20 Windsor Castle, Berkshire, January 1344

20

Windsor Castle, Berkshire, January 1344

In the morning the Earl was still in great pain and feverish, but able to drink some spring water from a silver cup and to sip the broth that Katerine spooned into his mouth. While all the attention was on the patient, Jeanette collected her cloak and quietly left the room.

Outside, a brightness in the grey overcast of cloud suggested that the sun might eventually break through. The gardens lay through a small postern gate beside the sumpter horse stables. Otto stood near the postern, talking to Henry de la Haye as if in casual conversation. He glanced her way and nodded his head. She returned his greeting and slipped into the garden as stealthily as a cat.

Thomas was sitting on a bench at the far end, gazing at the hoar frost silvering the grass, his stillness a surprise, when usually even if at rest he was busy with his fingers, mending harness, cleaning his armour or whittling wood.

He looked up and a tide of love and longing swept through her. She spoke his name, saw her own name form on his lips, and then he sprang to his feet and in a dozen strides reached her and pulled her into his arms. She dug her hands into his hair and they kissed, wildly, moltenly, with utter desperation, then pulled apart, panting, and stared at each other.

‘We have to make this right,' he said, vehemently. ‘All I think about is you. Nothing in my life makes any sense but wanting you.'

She folded her arms inside her cloak. The grass, hung with droplets of melting frost, struck cold through her thin indoor shoes. ‘I cannot stand this pretence of a marriage,' she said with a shudder. ‘You are my true husband. I have waited and I am still waiting – sometimes I wonder if it is all in vain.'

‘No, never that! I swear I will unbind you whatever it takes!'

‘And how long will "whatever it takes" be?' she asked in desperation.

‘I wish I could say tomorrow, but I cannot, even though I swear I will do it and we shall be together.' He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘How is the Earl?'

‘A little better. He is awake and aware, but in great pain.'

Thomas's expression clouded. ‘Before the tourney he offered me money and lands to walk away from my claim to our marriage and warned me that the King would not listen if I told my tale, and that he would personally ensure that my career foundered if I took matters further. At best I would be dismissed from service, and at worst, punished in darker ways. So now I must keep my distance, lest the details emerge and people think I had a hand in his death.'

She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Dear God.'

‘I doubt God has anything to do with any of this,' he said grimly. ‘If the Earl dies, your husband will become a royal ward of whoever the King chooses to bestow custody – although it will probably be his mother. She will not want to give you up, but even so, her power has limitations.'

‘I do not know,' Jeanette said, and told him about the moment she had observed between Katerine and the King. ‘Even if nothing more, they have deep affection for each other and she will use it to her advantage, and the Earl of Salisbury is his close friend. The King will be persuaded by his own needs, not mine or yours.'

Thomas frowned in thought. ‘There will still be opportunities to make a name for myself and to raise my status – if I become invaluable to the King in battle and acquire some wealthy ransoms.'

Jeanette said nothing, for his strategy depended on his success in war – always a great risk – and the Salisburys, even if the Earl died, already had royal support and patronage.

‘I am going to take our case to the papal court.'

‘The papal court?' She looked at him in surprise.

‘The English Church will not listen unless they receive orders from the Pope. They are in the pay of the King and we would not receive a fair hearing. But it requires a deep purse to reach the Pope.' He set his jaw. ‘We shall win in the end, whatever it takes.'

They embraced again, with tender desperation, but when they parted Jeanette looked over her shoulder. ‘We should go before people miss us. I don't want to, but we must – for both our sakes.'

‘I promise you,' he reiterated. ‘I swear on my oath as a knight that we shall be together as lawful husband and wife.'

She nodded, wanting to believe, but it was such a high mountain to climb and they were still in the foothills. She stood on tip-toe to kiss him again, then broke from him and hurried away, trying not to think on how long a promise might take to accomplish, or how easily it could be broken.

Otto and Henry were still outside, but now talking to Prince Edward, who looked at her askance and raised his brows. Heat flooded Jeanette's cheeks as she performed a swift curtsey.

‘How is the Earl this morning?' he enquired, to the point.

‘He is not well, but he has taken a little wine and some broth,' she answered, breathlessly. ‘I must go to him; you will excuse me.'

He looked after her thoughtfully, frowned at Otto and Henry, and with sudden decision, entered the garden.

