The Woodville Connection

by K. E. Martin

  “Good fortune, Mistress Blanche,” I whispered softly. “You’re as like to find contentment with that one as I am to wed Master Pennicott’s mule.”

  Although of no more than average height, the erect bearing of the master of Plaincourt Manor made him seem taller. He was sleek and well fed but had as yet no hint of fat or dissipation about his person. His face was handsome and haughty with slate grey eyes that from my vantage point appeared as full of warmth as the winter ocean. Yet I noticed he had a well-shaped, full-lipped mouth that hinted at a sensual nature. Here, I thought, is a proud man with little compassion and an appetite for the good things in life. He enjoys luxury and plenty but will suffer discomfort readily enough if it suits his purpose. What manner of welcome, I wondered, will such a man offer to a humble musician supposedly down on his luck?

  Then his companion turned around and I almost yelped in surprise for here was one I recognised immediately. Plaincourt’s guest was a man of some thirty-two years, spare of frame and possessed of a soldier-like bearing. A helmet of fair curly hair grew back from his high forehead, beneath which were large, expressive green eyes. Sharp, prominent cheekbones dominated his face. The man’s wide mouth was at that moment set in solemn lines but I had seen his smile and knew that it transformed his countenance from sombre and forbidding to warm and merry.

  I marvelled at my stupidity in failing to identify his voice while he had been speaking to the grooms. It was deep and smooth and I had heard it many times before, albeit always from a distance. Stephen Plaincourt’s honoured guest was no less a personage than the King’s brother-in-law, Earl Rivers. Anthony Woodville, as I still thought of him, was the Queen’s beloved brother, a Knight of the Garter and close confidant of the King. Few men in the kingdom were possessed of more influence than he. Discovering him here at Plaincourt, the arse-end of nowhere to borrow Alan Rolf’s colourful epithet, was a shock for which I had been in no way prepared.

  I knew Rivers had the reputation of being a very learned man with a formidable brain. According to my lord of Gloucester, the man also had an unfortunate appetite for scheming and my royal friend was rarely wrong about these matters.

  Rivers’ presence at Plaincourt disturbed me greatly, not least because I feared he might recognise me as a member of Gloucester’s household and give the lie to my travelling minstrel disguise. Yet after a moment’s reflection I considered that though I had seen him many times when accompanying my lord of Gloucester to Court, it was unlikely that he would have taken special note of me. My origins were far too obscure for me to have been called to his notice and in any case, whenever I was with Dickon at Court I made it my habit to disappear into the background.

  Moreover, I had never exchanged so much as a word with Rivers. At the very most I had encountered him once or twice in a passageway at Westminster, at which times I had pressed myself against the wall until the great lord had passed me by, as befits a man of no account. I could think of no occasion when I might have given him cause to remark me and thus considered myself safe from recognition.

  Feeling a degree of certainty that he would not know my face, I then set to worrying lest he knew my name. Perhaps after all it been a mistake to give my real name when I arrived at Plaincourt. Yet after some thought I dismissed this notion also, chiding myself for being so vain as to imagine that the powerful Earl would even have heard, much less remembered, that the Duke of Gloucester had an insignificant boyhood friend called Francis Cranley.

  Even so, the Earl’s arrival made me uneasy for it proved that the association between the Woodvilles and the Plaincourts was far stronger than I had anticipated. As the King’s close friend, the expectation would be for Rivers to spend Christmastide at Court. That he had chosen instead to spend it at the remote Lincolnshire house of a knight with no known political influence struck me as little short of incredible.

  Deep in thought, I was about to leave my observation post when Blanche appeared from the direction of the kitchen with a look of sharp consternation disfiguring her fair face.

  ““There you are, knave,” she shrilled at me, “it’s time you stopped loitering about and started earning your keep. Sir Stephen and my lord Rivers will be dining shortly and I believe some soothing music would please them greatly.

  “I only hope for your sake that you are capable of providing it!” she added in an angry hiss.

