24 Calais, Normandy, March 1347

24

Calais, Normandy, March 1347

Stiff with tension, Thomas knelt before the King in his private chamber. Edward was richly garbed in crimson velvet and gold. A hat of jewelled black velvet sat at an angle on his head. His right hand, adorned with several jewelled rings, drummed lightly on the arm of his carved chair. He commanded Thomas to rise and directed him to a small padded seat at his side.

Thomas swallowed. He had been waiting since well before Christmas for this summons. The Prince had been optimistic that it would happen, but Thomas had barely seen Jeanette, who continued to be closely chaperoned by the Salisbury women. When he did catch a glimpse of her, she was wan and pale, dressed in heavy garments that dragged her down, and so closely guarded that he had not managed to speak to her. Now the moment was in his hands like a set of reins, but with the sensation that they were slipping through his fingers and this was his last opportunity to seize and hold on. He had decided with advice from the Prince that the way to approach the King was to make the matter a general plea and not mention the marriage.

‘Sire, thank you for granting me this audience,' he said.

‘Indeed,' Edward replied, and his eyes were calculating, and held no warmth. ‘Decisions have to be made, and I admit I have neglected this piece of business while dealing with other matters. I know you have been waiting for some time, but you shall wait no longer.'

Thomas straightened his shoulders. ‘Thank you, sire. I ask you to facilitate the ransom of Raoul de Brienne, who has been in my personal custody since he surrendered himself to me at Caen. I have served you with loyalty throughout this campaign. Although I have incurred considerable expenses, I have only kept enough booty to support myself and pay my men. I have taken no liberties, but turned over the bulk to your household. However, I find myself beset by requirements beyond the reach of my purse.'

The King's fingers continued to beat on the chair, but he nodded. ‘Go on.'

Thomas drew a deep breath. ‘Therefore, I call upon your generosity, your fairness and renowned wisdom to make a ransom agreement with me in the matter of Raoul de Brienne, according not only to prowess, but to need, and pray you might see your way to helping me with that need.' Bowing his head, he set his right hand to his heart.

‘A graceful and impassioned speech, as I would expect from you,' Edward said with a glint of amusement through the ice. He shifted in his chair and his fingers ceased their drumming. ‘I acknowledge your value to me, and I have noted your loyalty. My son commends you, and endorses your pleas, as does the Queen in her heartfelt mercy, and I must take their sound advice into consideration. I would not wish to see you in penury and they have persuaded me to look on your request with favour.'

‘Thank you, sire.' Thomas swallowed against the lump constricting his throat. How much, though? How much?

Edward hesitated and almost grimaced. Then drew a deep breath. ‘I have fixed the sum for Raoul de Brienne's ransom at eighty thousand florins, to be paid in three instalments. The documentation is being drawn up.'

Thomas's jaw dropped in astonishment. He wondered if he had misheard. The seneschal Robert de Tancarville's ransom was only fixed at six hundred marks, and this sum outstripped it beyond belief. He could only stammer unintelligible words of gratitude, and Edward gestured impatiently.

‘Take yourself in hand, man,' he said curtly. ‘I expect your unquestioning service and loyalty to me, my queen and our heirs for the rest of your life. I hope it solves your dilemma to do as you must.' He leaned back in the chair. ‘And while you are valuable to me, expect no further favours concerning your personal life.'

‘Sire, yes, I understand.'

‘I hope you do.' Edward nodded brusquely and dismissed him.

Thomas bowed from the room, unsure that his legs would hold him up. He was sick with relief and amazement verging on disbelief at the sum stated. And very aware that despite the stunning generosity, the King was not best pleased. Returning to his lodging, he slumped on his mattress, shaking, as he had never done on the battlefield.

Otto and Raoul de Brienne had been playing dice while they waited, and both regarded him in consternation.

‘What's happened?' Otto demanded. ‘Did it not go well?'

Thomas raised his head and laughed hoarsely. ‘You have no idea.'

Otto poured him a drink, while Raoul eyed him in trepidation.

‘The King refused you again?' he asked.

Thomas shook his head and gulped down the wine. ‘On the contrary, the King agreed to set your ransom – but you are not going to like it. He's named the sum at eighty thousand florins.'

