35 Royal Palace of Havering, Essex, November 1349

35

Royal Palace of Havering, Essex, November 1349

Jeanette lay on top of Thomas, feeling his bare skin against hers, the coverlet furs pulled up around them. The only light came from the dim, grainy gold candle flame and the red coals in the hearth. He brought a tress of her hair to his lips and kissed it. ‘No thread of gold could compare to this,' he said softly. ‘You are beyond beautiful . . . Just this one moment makes it worth all the struggle and heartache, and I would do it again and again and again.'

She kissed his shoulder, his neck, his temple, unable to believe that finally they were together without barriers. ‘Would you truly? Wasn't there a time when you thought about giving up?'

‘On many occasions, but I didn't – neither did you.'

She left the bed and went to pour more wine and renew the fire. The dogs were sleeping in front of the embers and barely stirred as she added a fresh log. ‘No, but it was hard.' She swept her hair behind her shoulders, and returned to bed with their goblets. ‘Sometimes there was so much weight crushing me I thought I would die, but each time I found the strength from somewhere to withstand another load and stay alive. In the end, the more they sought to stamp me down, the harder I resisted.'

She took a drink and folded the covers around her body. ‘Even now I do not know if we would be here in this bed if not for the pestilence taking my mother and William's too. They were holding on to me like a dog gripping a bone. And William's grandmother added her jaws also. I sometimes think they would rather have killed me than see me become your wife.'

He stroked her hair. ‘But God must have been with us. Had I not won that ransom in Caen, and if not for the pestilence . . .' He fell silent again, for although the sickness had brought them their heart's desire it had also destroyed so much in its surge and left tragedy in its wake too. ‘I wish that my mother and sister could have come to know you truly,' he said quietly.

‘And I am sorry not to have known either of them beyond a word or two,' Jeanette replied, although she wondered how she, Maude and Isabel would have fared together as women of the same family. She had experience enough to be wary, especially of mothers when it came to their sons. ‘Now we have to make it up to the King,' she said. ‘The Queen is on our side and happy for us, as is the lord Edward, but I am not certain how his father regards the matter.'

Thomas set his wine aside. ‘We can win him round. We no longer have to contend with the Countess of Salisbury whispering in his ear. He values my service and Otto's, and now that the pestilence has begun to recede he will be requiring our skills.'

Jeanette rolled her eyes and laughed without humour at the notion that he would think that leaving her and putting himself in danger constituted a solution she would be happy to hear. But then he was a soldier by trade – an excellent one – and his occupation was part of how they came to be sharing this bed at all.

The court started arriving for the Christmas feast ten days later, with the piled baggage carts rolling in first, accompanied by the servants of the Marshal's department, to begin setting up the household and erecting tents. The weather was one of bright, crisp frosts and skies of enamelled blue.

Thomas and Jeanette helped to oversee the arrangements, and Jeanette was glad for them to have something to do now that well over a week had passed, for they could not spend every day in bed, much as they had enjoyed doing so. They had talked and wept and laughed and come to know each other all over again, but now it was time to allow the world back into their lives.

The King and Queen arrived at the same time by prearrangement, and Jeanette and Thomas knelt to greet them with the rest of the household. Tense and apprehensive, Jeanette was unsure how the King would receive them. Philippa had a warm conspiratorial smile for her and Thomas as she swept into the palace. The King cast a brief glance in their direction, his expression neutral. Prince Edward flashed them a reassuring grin and waved as he followed his parents.

Jeanette was swiftly summoned to join the Queen and her ladies, and knelt before Philippa with her head bowed.

‘You are glowing, my dear,' Philippa said, her gaze full of amused mischief. ‘I take it that all has been to your satisfaction?'

‘Yes indeed, madam,' Jeanette answered, smiling. ‘We have been making up for lost time – many years of lost time.'

‘Well, I wish you and your husband a fruitful outcome. We shall enjoy the festivities and witnessing your renewed vows.'

Prince Edward took her hand and bowed over it. ‘I am glad for you, cousin,' he said. ‘I wish you all the joy in the world.' He kissed her cheek and then her lips in a swift salute.

‘Thank you, sire,' she said, and although her tone was formal, the look she gave him was full of warmth. ‘Thomas and I are indebted to you.'

