He was thinking about it.
By the time he was ready to leave, he was armed with a comprehensive report detailing damage to persons and property in Sandwich and claims for compensation, and a plan for a system of beacons. In the event of another attack on the coast, knights in the vicinity like Sir Thomas Kyriell could be directed where they were needed with greater speed. He also had a request that funds be found to overhaul the existing ships and increase the size of the fleet – which was hopelessly inadequate. With the help of some clever clerks, he had figures to show how much all this would cost and even suggestions as to how to squeeze the necessary sums from an empty treasury.
He said nothing to Anne about her accompanying him, and when he was almost on the point of leaving, and now in a tearing rush, she said, trying to sound as casual as possible, “While you’re gone, I think I may go to Thorpe Waterfield to see our daughter.”
“Forget it. I want you with me in Coventry,” he said roughly.
Anne’s heart began to knock against her ribs. “Nurse says she has suffered another fever this summer. I should like to reassure myself she’s all right.”
He turned to look at her. Was there a hint of suspicion in his eyes? “Of course, she’s all right, and you're daft. Though I’m glad to see you finally behaving like a proper mother.”
“Please, my lord, you’ll be busy in Coventry, and you know how I dislike it there,” Anne pleaded, knowing it was both unwise and futile to argue further.
“Isn’t that too bad? I want you there, that’s all that matters. I’m sick of your selfishness, Madam! I am at a crisis in my life, in danger of losing my post – as you said – but instead of standing by me, all you want to do is take yourself off to the country.” He snatched his cloak from the back of a chair, grasped her roughly by the upper arm and brought her up against him. “Yes, I’ll be busy in Coventry, but I’ll always have time for you, my sweet. I’ll expect you within a few days.” As his mouth clamped on hers, she managed not to flinch away and sullenly watched as he crammed his cap on his head and strode out leaving her alone in the chamber. She rubbed her mouth hard on her sleeve, once, twice, three times, but nothing could erase the disgust she felt.
Retiring to her own chamber, she sent the servants and her women away and wept desolately. The disappointment was too cruel. The court had taken up more or less permanent residence in Coventry. The Queen much preferred it to London, which was generally for York, because she was not vilified every time she poked her nose outdoors. Coventry had become all but unbearable for Anne. When she was in the Queen’s presence, she frequently had to listen to a litany of invective against her father. Nor was her mother entirely neglected. Margaret called her Niobe, after the woman in the classic tale who was so proud of her children that the goddess Hera grew jealous. ‘I have only one,’ she had once said, ‘but one is all I need. He shall be greater than all York’s spawn. One day he will perhaps have to destroy proud Cecily’s litter, just as Apollo destroyed Niobe’s children.’ Did she forget that one of ‘proud Cecily’s’ litter was sitting there with her, had found for her a lost brooch and been thanked for it with a smile just that morning?
But as difficult as it was to listen to such talk, her husband’s company was worse. His reproaches were another tedious and constant litany: why wasn’t she pregnant after all his efforts and why did she keep letting his babies slip from her womb? As if she had the answers to such questions.
She couldn’t bear it. Wouldn’t bear it! Tears drying on her cheeks, she sat upright as an idea occurred to her. No one had overheard his refusal; she was sure of that. But had he given instructions to the steward or the captain of her escort, or had he taken her obedience for granted? She had always been a dutiful wife. Even in bed, although he knew she got no pleasure from their couplings – and cared not a whit because it wasn’t important – she submitted to his innovations and refinements with a meekness that left him little cause for complaint. It would not have occurred to him that she might disobey him. And if no else knew that she was supposed to go to Coventry and not to Northamptonshire, what was to stop her? Fear of what he would do… She shuddered at the thought and refused to consider it. If she dared, she would soon be in Thomas’s arms again. For that, what wouldn’t she dare? Excitement growing, she made up her mind. Dangerous as it was, she would go to Northamptonshire and face the consequences later.
