27 Reading, Berkshire, February 1348

27

Reading, Berkshire, February 1348

‘Sire, may I have a word?' Thomas said to Edward as they stood on the tilting ground at Reading, taking a moment to watch the progress of the carpenters setting up the stands for the spectators. The sound of hammering carried across the field, and the smell of woodsmoke and stew from a workman's fire. Tomorrow was the first day of the Candlemas tourney and tents were springing up like rings of colourful mushrooms around the perimeters. The lorimers and leather workers, the farriers and horse-copers were already busy with customers. Nearby, some squires were sparring with staves and the clack of wood on wood and the youthful shouts added to the melange. The February day was cold but clear and the puddles had dried up after last week's rain – perfect weather for the sport.

‘Of course, what is it?' Edward asked.

Thomas cleared his throat. ‘Sire, I was wondering if after the tourney you would give me leave to visit my wife.'

Edward's expression sharpened. ‘Is that not a little provocative?'

‘I have a good reason.'

‘Which is?'

A knight rode past, testing a horse's paces, and both men watched.

‘Jeanette did not attend court at Christmas. The Countess of Salisbury claimed she was unwell and hinted that she was with child – which I doubt.'

‘Even so, that is no reason to visit.'

‘There has been no word from her,' Thomas persisted. ‘I have heard on good authority that the lawyer's clerk sent to take her statement spoke as much to the Montagu ladies as he did to Jeanette. They say she is sick, but how do we know that? What if she is being held against her will and prevented from speaking? I will not be content until I see with my own eyes that she is whole and well and not being constrained. If there has been interference, then the papal court must be informed.'

Edward frowned. ‘You have heard "on good authority"?'

‘I heard it from a groom who had gone there to deliver two horses, and who spoke to one of the resident grooms. I am experienced enough to distinguish gossip from truth.'

‘Even so, whatever you suspect, you cannot just ride over to Bisham rough shod and cast accusations.'

‘I would not do that, sire.'

‘Would you not?'

‘I only want to know that she is safe and not locked away under duress,' Thomas persisted. ‘If I were to visit under your authority—'

‘And land the blame on me?' Edward said, but his mouth twitched.

‘I give you my solemn oath as a knight.'

Edward pursed his lips. ‘I suppose you could have done this without asking at all.'

Thomas said nothing.

‘Very well,' Edward said after a moment. ‘You may visit Bisham, and take letters and gifts from me to Jeanette, so that the family knows it is at my instigation. Whatever you find, I trust you to act courteously and without violence. You will go unarmed. William Montagu is my friend, and the future Earl of Salisbury, and you will remember that.'

Relief flooded through Thomas. Had he not been expected to joust in the Prince's entourage, he would have leaped on a horse and set out straight away. ‘Thank you, sire, I am forever in your debt.'

‘Yes, you are,' Edward said. ‘I am doing this for Jeanette too, and for William. I do not underestimate either of those women and neither should you. I shall speak to my mother and to Jeanette's brother, for they will wish to know how she is faring.' He looked at Thomas. ‘Do not let this distract you from the tourney. I am expecting heroic deeds from you over the next few days, and so is my father. You had better prove your worth.'

From Reading to Bisham was a half-day ride, and Thomas set out on the first morning after the tourney had finished. He brought a couple of knights and squires with him, two yeomen and a groom. Since Edward had warned him against all violence and aggression, he wore no sword and only his squire carried banners – the top bearing Prince Edward's ostrich plume, adopted since the great battle at Crécy, and the one beneath flying the Holland lion. A laden pack horse bore gifts from the court, including a length of rose-coloured velvet from the Queen, a basket of candied fruit and some candles from Mistress Bredon of the royal chamber, together with sweet wine and a goblet from the Prince. Thomas had been desperate to get away, more than half expecting Edward to change his mind or the Queen to put a stop to it. It hadn't happened, but even now his ears were pricked for the sound of pursuit and an order to withdraw.

As Thomas rode, his mind churned upon the details of what he knew and what he did not. He feared that Jeanette had come to some harm, and he had to see and know for himself that she was well. He most certainly hoped she was not with child.