‘None of that,' he said firmly. ‘You are my dear kin, my friends, and as necessary to me as I am to you. We shall all go forward together.'

On his knees, Thomas bowed his head before the King. Jeanette curtseyed beside him dressed in her wedding gown of red and gold velvet with ermine trim and her father's belt encircling her waist. Around her neck, exposed now, was the little pendant she had picked up from a muddy tourney field as an infatuated girl, and with it, on a gold chain, the recently polished ruby Thomas had once given her, now in a resplendent gold setting. A new wedding ring featuring two clasped hands gripping another ruby shone on her heart finger, made from the gold of her first one. They had recently come from the church of St Mary attached to the palace where they had been married before the entire court, and then celebrated a mass within the crowded candlelit chapel.

The King, resplendent in robes of gold and silver, gem-set rings on his long fingers, bestowed the kiss of peace on both of them. ‘Welcome to court as man and wife,' he said, ‘and be welcome in any hall in the land in that capacity.' He smiled widely at both of them, but Jeanette still sensed an undercurrent of reserve in his manner. ‘You have my word that this marriage will neither be questioned nor put asunder by anyone in the land now that judgement has been made,' he continued. ‘I wish the best for you and may your line blossom and flourish. Let the past remain in the past from this moment forth, and let us feast and rejoice.'

The wedding was celebrated with entertainment, dancing and mumming, joy and laughter. There were mock jousts with one young man playing the horse, the other his rider, and attempting to knock down opponents similarly mounted. By popular demand, Thomas had to bring Noir into the hall and make him bow to the gathering, before taking Jeanette up on his saddle and riding off with her to loud cheers. As she disappeared from the room, Jeanette caught the Queen's eye, and the pair shared a warm and knowing look.

On Christmas Eve, Jeanette and Thomas rode out with the dogs on their own to spend a little time together before yet another round of entertainments and feasting. The air was crystal-cold with frost making ferny swirls in the puddles and crunching beneath the horse's hooves. Nosewyse and Thomas's swift black gazehound Onyx ran beside the horses, although Jeanette had left Snowflake behind in Hawise's custody, hoping he wouldn't chew his way through anything other than a bone during her absence. Thomas had brought Hawise with him in his entourage and she had returned immediately to her former position. Jeanette was supremely pleased to have her in her chamber.

Thomas smiled as they rode. ‘I have never seen anything as beautiful as your red lips and cheeks in the winter cold,' he said admiringly.

‘You may praise me all you wish, not just my lips and cheeks!' She laughed at him. ‘Which part of me do you like best?'

‘Oh, I could not say, for there is no part that is less beautiful than any other, and of course there are different parts of me that would consider different parts of you as their ultimate praise!'

She spluttered at his saucy reply and kicked her palfrey into a canter. He rode at her side, matching her pace, across the frozen grass and then into the trees, the trunks winter-black and moss-green, the branches bare. The dogs took off, scouting through the woods like wolves. Jeanette was exhilarated at the freedom. No grooms, no attendants, just themselves and time to do as they pleased.

Eventually they came to a charcoal burner's clearing. Thomas produced a flask of sweet wine and some honey cakes and they paused to eat and drink.

He looked at her again. They had made love in the morning before they set out, and even though there was no urgency of lust for the moment, he still could not get enough of her. ‘When we leave court after Christmas, I want to take you to my manor at Broughton,' he said.

Sensing a sudden tension in him, Jeanette raised her brows. ‘What of it?'

‘It will not be what you are accustomed to,' he said, a flush rising under his skin. ‘I am not an earl of the realm. I earn a soldier's wage and whatever I may glean in ransoms and plunder. I have a life interest in a few manors from my mother, but that is all.' He took her hand. ‘You are the King's cousin. Your brother is the Earl of Kent and William Montagu is the Earl of Salisbury, and his income is more than four times that of mine.'

‘I did not wed you for your money or your reputation.' Jeanette stroked his cheek. ‘Had I needed that kind of comfort, I could have chosen it long ago.'

‘Even so, I want you to know we shall have to trim our sails to suit the horizon. Would that I could provide you with every luxury in the world, but it is not within my means.'