Raoul gazed at him, stunned. ‘You must be mistaken – that is madness! It is the ransom someone would demand for a king or a prince! Where are my family to find that kind of money?'

‘It was the last thing I was expecting,' Thomas said. ‘I thought today he would either deny me, or offer a paltry sum. I am sorry, I would not have put this on you, but it means I can go forward now – indeed we both can, for at least we have a decision.'

‘It is impossible,' Raoul said.

‘If it is paid in instalments, doubtless some will be commuted at a later date.'

Raoul slumped, shaking his head.

Otto looked between them. ‘Well,' he said, ‘one man's success is often another's downfall, but as Thomas says, the King is bound to commute or defer some of the payment. I wonder why he fixed such a sum in the first place.'

In the top room of the Salisburys' lodging house, Jeanette was ignoring her needlework. She loathed sewing, and the more Katerine and Elizabeth pressed her to it, the more she baulked. This morning she had finished the sixth day since her flux and the cloth was clean of blood. Yet again she was not pregnant. William, when prodded to lie with her like a boar in the pen, was as reluctant as she was and these days did not bother to attempt the act. He would come to her chamber and share her bed, but they would stay firmly on their own halves with their backs to each other.

Of late they had begun talking in a stilted fashion about the difficulties of their marriage and their mutual hatred of being bound together. William still refused to do anything about it and openly defy his mother and grandmother. The latter continued to force vile fertility potions down Jeanette's throat, and kept leaving charms and spells under her pillow, which Jeanette would throw out of the window or cast into the fire. Elizabeth also dosed her with potions to put her in a daze and keep her compliant. Jeanette continued her attempts to avoid them, sometimes by pretending to swallow and then spitting them out, or making herself sick in the latrine. But sometimes she was outwitted and would move through the world in a fog. When she was summoned into company, the women would say she was unwell and would hurry her away within a short time of arriving. Today, however, was a good day. She had seen no one and had avoided the poisoned cup, although God alone knew what was waiting for her under the mattress or inside her pillow cover.

A sudden flurry at the door heralded Prince Edward's arrival, unaccompanied apart from a squire. The women rose and curtseyed, surprised to see him. Smiling, he bade them rise. ‘I beg your indulgence, ladies,' he said. ‘I ask you to lend me Jeanette's company for a brief while. My hound bitch has recently whelped, and I'd value her advice.'

‘Can you not ask the kennel man, sire?' Elizabeth asked, nostrils flaring. ‘I hardly think Jeanette is qualified in that area.' Her tone was curt with disapproval, her position as an ageing but hale matriarch giving her leeway to use a peremptory voice to the heir to the throne.

Edward turned to her with a charming smile and a steely eye. ‘Jeanette knows a lot more than you think,' he replied. ‘I desire to give one of the pups as a gift to a certain lady, and I want Jeanette's advice on which would be the best. Jeanette shall come to no harm in my company, I promise on my honour.'

The women had no recourse but to accept his word, but Jeanette noticed with pleasure that their cheeks were hollow and their lips pursed, as though they were having to swallow vinegar. In silence she collected her cloak, summoned Hawise, and made a hasty exit before they could raise further objections.

Stepping out from the lodging, Jeanette felt as though she had been released from fetters. ‘A "certain lady"?' she asked. Everyone knew about Edward's mistress Edith and their baby son, born in November and named Edward after his father and grandfather. ‘Will she not want to choose the pup herself?'

‘I am sure she will,' he said. ‘It was just an excuse to get you away from those women – there is someone who wants to talk to you very much, but has been finding it impossible, and I believe he has some news for you.'

Jeanette's heart started to pound in hard, swift strokes. ‘Thomas,' she said, feeling dizzy. ‘You are taking me to Thomas?'

Edward smiled broadly, and without another word brought her and Hawise to the lodging where his mistress dwelt with their infant son.

Edith was tall like Jeanette, with a sheaf of golden hair woven in two heavy plaits. With her wide-set cornflower-blue eyes and red lips, she could have been Jeanette's cousin or even a sister. Edward kissed her lips, then went to the cradle and tickled the baby under the chin with his forefinger. Jeanette swallowed, feeling faint. Edward was obviously delighted with himself, his expression sparkling with mischief.

