9 Monastery of St Bavo, Ghent, April 1340

9

Monastery of St Bavo, Ghent, April 1340

Jeanette lay back on her cloak on the grassy bank starred with yellow celandine and early sunbursts of dandelion. April was returning warmth to the land and clothing the trees in delicate new leaves of spring green. A scent of damp grass fragranced the air as the two horses grazed, bridles jingling, and a busy clamour of birdsong marked the urgency of the season. Her own emotions were brimming with a blend of happiness, effervescent excitement, and relish at kicking over the traces and behaving as though she had all the freedom in the world to do as she desired – and the rest she chose to bury.

She and Thomas had met many times over the past few weeks, not just to take carnal pleasure in each other's bodies, but to talk and banter and be together. Sometimes she would sneak away to his chamber, disguised in her maid's dark cloak and hood, and the clandestine escapade was an intoxication in itself. They were careful to avoid discovery, but there was still a piquant thrill in knowing they might be caught.

Thomas would come to the Queen's chamber with a message and they would meet on the stairs and share a swift kiss. Then there were the quick touches of hands in the hall, a look, a smile. Secretly brushing his groin as they passed in a corridor. The mews and the stables had become their sanctuaries and they would lie together at the back of Noir's stall, making love, whispering, touching. And today in the woods on this grassy bank. She refused to think of tomorrow, or even to the end of the day, but to live in the moment, for it was all they had.

‘I suppose we should return,' Thomas said reluctantly. ‘The women will be looking for you, and I have my duties.' He was stretched out on the grass beside her, arms bent behind his head.

Jeanette puffed out her cheeks in a sigh. ‘Back to embroidery,' she said. ‘I hate it. I don't know what I would do without these moments.' She leaned over to kiss him, knowing she would never grow tired of doing this. She traced his eyebrows with her fingertips. ‘I wish there was only us in the world.'

‘Like Adam and Eve?' he asked, grinning. ‘I would enjoy seeing you clad in nothing but your hair every day.'

She hit him playfully. ‘You know what I mean.'

Catching her wrist, he turned it over and kissed the delicate blue veins on the inside. ‘Ah, but the purgatory of embroidery and attending to duty only sweetens the stolen moments.'

They rose and brushed themselves down. Hawise and John had been waiting a short but discreet distance away with the birds and horses. It was a bittersweet pleasure for Jeanette to watch her chamber lady and Thomas's falconer conducting their own courtship openly, without having to be secret.

Several days later, while Hawise was helping her to dress in the morning, Jeanette caught her breath as the maid tightened the side laces of her undergown, for her breasts were full and tender. She had overslept and felt nauseous and still tired.

Hawise said quietly, ‘Mistress, it is perhaps not my place to say, but the laundress has not washed your flux cloths in the last month. Is all well with you?'

‘Of course it is!' Jeanette snapped. ‘And you are right, it is not your place to say!'

Hawise curtseyed and moved away, her eyes downcast.

Jeanette sat down on the bed and, fiddling with her plait, counted back over the past weeks. She had lain with Thomas on numerous occasions, but he had always been careful not to spill his seed inside her, even if it was a sin to – except for that very first time in the stables. She knew the theory that a woman could not conceive unless she released her own seed – signalled by pelvic shivers of pleasure – and it had not happened then, but perhaps that particular science was wrong.

Hawise returned with a selection of hair ribbons for her plait, and Jeanette sighed. ‘I am sorry,' she said. ‘But there is no cause for worry. I am certain my flux will come any day.'

‘Indeed, my lady,' Hawise agreed, but her expression did not match the tone of her voice. ‘A midwife told my mother that if any woman should find that her womb is congested so that her flux fails, she should bathe in water as hot as she can abide and partake of vigorous walks and riding.' Her cheeks reddened. ‘If she has a husband, she should indulge in energetic love-sport, for it will also assist in the matter. If it is more than that, then it is in God's hands.'

Jeanette raised a thoughtful brow at the information, especially the latter advice, and thanked her maid. ‘That is useful to know,' she said, ‘but I am sure the situation will resolve itself soon.'

She lost no time in following the directions, and Thomas, as the recipient, was delighted and wide-eyed at her increased wildness, especially when she straddled him in a manner that the Church considered utterly sinful. She felt so powerful watching the look on his face as she moved above him, glorying in her own sinuous carnality, even while praying that all this determined activity would bring about the desired result.

