28 Eltham Palace near London, May 1348

28

Eltham Palace near London, May 1348

Otto set one hand on his hip and thrust out his leg in his tight-fitting hose to show Thomas the effect of his new blue garter. ‘What do you think?'

‘Fetching,' Thomas said with a grin. ‘The women will appreciate you even more than they already do!'

This morning, the King had announced his intention of forming an order of knighthood, a new Round Table of elite knights who would wear a blue and gold garter to mark their prowess and prestige. Details were still being formalised, and robes decided upon, but the King intended the order to outmatch any in the great courts of the other princes of Europe.

Initially some knights had been amused at the announcement, but the King had taken it in good part and said how virile the chosen warriors would look and how their garters would mark them out as men of exceptional military ability, and the ridicule had swiftly ceased. Twenty-four were to be chosen – twenty-five including the King – and garters and robes were to be officially presented in a grand ceremony on St George's Day in Windsor chapel the following year. Otto, however, was trying out the effect already.

Thomas's squire poked his head into their tent. ‘Sire, the Earl of Kent is here and wishes to speak with you.'

‘By all means, show him in,' Thomas said.

He had encountered Jeanette's brother several times on campaign, and the young man had been residing at court since his marriage to the Queen's cousin Isabella of Juliers. However, John had kept his distance from Thomas thus far, even while being scrupulously polite. His mother, the Dowager Countess, was at court too, keeping the Queen company, which was a pity. Thomas had stayed well away from her, for there was nothing they could say to each other that would not explode into an almighty public feud.

John of Kent entered the chamber. Like Jeanette he was tall, and in his case still growing into his long limbs. His fair hair, a few shades darker than his sister's, held glints of copper and his blue-grey eyes were steady. A new, tender beard fluffed his jaw and chin. Thomas was reminded that he was not a particularly martial man, despite having trained with Prince Edward. Urbane and courteous, he had none of Edward's military passion, and war was a duty to him, not a calling.

‘Welcome,' Thomas said, polite but cautious since this was the first time they had sat down together. ‘Will you take a cup of wine?'

John nodded acceptance and sat down across the bench from him and Otto. He placed a leather book satchel on the table, keeping it away from the threat of drink spillage.

‘I am pleased to see you,' Thomas said. ‘We have not had an opportunity to speak, and I have not deemed it appropriate to approach you, although I recognise you are head of your household now and Earl of Kent. I am at your service.'

John flushed and waited while the squire poured wine and placed a dish of almond-stuffed dates on the board before retiring.

‘I think it is the other way around,' he said, once the squire was out of earshot, ‘and that I am at yours with regard to your marriage claim.'

‘I would appreciate any help you can give me, of course, but I understand your position.'

John screwed up his face. ‘I dearly love my sister – she is my godmother too. There was no one else and we were under house arrest when our father was executed. She cared for me when I was little, and in our younger years we were close. When I heard Montagu was to marry her, I was pleased, and thought it a good thing for our family. He and Jeanette used to squabble and insult each other as children, but all youngsters do that at play; you cannot take account of such spats when entering into a marriage. I did not understand why my sister was objecting so much.'

‘You did not know about her marriage to me?' Thomas asked with surprise.

John shook his head. ‘Not at the time. I wasn't involved and I didn't care to be involved – it was a matter for our parents and wardens, and Jeanette never told me. I just thought it was because . . . well, you know how women can bite your head off as soon as look at you sometimes. If I tried to speak to Jeanette she would snap at me, and call me a child. And if I tried to ask my mother, it was the same.' He picked up his cup. ‘But recently my sister told me about your secret marriage at Saint Bavo.'

Thomas lifted his own cup, a wry expression on his face. ‘It was perhaps not such a fine idea to marry in secret. I wanted to show my commitment to her, but I needed to find grace with God, and before I openly broached the matter and while I was away, the Montagu match was arranged and your sister was in no position or frame of mind to refuse – which is how we came to this broil.'

‘My sister swears you were truly wed before witnesses, and that the bond was consummated.' John reddened.