Edith's maid brought refreshments – crisp little marrow tarts warm from a pastry-seller's oven. Clearly everything had been pre-planned, but Jeanette was too anxious to eat. Edward, however, devoured two in a moment and brushed crumbs from his recently fledged whiskers.

His squire opened the door to a sharp knock.

‘Sire, you wanted to see . . .' Thomas's last word trailed to silence, and he stared at Jeanette as though poleaxed. She stared back, unable to move or speak.

‘Not really,' Edward said, ‘but someone else does. I have to return my cousin to the Countess of Salisbury before she sends out a search party and for the sake of propriety you only have a few moments, but better than nothing.' He inclined his head to them, and he and Edith retired to an inner chamber with the baby and servants.

Hawise curtseyed to Thomas and Jeanette. ‘I shall be outside the door if you have need of me, my lady,' she said, and left the room, deftly taking with her a small stool to sit on and purloining two marrow tarts.

As the door closed, Thomas and Jeanette gazed at each other with longing and disbelief. And then Thomas took a pace forward and pulled her into his arms and they kissed until the only breath they had belonged to the other. Eventually they parted, gasping, laughing, crying. Jeanette's tears of joy turned to deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Thomas held and soothed her, rubbing her back, and eventually drew her to the bench near the brazier, gently putting aside the cushion cover on which Edith had been working.

‘Listen,' he said, ‘the King has fixed Raoul de Brienne's ransom at eighty thousand florins which means I have enough to take our lawsuit to Avignon. I have written to my mother asking her to accompany me, and I have received permission to go. The Queen has furnished me with the name of an attorney to represent my case, and I shall leave before Easter.'

Jeanette shook her head, overwhelmed.

‘Come,' he said, ‘what is wrong? Is it not good news?'

‘Yes, of course it is!' She tried to swallow her emotion, only half succeeding. It was almost too painful to believe that matters were moving forward at last. She had been hanging on by her fingertips for ever and it was difficult to reach out and make the transition. ‘Is it really true? I thought . . . I thought you might decide it would be more worthwhile to take a different woman to wife and use the ransom to settle down with her – that you might not want me any more.'

‘I will always want you, to the end of my days. I have fought my way to this moment, and I will fight on to the next and the next until we are united – unless, of course, you do not want me?'

Aghast, she shook her head. ‘I cannot bear to think of the future if we have to be apart. I have waited and waited, and there is nothing I can do, and I hate it!' She clenched her fists. ‘What if the Pope does not find in our favour? What then?'

‘I will not think like that. I have not come this far in order to fail. All I ask is that you keep faith. You say there is nothing you can do, but that is untrue. You can stay strong and resist with all you have. You will be called upon to testify that you were a willing party to the marriage and it will be pivotal to our claim.'

Jeanette jutted her chin. ‘I can withstand anything they throw at me,' she said. ‘Day upon day while you have been fighting your battles I have been fighting mine. My "husband" will put up little resistance. His attorney might stand against us in Avignon before the Pope, but his mother and grandmother are the ones blocking our way. It brings royalty into their bloodline should I bear a son, and they do not want to lose my marriage portion or be made to look fools. William has resigned himself, but he refuses to end the marriage – he is still tied to his mother's womb and to the family name. My mother will object because she wishes me to remain wed to an earl and thinks you are a common despoiler of women.' Her brows drew together. ‘Why has the King suddenly agreed to buy the ransom – what has changed his mind?'

‘A miracle?' Thomas said facetiously, then shrugged. ‘I do not know, save that the Prince and the Queen are somehow involved, but I have not pried too closely – I sense that is an affair conducted behind closed doors too.'

Between kisses and embraces he told her about his preparations to visit the papal court to have their marriage validated. In the next room, Edward loudly cleared his throat, and clattered the latch, before re-entering the main chamber. He regarded them with a wry smile and a gleam in his eye.

‘Thank you, thank you!' Jeanette cried, her eyes filling again. ‘I can never repay you – neither of us can!' She ran to him and hugged him.

‘Oh, no talk of that,' he said, patting her back. ‘I will think of something you can one day do for me.' He winked to show he was teasing. ‘Messire Holland, you should leave, and I must return my dear cousin to the Salisbury lodging before there is a panic in the henhouse and our goose is cooked.' He smiled at the pun.