The gate porter demanded to know his business and Thomas told him he was here at the request of his lord, the Prince, and that he came with gifts from the court, since everyone was worried at reports of the young Countess of Salisbury's illness. ‘You can see that we are not a big party, and we come unarmed and in peace,' Thomas said reasonably, as the porter regarded him with suspicious eyes. Since there were not enough guards on the gate to force it shut, and because gifts from the court were involved, and the visitors bore Prince Edward's banner, the porter stepped back and let them enter – although he sent his lad running into the manor to raise the alarm.

Thomas rode into the courtyard and dismounted. Stripping his gloves, he followed in the lad's wake, beckoning to his knights Donald Hazelrigg and Henry de la Haye. Duncalfe took the bundles down from the pack horse and followed on with John de la Salle.

The two dowagers were sitting by the fire in the hall, poring over what looked like accounts, and William Montagu was with them. They looked up as Thomas walked in on the heels of the wide-eyed porter's lad. Elizabeth's face turned puce. Katerine abruptly stood up, while William stared, open-mouthed.

‘Ladies,' Thomas said, bowing. ‘Montagu.' He tucked his gloves through his belt.

‘What are you doing here?' Elizabeth demanded. ‘How dare you!'

‘I am here to pay a visit,' Thomas said urbanely. ‘There is concern at court for the welfare of the King's dear cousin. Indeed, I have brought gifts and messages from the lord Edward, his lady mother, and some of her ladies.' He indicated Duncalfe standing behind him laden with packages.

‘The Countess of Salisbury is very well indeed,' Katerine said icily. ‘I am afraid you have had a wasted journey.'

Thomas bowed again. ‘No journey is ever wasted, madam.' He looked round the hall. ‘I am pleased to hear all is well, but as I say, I have gifts from Prince Edward and the Queen, and wonder if it will be possible to present them to her and reassure myself and others that the lady is indeed in good health, that I may report back to her kin.'

‘Absolutely not!' Elizabeth spluttered. ‘It would be the height of impropriety as you know perfectly well, and that is why I say "how dare you". I do not know what subterfuge you have used with her kin at court, but it will not work here. Get out of this house immediately. You are not welcome.'

Meeting the old woman's gaze was like clashing sword on sword. ‘The other reason I am here,' Thomas said, ‘is to make certain that the lady is free to speak her mind with her attorney and not be misrepresented. I need to hear from her own lips that this is the case.'

‘You go beyond the bounds of what is acceptable,' Elizabeth snapped. ‘I understand now why we are faced with this false and disgraceful lawsuit. Of course she is being fairly represented, of course we are looking after her in a manner fitting to her estate, and we need prove nothing to you, for you are not the law. It is no business of yours to be here, and certainly not to see her. We absolutely forbid it!'

‘It is our duty to protect this young woman, and maintain her chastity and reputation to the highest standard,' Katerine added. ‘You claim to be concerned for her welfare, yet you arrive like a fox to the coop, and you endanger her reputation as you endangered it before.'

Thomas suppressed the furious retort that Katerine was unfit to protect anyone's reputation, especially her own. ‘I will see her,' he said, and started forward.

Immediately, two of the Salisbury knights barred his way to the stairs, hands to their swords. Thomas thought he heard the muffled sound of thumping and cries from above.

‘Leave now, or face the consequences,' Elizabeth said, and turned to William, who was standing wide-eyed, at a loss. ‘Are you the man of this house?' she demanded. ‘Get him out of here!'

William looked from his mother and grandmother to Thomas and then wrapped his fists around his belt and jutted his jaw. ‘Show him the door,' he commanded the knights.

‘Christ!' Thomas said in disgust. ‘You truly are tied to the apron strings. Call off your curs, I am leaving. I trust you will make sure that my wife receives her gifts. The papal commission shall hear of this. You cannot hold back the tide when it is on the turn. God help you if you are keeping my wife prisoner.' He cast his gaze towards the stairs again.

‘ My wife is in her chamber and has no wish to see you,' Montagu snapped. ‘You will leave, or face the consequences.'

Thomas fought to control his rage, and with clenched fists turned about and strode from the manor, the Salisbury knights clipping his heels, their swords drawn. He could do nothing for he was unarmed, and he had promised Edward in good faith that he would not engage in violence. He only hoped the Montagus would mind their treatment of Jeanette because they knew this would reach the ears of the royal and papal courts. His next course of action was crystal clear.

