by June Francis
‘What caused you to speak of such matters?’ Philippa was conscious of a pang of jealousy, and regret that the time she had spent on the ship had not been in Guy’s company.
‘Oh, the revolt on your manor … My brother … Master Guy wanted to know if I wished for my freedom, just as Tom had.’ She sniffed in an attempt to stop another hiccup.
‘And do you, Rose?’ It was a matter to which she had never given any consideration.
There was a long silence before Rose answered. ‘If what the king promised is kept to — then I am free. But I don’t doubt that his council will make him change his mind. Greed and pride will see to that.’
‘You haven’t really answered my question. Have you been unhappy while in bondage to my father?’ Philippa suddenly wanted to know how Rose really felt about her position.
‘Often unhappy,’ Rose said unemotionally, ‘but not all the time. I was content to be your maid, helping you in the house and the garden. But I’m not content to be an object of no importance. An ox is probably considered of more value than I. To be a woman and a serf isn’t a position one would envy, is it, Mistress Philippa?’
‘No, Rose,’ whispered Philippa. ‘If I gave you your freedom, what would you do with it?’
‘The rolls were burnt when your house was — so there’s no writing to bind me to you any longer.’ She moved uneasily on the bed.
‘They weren’t,’ Philippa told her. ‘I took them out of the chest and hid them when I escaped.’
‘What? So they destroyed the house … ’
‘But did not destroy all that they sought to. But you still came seeking me, Rose, when you could have fled. You saved my life — and even now you are with me. Why, when you thought that all that bound you was destroyed?’ She sought Rose’s hand and squeezed it.
‘Reckon we’ve been through a lot,’ answered Rose gruffly. ‘You were kind to me in the best way you knew. And you needed me — even Master Guy said so.’
‘I still need you, Rose! Dear Rose!’ she exclaimed in a tear-filled voice.
There was a not unemotional silence as Philippa got up to pull back the covers of the bed, and slid beneath them. ‘If you get in at the bottom end, there should be room for two — unless you have your own bed?’
‘Mistress Margaret said I could share hers, but I’d just as soon not. She snores,’ said Rose dispassionately. ‘Then let’s get some sleep.’
Rose agreed, and within the hour both were fast asleep. Philippa woke first and lay looking up at the rafters, thinking. When Rose stirred, she called her softly.
The maid yawned and stretched and sat up. ‘What’s that you say, Mistress Philippa?’
‘I said — see if you can find a mirror when you go downstairs, or ask for one.’ She piled the two pillows behind her and sat up, hunching her legs.
‘A mirror?’ muttered Rose, sliding out of bed. ‘Now where would I find a mirror?’
‘It’s difficult, I know. Perhaps if you asked Mistress — Margaret, is it? She could have one in her chamber.’ Rose’s brow wrinkled in thought, and then her expression lightened. ‘Now why would you be wanting a mirror? Although you’re right. Mistress Margaret does have one on her wall.’ She fastened her gown swiftly.
‘To look at my reflection, of course,’ she retorted sweetly.
‘But why? You aren’t getting up yet, surely, Mistress Philippa? That bang on your head … ’
‘Not yet. But see if you can find out from this Rob anything more about Sir Hugo’s … troubles.’ She smothered an unexpected yawn. ‘And I don’t know about you, Rose, but I’m starved.’
Rose smiled. ‘You must be feeling better! I’m hungry, too. I’ll see what I can do.’ She fastened her girdle neatly, and made for the door.
‘Rose!’
‘Ay!’ She faced Philippa, whose countenance was now wreathed in lines of concentration.
‘Don’t try to explain to anybody about me being you. Leave the explanations to me.’
‘Gladly,’ said Rose, and closed the door before she could be called on for anything else to do.
Philippa leaned back against the pillows and twiddled her thumbs. What was Guy doing now? Was he thinking of her? Or was it as Rose said, and out of sight, out of mind. He would have banished her from conscious thought and instead was seeing to his sheep. He had said that he would soon be leaving for London with the packhorses. Unless there was trouble from the serfs. Her longing to see him was an ache, and she found herself remembering her first sight of him, and that was even more painful. She shed a few more tears for her father, and wished he could have had a better burial-place. She seemed to be alone with her melancholy thoughts for a long time before Rose returned.
