The King's Chameleon by Richard Woodman Page B

‘It was impossible …’
    Her upturned face, her half open mouth and the whispered words that trailed off into a desperate longing drew him towards her. They kissed.
    Still embracing, their breasts heaving and a hot desire forcing the blood of both to raise their colour, she asked, ‘But what now?’
    He opened his mouth to speak and then hesitated. There was so much to think of. Besides this encounter, the King’s task and the King’s warning galled him with the spur of urgency. He stepped back, holding both her hands and looking at her expectant face. She seemed troubled by his failure to reply.
    â€˜You have a wife,’ she prompted, ‘and children.’
    â€˜Yes, but there is much to think of. This letter, I know not what to do with it. If, as you say, it was but a device to bring us together, it may well lie and await his Lordship’s return, but His Majesty’s express order was that I was to lay it in Lord Craven’s hand.’
    â€˜I know not what to say of that, unless to advise you to take horse for Oxford, for His Lordship is not expected back until tomorrow.’
    â€˜But,’ he said with a frown, ‘there is another matter more closely attaching to my person …’
    â€˜And this troubles you?’
    â€˜Aye, my darling, for it involves my wife and children, or at least one of my sons.’
    â€˜I do not know what to advise.’
    Faulkner suddenly made up his mind. ‘Whisht, I am decided. I’ll have a horse made ready and leave for Oxford in an hour or so, but first I must return home …’
    â€˜But the King’s commission, what of that?’
    â€˜I think the King, knowing that I had not found Lord Craven here, whither he directed me, would wish me to set other matters in motion before attending to his letter. I can ride all night.’
    â€˜If ’tis a matter of horses, I can arrange a relay.’ She was all eagerness, and Faulkner felt the balm of forgiveness in her offer.
    â€˜You can?’
    â€˜You forget who else is resident in this house?’ She stared smiling at his puzzlement. ‘Prince Rupert.’
    â€˜Of course!’
    â€˜I can have him order a relay of horses on the Oxford Road within two hours. Indeed, have you a horse yourself?’
    â€˜No, I should need to arrange the hire.’
    â€˜Forget it. His Highness will oblige me in the King’s name. Do you wish to see him?’
    â€˜I … I know not … I would not importune …’
    â€˜Come.’ She led him back into the hall, relinquished his hand and led him upstairs, motioning him to wait as she disappeared inside a room from which the sound of an erratically played harpsichord came. He stood for a few moments as two servants passed him, looking at him with undisguised curiosity. Then the door opened and Katherine motioned him into the chamber.
    â€˜Sir Christopher. You are most welcome.’ The tall and once familiar figure of the Prince rose from behind the instrument.
    Faulkner bowed. ‘Your Highness is most kind.’ He raised his eyes to the smiling Rupert. He too wore his years well; years that Faulkner knew had seen him campaigning on the Continent. His handsome face had lost none of its cool yet pleasant loftiness, the moustache upon his upper lip softened the sharp nose and the intelligent eyes that twinkled with recollection set Faulkner at an ease he had not felt during the entire day.
    â€˜The Lady Villiers has explained your predicament, and I shall pass orders for a relay of horses to be ready for you.’ He turned to a writing table and seated himself, scribbling a few lines on a paper. Faulkner exchanged a glance with Katherine, who was smiling triumphantly.
There!
she seemed to imply.
That is what I can do for you
.
    Rupert scribbled his signature with a flourish, sanded the paper, shook it and handed it unfolded to Faulkner. ‘That will secure you the horses. Now,