In the courtyard, he remounted his horse, and glanced up at the windows above the hall. One of the casements was open and a pale face leaned out, watching him. A hand frantically waved. He waved back, filled with relief, for at least she was alive and full of spirit; but then someone pulled her away from the window which was abruptly closed and shuttered. He reined around, on the cusp of throwing caution to the wind and charging into the hall, horse and all, but the part of him that was a battle commander as well as a soldier kept a grip on such a suicidal impulse. He took a final long look at the shuttered window, circled his horse again to face the gate, and dug in his heels.

Jeanette had seen Thomas arrive, his entourage flying the Prince's banner above his own. She had watched him stride up to the manor entrance and had flown to her door, determined to run down and speak with him, only to discover that she was locked in. She had hammered and screamed and kicked, but to no avail. Dashing back to the window, with wild thoughts of somehow squeezing through the gap, or tying sheets together, she had seen Thomas emerge at sword point and mount up to leave, and she had managed to wave and shout before she was dragged away from the window by a furious Katerine, and the shutters slammed and latched. Her fierce protest that she had a right to see her husband had received a sharp slap and a warning that she would be kept in even closer confinement from now on.

Now the door opened and William entered, looking sheepish. A squire followed, bearing bundles and packages. Jeanette turned her shoulder to show her contempt.

‘He should not have come,' William said, trying to justify himself.

She swung round. ‘There must have been a reason – an official one. I saw the Prince's banner, I know Edward was involved. What do you think Thomas will tell him now? What do you think he is going to say to the papal commission?'

William shrugged. ‘That is up to him. I can only do what is right for my family.'

‘And honourable?' she bristled.

‘The Prince and the Queen have sent you gifts,' he said abruptly, to change the subject. ‘See, there is some fine cloth for a gown and trim of ermine fur. Do you want to look?'

‘What good are such gifts when I am locked up?' she spat. ‘Who is going to see them? Do you think trinkets are going to distract my mind?'

‘But you have them anyway, so why not look?' he reasoned. ‘I will leave them with you. My mother said you should not have them, but even if you think nothing of me, I stood my ground, and here you are. They also said they were going to put bars at your window, but I refused and said that I would not permit it.'

‘How brave of you,' she scoffed.

William turned on his heel and left the room – and locked her in.

Jeanette eyed the basket. Doubtless Katerine and Elizabeth had rifled through the contents to ensure no secret messages were hidden amid the gifts. As William had said, there were pieces of ermine that could be used to trim a gown and some velvet in a plush dusky pink. Two embroidered pillow covers with gold laces and a silver dog dish with Edward's ostrich feather device carved on the base – which made her smile. A crystal phial of rose water and some candles from Joan Bredon, and a beautiful small leather-bound book of psalms. Some of the gifts might have been from Thomas, but since they purported to be from the Queen and court, the Montagu women had left them in situ, although for how long was another matter.

Jeanette picked up the book and unfastened the clasp. The pages were exquisite with illuminated letters and curl-leafed illustrations in the margins. A soft pink rose flowered at a line that was a quotation from the Song of Solomon, and moreover, it was written in English. A closer look revealed that the page had been cleverly inserted later and was not part of the original writing.

Her heart quickened as she read the line again: ‘I am my beloved, and my beloved is mine. Thou art the fairest among women.'

Tears filled her eyes and she cuffed them away, not wanting to damage such a treasure. Turning the pages, sniffing, she discovered that throughout, here and there, the letters had been changed to be slightly enlarged or diminished and she realised that Thomas had in fact sent her a coded message.

She fetched her wax tablet and stylus, and sat at the scribe's lectern to solve the puzzle, telling the watchful maid that she wanted to practise her letters for something to do. It was only a small book and Thomas's note was short, but he said that he loved her and that he was working towards her freedom and the moment when they would be able to live as man and wife. She must not give up hope.

She kissed the letter she had spent time copying out, but knew she dared not keep it. The maid would find a way to look at what she had been writing and would tell Katerine or Elizabeth. She committed the words to memory, then smoothed them out to blankness, sending up a prayer as the waxy surface lost its waves of writing and became as still water.