After a week of strenuous effort and several baths, there was still no flow of blood. Her breasts had grown more tender, and she had started to feel nauseous on waking in the morning. The remedies had failed, and this was more than a congestion. She studied her body as she prepared to dress. Her waist was still narrow, her belly flat. But what would happen when it started to swell? The latest style of overgown was loose and full, and she would be able to hide her condition for several months, but there would come a moment of reckoning. What then would the Queen and her ladies say – and do? How would her mother respond? They would all want to know who the father was, and if they discovered that it would be the end for Thomas. Even if the Gascon marriage did happen, it was already too late to claim the child as that of her bridegroom.

She left the matter for another three days in fading hope that her flux would come, and then decided to approach Thomas and tell him. While attending the Queen to comb her hair, she sought permission to visit her hawk.

Philippa smiled at her. ‘If that bird was your husband, you would be the most attentive wife in the land.'

Jeanette flushed and looked down.

‘I know it is difficult when you are awaiting news from Gascony,' Philippa said with sympathy. ‘Do not fret; it will arrive in its own good time.'

Jeanette felt sick. ‘Yes, madam.'

Philippa called for one of her jewel boxes, riffled among the contents, and presented Jeanette with a little sapphire and pearl brooch. The Queen's response to anyone who was down in the mouth was to either stuff the person with sweetmeats or bestow small fripperies upon them. ‘Now,' she said, ‘be of good cheer, and go and visit that bird of yours.'

Jeanette took the trinket, curtseyed and hurried from the room, then had to stop and lean against the wall to combat a wave of nausea.

Hawise touched her arm. ‘Your cloak, my lady,' she said.

Jeanette straightened and swallowed hard. Hawise draped the garment around her shoulders and made a show of fastening the Queen's pin to the collar until Jeanette was able to continue.

Once they arrived at the mews, Jeanette sent John de la Salle with a message for Thomas to come, and that it was urgent. Then she sat down on a bench outside to wait for him. She dared not go inside to the falcons. They would sense her tension and bate their wings, and the smell of their excrement might overwhelm her delicate stomach.

When she saw Thomas pacing towards her, tall and graceful, his hand on his sword hilt, her heart kicked in her chest with love, anxiety and fear.

He took one look at her face and sat down at her side. ‘What is wrong?'

Now that it came to telling him, her throat was blocked and she could only shake her head.

‘Has something happened with the Queen? Is there news from Gascony?'

‘No.' She twisted her hands in her lap. ‘I . . . I believe I am with child.' She forced out the words. ‘I do not know what I am going to do.'

He drew back sharply to look at her, first in the eyes, and then down at her body. ‘With child,' he said.

She nodded, and her chin wobbled. ‘I think that first time . . .'

‘Dear God.' He rubbed his palm over his jaw stubble and after a hesitation, sighed. ‘Do not worry, I will make it right, I promise.'

‘How will you do that?' she demanded on a rising tide of panic. ‘What about the King and Queen? What about my family? What will they do to us? Look at what happened to your father, and to mine!' She burst into tears.

‘Hush now, hush.' He drew her against him, and she tightly gripped his worn leather jerkin in her fists. ‘Look, we are in a bind, I admit, but there is a way to make it right. I shall marry you, as you once asked. It will cause a scandal and it will not be easy, but if you have my ring on your finger, and we speak the proper vows, then it is no dishonour.'

‘It will mean death for you, and disgrace for me,' she said.

‘What alternative is there? Even if we have done wrong, it is a wrong we can right, especially for the child you carry. It shall not be a bastard, but born within lawful wedlock.'

She looked at him through tear-blurred eyes. He would not be allowed to live for dishonouring her and ruining the King's dynastic plans. She would be hidden away until the child was born and everything would be kept secret. ‘It will mean your life,' she said. ‘Do you not understand?'

He grimaced. ‘I am ready to pay that price.'

‘And what will be the use in that? How will that make it right if you leave me to deal with this on my own?'

‘Look, I shall think of something. We need not announce it to the world yet, but we should wed immediately. Come to me here on the morrow afternoon and we shall make our vows before witnesses. Hawise and John will stand as two, and Otto and Henry de la Haye. Once we are husband and wife, we can decide what to do next.'

Jeanette swallowed at the enormity of what he was saying. She was being swept away on a rising tide, with only straws to grasp.

‘Are you willing?' He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

Dear Holy Virgin . . . ‘Yes,' she whispered. She still could not see a way out of the dilemma, but there had to be an opening further along, there just had! And she was the one who had first asked if he would marry her. ‘Yes, I am willing.'

He dried her tears on the cuff of his shirt. ‘Then we shall do this, and be brave. Know that I love you, and my life is yours.' He touched her damp cheek. ‘Go now. Behave as usual before others, and I will see to the rest, and meet you tomorrow. All will be well, I promise – trust me.'

Jeanette nodded. In the midst of this terrible flood, trusting him was the only branch she had.