‘Yes, we were. Otto was one of the witnesses.' Thomas indicated his brother. ‘The consummation is a private matter between me and your sister, but we will both swear that it happened on many occasions. I love her with all of my heart. I could have abandoned this fight long ago. William Montagu was under-age and incapable of growing a beard when his parents and your mother agreed the match. Like Jeanette he was pushed into it. I fully intended to make my confession to the King and claim your sister on my return from the wars, but instead found her bigamously married to the Montagu boy, and I did not have the funds to challenge the union then. Now I do, and I will continue to pursue the case to its end, whatever that might be.'

John reached to the satchel on the table. ‘I have been sorting through family documents since I have come into my majority,' he said, ‘and I found these letters in the strongbox.' He removed several strips of parchment bundled together with string and pushed them across to Thomas. ‘These are copies of messages my mother sent to the Dowager Countess of Salisbury concerning my sister's marriage with you, and they were written during the negotiations for Jeanette's match with William Montagu.'

Thomas set his cup aside, unfastened the string and read the first one, the brown ink faded along the fold line, but detailing clearly the evidence that Margaret of Kent had known full well about Jeanette's statement that she had been married in Flanders. ‘It is a pity that there is no seal to the document,' he said. ‘I suspect Montagu's attorney will say it is a forgery, but I shall pass it on to my own lawyer and hope it will aid his case. And I thank you.'

‘There is more,' John said. ‘The Countess of Salisbury replied to my mother, and her seal is indeed upon the letter.' Triumphantly he produced another piece of parchment, with its wax seal hanging from a folded strip of parchment.

Thomas read it and passed it to Otto, who had already perused the first one. This letter acknowledged Margaret's information and Katerine replied that she had been at St Bavo at the time of the purported marriage and had no knowledge of any such ceremony having occurred. The claim, she said, should be ignored as a fabrication. Neither of them should allow a silly girl's infatuation to stand in the way of a great dynastic marriage for both families.

Sickened, Thomas shook his head. ‘They knew,' he said. ‘They knew and yet they went forward anyway with a bigamous match.' He looked at John. ‘Thank you, I am in your debt for this.'

Looking uncomfortable, John shrugged. ‘I am afraid I believed my mother at first, and thought my sister was being awkward, but when I spoke to her recently and I saw the manner in which the Montagu women were treating her, I realised she had been telling the truth – and then I found these letters.' He reached to his cup. ‘A man does not want to think of his family acting dishonourably, and I must assume their actions were born from good intentions, but I cannot continue to watch my sister suffer. I have gone against my mother, and it has pained me to come to you, but I felt that in all honour I must.'

‘And I am grateful to you,' Thomas said quietly. ‘It is no light thing. If there is anything I can ever do for you, you need but name it.'

John finished his wine and stood up. ‘See that you follow this through, and make my sister happy,' he said. ‘This has to be worthwhile.'

‘I swear on my life that until my dying breath it shall be my only cause,' Thomas said fervently.

John nodded. ‘I shall do what I can, as I have promised Jeanette too. I wish you good fortune.'

They clasped hands, and John departed with the empty satchel under his arm.

Thomas sat down heavily on the bench and, puffing out his breath, picked up the letters to read again. ‘I embarked on this road determined to see it through whatever the outcome,' he said, and looked across at Otto. ‘I have often wondered if I was fooling myself – I know you have thought so.'

‘Many times,' Otto admitted, ‘but the further you have travelled, the more I have realised it is your true path, even if the most difficult. I doubt you would know an easy road if you saw it. Even if I do not always agree with you, you have my respect.'

‘Thank you, brother,' Thomas said. ‘They will claim the letters are forgeries, even with a seal, but each piece adds to the weight of our evidence and lightens the argument of theirs.'

Robert Beverley, back from Avignon, arrived in Windsor at dusk on the same day that the Queen gave birth to another healthy son, christened William. In the summer evening, banners fluttered from the walls and balconies of castle and town, and the air rang with joyous celebration. The church bells pealed the news, and messengers rode out to declare the birth across the land. The castle wards seethed with people carousing and dancing. The King was already planning a grand tourney to mark the birth and the Queen's safe delivery.