Thomas, who had been giving Jeanette time to leave so they would not be seen together, regarded the approach of the young heir to the throne with sinking dismay. Edward's expression was neutral, but his eyes were cynical and knowing.

‘A cold morning for a tryst,' Edward said, ‘especially with William Montagu's wife, and your lookouts posted. You should be careful; people might easily misconstrue what they see.'

Thomas heard censure in Edward's tone, but no outright hostility. The young man's voice had but recently broken, but was going to be deep and strong once developed. He was whippet-thin, all arms and legs as he grew into manhood, but he had a mature outlook for his years. Thomas had undertaken some of his training before the tourney and had been impressed with his abilities. Now he had to decide whether he could trust him.

‘Sire, I confess that this was a prearranged meeting with the lady Jeanette, away from prying eyes, but it was not dishonourable even if it was in secret.'

‘Indeed? Then I think you must disclose the reason for that secret to me, for William Montagu is my friend and Jeanette is my father's cousin. My father is considering lending you to my household and it will depend on my response. I can put in a word, or say nothing. From where I am standing, your actions are less than honourable.'

Thomas clenched his fists, caught on the horns of a dilemma. Transferring to the Prince's household held great appeal to him, for this young scion was the future.

The Prince wrapped his hands around his belt. ‘Jeanette and I were childhood playmates and friends as well as kin. I would never want any harm to come to her, and if anyone attempted to do so, I would defend her like a lion.'

‘Then we share the same goals, sire,' Thomas replied.

‘Will once told me that Jeanette believes in some fanciful way that she is married to you. He says it is untrue and the result of a girlish fantasy, but now I come upon you making a tryst with her in the garden. You tell me that such a meeting is not dishonourable, and it leads me to ask if you and Jeanette are truly wed?'

‘Yes, sire, at Saint Bavo before witnesses almost four years ago.'

‘But in secret?' His tone was censorious. ‘You told no one?'

Thomas flushed. ‘No,' he said, and hesitated.

‘Go on,' Edward said, frowning.

‘We had lain together and I wanted to be honourable, so I made it right. But then I was summoned to England by your father.' He did not mention the child, for it was not a necessary part of the narrative and Edward did not need to know. ‘I left my will at Saint Bavo in Ghent with instructions that my worldly goods were to go to Jeanette in the event of my death, and I had it witnessed, the same day as my marriage.'

Edward's gaze widened.

‘But then Jeanette was sent home and a match arranged for her with William Montagu while I was absent. They told her I was dead.' Thomas touched his scarred face. ‘I am not proud of what happened. Indeed, I am sorry that it did, and I admit my dishonour in lying with Jeanette, but it does not alter our love for each other, or that we were married in the sight of God. Her family and her marital family deny such a marriage ever took place, that it was false and dishonourable, but such a stance is the very reverse of the truth we know. When Jeanette has tried to speak out, she has been silenced with threats and disbelief.'

‘Some would say you married Jeanette in order to further your own career,' Edward said curtly.

Thomas snorted. ‘How far has it got me if that is the case? I would have to be mad to think it would benefit me! I married her to try and make a dishonourable thing more honourable – and because I do truly love her. I took the cross to atone for my sins and to make a fresh start. When I returned, I was going to confess to your father, but by the time I set foot in England, matters had progressed far beyond that.'

‘I take it you have sure proof of the marriage?'

‘Yes, I do, and I have talked to John de Warenne on the matter since he has much knowledge of the law. To have any chance of winning Jeanette, I will have to take my case to Avignon, and that means to the order of Saint Silver and Saint Gold.'

‘And you would not walk away? That too might be deemed honourable in some quarters, and a matter of common sense.'

Thomas shook his head. ‘Jeanette has asked me to rescue her and I promised I would do all in my power. Besides, how would I walk away from a holy vow? If she had told me to let her be and to go, I would have done so, even while damning my soul. But she desires to remain my wife.'

‘It is certainly a dilemma,' Edward said with knitted brows. ‘I will talk to Jeanette and see what she says. I cannot take your part or hers for William Montagu is my good friend, but I will keep my own counsel and say nothing of this to others. I advise you to do the same and not to approach my father for now. To bring this affair into the open would sully Jeanette's reputation, and I care more for her than I do you.' He cast a meaningful glance around the garden. ‘Your meeting with her today was foolish. What if others had discovered you?'

