Page 61 of King of Rogues
“Thank you, your highness. While Lady Naomi and I have had a private understanding for some time, she was gracious enough to move our wedding plans forward to meet with your command.”
The prince waved Monsale’s words away. “Well, let’s get on with it.” His tone was that of bare interest, but the sly, conceited smile on his lips betrayed the prince. Monsale may well have taken a wife, but he still had to swear the oath of fealty. And get it right.
You think you have the measure of us.
Monsale glanced over at Naomi, and she gave a nod. Lifting her skirts, she slowly lowered herself to the floor, settling on her knees. Her husband knelt beside her, and after a short pause, they began “I promise on my faith, that I am in the future, to be faithful…”
A grinning Prince of Wales held up his hand. “The oath that Robert McNeal and his duchess swore was in Latin, not English. If you cannot recite it word-perfect in its original form, then you fail. And you forfeit. Everything.”
Monsale lifted his head just in time to see the prince give a look of supreme smugness to his private secretary. It was clear he thought he had won.
“I hope you brought the keys to the front door of Monsale House with you. After today, you won’t be needing them,” said the prince.
Prinny was crowing in anticipation of his victory before the battle had barely begun. To Monsale’s mind, that was a foolish mistake. One which he had made others pay dearly for in the past.
Never underestimate the power of a family with everything at stake.
Naomi cleared her throat. “Her name was Agnès. Robert’s duchess was French, and he apparently loved her very much.”
After having searched through the family records, Naomi had had the inspired idea to look in the small chapel at Monsale Castle. There at the bottom of the altar, she had discovered the name of the woman who had been the first duchess to swear the oath. A role that Monsale was proud to know his bride was more than ready to fulfil.
The prince gave a tired sigh. “I don’t particularly care who she was, but you have to speak the words of the oath in Latin. Without that, all the McNeal family history becomes rather meaningless.”
Monsale and Naomi exchanged a knowing look. “In the eyes of god and the law, man and wife are one body are they not?” he asked.
A bemused prince turned to his private secretary. The smile on the courtier’s face was now gone, in its place was a look of deep concern. This was not going how either he or the prince had clearly hoped it would. “Yes, they are, marriage creates one person from the two. Your highness, it is a legal doctrine in England. The wife becomes the husband.”
The Prince of Wales sighed. “Yes, though pity that my wife is still bound to me. Go on then.”
With his heart full of pride, Monsale bowed his head while Naomi recited the words, she had carefully copied from the statue of Agnès McNeal.
“Promitto in fidem meam, quod ego in posterum fidelem, nunquam faciat ei malum, et mandata mea homagium ei omnino contra omnes homines, bona fide et sine dolo. In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti.”
There was brief hush in the room, followed by the prince angrily summoning his advisors to gather their papers and follow him into an adjourning room. The courtiers scurried after the prince.
Monsale and Naomi remained where they were, kneeling on the floor. Neither dared to make a move. Loud shouts of ‘bloody ridiculous’ and ‘why didn’t you stop him getting married?’ could be heard from the other room.
They both flinched as the door swung open and crashed against the wall. A fuming Prince of Wales stormed back into the throne room, followed by a procession of silent royal advisors.
He towered over Monsale. “I accept your oath of fealty, but just remember I shall hold you to it. And in the future when I call upon you to show me your loyalty, you will not hesitate.”
“We are both sworn to serve you, your highness,” replied Monsale, doing his best to keep his tone even and measured.
They had bested the future king, but neither he nor Naomi wished to make Prinny their enemy. The prince’s pride had been badly bruised. This moment called for a strategic peace offering.
“As this is the anniversary of the swearing of the oath, my wife and I would be honored if you would accept a small token of our loyalty to the crown,” said Monsale.
Adan stepped into the throne room, in his hands was the small treasure chest. Monsale helped his wife to her feet. He beckoned his steward to come forward. As Adan passed the box over, Monsale leaned in and whispered. “Thank you, my friend.”
“It’s the least I could do,” replied Adan.
As Adan took his leave, Monsale caught the look of satisfaction on his loyal servant’s face. It had taken quite some convincing for him to give up the coins. He had haggled hard on the bargain, something which Monsale was privately proud of him for having done.
In the end, the Spanish doubloons had been traded for a significant increase in Adan’s shareholding of the RR Coaching Company.
Monsale turned and presented the prince with the chest. “A gift to celebrate this fine day, your highness.”
Prinny eagerly took the box and opened it. The Spanish doubloons glinted in the morning sun; their brightness only matched by the smile on the prince’s face.