‘Sire.' Thomas bowed. ‘I am in your debt, and your loyal servant.' He turned to Jeanette and raised her hands to his lips. ‘I will send word as soon as I may. Hold me in your heart and your prayers.' He left the room quickly, and Jeanette heard him murmur to Hawise.

‘Come,' Edward said, ‘I will return you to your lodgings, and we had better look at those puppies on the way lest you are asked about them.'

‘Thank you,' Jeanette said again as they set out. ‘From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You are my dearest, dearest friend.'

He gave her an almost pained smile and after a single, swift glance, stared straight ahead. ‘How long have we known each other?'

‘All our lives,' she said. ‘I remember watching you walk to your mother. She picked you up and cuddled you in her lap, and told you how clever you were. I was perhaps four years old, and jealous, for my mother never cuddled and kissed me like that.' She blinked on sudden tears.

‘I remember playing hide and seek with you,' he said, tucking her arm through his. ‘You knew the best places and, though I could never find you, you always found me. But you never gave the game away to the others – you still don't.'

She raised her brows at him, trying to fathom his meaning.

‘You make me laugh,' he qualified. ‘You take my cares away. You know me. I often wish . . .' He cleared his throat and abruptly strode out, his complexion flushed.

An awkward silence developed between them, and Jeanette sensed that one more step might lead to revelations from which there would be no going back. Her heart belonged to Thomas. Edward was her dearest friend even if she was a woman and he a man, but that very detail made for a dangerous line should either of them cross it, even inadvertently. He was the heir to the throne and would marry where politics dictated. His wishes would remain dreams, and she was set on a different path.

‘As you know me also,' she said, using a lighter nuance in her voice to restore the equilibrium. ‘Thank you again – I hope to repay your kindness one day.'

At the door to her lodging, he stopped, and his smile was a little forced. ‘You have incurred no debt,' he said. ‘Nor ever shall.' Then he swiftly pecked her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth, and gave her and Hawise into the keeping of the Salisburys' usher.

For the next several days, Jeanette was on tenterhooks as the winter cold slowly yielded to glimmers of spring. The evenings were drawing out and suddenly the shadows were not as deep. She spent a great deal of time in prayer, hugging to herself the knowledge that Thomas was going to Avignon to put their case before the Pope.

Katerine, however, grew increasingly bad-tempered; the King was always too busy with his soldiers, advisers or the Queen to see her and, from what Jeanette overheard, appeared to be deliberately avoiding her.

One afternoon, ten days after her brief meeting with Thomas, a visitor bearing a satchel arrived at the Salisbury lodging and presented a sheaf of documents to Katerine, who sent for her chaplain and, together with Elizabeth, retired to her chamber. When the women emerged, they were tight-lipped and cast dagger looks at Jeanette. William, who had just returned from battle practice, stood, sweaty and flushed, in his padded under-armour, gazing at his mother and grandmother.

‘What is the matter?' he asked.

Katerine glowered at Jeanette. ‘This has happened, as I feared.' She thrust the pieces of parchment into William's hands. ‘Thomas Holland's perfidy knows no bounds. None of it is true – it's a tissue of lies and falsehood.'

William said nothing, but his body stiffened as though he was drawing everything up inside him. He glanced through the documents, some with seals attached.

‘You can read it in detail if you wish,' Katerine said, ‘but it is of no consequence, for who is going to listen to this fairytale? I shall speak to the King about it and he will stop it in its tracks.'

‘It's about my marriage, isn't it?' Jeanette said. ‘You can do nothing to stop this from reaching the Pope – nothing! The King won't listen and Thomas is already on his way to Avignon!' Elation and fear surged through her while the women stared at her like a pair of cornered lionesses.

William seized her arm in a hard grip. ‘Madam, I will speak with you,' he said, and he dragged her into their bed chamber and shut the door.

Once inside, Jeanette wrenched free of his grip and rubbed her arm, knowing she would have fingerprint bruises later. ‘I have told and told you this day was coming,' she said. ‘Thomas has the support of the Queen, and whatever your mother believes, the King will not stand in his way. He is on the road to Avignon where he will get a fair hearing.'