‘I do not expect that,' she said. ‘I will not starve for food or clothes unlike some of the poor wights who beg in the streets. Nor shall I want for love or protection, for you shall give me those in abundance – more than I have ever had in my life, and that matters more. I have fine gowns and jewels already. We shall have a sufficiency of everything, love most of all.' She drew away to look at him, her gaze serious. ‘To possess the freedom to ride my horse and fly my hawk as I choose and not be a prisoner is the greatest gift in the world after what I have known. Those who matter most to us know who we truly are. I tell you again, I care not, and I mean it with all my heart. I would follow you barefoot in my shift, this I swear.'

He swallowed emotion, and kissed her tenderly, and they remounted the horses to make their slow return to the palace.

‘I do wonder if the King has forgiven us,' he said thoughtfully.

‘Forgiven us for what?'

‘Well, he has surely lost face because I went to the papal court, and because he was complicit in arranging this match with you and Montagu, only to find I had already married you in Ghent without permission. He was accepting when we knelt to him, but I do not know if we shall find favour in future.'

‘He is no fool when it comes to playing the great game,' she replied. ‘He needs your skills and he is fond of me. The Queen is favourable to us, and he desires her goodwill, and his eldest son's approval. Edward will always speak for us.'

Thomas smiled at her. ‘I suspect the Prince is rather smitten by you.'

‘It is only that he has known me since he was born,' she said defensively. ‘He has had mistresses and the business of being his father's deputy to keep him occupied, and he will make a diplomatic match when it is time. You do not become smitten by someone who stuffs hay down your tunic in the stables and calls you names.'

Thomas arched his brow. ‘I am not so sure.'

Jeanette felt her face growing hot. ‘Are you jealous?'

He shook his head, looking amused. ‘I have no cause. I am grateful for his aid and support and I will gladly serve and support him in my turn. Perhaps I am a little sorry for him because he does not have you.'

She reached across their horses to touch his hand. ‘We grew up almost as siblings,' she said. ‘One day he will be a king and he will wed to the dictates of duty. I hope he finds love and partnership within it. For me – I am hopelessly in love with my husband for ever.'

He took the hand she had reached out and raised it to his lips. ‘For ever and a day,' he said.

Seated at the feast, enjoying roast fowl in the great hall, Jeanette was slipping morsels to Nosewyse and Snowflake under the trestle when she saw an usher sidle up to the King, murmur in his ear, and give him a sealed letter and a ring. Edward glanced at both, then broke the seal and read what was written on the parchment. Then he spoke quietly to the Queen, rose to his feet, and left the table. His exit caused a hubbub of speculation. The Queen clapped her hands and bade everyone continue eating – a matter of business had cropped up that would be dealt with.

‘That does not look like good news,' Thomas said.

Jeanette set down her knife. Someone must have died, but she couldn't think who, because the senior courtiers were gathered in the hall. However, the King had gone white as he read the message. She could feel Thomas's coiled tension responding to the hint of a threat.

Other ushers entered the hall. One of them went to Prince Edward and spoke to him quietly, and then to Sir Walter Manny and Sir John Chandos before arriving at Thomas.

‘Sire, the King requests your presence in the ante chamber,' he murmured.

Thomas wiped his lips on a napkin, and stood up. He pressed Jeanette's shoulder. ‘I shall return as soon as I may, my love.'

Jeanette watched him leave with the other summoned men – all knights of the Order of the Garter and part of the King's inner military council. Something momentous was afoot.

Thomas and his companions found the King conversing with a dark-haired man with a thick beard and travel-stained clothes. Thomas immediately recognised Amerigo di Pavia, an Italian soldier who was serving as constable of one of the harbour guard towers in the port of Calais.

The King beckoned his knights to gather round. ‘Gentlemen, we have some treachery afoot in Calais.' He gestured to di Pavia. ‘Tell these men what you have just told me. Do not worry, you shall be well rewarded, and you have saved your own skin in coming to us.'

Di Pavia's fists tightened, and Thomas saw that beyond the tension the man was deeply afraid. ‘Messires, as I have told the King, Calais is in imminent danger. I wish I was not the bearer of this news, but for my honour, I had no choice.' He licked his lips. ‘I have been approached to betray my post as the King's liegeman, and I cannot confront these traitors on my own, so I come to tell you what has happened, and to clear my conscience. The ring I showed you is a token of my good faith and the truth of what I say, for it was given to me by the man himself as you see engraved, who wishes to betray all agreements previously made, and to enter the town by stealth and take it from you. I have no love for this man and the position in which he has put me.' His eyes flashed with indignation. ‘I am no traitor and I would rather die than give in to this plot.'