Chapter 27
September 1457 – Thorpe Waterfield, Northamptonshire
They met on several afternoons, rediscovering one another again. Thomas was a perfect lover, worshiping at the shrine of her body, and making no demands on her. Always saying the right thing, assiduously attentive to her needs and yet their erotic adventures had not made him forget the courtesy that was due to her as a duchess. Outside the sanctuary of their temple, he was always the proper knight. Someone closely watching him could not have detected any trace of intimacy or impropriety in his demeanour toward her.
One day he gave her a gift. It was a perfect little acorn, wrought in gold; a loop at the top allowed a thin gold chain to pass through so she could wear it around her neck if she chose, under her gown and none would be the wiser. Anne thought it a nice if unexceptional gift until Thomas said, “I chose it so that every time you see an acorn you’ll think of me. And since there are acorns all over, I’ll never be far from your thoughts.”
Anne sighed voluptuously. “I adore you, Thomas.”
They were both naked on their makeshift bed, Anne on her belly while Thomas stroked her back. Thomas had shown her a letter from one of his sisters, which had given her an idea. “If I write a letter to my mother will you send it on and receive any replies she sends?”
“Of course, my darling.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t think of it sooner. All I can think about is you.”
She stretched out beside him, pillowing her head on his shoulder, and his arms went around her, drawing her close. His body was warm, with a faint sheen of sweat.
Lulled by a somnolent afternoon and replete with lovemaking, they slept in each other’s arms. Slept in blessed ignorance that their secret was known to any but themselves until a voice from outside the hovel roused them. They awoke simultaneously, jerked upright in shock.
“Madam! Madam! Please, don’t be alarmed. I only came to warn you that the Duke is here. You must hurry back!”
It was Eleanor’s voice, and after her pronouncement there was silence. Still in shock, the lovers rose from their makeshift bed and began to dress.
“What is he doing here?” Thomas hissed, but Anne had no answer.
She had not told Thomas that she had disobeyed her husband’s instructions in coming to the manor. She had made up her mind to do so no matter the consequences, but she didn’t want Thomas to share those consequences, which were likely to be worse than she had ever imagined. How had Eleanor known where to find her? Now that she was about to face the consequences, she was badly frightened. Seeing how she trembled, Thomas seized her hands and held them to his chest.
“Will you be all right?” he asked gently.
She nodded, unable to speak. Tears gathered at the back of her lowered eyelids.
“That woman – whoever she is – can you trust her? Will she tell him?”
“I don’t know how she found out. I thought I was careful but –”
“Will she tell him?” Thomas rasped, unconsciously squeezing her hands till they hurt.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. No, she won’t – Oh, I don’t know! I just don’t know! They’re all terrified of him.”
They both took a deep breath to calm themselves. Anne bent down to pick up her headdress from where it had been tossed earlier in such joyful abandon and began to pick bits of dried grass from it with nerveless fingers. Thomas took it from her, smoothed her hair, and fitted it on her head. He had become adept at such tasks. When he finished, he turned her round to face him, his hands on her shoulders.
“God forgive me,”
he said, low-voiced. “I’ve put you in danger. Is there no one in that house you can trust to get a message to me? I must know you’re safe.”
Anne shook her head, unable to speak. She was weeping soundlessly now, the tears rolling down her cheeks, while her face seemed carved in stone.
“Then I will send someone to you on some pretext. Jonas, you know him, the fellow who brought the wood. Just give him a sign, a nod, that all is well. If he returns without seeing you, I will come myself.”
“You must not –”
“Hush. Of course I must. I have put you in this awful predicament. How can I rest not knowing you’re safe?” He bent his head to kiss her. Her mouth was cold and unresponsive. “Go now, and God be with you.” He turned her around, gave her a little push toward the open door. She stopped and looked back at him, wondering if she would ever see him again in their temple. “Go!” he said urgently.
Eleanor was waiting for her just beyond the clearing, her face flushed. The two women avoided each other’s eyes as they fell into step.