Lantern light gleamed in the long twilight, softening the shadows. Master Beverley took a long drink from his cup. Although dusty and red-eyed from his day on the road, he was smiling as he addressed Thomas and Otto at a trestle table inside their tent.

‘I have good news,' he said. ‘The Pope has responded with concern to your information about your wife's confinement. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the bishops of London and Norwich have been instructed to enforce the matter of her right to speak freely and openly without coercion. I travelled from Avignon with the messenger myself, and I have a copy of the letter for your own document chest.' He indicated the bulging satchel at his side. ‘I shall do my best to ensure the matter is dealt with swiftly and that your wife is permitted to report her side of the case in a full and thorough manner to someone who is not in the pay of other parties. I shall be at court for the next month, and then returning to Avignon – all being well.'

‘Thank Christ!' Thomas said on a huge surge of relief. ‘They did not even allow her to attend her brother's wedding, but kept her locked up at Bisham.'

‘Well, that will change under this decree,' Beverley said, ‘although it does not mean she will have the freedom to come to court unless expressly summoned by the King or Queen. However, her attorney will be expected to make a full accounting without bias or prejudice.'

He sat back as Thomas's squire arrived from a cookshop with a roast hen on a platter, white bread, and a dish of green herb sauce.

‘How will that be enforced?'

‘A member of the clergy could attend,' he said, ‘or perhaps an independent witness, or a family member without a particular bias.'

‘Her brother might be willing,' Thomas said. ‘He is now the Earl of Kent and wishes to see justice done. Indeed, I have my own letters for you and evidence that the Dowager Countess of Kent knew of the first marriage, and discussed it with the Countess of Salisbury.'

Beverley paused, a piece of chicken halfway to his lips. ‘That is indeed useful information.'

‘The Earl of Kent will swear to finding the documents in the family strongbox and to handing them over to me.'

‘Excellent!' Beverley attended to his food for a moment, then wiped his lips on a napkin. ‘I have every hope of winning this case. William Montagu's attorney is accomplished, but he is no match for our evidence.' He laid his chicken bones at the side of his dish and picked up the second leg. ‘I should warn you to expect some delay – there is serious pestilence in many of the cities of the south.'

Thomas frowned. ‘We have heard rumours, and some say it is creeping closer to our shores. Do you know its nature?'

‘I have not seen it for myself, but I have heard from those who have, and two people of my acquaintance at the papal court have died.' He shook his head, his expression sombre. ‘If you catch the ordinary pox or the mezils, you have a chance of surviving – sometimes scarred, it is true, but you will live out your lifespan. Some die, some live. But I have not yet heard of anyone who has survived this new disease. It kills whoever it touches, whatever their condition in life. It starts with fever and malaise. Some folk void their stomachs, some do not, but soon swellings like eggs appear in the neck and armpits and groin and they quickly become black and putrid. Other lesions fester on the body and the dying person often coughs up gouts of blood. By the end, and by the mercy and pity of God, they are insensible. A man may come home, eat his dinner, play with his children, love his wife, and within a week every one of them will be dead or dying.'

The attorney crossed himself, and so did Thomas, alarmed, for Robert Beverley was pragmatic and not given to flights of fancy.

‘Some say it is God's punishment and we should be better Christians, but whatever the reason this pestilence brings instant death,' Beverley went on. ‘Will England escape? I doubt it. For all that we have a moat and barrier of sea, we trade widely, and travel between cities on our business. Sooner or later it will come here and then God help all in its path.'

Hearing this, fear shivered up Thomas's spine. What if all this striving was for nothing? When death came calling, there was no recourse to appeal.

‘I say we should continue as we are but take precautions,' Beverley said. ‘We should be humbler before God than is our wont, and keep ourselves shriven and in a state of grace. That is all we can do.' He finished his wine and rose to leave. ‘I should go. I have much to do and the Queen to attend on the morrow, but we shall speak again soon, and I thank the Earl of Kent for his cooperation.'

When he had gone, Thomas rubbed his jaw and looked at Otto. ‘Sobering news,' he said. It made him even more determined to win his case, but he had a gnawing feeling that time was not just passing, it was running through his hands, and running out.