A couple of dreary months later, the air turned clear and mild and the trees were suddenly bright with new green leaves. Everywhere was in bud and leaf as spring took hold and raced forward. Jeanette, out in the courtyard throwing a stick for Nosewyse, wanted to race with it, but her constraints remained. Since Thomas's surprise visit she had seen no one beyond the manor servants, officials and guards. She was expected to attend to her sewing and pray. They had grudgingly permitted her to read books on household management and the proper ways of wifely behaviour. She had become very well versed in the habits of poultry and their care. She knew that each hen ought to produce a hundred and fifteen eggs a year and raise seven chicks. That for every five hens there should be one cockerel. There were certainly plenty of the latter. At this time of year their noise began under her chamber window while the stars were still glimmering in the pre-dawn sky. One, then another and another, until the air was raucous and it was time to start the day – but not before she had read her little psalter and kissed its cover in daily ritual.

A shout came from the manor gates, and the watchman and his boy hurried to swing them open. Jeanette shaded her eyes to watch the visitors arrive, scattering the poultry. The banners of Kent fluttered in the wind, and her brother John rode in astride a dappled palfrey. Her surprise and joy flared, but died on the instant as behind the first riders a decorated long carriage came into view pulled by three sturdy bays.

John dismounted, and going to the carriage, helped their mother out of it. Jeanette swallowed nausea. No one had told her about this visit. Indeed, Katerine had returned to court a fortnight ago when the Queen had retired into confinement to bear her latest child, due in the early summer, and only Elizabeth was in residence.

Nosewyse ran up to her mother and danced at her on his hind legs. Margaret batted him away, which made him leap about even more and set up a shrill yapping. John looked on with amusement, stroking his new soft beard.

‘Sister,' he said, grinning, ‘I see that nothing has changed.'

‘That shows you how much you know,' Jeanette retorted.

Before they could embrace, Elizabeth emerged from the manor to greet the visitors. ‘Take that dog and shut him in your chamber,' she told Jeanette, her expression pinched with annoyance.

‘Shall I shut myself in my chamber too?' Jeanette asked pertly, but picked up Nosewyse and carried him off.

Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Come,' she said to Margaret, ‘be welcome,' and, leading her inside the manor, called for food and drink.

When Jeanette did not return, Elizabeth prepared to send a servant to fetch her.

‘I will go,' John said quickly, and absconded the hall.

On entering Jeanette's chamber, John looked around before sitting down on a cushioned bench by the hearth and fussing Nosewyse. ‘You have created a great stir,' he said, fondling the dog's coppery ears. ‘In certain places, your name is spoken in a whisper that might as well be a shout.'

‘Is it?' Jeanette faced him, her arms folded. ‘Well, I am glad, for I have been screaming and screaming to no avail for a very long time.'

‘Is it true then? Did you and Thomas Holland truly make a pact and marry in Flanders?'

‘Do you think I would be putting this on myself if we had not?' she said irritably. ‘Do you think Thomas would be going to Avignon to prove our case just to spite everyone? What do you think we have to gain from such an endeavour?'

‘I can see that he has plenty to gain,' John retorted.

‘Oh yes,' she snapped. ‘He loves living with a threat to his life and reputation hanging over his head. He so enjoys making enemies at court and delights in spending his time scraping together funds to fight the Montagus through the law courts. He stands to lose as much as he gains by continuing the battle.' She shook her head at her brother in exasperation. ‘I suppose our mother has been pouring her falsehoods in one of your ears, and William in your other. She doesn't want the scandal, nor the disparagement of having me wed to an ordinary knight and younger son with no title to his name and a disgraced father, when for now I am the Countess of Salisbury in waiting. She will do anything to keep me tied into this marriage – they all will. The lady Elizabeth went to Avignon and perjured herself by swearing I was a virgin on my wedding night, when it couldn't have been further from the truth. She is trying to have the case transferred to England to be heard too.'

John gazed at her with an open mouth, but eventually rallied. ‘William has said little to me,' he said. ‘He once asked me to intercede with you on his behalf to ask you to look more favourably upon him, but changed his mind when I did not understand what he meant. Of late, we have not spoken.'

‘William doesn't want this marriage either, but he is glued to his mother and grandmother and the whole business of saving face. It doesn't matter what I want because no one listens whether I whisper or scream. We would not be taking it to the Pope unless there was another way.'

‘Mama says you are foolish and that you have no care for your family.'