The King handed the ring around the gathering. Thomas took it at his turn and hefted the weight. It was strong, solid gold, set with the private seal of the French knight and adventurer Sir Geoffrey de Charny, a man with a shining reputation for honour and chivalry. The irony was not lost on him.

‘What exactly is this plot?' he asked. ‘Just how does de Charny intend to enter Calais?'

Di Pavia's brow creased with worry. ‘It is the weather and the stage of the moon that holds them back,' he said. ‘They are waiting for a light night and low tide. Then they will come across the marshes to my tower and knock on my door. I must give them my son as a hostage for my good intent and in return they promise me riches beyond counting. But it is dishonourable and I do not trust them. I have agreed to their terms, but I would rather die than lose my honour!'

The King set his hand to di Pavia's shoulder and gripped hard. ‘I am sure that is the case – I know you for a good and loyal soldier. And in my turn, I promise you will be well rewarded for your loyalty to me in refusing to be a traitor.'

The Italian nodded and looked relieved, although his body remained stiff with tension. ‘He broached this plan to me two days ago and I sailed straight here to bring you the news, but he will come very soon – there is not much time.'

‘We will have to go over there and counter it,' Prince Edward said. ‘We will lose Calais if we do not act immediately.'

‘We must decide swiftly what to do,' his father agreed. ‘We must go there in haste and hope we are in time.'

‘If they see us or discover what we are about,' Walter Manny said, ‘they may abandon the attack and try again on another occasion.'

‘Yes, we need to be inconspicuous, but with sufficient numbers to be effective, and we should muster now,' said the King.

Thomas had been calculating how many troops they could gather at short notice, and how much equipment. ‘We should wear the clothing of the ordinary folk so as not to draw attention to ourselves,' he suggested, ‘and if we take horses they should look like ordinary beasts to the casual eye, perhaps being brought in by a horse dealer.'

The King nodded his approval. ‘That is a fine notion, Thomas.'

‘And if we have to bring in equipment, we should put it in chests and bags and make it seem that we are traders in ordinary items.'

A general rumble of assent followed his suggestion, and the King nodded again. ‘We should begin preparations immediately. Thomas, see to the horses. Make sure they are not groomed for the next two days. William, find chests and bags for the equipment that will not look out of place. Edward, set your men to acquiring some plain, common clothing – nothing too new, but not so old and ragged that it will draw attention. Let the owners be compensated and sworn to silence. Tell them it is for a Christmas jape that the King is concocting, and intended as a surprise they are not to spoil. All of you go about your work quietly. No one must know beyond your own trusted enclave for no hint of this is to reach the French.'

The King turned to di Pavia and put his arm across his shoulders. ‘Eat and drink, take some sleep, then return to your post in Calais.' He signalled to his senior squire. ‘Robert will attend to your needs and find you comfortable quarters.' He gave the youth a subtle signal to keep a close eye on di Pavia, before addressing his knights again: ‘Go back to dinner and finish your meal. Say nothing of this and we shall reconvene at compline, and begin planning our strategy.'

* * *

Jeanette looked up as Thomas slipped quietly back into his place and picked up his goblet as though he had just come back from taking a piss. She noted the others, including Prince Edward and his father, returning too.

‘Well?' she asked.

He shook his head. ‘Just some business on which the King wanted advice.'

She raised her brows, wondering since when had drawing his senior knights away from a Christmas Eve banquet been a matter of nothing. ‘Business,' she echoed with a straight face.

Thomas returned her look blandly. ‘Yes,' he said, ‘business.'

Over the next few days Jeanette became increasingly aware that something was afoot. After the feast on Christmas Eve, Thomas had escorted her to their chamber, told her he had matters to attend to, and had departed forthwith, not returning until the small hours, and saying nothing about where he had been. She knew he would not tell her, no matter what wiles and persuasions she attempted, so she let him be. Efforts to find out from the maids and servants produced tantalising crumbs, but no nutrients, and the Queen herself made it clear that tattlers would be severely punished.

