37 Royal Palace of Havering, Essex, January 1350

37

Royal Palace of Havering, Essex, January 1350

Jeanette was eating in the Queen's chamber with the other ladies. The men had been gone over a week and there had been no word from across the sea since their arrival in Calais. Two days ago, the Queen had told a select few of her ladies what was happening, including Jeanette, but they had been sworn to a secrecy as tight as the men's. Jeanette had rolled her eyes in exasperation. So much for Thomas's reassurances that he would be perfectly safe.

The Queen had received messages from Calais informing her that the troops had arrived safely and were waiting for de Charny to make his move, but nothing since then, and although those who knew maintained a cheerful attitude in the public domain, behind curtains and closed doors and within chapels there were doubts and prayers, and deep anxiety. Jeanette could not help feeling that the King and his knights thought of their clandestine visit to Calais as a fine extension of the Christmas mumming but with swords involved – like squires enjoying a lark, although it was a deadly serious situation. What if the French prevailed?

A strong breeze was blowing outside, banging the shutters and guttering any candles that stood near a draught, and Jeanette was glad of the hot pottage the kitchens had provided rather than the usual evening bread and cheese. Thus far she was still well, but perhaps it was too soon to be queasy.

Eating another spoonful of pottage, she thought she heard a sound outside. The Queen raised her head too, eyes alert. Nosewyse and Snowflake emerged from their place under the trestle at Jeanette's feet and started to growl.

Suddenly the doors flung open and a crowd of yelling men charged into the room, clad in dark clothes, hoods pulled up around their heads and faces, swords brandished.

The women screamed and the squires and household knights grabbed for their swords, but then one of the figures leaped on to the nearest table, tore off his hood and cloak and stood before them – the King, in splendour, his smile as bright as the sun. He gestured, and Prince Edward leaped up beside him. His companions threw off their outer garments too and set their weapons aside, revealing the host of household knights, all wearing the drab, plain garments in which they had originally set out.

The screams turned to laughter and applause, and questions. The King raised and lowered his arms, gesturing for silence.

‘Good folk, do not worry at our jest. You are not under attack; indeed, we have saved you! We have secured a great victory, even dressed as we are. Calais was under attack from within and without, and we had need to go there and rescue the town – which we did to great lustre. We have taken much booty and many French prisoners whose ransoms will fatten our coffers this winter. We said nothing, for we didn't want to alarm you or spread panic when we received the news of the treachery. The Queen might have been able to tell you, but she is good at keeping secrets!' He opened his hand towards Philippa and swept her a deep bow, thereby including her in the subterfuge. ‘Now, pray continue with your feast and we shall join you, fresh from the fray!'

To further cheers and claps, the King leaped down from the table and took his seat beside the Queen, and a brimming goblet was swiftly put in his hand.

Thomas squeezed in beside Jeanette, the greasy leather shoulder of Duncalfe's second best jerkin rubbing against her gown. She wrinkled her nose as she passed him her cup and he smiled at her while trying to push away Nosewyse, who was more enamoured than she was by the scents adhering to his garments.

‘I slept with the horses most of the time,' he said.

‘Yes, I can tell.'

‘Well, don't worry, I have to give the clothing back,' he said with a grin. ‘I would hate you not to love me.'

She studied the motion of his throat as he drained the wine, watched him eat bread with a ravenous appetite.

‘The Queen told me where you had gone,' she said.

‘Well, that was her prerogative, not mine,' he replied. ‘We're home, and Geoffrey de Charny is being called "Geoffrey de Chagrin" now, and rightly chastised for making war in a time of truce.'

Between mouthfuls, Thomas gave Jeanette the gist of what had happened, and she watched the bright animation on his face as he spoke and knew that this was her lot. She had married a soldier, not a monk or a cleric. She had a lion, not a house cat. And it was fitting, for she herself was a lioness by birth and by inclination.

She lightly touched his cheek. ‘No matter in what state you return to me, I thank God for it, but as a good wife, I should see you bathed and clad in fresh raiment.'

He raised his brows and smiled. ‘Are you saying that I smell?'

‘Like a horse,' she said, laughing, but she was already summoning the servants. Everyone would be ordering the same, and if she wasn't swift, there would be neither bath tub nor hot water to be had, no matter the rank of the person involved. ‘But I still love you . . .'

‘You just want to undress me.'

It was Jeanette's turn to lift her brows. But then her smile grew coquettish. ‘Of course,' she said. ‘Why would I not? Never judge a man by his clothes until you know what lies beneath them!'

‘Does that advice apply to a man considering a woman too?' he asked with amusement.

‘You should know.'

‘Perhaps I need reminding,' he said. ‘Perhaps we should remind each other.' He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Circumspectly, they made their way out of the hall, the dogs trotting at their heels, Nosewyse clutching half a roast chicken in his jaws for future consumption.

Two days later they left the court to travel to Thomas's manor of Broughton. A large baggage cart laden with gifts lumbered behind them, pulled by a pair of sturdy cobs that were also presents from the King and Queen. Four sumpter horses plodded behind the carts, piled with sacks. There was a smaller cart too for the hawks and their equipment, presided over by John de la Salle.

Jeanette rode along smiling, but quiet, keeping her secret to herself, although several times since his return she had been tempted to tell him. She had said nothing at court, for she wanted the news to be theirs alone for a while.

They approached Broughton in the mid-afternoon, with the late sun gleaming on the roof shingles in a spill of liquid gold, and the whitewashed walls drenched in soft yellow light. The moat glinted and the dry reeds at the water's edge clacked together in the chill breeze, harbinger of evening. Smoke twirled from the manor's chimneys, and as their entourage approached the gate, grooms came to take the horses.

Thomas dismounted swiftly and helped Jeanette down from her mare, then held her lightly against him. He too had been quiet, and she saw the anxiety in his gaze as she looked up at him.

‘I would give you a great palace if I could,' he said.

She smiled and shook her head. ‘I have told you, I do not need such places. Even when I had every luxury to command, I had nothing without you, and thus I have everything now. This will be a fine home to settle and, come harvest time, begin raising our child.'

He looked into her face. She took his hand and put it against her waistline.

‘Truly?' he said.

She nodded. ‘Truly.'

His jaw tightened as he strove for control but tears brimmed in his good eye. ‘That is the greatest news,' he said, his voice choked with emotion.

‘It is the beginning again.' She stroked his face with her other hand. ‘We have survived, and we shall show them indeed what it is to love, and let those who doubted now know the truth.' She reached inside her gown, drew out the small enamelled belt pendant on its chain, and kissed it. ‘I picked this up from the tourney field the first time I saw you joust and I knew then that it was for ever. They said it was the whim of a girl, but it never was – I knew my mind even then.' She tucked the necklace back inside her gown. ‘We shall have difficult times, but none more challenging than those we have already faced.' She nudged him. ‘Are you going to show me into my new home?'

He blotted his face on his sleeve. Behind them, a cloud of doves soared up from the cote behind the manor, and in a sudden change of mood, Thomas pounced on his wife. Sweeping her into his arms, he whirled her round until she burst out laughing, and then he carried her through the doorway and into their marital home.