  I was amused to notice that the seductive, confiding manner in which she had spoken to me the previous evening had now been replaced by shrewish shrieking. Showing your tavern origins there, my girl, I thought, fully aware that anxiety was making Blanche forget to be pleasant. Plaincourt’s unexpectedly early arrival had caught her unawares and set her at a disadvantage.

  I noted that while she remained beautiful she was not looking her best. Beneath those violet eyes there were dark, disfiguring shadows and thick coils of hair were escaping from her headdress. Sniffing discreetly, I again smelt on her skin the cloying scent of roses I disliked so much and beneath that I detected a slightly stale air. In spite of myself I was almost moved to pity her for having to entertain an important guest whilst suffering the ill effects of too much wine.

  “I gather your betrothed has returned sooner than you anticipated,” I remarked pleasantly, falling in with her as she made her way through the kitchen, into the passage and onwards to her lodging above the buttery, thereby making sure not to encounter Sir Stephen and Rivers as they entered the house from the front.

  “Did he not warn you he would be returning in such exalted company?”

  “He did not,” she snapped, shooting me such a black look that I deemed it prudent to leave off baiting her. Excusing myself on the genuine grounds of needing to fetch my instrument, I ran hotfoot up the staircase towards my apartment. As I passed along the corridor I noticed that the ornately carved door of the largest guest chamber was flung wide.

  Peering in, I saw three women hurrying to make the place ready. Two of them I recognised; Cuckoo was sweeping the floor while Dulcy, the old washerwoman, was labouring to place fresh sheets upon the bed. The third, who was sprinkling the pillows with what I took to be rosewater, I had not seen before yet I guessed her identity all the same. A handsome woman who looked much like an older, less downtrodden version of Cuckoo, she had to be Letice Flood, doubtless summoned from the village to lend a hand with the hurried preparations. The three were too absorbed in their work to notice me so I lingered for a few moments, taking in the opulence of the furnishings.

  The chamber was dominated by an enormous tester bed hung on three sides with embroidered hangings of green silk. Atop it was a white and green damask bedspread piled high at the head of the bed with velvet and satin cushions. A large arras rug covered most of the floor and rich tapestry hangings brought colour and warmth to the walls. By the fire - which was significantly larger than the one I had been pleased to find in my own chamber - a small table was set with writing implements and a psalter covered in ruby velvet. Lying at the foot of the great bed was a low truckle for the Earl’s body servant to occupy.

  It was a chamber every bit as fine as that occupied by my lord of Gloucester at Middleham. Struck once again by the opulence on show at Plaincourt, I marvelled that a remote manor house could offer accommodation to rival that of the King’s own brother.

  Not wishing to be noticed, I tore my eyes away from the scene and hurried to my plainer quarters. Retrieving my lute from its case I made haste to the minstrel’s gallery, arriving just in time to see Rivers and Plaincourt take their places on the dais. A moment later Blanche entered the hall and I saw that she had tidied her appearance and was now looking serene and demure. She had imprisoned the errant locks beneath her headdress and fixed a welcoming smile to her face but at such short notice there had been nothing she could do to disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  Chapter 9

  Dinner with Lord Rivers

  I watched with keen interest as Plaincourt greeted his intended with little evident ple
asure, bestowing on her cheek a kiss both perfunctory and tentative. Rivers, by contrast, embraced her warmly and with real affection if I judged correctly. It was then I remembered that Blanche would be well acquainted with him, having spent her formative years within his mother’s household. I saw him murmur in her ear some pleasantry that drew from her a throaty laugh. Then she spoke softly to both men and gestured towards the gallery. At the sight of me standing ready with my lute, they beamed their pleasure and signalled for me to begin.

  The day yet lacked more than two hours to noon, making it full early for the dinner hour. Even so, Rolf had ensured that all was as it should be. A white linen cloth had been spread across the table and over this a sanap had been placed. Fat wax candles, a silver-gilt salt cellar and three richly enamelled and gilded cups stood in readiness on the table.