The maid let the circular metal mirror slide from beneath her arm on to the bed, and dumped a tray beside it, with a thankful gasp. ‘Mistress Margaret said she hopes the devil don’t peer over your shoulder when you look at yourself. She still has this fear that your fall might turn you mad.’ Rose’s cheeks were flushed with exertion.
‘Mad, Rose? The devil?’ Philippa paled slightly. ‘What does she mean?’
‘It’s just nonsense! Have some bread — and there’s some sheep’s cheese. And small ale.’ She sat on the bed and filled two cups, handing one to her mistress.
Philippa took some bread and cheese and had a sup of ale, before drinking deeper. It was a good brew. For a short time there was only eating and drinking. But at last the tray was removed, and the mirror brought forward.
Tentatively Philippa stared into it. No sign of a devil! Only a rather pale face with a dashing of freckles across the nose and upper cheeks … slanty green eyes, straight nose and dimpled chin. Wisps of almost white hair curled on a smooth forehead, which frowned at her. She tried to impress the reflection into her mind before looking sideways at Rose. ‘We are alike,’ she said slowly.
She held the mirror in front of Rose, who gazed interestedly at herself. Seldom had she seen her reflection — in a river a couple of times, and once she had caught sight of herself in passing, in Philippa’s bedchamber. She had been brought up not to pay attention to her appearance, and she had never had any money to buy herself pretty ribbons or clothes. Occasionally some had come to her after her mistress had done with an old garment, or had made a new gown, or bought ribbons from a fair.
For several minutes she admired herself before turning her eyes to Philippa’s. ‘Ay, there is a likeness — but not a twin likeness.’
‘No,’ murmured her mistress, ‘but we are like enough.’ She put the mirror aside. ‘Tell me, Rose, did you see Rob?’
She nodded. ‘Seems this tale about Lancaster freeing his bondsmen is a big trick — and his setting himself up as king! He’s gone to Scotland, where he has been offered sanctuary until the traitor matter is all sorted out with Richard. Lancaster has written to the king to declare his loyalty.’
‘Sir Hugo told Rob all this?’
‘Before I saw him last night, apparently.’ She ran a finger along the edge of the mirror, the slightest of blushes on her cheeks. ‘He’s asked to see me — you — later. He’s still abed, but awake.’
The blush was not lost on Philippa. ‘Then what is this trouble Rob talked about? Did you ask him?’
‘Oh, ’tis real enough, and he was willing to tell me, thinking me Sir Hugo’s betrothed and the matter of concern to his lady. Those were the words he used,’ she said softly.
‘Rose! Tell!’
‘There was an attempt on Sir Hugo’s life, but nobody knows about it but those involved. He disarmed them and knocked their heads together. You haven’t seen him yet, Mistress Philippa, but he could easily do it. He’s a big man, and strong,’ she insisted earnestly.
‘You don’t have to champion him for my benefit, Rose!’ Philippa’s glance was tilled with understanding. ‘What happened to them?’
‘They were put in gaol in Knaresborough — and that hasn’t pleased the other serfs on the manor. There was no manor court they were broug
ht before, and nobody’s told them why they’re imprisoned.’
‘But why doesn’t Sir Hugo tell them? Surely that’s the answer.’
‘It was a blow to Sir Hugo’s esteem — that’s what Rob called it. Said he was real shaken by the attack. Never — never thought his serfs felt like that. He treats them well. Like a father almost, he reckons.’ Rose smiled grimly.
‘He doesn’t see, either, that grown men don’t want a father telling them how to do jobs they know back to front. Or a father who thinks the old ways are always best, and won’t move with the times.’
‘Is that what my father was like, Rose? Or is that what he just appeared to be to Tom and the rest?’ said Philippa sadly.
Rose sighed. ‘The trouble is that some lords think that we poorer folk can’t think for ourselves — that any notions we have aren’t worth considering. Fear, that’s what it is. Fear that if more are paid wages, they’ll eventually be able to buy their own land, or to leave the land altogether — and the lords to fend for themselves.’
‘Not all are like that, Rose. My father … ’
‘Your father was a good and just man, Mistress Philippa, but even he expected too much from too few labourers. Since the pestilence struck, you know how it’s been everywhere.’ She stood up. ‘Master Guy has the right notion for here and your manor.’