“He’s in a foul humour,” Eleanor said, stating the obvious. “You deceived him. You deceived us all. Oh, Madam, how could you take such an awful risk?”
Ignoring this, Anne asked, “How long have you known?”
“From the very beginning. Christmas ’55.”
“Really?” Anne was so surprised she stopped in her tracks. She thought she had been careful. “How?”
“Do you remember how we all went out to look for a Yule log and you wandered off by yourself. After you had returned to the manor, Jane found your footprints and – lo and behold! – two sets were coming back. Though meaningless in itself, it stirred our curiosity and everything followed from that.”
“And you said nothing to… to…”
“Of course not. Do you imagine we begrudge you any happiness you can find,” Eleanor said warmly.
“But Jane? I always believed she was one of his spies.”
“She tells him just enough to convince him she is. But she’s not his creature. She loathes him as much as I do, but she’s better at pretending.”
Feeling the blood drain from her face and afraid she would faint, Anne sat down on a fallen log and buried her face in her hands. Eleanor sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Come now. You must be brave when you face him. We will not betray your secret, I promise, and you must not betray yourself. And, Madam, you must be more careful in the future. If the Duke ever finds out, he will never believe you could have a lover without any of your household knowing about it. We will be punished, too.”
That was a truth Anne, in her selfish joy, had not even considered. One hint that aught was amiss and Exeter would take great pleasure in torturing those closest to her until they revealed all they knew.
They said love was blind. So it was – willfully blind.
Exeter had already moved his belongings into the bedchamber shared by the lord and lady and was waiting for her there with the Bastards. When she walked through the door he spun round and glared at her, and when she moved toward him and bent her head in a graceful little curtsy, he merely watched her like a malevolent spider observing the approach of a juicy fly.
“Welcome, my lord. I did not expect you. Have you seen our daughter?” she asked with a composure she was far from feeling. Her heart fluttered in the cage of her ribs like a trapped bird.
“Yes, she delights my eyes.” The diversion was only momentary. His voice became loud and accusing. “You, Madam, offend my eyes. Where have you been?”
“Walking in the woods.”
“Walking in the woods. Walking in the woods.” he parroted nastily. “What manner of pastime is that for a noblewoman? Why can’t you attend your loom like other women?”
“I do, but I enjoy walking in the woods especially at this time of year.”
Eleanor, who had followed her into the room, spoke up timorously, “We look for herbs and berries and wild mushrooms. There’s no danger.”
“Who asked you? Get out, cunt,” he snarled, and although Eleanor turned at once to leave, he caught up with her in two strides, grasped her by the scruff of the neck and thrust her through the open door, which he slammed behind her with a resounding crash. The Bastards still loitered in the room, apparently dicing but keeping a keen eye on the proceedings. He came back to Anne and stood so close that his nose was a mere hand span from hers and she had no choice but to look into the hateful, muddy brown eyes. His nostrils flared like a warhorse scenting blood. “Now I’ll hear your excuses,” he said softly.
“I…I only wanted to see Anne. Please, try to understand,” she said beginning to tremble.
Silence. He only stared at her for long moments. Then his upper lip lifted showing the gap in his teeth. “Is that the best you can come up with?” He turned his head to look at his brothers. “Did you hear that? This unnatural mother, who has shown no interest in her child since she was born, only wanted to see her.” The Bastards looked dutifully sceptical. He turned back to Anne. “Take off your gown.”
“What?” Startled, she took a step back.
“You seem to have forgotten, Madam, the lessons I have been at such pains to teach you,” he said, striding over to the table at which the Bastards were sitting. “I do not tolerate disobedience from my underlings, my chattels. And you are my chattel, just like this table here!” He had picked up a stick from the table, and now he brought it down hard on the surface, making the dice jump and rattle. “Or this chair!” The stick came down again on the upholstered seat with a sickening thwack, raising a small cloud of dust. “Or that gown you are wearing which, like all the fripperies I am generous enough to buy you, cost more than you’re worth. I don’t want to damage it, so take it off!”
