by Livi Michael

prodigious appetite, slept with a different woman each night, sometimes two.
    In this also he was generous, sometimes
     proffering them to Henry Beaufort to try them first, or certainly afterwards – he might
     have any of the king’s women that he pleased.
    It did not please the duke to have the
     king’s women.
    â€˜But I heard that you have
     had the Queen of Scotland – and Warwick at one time proposed that I should marry
     her.’
    The duke said nothing to this, lowering his
     gaze to his plate.
    â€˜What do you think? Have I missed something
     there? Was she worth bedding?’
    The duke smiled and raised his hands in a
     gesture of helplessness.
    â€˜Was she so unmemorable? Perhaps I was lucky
     to escape. Now the other one – our former queen – I can imagine she would be worth
     staining my sheets for.’
    The duke could not help it; his face
     darkened.
    â€˜But I hear you have tried her as well – is
     she as passionate as she seems?’
    The duke muttered something inaudible.
    â€˜It would not be surprising – she can’t get
     much satisfaction from her marriage bed.’ He made a gesture indicating limp
     impotence.
    The duke sat back in his chair, aware that
     the colour had risen in his face in that annoying way it had. ‘Your majesty’s expertise
     exceeds mine in this as in all matters,’ he said levelly.
    And the king laughed loudly and said he
     would be sure to broaden the duke’s experience while he was at court.
    That was the way he was when drinking. A
     darker strain appeared in his humour and something other than his usual self looked out
     from his eyes. A low cunning; wary, like a trapped animal. But the duke did not feel as
     much aversion to this as he might have expected, though so many of the thrusts were
     directed against him. It was something he recognized and understood. So little of the
     true self could be displayed at court. Who did not feel that internal fracturing – the
     difference between thought and word, inner emotion and outward expression? And who would
     feel it more than the king?
    If anything, it was what he liked about the
     king, that there were moments when the mask slipped, though he preferred itwhen the hostility was not directed against himself. But even then he
     felt he could trust it, more than he trusted the displays of affection, which only
     increased throughout the summer. It was as if there was nothing the king would not do to
     demonstrate his love.
    But even he was surprised when the king
     invited him to sleep in his bed.
    It was an old custom, practised by all the
     Plantagenet kings; a demonstration of trust in their closest companions – for when was
     the king more vulnerable than in sleep? Guards slept outside the chamber and no one
     could slip past, but the person invited into the king’s bed might strangle or suffocate
     him in the night.
    The king was honouring him with this
     ultimate demonstration of trust. How could he refuse?
    He tried, of course, saying that he snored
     too loudly and would keep the king awake, but the king said only that he was sure he
     snored enough for both of them.
    Then the duke said that he hoped there would
     be no other party in the bed – he would not sleep if the king was practising Cupid’s
     sport.
    The king laughed loudly and said if that was
     the case then he hoped the duke would join in and they would see finally who was the
     better man.
    So there was nothing for it but to accept
     graciously.
    That night they bathed together in adjoining
     tubs. The king’s chamberlain, Hastings, heated the water and tested it. The bed was made
     up according to an elaborate ritual involving two squires, two grooms, a yeoman and a
     gentleman usher. They tested it at each stage, as the under sheets were spread on it,
     then the upper sheets of bleached linen, the bolster and then an ermine counterpane. The
     bed was heated with a