‘Sheep?’ Philippa also got up. ‘Does Master Guy know about the attack on his brother?’
‘I asked, thinking that I should. He doesn’t. It seems that he’s been at Sir Hugo for an age to have sheep on this land. With the money brought in and fewer workers, they could afford to free the serfs and pay them a wage.’
‘You seem to have found out a lot, Rose,’ murmured Philippa with a reluctant admiration.
‘You asked me to — and besides, I was interested. If I were a man, and free, and had money and land, that’s how I’d make my fortune,’ she said vehemently.
‘If you were a man, and free, and had money and land … ’ reiterated Philippa softly. ‘Oh Rose, you are as much a dreamer as I. Do you really wish you were a man?’
Rose screwed up her nose, and grinned. ‘Not if there was any other way. And besides … ’ She stopped abruptly.
‘Besides what? There is a man you would rather stand as a woman next to?’
The maid’s smile faded. ‘I can never stand next to him in that way,’ she muttered. ‘Never.’
Philippa did not force her to say more, but instead asked if she had anything to add to what she had already told her.
Rose nodded. ‘Perhaps I should have told you this first. It concerns you, perhaps, more than the rest. Rob is to visit Master Guy. Apparently he told Sir Hugo about your father being killed. This morning he asked if Guy had left any messages, so he thought it better to tell him, thinking it would be easier for Mistress Philippa Cobtree to have such a task done with. So Sir Hugo wants Master Guy to visit your manor while he is in the south and to find out how matters lie there.’
‘Guy is to visit Cobtree! I knew it was possible, but then I thought that Sir Hugo might rather have gone himself, before I realised the extent of his injury — and the trouble up here!’ She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. ‘What’s to do? What can I do?’ she cried fretfully.
‘There’s nothing you can do, mistress, about him going,’ soothed Rose. ‘There, you’re still not yourself. Perhaps you need to rest a little more. You’ve been through a lot in the last weeks.’ She put an arm about her and hugged her.
Philippa nodded, and was just about to allow herself to be put to bed when there came a knock on the door. They exchanged quick glances.
‘Are you there, Mistress Cobtree?’
‘It’s Rob,’ mouthed Rose silently.
‘Answer him,’ whispered her mistress.
‘Ay! What is it you want?’
‘Sir Hugo awaits you in the garden and would have me take you to him. You not knowing your way about, yet.’
Rose gazed frantically at Philippa.
‘Tell him we’ll be out in a moment, and to wait,’ she told her in a low voice. Rose quickly did as ordered. ‘A surcote, Rose!’ Philippa smoothed her gown, and glanced nervously in the mirror on the bed. ‘A headdress and veil also!’
The maid hurried over to the chest that stood against the wall and delved into it. Never had she prepared her mistress more swiftly! Philippa looked again in the mirror, pushed back some loose wisps of hair, caught sight of the betrothal ring on her finger, and impulsively slipped it off and placed it under the pillow, ignoring Rose’s puzzled look.
Rob’s face broke into a reluctant grin when he saw Philippa. ‘I thought you’d be abed longer than this, mistress, but the master will be pleased to see you on your feet.’
She stared at him questioningly. ‘Your name? I do not remember that we have met before.’ Half-formulated ideas were taking shape in her mind.
‘Is that so!’ He appeared partly taken aback, but gratified in some way. ‘That will be the fall — because we have met! I’m Rob, groom to Sir Hugo and to his father before him.’
‘I see.’ She pouted and appeared scared. ‘I can’t remember falling at all, but I know that I did because she has told me so,’ she held on tightly to Rose’s arm. A pucker creased the maid’s brow, and she flashed her mistress an uncertain glance.
‘Now there’s no need for you to worry, mistress. You ain’t half as bad as a groom we had.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘You be careful going down these here steps, and I’ll go in front to make sure you don’t fall. Perhaps you’d like to take my arm?’
‘You are kind … Rob, is it?’ Her smile showed her gratitude, and releasing her hold on Rose, she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. This was the man who would be visiting Guy. It would do no harm to make a friend of him, for perhaps … She did not allow herself to indulge her fantasies any further, but carefully descended, clutching Rob’s sleeve.