That evening, Thomas invited Otto to eat with him in his chamber. The brothers often met to catch up on their lives, discuss orders, and sometimes to play chess and dice away from the tavern. Thomas had little appetite for the cold spiced fowl and bread, but tried to make a show of eating, while Otto devoured the meal with gusto.

At length, Thomas wiped his hands on his napkin and refreshed his cup. ‘I have something to ask you,' he said.

Otto held out his own cup for a refill and pushed aside his dish, empty save for well-picked bones. ‘What is it, brother?'

Thomas dug one hand through his hair. ‘I trust you to keep this secret – at least for now, until I can see my way clear.'

‘You can trust me with your life – although I hope it will never come to that.'

‘It may indeed come to that, but I have no one else who I would have stand in your stead.'

Otto raised his brows, but opened his hands. ‘Then don't tarry, tell me what it is.'

‘I am asking you to be a witness to my marriage.'

Otto stared, then laughed in disbelief and shook his head. ‘Well, that is not what I was expecting to hear. Who is the fortunate lady, and why the secrecy?'

‘It's Jeanette of Kent, the King's cousin.'

‘Jeanette?' Otto's jaw dropped.

‘Yes.'

‘Dear God, Tom, how did this come about? Do the King and Queen know?'

‘Nobody knows beyond you, John de la Salle and Jeanette's maid. We are to wed tomorrow and say our vows before a Franciscan friar.'

Otto shook his head.

‘It has to be marriage,' Thomas said grimly. ‘We have lain together and she is with child.'

Otto regarded Thomas in shocked silence. What an utter disaster for their attempts to rehabilitate their family. They were on probation, and this would scupper them. He might even lose his brother. ‘And once the deed is done, what then?' he demanded when he could speak. ‘When are you going to tell the King and Queen?'

Thomas's face twisted. ‘I do not know. We have a few weeks' grace before anything need be said and I shall think of something. A marriage will make the situation more honourable than it is just now. I shall endow her with my worldly goods and we shall manage. I put my faith in God and I shall do penance for my sin, but I must see it through.'

‘I warned you,' Otto said furiously. ‘Numerous times.'

‘I know you did, but that doesn't help now,' Thomas snapped. ‘I am to blame. I take it entirely upon myself. If you wish to distance yourself, then do so and I will understand.'

‘Do you love her?' It was almost an accusation.

Thomas palmed his face. ‘Yes,' he said simply. ‘More than my life.'

‘Well, that much is certainly obvious, because you might well die.' Otto curled his lip. ‘At least we know you're not throwing it away purely because you've been led by your cock.'

‘Yes, rub it in. As far into the wounds as you can, for I deserve every grain of salt and more.'

Otto picked up his cup then thumped it down again with an expletive. He started for the door, set his hand to the latch, then turned around and exhaled hard. ‘I think you are God's greatest fool, but no matter how much salt I grind into your cuts at your behest, it does not alter our kinship. I will stand at your side even to the gates of hell, as I know you would stand at mine if the tables were turned. Let fate do its worst and let it be what it will be and Heaven help us.'

Thomas strode over to Otto and embraced him in a heartfelt clasp. ‘Thank you,' he said hoarsely. ‘I am forever indebted to you.'

Otto snorted and pushed him away. ‘Indeed you are, you fool!'

At a knock on the door the brothers swiftly drew apart. Otto opened it and found John de la Salle standing outside, revolving his hat in his hands.

‘What is it?' A jolt shot through Thomas. He had asked John earlier if he would stand witness on the morrow, and wondered if there was a problem.

John entered the room, and shuffled his feet, his expression awkward. ‘Sire,' he said, ‘I was thinking about tomorrow . . .'

‘What of it?' Thomas demanded, fearing that the falconer was about to renege on his word.

‘I was wondering . . . would it be presumptuous to ask that the priest also marry myself and Mistress Hawise? We wish to be wed, and if we served as witnesses to your joining with the lady Jeanette, then you might witness ours also.' His hat-turning grew more rapid. ‘It means too that if anyone comes across a wedding, we can say without a word of a lie that I am marrying Mistress Hawise.' He flicked an anxious glance at Thomas and Otto. ‘Forgive me if I have spoken out of turn.'

Thomas clapped his shoulder, his blow heavy with relief. ‘Not in the least!' This was the perfect cover. ‘Indeed, I congratulate you heartily. It is a fine plan, and an excuse for a celebration afterwards. I am delighted for you and the lady, of course, but this could not be better!' He poured wine and gave it to de la Salle. ‘A toast,' he said. ‘To marriage – may we all wed our true loves and stay the course, whatever the future holds.'