‘Her family has deliberately kept us apart – this was the only opportunity we had,' Thomas answered defensively.

‘Even so, you should be more prudent for it seems to me you have already been many times careless thus far.'

Thomas reddened, feeling the sting of the words, and also the truth in them, and coming from a youth of just fifteen years. ‘I heed you, sire.'

‘Then we are done.' Edward nodded brusquely. ‘I counsel you again to tread cautiously and to do nothing unless you are certain of your outcome.'

On the fourth morning after his accident, the Earl of Salisbury, who had been rallying, suddenly took a turn for the worse. The royal physician bled him several times to no avail, and the Earl became confused, incoherent, and then insensible. Jeanette stood at the foot of the bed, forced to be present in her role of daughter-in-law. The entire family had gathered at his bedside, listening to his breath rattle in his throat with longer and longer gaps between each one. Jeanette counted her own breaths, and wondered if his dying would be yet another lock securing her cage.

Katerine sat by her husband, blank-faced, lips moving in silent prayer. William stood behind her, rigidly upright, his jaw with its fledgling fluff of beard set so tightly that small tremors shuddered his rigidity. Behind him the windows were open to the chill January air, ready to receive the Earl's soul, and despite the braziers, the room was icy.

The rasping breath stopped for a dozen heartbeats, then started again, ragged, stertorous, and the chaplain folded the Earl's hands over a decorated cross.

A sudden flurry at the door heralded the King's arrival, and Prince Edward with him. Brushing aside the bows and curtseys of obeisance, the King strode directly to the bedside. His glance cut across the dying man to Katerine. She averted her gaze but a soft flush crept from her throat into her face.

The Earl's breath ceased again for the count of five slow heartbeats, then ten, and the silence extended, as those gathered all held their own living breath. A cold, rain-laden breeze stirred the bed hangings, and the priest leaned over the Earl.

‘His soul has gone to God,' he said, signing his breast.

Lady Elizabeth uttered a wail and flung herself over the body, embracing her son and tearing off her headdress to expose her wiry grey braids. Katerine's blank mask folded and she put her face into her hands. William stood frozen, and white-faced. Edward gripped his shoulder and murmured in his ear. Jeanette knew she should go to him, but she couldn't, and instead pushed her way from the room.

Her father-in-law had been such a powerful, vital man, an accomplished courtier, a warrior of repute, a statesman, and it was all gone in a moment, in the single slip of a horse's hoof on muddy ground. That was all it took for anyone to die. Now the women would truly take over the household, which was a sobering, frightening thought.

The Earl's body was washed and then dressed in his finest garments and armour, ready to be borne away to the priory at Bisham for burial. Windsor chapel was crowded for the funeral mass, and Jeanette saw Thomas standing with the other household knights praying for the Earl's soul. His head was bent, and she could tell he was genuinely at prayer, not just paying lip service. She dropped her own gaze, feeling humbled and a little ashamed. She could not pray though. Where dislike and anger had resided, there was now a blank area stretched over a hollow, like the skin over a drum, waiting to be struck, but as yet without a beat. She could not mourn the death, but the shock had left her wondering on each person's lot in life, and how fleeting it was. She wanted to seize the day, but her way was barred, and there was nothing she could do about it except endure.

As the funeral cortege collected in the courtyard to travel the ten miles to the Salisburys' manor at Bisham, Prince Edward found a moment to take Jeanette aside.

‘What is this about you and Thomas Holland?' he asked in a quiet voice as he drew on his gloves.

Jeanette looked into his face. A new, adult shrewdness had sharpened his hazel eyes, and although they were friends, she did not know if she could trust him. ‘What have you heard?'

‘He seems to think you are married to him, and the only reason he is not pressing his case is that he lacks the funds and expertise to take the matter through the courts. And perhaps too he fears for his career and his life – I know I would.' He tilted his head. ‘Is it true?'

Jeanette hesitated, then raised her chin. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘We spoke our vows before witnesses, and he did not force me to it. At the outset I was the one who pursued him.' She saw the frown between his swift brows. ‘No one will listen because their interests lie elsewhere. We have no one to speak for us, and your father will pay no heed for certain.'