Sir Hugo looked up eagerly as he heard the sound of footsteps. His remembrance of meeting his betrothed the evening before were overlain by pain and discomfort. Yet still the memory of her face and figure, her determination to minister to him, had moved him to feel an emotion that he would rather not own. He was finished with love, and to imagine feeling such for a proposed wife was nonsense. He stood up with some difficulty, leaving the stick, that Rob had insisted on, resting against the bench, as she appeared suddenly from behind the hawthorn hedge. Her gown was plain russet but moulded her breasts and hips in such a way that he caught his breath. She smiled shyly at him with lips so red and prettily curved that he immediately wanted to taste their softness.
‘Good day to you, sir. I — I am pleased to see you on your feet.’
‘I am delighted to see you in every possible way, lass.’ He bowed his head, and before Rose could retreat, he kissed her briefly, full on the mouth. Their lips clung before parting.
‘S-Sir!’ she stammered, her eyes wide and nervous. ‘I … ’ Her head twisted as Philippa came on the scene, Rob hovering just behind. Her mistress touched her arm briefly and scrutinised Sir Hugo, as he sent Rose a questioning look before returning his gaze to Philippa with a slightly puzzled frown. She had seen enough on rounding the hedge to dare the next move.
‘You are Sir Hugo? My cousin told me that I would be meeting you.’ She heard Rose’s gasp, but did not show it by the flutter of an eyelash. Instead she held out her hand to her betrothed. He had not changed much. He was broader, his beard was thicker, there were more lines on his countenance — and the sight of him did not raise a flicker of dancing excitement within her. Indeed she was strangely calm, considering what she planned.
‘Ah, that explains the likeness between you,’ said Sir Hugo, his deep voice hinting at a smile, as he took her hand and held it for a moment, awkwardly. ‘You are feeling better now?’
‘Much, sir. Although … ’ her brow furrowed, ‘I find there are gaps in my memory, which causes me some anxiety.’ She shot a glance at Rose. ‘Philippa tell
s me that I came here with your brother, Master Guy, which I can’t remember at all. Perhaps the fall she speaks of has scattered my wits.’ A light laugh escaped her, and from the corner of her eye she saw Rose’s mouth fall open.
‘It is to be expected that such a fall would have some effect,’ said Sir Hugo gruffly, uneasily setting free her hand. ‘But time will probably set matters right. Rob would tell you that.’
‘Of course.’ Philippa sighed. ‘But all is strange here, so unfamiliar! Only my cousin is known to me … and I feel lost.’ She sighed gustily again. ‘If I could go home to Kent, where she says I have lived all my life, maybe I would remember all.’
‘It would be difficult for you to return at this moment,’ said Rose swiftly, groaning inwardly, wondering just what her mistress was about. Unless the fall really had affected her in such a way? Yet there had been no sign of her not remembering her past last night when they had talked.
‘Of course,’ smiled Philippa sadly. ‘You are here to wed Sir Hugo, and I am to attend you. Will it be soon?’
A muffled squeak sounded from Rose, who was gazing at her with astonishment over the hand clapped to her mouth.
‘I would have liked it to be soon,’ answered Sir Hugo gravely, ‘but your cousin’s father was murdered most foully by rebels in the south. You might not remember? She will need time to mourn his passing. Perhaps in a few months. September, maybe?’
‘September? But what month is it now?’ cried Philippa. ‘A few months before I could remember again!’ Her anguish sounded real. ‘Months before I visit my home!’ Tears filled her eyes, and turning away, she picked up her skirts and left them.
‘I — I shall have to go after her,’ muttered Rose apologetically. ‘She’s not herself. Forgive us!’ She fled after her mistress, leaving Sir Hugo and Rob staring at each other. Sympathy and interest were clear on the groom’s face, but his master’s wore only a scowl. The meeting had finished in a fashion not at all to his liking.
Rose did not catch up with Philippa until she reached the bedchamber, and she was hurried through the doorway and the door closed fast behind her. ‘Mistress Philippa!’ she gasped. ‘What are you thinking of to say such things to Sir Hugo? He’ll be furious when he finds out! You must really be mad to pretend you aren’t yourself.’