There were comings and goings at all hours of the day and night. She saw people walking the corridors at unusual times and conspiratorial glances exchanged between certain of the men. She saw Thomas sitting on a wall talking intimately with his archers and serjeants. She came across people wandering about with bundles of clothing. One afternoon, returning to fetch her book of hours, she heard voices in their chamber and paused at the door, to hear Otto saying to Thomas that it was irritating to have to dull their fine armour and remove all the embellishments.

‘Pretend we are young knights again, setting out on our life's adventures,' Thomas said. ‘It will be like the old days when we kept our kit simple and sharp, and were eager for the fray.'

Jeanette heard Otto give a snort of grudging amusement.

Then Thomas said on a quieter, reflective note, ‘We were just young men out for the chance when I set eyes on Jeanette on that ship to Ghent.'

‘Hah, and look where that got you!'

‘Two stolen hearts, exchanged each for the other,' Thomas said, and Jeanette almost melted.

‘You're impossible – both of you! Look, I can't take this dagger sheath, it's too decorated.' Beneath Otto's complaint, Jeanette heard the relish of anticipation.

Jeanette quietly tip-toed away. Her book would wait.

That night, when she and Thomas retired to bed, she noticed a leather baggage satchel on which was placed a clean shirt and a serviceable brown tunic that she recognised as Duncalfe's.

Thomas emerged from the latrine, hitching his braies. She indicated the satchel. ‘So, this is the big secret, is it?' she asked. ‘This is the thing that does not exist?'

He looked at her and sighed. ‘It won't be for long.'

‘And just when are you leaving?'

‘Tomorrow, when the tide turns. It must be done; we cannot delay.'

‘But it is too secret to tell wives – and it is going to involve fighting, and pretending you are common men?'

‘How do you know that?' he demanded.

‘I overheard you and Otto in our chamber earlier today – I came to fetch my book. I was not deliberately listening, and I left you to it, but I am not foolish.'

Thomas grimaced. ‘I can say nothing. I am bound to secrecy and I would be breaking my trust if I told you what it was. We won't be gone long.' He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Jeanette kissed him back. ‘Just come back to me,' she said. ‘I have spent so much time waiting for you, I do not want this to be all we have.' She could not keep the anxiety from her voice, remembering nine years of separation and heartache, but she could not confine him. If you hooded and leashed a hawk that needed to fly, you destroyed its very nature – as had almost happened to her.

Jeanette watched her husband for a few moments as he checked the contents of his satchel.

‘I wish I was going with you,' she said.

‘Hah, you would be too much of a distraction,' he replied with a laugh.

On impulse, she went to her sewing box, took out her shears, and going to the chemise she had worn yesterday that was awaiting the laundry maid, purposefully cut a large square from the area over the left breast. ‘This is my heart,' she said. ‘Carry it with you when you go.' She pressed the piece of cloth into his hand.

He looked down, then raised it to his lips and kissed it, before tucking it down inside his shirt. ‘I carry all of you for ever, my lady wife,' he said. ‘Do not worry, we shall return before you even know we are gone.'

The King and his entourage departed the following morning before sunrise. Horses circled in the courtyard, breath steaming in the frosty air. There were a few carts and sumpter nags, but most of the supplies awaited at the port. The assembled men were keen to leave to catch the morning tide and all necessary farewells had been said in the night.

They took the Dover Road as the day dawned in a peep of paler grey on the eastern horizon. Jeanette watched, dry-eyed, until they had gone, then returned to her chamber to change her clothes for mass. Looking through a coffer for a fresh chemise, she noticed the folded pile of soft linen cloths used for her monthly flux and bit her lip. She looked at Hawise, who looked back at her. She pressed her hand to her belly. She had not experienced any symptoms and it was still early to think she might be with child, but her bleeds were usually regular, and she and Thomas had been making up for their years of lost time. She swallowed, feeling afraid. He had gone away again and she was on her own, remembering the panic of their early days in Flanders and that first missed flux. Abruptly she sat down, feeling faint.

Hawise stooped at her side, and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘It is all right, my lady.'

Jeanette gathered herself together. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘And I know it should not come as a surprise, because last time it happened swiftly too – but to find out when he has gone into danger . . . it frightens me.' She gave a tremulous laugh, and wiped her eyes. ‘I do not want anyone to know – not yet, not until Thomas returns, and until I am certain.'

‘My lips are sealed,' Hawise replied. ‘As they have always been.'

Jeanette embraced her and, distracted but determined, set about dressing to attend mass.