  Demonstrating a finely tuned sense of courtesy, Sir Stephen graciously invited Rivers to take his own chair which now stood beneath a red silken baldaquin decorated with the Plaincourt wheat sheaves. With a shake of his head and a smile, Rivers modestly declined and instead took the place to his right. Immediately a servant I had not seen before sprang forward with brightly coloured cushions to pad the noble backside. Blanche sat to the left of her betrothed and after a short but noticeable hesitation the servant proffered cushions for her, also.

  With the important folk seated the Earl’s attendants placed themselves down one side of a hastily erected trestle table while the manor servants took the other. As the meal commenced I played and sang softly, caressing with pride the beautiful five course lute which had been a characteristically generous gift from Dickon last Twelfth Night. Sleek, long-necked and curvaceous as an Ottoman’s concubine, it had been crafted by a master luthier from a far distant Alpine valley according to the London merchant who had sold it to my lord of Gloucester.

  I loved my lute, in truth it was my most cherished possession though I knew it was too fine for my meagre talent. Nevertheless, since owning it I had been striving to improve my playing that I might one day become at least somewhere close to worthy of it. To this end I had recently learned to pluck the strings with my fingertips instead of with a quill. I found that this method, which had been brought to Court by musicians from France and Italy, was better suited to the seductive chansons I favoured. I began playing one of them now, guessing it was the kind of music my audience would find most pleasing.

  Fortunately my guess proved to be accurate and more than once I noticed Rivers glance up at me with a look of surprised approval on his face. This granted me the opportunity to study him closely. I saw that despite his lean frame, he looked powerful and in robust health which was no wonder since he was known to be the greatest tournament champion at Edward’s Court. Such men could never be weaklings.

  His raiment was subdued in colour and fashion but marvellously rich in quality. Around his black velvet jerkin he wore a handsome silvered girdle and on his hand I spied a splendid ring of gold and emerald. As he ate, I saw that he took great pains to be attentive to Mistress Blanche, drawing her into his conversation and smiling fondly at her from time to time. I could not help but wonder how his lady wife would feel if she knew of the unnecessarily elaborate attention her husband was paying to his mother’s former attendant.

  According to Court gossip, Elizabeth Scales - a baroness in her own right having inherited the title from her father - was something of a virago. She would not expect her husband to be faithful to her, of course; few noble ladies were foolish enough to expect that but good manners dictated that spousal infidelities should be conducted with discretion.

  Rivers’ attentive behaviour to Blanche was insufficient reason for me to believe that he was tupping her but nonetheless it did give me pause. There would have been ample opportunity for them to begin a liaison while Blanche resided with his mother. Furthermore, if Sir Stephen knew or suspected there was aught improper in their relationship, it would explain his lack of warmth towards his betrothed.

  As the meal progressed, sharp belly pangs served to remind me that I’d had naught to eat that day but the mite of bread I’d cadged from Jem Flood. I watched with envy as first the baked herrings and then the pike were set before the company, and by the time the pickled sturgeon appeared my mouth was watering so much I found it hard to sing. Fortuitously, at this very moment a servant arrived with a message from the master. I was to present myself before him without delay.

  Descending with alacrity from the gallery, I made my way to the dais and bowed low before my betters. Sir Stephen accepted my obeisance and indicated that I might sit and, better yet from my point of view, signalled to a servant that a place should be set for me at the table alongside Mistress Blanche. I eyed the sturgeon hungrily, yet knew I must stifle my impulse to eat until Sir Stephen had said his piece to me.

  To my surprise, he began by paying me a compliment.

  “Good man, you play most elegantly and I find your voice harmonious to the ear,” he said cordially.

  To me this affirmed that the pompous fool knew little about good musicianship. Yet I noticed that Rivers was nodding his head in apparent agreement, and he was renowned as a connoisseur of the arts.