“You can’t be serious,” Anne said, overtaken by a violent fit of shaking as she eyed the stick, the like of which she had seen used on servants and had probably beaten Eleanor raw.
He brought it close to show her and lined it up with his thumb. “You’re not the only one who has been walking in the woods. I cut this myself. It’s very green and supple. And, as you can see, within the size prescribed by law.” The archaic law that allowed a man to beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb was known as the rule of thumb.
All right, Anne thought, forcing herself to calmness. He’s going to beat me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I shall have the comfort of knowing that I suffer for disobedience but not for infidelity. I must be thankful that he knows nothing of Thomas, and a beating is a small price to pay for the joy I’ve found in him. I can bear it.
“Will you not send your brothers away?” she asked.
“No, I want them to watch. Now get your damned gown off before I have them rip it off.”
Anne looked over at the Bastards, who were no longer even pretending an interest in the game. Their eyes gleamed as if they were eager to rip her gown off. Having them watch her humiliation was too much, and her temper suddenly flared. “Is that why you want them here? Because you can’t even administer a beating to a helpless woman without their help, you sick, perverted mongrel? I won’t take it off! Damn you all to hell!”
Exeter struck out in blind fury. God knows what damage he might have done had Anne not ducked for he aimed at her head and she felt the air vibrate as it just whistled past her. With a scream, she dodged away to huddle against the bed drapes. The Bastards lurched to their feet and went after her. Tearing her headdress off, William fastened a hand in her hair, while Thomas grasped the neckline of her gown in two hands and ripped it down to her waist. William tugged from behind with his free hand to pull it off her shoulders.
“Don’t!” she screamed. “I am with child!” Where the words came from, she didn’t know. It was a lie, but he would never know that. Later, when his fury had somewhat abated, she would have a ‘miscarriage’. All of this went through her head in a matter of moments.
The three men had gone as still as Lot’s wife. With the st
ick raised over his head, Exeter’s face was a study of conflicting emotions: white-lipped, panting fury, followed by a kind of blankness and then bafflement, disbelief, confusion, and finally the truculent expression of a child whose will has been thwarted.
“Is it true?” he asked in a strangled voice.
“Do you want to see another of your children sliding from my body in a welter of blood?”
Slowly he lowered the stick.
Anne looked at him with utter loathing. “Tell these animals to get their hands off me,” she said. At his abrupt nod, the Bastards let her go but remained close in case they were needed again.
Anne tried to draw the two pieces of her gown together. But it seemed she wasn’t going to escape punishment altogether. Exeter’s eyes followed the movement, and some new evil kindled in them. With a hand on her throat, he gave her a push that sent her sprawling on the bed and thrust her skirts up to straddle her thighs while he released himself from his own garments.
“Enough of quarrelling,” he wheedled. “I’ve missed you, wife. Have you missed me – just a little?” His mouth jammed against hers, tongue battering at the barrier of her teeth. “Have you missed this?” he panted, groping beneath her voluminous skirt. “And this?”
Anne turned her head aside, both to avoid his foul mouth and to shut out the sight of the watching Bastards as her husband thrust into her, punishing her because he knew she disliked this aspect of marriage. She lay beneath him stiff, cold, passively resistant.
After he had experienced repeated climaxes, she said wearily: “Are you finished? Can I get up now?”
The Bastards had grown bored and returned to their dice game.
“Pah! You are as cold as a witch’s tit, woman. Small wonder my seed won’t take root in you,” he said, rolling off her.
Anne pushed down the skirts of her gown to cover her legs and drew her bodice closed as best she could. There were teeth marks on her breasts and a soreness between her thighs. As she was about to get up off the bed, he caught her by the wrist. “If you have deceived me about being pregnant, it will go ill with you, I promise you that.”
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