‘What makes you think the Pope will listen?' William scoffed. ‘He has more pressing matters to deal with than paltry disputes like this.'

‘Why will he listen?' She tossed her head. ‘Saint Silver and Saint Gold, to the tune of eighty thousand florins – that is why he will listen! He will listen because Queen Philippa is involving herself in the case. He will listen because it will make him happy to see the King squirm given the arguments they have had in the past. And the King will do nothing because he will cleave to the Queen in this matter. He needs to keep his own marriage vows sweet. He values Thomas as a proven leader of men whereas you are still in wardship. For all those reasons, Avignon will listen!'

‘Do not underestimate my mother and grandmother,' William said stubbornly. ‘They always get what they want. Your own mother will fight this too.'

‘And you?' she asked scornfully. ‘Will you fight it as well, or just drift with the tide?'

He shook his head and began unfastening his quilted jerkin. ‘I want nothing to do with it. Let God decide.'

‘Do you believe me? Do you think now that Thomas and I were truly married?'

He shook his head and didn't answer.

‘You could let me go. You could write to the Pope yourself and say that you agree with Thomas's claim, and that you wish our marriage dissolved.'

‘I cannot do that,' he said with weary exasperation. ‘It is more than my life is worth. I took you to wife, truly believing in the sanctity of our marriage, and I am not going to deny it now. I will not stand in the way of the decision is all I will say.'

Jeanette puffed out her cheeks. ‘If you truly wanted to leave this match behind, you would go out there and tell your mother that you agree to an annulment on the grounds that I was already wed. You know what is morally right yet you dare not do it!'

‘I want nothing more to do with any of it – not from you, not from my mother, not from my grandmother. You damned cackle of women can all hold your tongues!' He tugged off his pourpoint, almost getting it stuck round his ears, and emerged red-faced, his fair hair sticking up in spikes. ‘Perhaps if you had the grace to see it from my side, you might understand.'

‘Perhaps if you had the courage to stand up to those two out there, I would,' she snapped. ‘We have both been played false. You have been dubbed a knight, and you have dwelt in the battle camp, and yet they ride over you roughshod as much as they ride over me, as if we are still small children. I will not let them win – will you?'

Without another word, he threw on a clean tunic and stalked from the room, slamming the door. Jeanette sat on the bed, hands clasped tightly together, flesh to bone. Outside she heard the women speak to William and his curt reply followed by the hard banging of the outer door, making the walls vibrate.

Jeanette returned to the main chamber where Katerine and Elizabeth sat muttering together like a pair of witches.

‘You will not succeed,' Katerine said to her with hostility. ‘I shall go to the King and he shall put an end to it.'

Jeanette shrugged. ‘But it was the King who gave my lord Holland the leave and wherewithal to pursue his case,' she replied. ‘I do not think you will persuade him to change his mind.'

‘No?' Katerine's gaze was glacial. ‘We shall see about that.'

The next day was one of relentless drizzle under low skies, grey as old fleece. Katerine had been gone all morning, and returned in the early afternoon, in a mood as foul as the weather. ‘Pack the baggage,' she commanded the servants. ‘We are returning to England immediately.'

Elizabeth, who had been dozing by the fire, lumbered to her feet. ‘Not today, surely?'

‘Tomorrow, once the packing is done,' Katerine said tersely.

‘What did the King say?'

‘That it would be best if I returned there while the Queen is in residence and that he had been meaning to speak with me.'

Jeanette looked down, concealing her triumph.

‘Besides,' Katerine continued, lifting her chin in rallied pride, ‘the estates need tending – I have to speak with my stewards and factors. The King has given William leave of absence to escort us. We must make haste, for a ship has already been arranged. Perhaps it is no bad thing. There are rumours of a pestilence that is causing great sickness in the south, and it will be safer for us to retire to better air.' She cast a malignant glance at Jeanette. ‘Who knows, perhaps it has already reached Avignon.'

After her initial delight that her mother-in-law had received short shrift from the King, Jeanette was unsettled. England was removed from the court, and from Thomas. If she was summoned to Avignon to give evidence, how would she manage it from England in the care of these women who would do all in their power to prevent her?

Talk of sickness frightened her too, lest Thomas and his mother were endangered. She could do nothing about it except pray, and she knew how fickle God could be.