  “I am told you intend to make for London,” Plaincourt continued, “where you seek a new position. But it would gratify me if you would delay your leaving until after Christmas, for my most noble friend” - here he bent his head in the direction of Rivers - “and I have a fancy for some musical Yuletide diversions and we feel you will do very well. You may be sure that you will be recompensed most generously.”

  From his tone I could tell he was in no doubt that I would acquiesce to his request. He struck me as the kind of man who rarely failed to have his whims satisfied and this irritated me. For a reckless moment I toyed with the notion of declining his invitation simply that I might have the pleasure of seeing the annoyance such an impertinence would provoke. Happily, however, good sense prevailed. Since my secret work was far from complete at Plaincourt, an invitation to stay was precisely what I needed so I accepted his offer with fulsome thanks.

  Having resolved the matter of musical entertainment to his satisfaction, Plaincourt removed his attention from me and began attending to a little speech Blanche was making to Rivers. I listened also, whilst hungrily piling sturgeon into my dish, and was in time to hear her say how honoured she was that the noble Earl had come all the way to Plaincourt for her wedding.

  “Although why I should wonder at it I do not know,” she prattled, “for your dear lady mother and all your kin were ever most kind to me.”

  In response Rivers smiled vaguely but made no reply. Blanche tried again, this time stating that his presence at the nuptials would make her feel that she had family present. Still Rivers maintained his silence. By now obviously disconcerted, Blanche gazed at him for a heartbeat, then turned and stared enquiringly at her betrothed.

  “Mistress,” he began in a tone several degrees frostier than the one he had used when addressing me, “I had hoped to be able to discuss this matter with you in private. Yet now it seems I must explain.

  “Out of respect for my poor dead nephew I have with regret decided that our marriage must be postponed. It hardly seems the appropriate time to celebrate a wedding with the lad so newly deceased. I know that when you have reflected awhile you will feel as I do.”

  As he finished there was a long, uncomfortable silence. Blanche looked stricken and made as if to remonstrate but checked herself with visible effort. Glancing at Rivers through lowered eyelids I saw that he was regarding Blanche with pity. It was plain that he had already known the wedding was to be postponed. Leaping to fill the awkward pause, he ventured that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to be present at the wedding of his friend and his late mother’s lady, and therefore he would do all in his power to return to Plaincourt when a new date had been set.

  Smoothly changing the subject, he then spoke a few gallant words in praise of Blanche’s beauty, claiming he had never bef
ore seen her look better. I assumed this must be untrue; Blanche had looked tired at the start of the meal and now, since learning of her wedding’s postponement, she had a face as sour as month-old ale. Yet Rivers appeared not to notice and continued to converse with her as if all were well.

  “Though trifling, the private affairs that brought me to Lincolnshire took longer than I had anticipated,” he told her.

  “Now I am weary, so I have determined to spend a part of the Yuletide season here with my good friends at Plaincourt Manor. I have sent a messenger to convey this news to the King and Queen, and also of course to my lady wife. I doubt not that they will contrive to manage full well without me,” he finished, his handsome features assuming a self-deprecating expression.

  As was expected, Sir Stephen and Blanche rushed to remonstrate, assuring Rivers that his absence would be felt most keenly by his royal kin. Plaincourt either genuinely meant what he said or else his talent for flattery far surpassed my own because there was the ring of sincerity in what he said. Blanche, however, spoke flatly and as if the words cost her a great effort.

  This I could understand for I knew full well how desperate she was to finally throw off the handicap of her humble status by becoming Plaincourt’s wife. The unwelcome news of her wedding’s postponement had hit her hard. Indeed she probably suspected, as did I by this time, that her betrothed might even be hoping to extend the delay indefinitely. Whatever had prompted him to attach her affections in the first place, there could be little doubt that Plaincourt now wished most heartily to be free of her. The sympathy in Rivers’ eyes as he looked at Blanche told me that he was well aware of this fact and cared deeply enough for her to feel sorry.