Edward said nothing, and she knew he must be conflicted. What could he do? His father had been close friends with the Earl of Salisbury and the same with Katerine from what she had seen. He would not want a scandal of this magnitude on top of the Earl's death. Edward and William had been companions since boyhood. Probably Edward was thinking like everyone else that she should never have become embroiled with Thomas.

‘I am sorry,' he said. ‘I do not think there is anything I can do. I would help to resolve matters if I could.'

Jeanette nodded, but wondered what form that resolving would take – in her favour, or in William's? Edward might be her friend, but he was also heir to the throne and he was governed by political expedience even if he had sympathy for her. She touched his arm. ‘Just keep me in your prayers,' she said, ‘as I keep you in mine.'

‘Of course, you do not need to ask.' He looked relieved before he turned away.

Jeanette went to the cart and climbed in beside Katerine and Elizabeth. The two women were silent. Elizabeth's doughy features were pale and blurred with grief for her son, and Katerine was tight-lipped with shadows smudging her eye sockets. Whatever was between her and the King, her husband's death had still left its mark on her, and she had clearly cared for him.

Jeanette's new terrier pup Nosewyse, Grippe's replacement, came to lie across her lap and she stroked his soft tan coat, taking comfort in the motion of her palm over his fur.

That evening, Edward sat down with his mother to play a game of chess and talk privately. ‘Thomas Holland and my cousin Jeanette tell me an interesting thing,' he said casually. ‘I wonder if you have heard any rumours yourself.'

His mother eyed him warily. ‘What have they said?'

‘They seem to think they are man and wife, and that it happened at Saint Bavo before witnesses, but I do not know whether Thomas is exaggerating his case, and it might not be true in the legal sense. If it gets further spread abroad it could destroy Jeanette's reputation – I know there has been trouble about that before.' He toyed with a chess piece, turning it end over end in his fingers. ‘I am fond of her, and Will Montagu,' he said, ‘and I would hate to see that happen.'

His mother frowned. ‘Indeed, I have heard such rumours, and I have discouraged them. Keep this matter to yourself, for it will cause more harm than good, and as you say, it will tarnish Jeanette's reputation. Better not to stoke a fire that may well sputter out of its own accord.'

‘And if it continues to burn?'

‘We decide what to do if that happens. Wait and see, and decide accordingly. That is my advice, and I hope you will take it.'

‘I intend to,' Edward said, relieved that his mother's thoughts concurred with his own. Even so, he felt a little sordid, as if sweeping dirt behind the tapestry instead of cleaning it out, and that somehow his decision was letting Jeanette down. ‘Do you really think it is true?' he asked. ‘You were there at Saint Bavo after all.'

His mother refused to meet his gaze. ‘It is not my task to keep an eye on the young ladies of my chamber every moment of every day – others have that duty. Much of the time I was with child and had other concerns. The Earl and Countess of Salisbury would not have contracted the match if they believed there was a prior agreement.'

‘No, but do you think there is a possibility nonetheless?'

Philippa considered. ‘Something may have happened between them,' she said, ‘but a full marriage behind everyone's backs? That seems preposterous.' She raised a forefinger in warning. ‘It is best not to meddle. Let it run its course without interference.'

‘Yes, mother, I agree. It would be for the best – but will you keep an eye on Jeanette? Invite her to court when you can.'

His mother eyed him thoughtfully. ‘I shall, but she shall have no favour beyond that which she earns. Her duty now, especially since her father by marriage has died, is to provide her husband with offspring to further the dynasty. She is no longer an innocent damsel.'

Edward set the piece back on the board. ‘But her marriage to Montagu might still have to be proven. If there is doubt, the legitimacy of those offspring might be questioned.'

‘Let it be,' Philippa said firmly. ‘Now is not the time. Should the marriage be called into question, there is always recourse to the law.'

Edward nodded and, with a sigh mostly of relief, dropped the matter as his mother suggested, for what she said was true, and his conscience was clear. He had done his best. Jeanette might change her mind about her willingness to be wed to William Montagu, and if later a dispensation was required, it could be obtained. Thomas Holland had no funds to pursue his case, and might give up and seek elsewhere for a wife, and in the meantime, he had his career to pursue.

For now, even if the dogs were not yet sleeping, let them lie.