25 Manor of Bisham, Berkshire, April 1347

25

Manor of Bisham, Berkshire, April 1347

The first day back at Bisham, Elizabeth appeared in Jeanette's chamber with the usual cup of fertility tisane.

‘Pray God that this time he gets you with child before he returns to Calais,' she said. ‘I bore my husband eleven children – four sons and seven daughters – and I will not have you diminish our line. You will drink this now.'

Jeanette jutted her chin. ‘Your prayers will go unanswered,' she retorted. ‘He has no more interest in me than I have in him, and you cannot make barren ground fertile. The papal court will declare in my favour, and all your schemes will come to nothing.' She snatched the potion from Elizabeth's hand, and with her eyes fixed on her, drank it down, shuddering at the bitter taste. Then she handed back the empty cup. ‘You reap what you sow,' Jeanette said, venomously.

Elizabeth's hand flashed out, and connected hard with Jeanette's cheek. ‘Be careful what you say to me, my dear,' she said. ‘There is no one here to protect you now.' Drawing a small knife from her belt, she rotated it in front of Jeanette's face and then polished it on her sleeve.

Jeanette swallowed. ‘You are mad.'

‘All the more reason to remain on my good side,' Elizabeth replied. ‘I hope I have made myself clear.'

Jeanette dug her fingernails into her palms. ‘Abundantly.'

‘Good. Then we shall wait and see. If you are not with child this time around, then you shall be the next because you will not thwart God's will for ever.'

‘Neither will you,' Jeanette said. She knew how to keep William at bay and he was no longer interested in her. Thomas would set the wheels rolling in Avignon and God willing they would prevail.

At the papal palace at Avignon, Thomas waited on a bench as he had waited so many days before. He had presented his petition to the Pope – a miracle that he had succeeded, but letters of commendation from Queen Philippa and Prince Edward had stood him in good stead, as had the presence of an attorney well versed in the dealings of the papal court. That he had fought on crusade and had scars to show for it was to his advantage, as was the fact that he had money and gifts to grease the wheels, including a magnificent black palfrey from the Holland stud herd.

Thomas had not been expecting a personal audience with Pope Clement, but he and his mother had been granted a place in the hall where the Pope dined on several occasions, and all exchanges had been cordial.

He watched a bar of warm April sunlight cross the tiled floor and stripe his boot and thought of Jeanette waiting for him in Calais. His mother, garbed in a dark gown and white wimple, sat quietly at his side, her rosary conspicuous at her belt, her fingers rubbing over and over upon the smooth brown beads. They had been here for a fortnight with their small entourage, staying in lodgings and waiting for a reply. Thomas had had to rein in his agitation and impatience. The papal court was like any other court; the skill was not to make a fuss while not fading into obscurity – a subtle thing of body language and manners. He hoped his gift would find its mark, and that the case might intrigue Clement sufficiently for him to take an interest.

A door opened and Thomas's attorney Robert Beverley emerged, clutching a sheaf of documents. He walked over to them, his dark robe swaying right and left. He was tall and robust, with a fluff of curly grey hair poking out from under his bonnet. His light brown eyes were sharp and shrewd for he had spent sufficient time at the papal curia to know its workings intimately.

‘May the Holy Virgin help us,' Thomas heard his mother murmur as she crossed herself.

Thomas rose and faced the attorney, and hung by a thread as Beverley cleared his throat and drew breath.

‘His Eminence has agreed to hear your case, and has put it in the hands of Cardinal Robert Adhemar.'

Thomas let out his breath on a harsh gasp of ‘Praise God!' He clapped the attorney's arm before turning to embrace his mother.

‘This is only the beginning of a long process,' Beverley warned. ‘The next task is to assemble the witness statements, and the witnesses themselves. They will be summoned to Avignon to speak, or to have their sworn testimony presented by me as your representative. Summons will be sent to the Montagu party so that they may make their own depositions, and the same for your lady wife. She will be required to appear in Avignon, or have an attorney to act in her stead.'

‘When are the depositions required?' Thomas asked.

‘Cardinal Adhemar will expect all replies by the last day of December. I know it seems a long time when it is only spring now, but all must be done to the letter and the court has many cases to be heard from all Christian lands, and information must be gathered.'

Thomas swallowed his dismay. ‘How soon after that is a judgement likely to be reached?'

Master Beverley spread his hands. ‘I cannot say. It depends on any counter arguments from the Montagu family, and we must wait on that information. I would hope not more than a couple of months after that, but I can give you no guarantees. All I can say for now is that our position is strong, and I hope we shall win this case.'

‘And thank you for what you have done thus far,' Thomas said, and gave Beverley a purse which the attorney accepted with a bow. ‘But if anything can be done to hasten the matter, I would appreciate whatever you can do.'

Thomas and his mother retired to their lodging to dine and make preparations to return to Calais. Sitting across the trestle from him, Maude put her hand over his. ‘I hope this girl is worth all this for you, Thomas,' she said. ‘I am watching you move mountains for her. There are so many heiresses you could have without any complication.'

He placed his own hand over hers. ‘I would move more than mountains. You speak out of your concern for me, I know, but this is the road I have chosen and she is worth a thousand times what I pay, besides which we are married before God, and I would be committing bigamy if I took another woman to wife.'

‘Yes, but you have been apart for many years longer than you have been together, and you were both much younger then – especially your wife. Will you still feel the same if your case is proven and you are united?'

He gave her a pained look. ‘You sound like Otto. He has often remarked the same to me and I answer you as I answer him. My feelings for Jeanette have changed over time, but only to deepen. And the same for her. She worries that I will abandon her and take another wife. We lived – and loved – enough in the time we had before to know it is worth moving the mountains. Even if it takes a lifetime, I shall have her.'

‘Such a bond is given to very few people, and others must perforce make their flawed way with what they have,' she said quietly, and then smiled at him. ‘I do not say such words in bitterness, only that it is the way of the world, and you should cherish what you have. But why this woman and not another?'

Thomas left the table and went to his coffer, returning with a small book he had bought the previous day, bound in exquisite tooled leather with a jewelled clasp, a book of psalms with commentary and explanation. ‘I bought this for Jeanette,' he said. ‘I know she will appreciate it. She is well read and she has an understanding of everything she reads. When we were in Flanders, she read Emperor Frederick's hawking treatise almost overnight, and was able to debate with my falconer in detail on the subject. She has read Vegetius and Tacitus. Some men mistrust a woman who puts her nose in a book and has a thirst for learning. Some men would rather that their wives could sew a fine seam and be a silent, practical decoration. I would prefer that Jeanette instructs the seamstresses and keeps me company instead, and I do not care if she talks to the servants. A wife of wit and learning can only benefit my household and my career, and better than one who sits over her sewing all day.'

Maude was both surprised and thoughtful. It did indeed behove a woman to be educated, but her own awareness was of household management and accounts, and as an essential need rather than because she especially enjoyed reading. Indeed, she had a preference these days for others to read to her, since her eyesight had weakened as she grew older, even though she owned a pair of spectacles. ‘Good,' she said. ‘And what else?'

‘She is beautiful,' Thomas said, flushing. ‘My heart sings when I'm with her. She fills a room with light and laughter – and she challenges me. It will be no milk and water union, but I relish that thought. I want a whole woman who will stand her ground and look me in the eye. I want to see her true self, not a mask put on for others.' He smiled at her. ‘You have set a fine example of the mould, Mama, and I will not settle for less.'

‘Then I hope matters resolve as you wish,' she said, although her own smile was strained. ‘And I shall hope to love her as I love you.'