Love, Jealousy, Loyalty, and Revenge Roil in the 14th Century Court of Portugal - a Blog Tour and Book Excerpt for "Ines"

BOOK EXCERPT:

Prologue: Two Oaths

The Chapel, Alcobaça Abbey, Portugal

Lent 1361

Mystified by the abbot’s intransigence, he paused to study the cleric. One explanation made sense. The abbot suspected his motive and gave credence to the scandalmongers’ whispers.

Anger surged through King Pedro. “The court fool sings a ditty as he dances a jig, implying the crown will skip the Infante Ferdinand. Do you truly imagine I would kill my son to favor the boys of Inês?”

Rolling his neck to release building tension, Pedro drew his eyes to the heights of the chapel. His gaze followed a swallow to a perch where gray feathers blended into gray stone on a gray mid-February day that chilled middle-aged bones.

“Well, would you?” asked the voice behind him.

Pedro narrowed his eyes at the abbot in irritation. Surely the abbot knew his son stood behind him. As he pivoted, he replaced the scowl with a forced smile.

Pedro said, “Of course not. Idle people speculate for power and fun. You will inherit my crown.”

With all the indignation and fury of a boy becoming a man, Ferdinand asked, “Then why crown the Lady Inês? They say you favor her boys over me.”

“No. I do not. You, born in the unfortunate death of your mother, have suffered bouts of illness your whole life. If you died ere you wed and sired sons, then the land would fall to civil war. It is prudent to ensure João and Dinis are recognized as your successors.”

In the ensuing silence, Pedro was aware conversations in the nave had ceased. His sons of Inês, João, aged eleven, and Dinis, now six, could safeguard the rule of his house. Confident Inês’s children were strong of constitution, were natural in the saddle, and greeted each day with enthusiasm for all endeavors save learning Latin; he sought now to secure their place in his lineage. Twined purposes drove Pedro – fulfilling an oath born of his love for Inês whilst securing their sons' right to the throne.

Turning back to the abbot, Pedro asked, “Would you not agree that having living sons who would inherit the throne is important for Portugal’s security?”

The abbot’s right hand fluttered dismissively. “Sire, with all respect, our chapel and our chapter house are ill-suited to your purpose. Our abbey is sanctified and not a place for hereditary disputes,” said the abbot. “Or gossip.”

And Pedro knew the babble-merchants were precisely what drove the abbot He saw aversion in the man’s pursed lips and frown; Inês, bastard born and presumed mistress, was not worthy to be a queen. Because many in Portugal favored that notion, he must honor his word – for a wife, not a mistress, wears the crown of a queen. He opened his mouth and snapped it shut. He wanted to shout, You old fool, we were married and happy, but did not. The abbot’s quiet demeanor grated.

Pedro forced an even tone. “In truth, you say. You personally make provision for our eternal rest side by side in your chapel, but would deny a coronation? You’ve seen her tomb and the sketches of the stone carver for mine. We will lie buried as husband and wife, king and queen in your chapel, but you would not have her crowned here?”

The abbot said, “With all respect, Sire, may I suggest it is more proper to call a Cortes, say in Lisboa, where nobles, senior clerics, and high merchants would affirm the succession in the records of the realm?”

Pedro sighed. It would not do. A Cortes had a choice, making it a risk to call one. “Mayhap, but that takes time. Ferdinand's recent fever gave me fear that pestilence or something else might take him young. Better to have the Infante Ferdinand lead the salutations of Inês's boys as his heirs.”

He heard his son’s harrumph and the sounds of his stomping away up the aisle. Pedro would deal with Ferdinand in a moment, but first, the abbot.

Pedro said, “Oh my good abbot, the matter is not yours to determine. Alcobaça suits my purpose.”

He shook his head and gave an ironic chuckle to convey his contempt before he continued. “I will have oaths of homage and fealty uttered – in holy space – which none can swiftly deny without peril to one’s soul. Where better to crown a queen and secure the future than in an abbey granted to your order by Portugal’s own founding king?”

The abbot visibly shook, “But…” Pedro waited, for he would hear the objection.

“It is too late. Inês is dead,” said the abbot.

On a cold January day six years ago, in stunned disbelief, Pedro had stood over the bloody, desecrated body of Inês lying on the frozen ground beside a fountain. That night, he swore two oaths to Inês. He would crown her queen of Portugal, ensuring their sons stood in the line of succession. And he would find and send to Hell the fiend responsible for her murder.

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