‘Is that what you think?'

He rubbed the back of his neck, which had reddened. ‘No, of course it isn't, and I do support you, but in taking up this fight you have put yourself first and your family second – the same with Thomas Holland. He is not just risking himself. He could have married a fine heiress with Raoul de Brienne's ransom money, but instead he is using it to further this . . . this scandalous court case.'

Jeanette tightened her folded arms, wanting to slap him. Despite his remark about supporting her, he was plainly ambivalent. ‘The only scandal is that we have to go to these lengths to fight our case, when we are husband and wife,' she said. ‘Edward has put his weight behind us. He believes we are telling the truth.'

‘Well, that is because he is sweet on you,' John said.

Jeanette shook her head vigorously. ‘He is my friend, has been since we were children, and he has a mistress and a baby.'

‘And he must marry like all of us in the family interest,' John said pointedly. ‘But the way he looks at you, he would be happy to be more than a friend if he could.'

‘Don't be foolish!' Jeanette knew she was blushing. ‘It is because he knows I am being treated unjustly.'

‘His mistress looks just like you – in some lights you could be mistaken for sisters.'

She waved her hand in denial. ‘I am done with this,' she said crossly. ‘You either believe me or you don't.'

‘Oh, I believe you, and I will do what I can to help you. But I confess that I am envious.'

‘Envious?' She was astonished. ‘Why would you be envious of me?'

‘That you have chosen to fight to the detriment of all else including your duty to your family. I cannot do that because, like Edward and William, I am bound by expectations – I cannot refuse.'

‘Do you mean to say you are already tied?' she demanded. ‘Has mother arranged a marriage for you too?'

He looked down and scuffed his toe on the floorboards. ‘Not so much our mother as the King and Queen. That is why I have been given my lands early, to make me a worthy consort. But Uncle Thomas says it is a fine match and approves. I am to wed the Queen's niece, Isabella of Juliers. We are of an age and they think we shall be well suited.' He looked rueful. ‘Women, when they gather together in their sewing groups to gossip, arrange marriages for their relatives like stitching secret patterns on their embroideries. I envy you because you have chosen to sew your own colours and to walk away from it all, even at a great cost to yourself and others. It is a brave thing to do among many less positive reasons, and I admire that courage to throw away the good and the steady with the bad as if all of it is chaff in the wind compared to your own desires. Some of us cannot loosen our shackles and do that.'

Jeanette gazed at him, absorbing two things at once – that he was going to be married, and that he was bitter concerning her own choice in dealing with her situation. ‘Do you wish to?'

He shrugged. ‘There are more advantages than disadvantages. If we take to each other, then well and good. If we do not, I still have my inheritance and may do as I please and take a mistress or two. I am sure we shall manage when it comes to begetting and raising heirs. I have to look at it like that, as do Edward, and William.'

‘And the women? What do they think?'

‘They make their own lives and their own female friends. There can be productivity and harmony in duty, even if there is not passion and love. Indeed, bonds of affection might grow if they are nurtured. That is what I hope for myself at the least. My bride gains from being the Queen's niece and marrying the King's cousin. I gain from having my inheritance early, a link with the Queen, and an escape from our mother.'

Jeanette regarded him dubiously. He still did not understand because he had a man's perception of the world. At least he had offered his help, although she had no idea what he could do. She doubted his ability to silence their mother. Perhaps he could speak to people at court, and subtly endorse the idea of a union between herself and Thomas – perhaps speak to Thomas himself and organise a strategy.

She drew breath to speak, but John's squire cleared his throat on the other side of the door. ‘Sire, my lady, your company is desired in the hall.'

Jeanette made a face.

‘We shall be there presently,' John called out, and turned to her. ‘Come,' he said, making his tone light to uplift the moment, but not entirely succeeding, ‘let us sit at the table, roll the dice and hope to win!'

‘I shall keep on throwing until I do win,' Jeanette said grimly. ‘They use loaded dice, but then these days, so do I. For I have learned to play them at their own game.'

At the door, she laid her hand on John's sleeve. ‘Do what you can for me, John, I beg you.'

He kissed her cheek. ‘I promise,' he said, ‘but you should help yourself too. For all your talk of playing with loaded dice, it doesn't look quite that way from where I am standing.'