She seemed genuinely concerned and I warmed to her.
‘My lord is not like his brother,’ she continued. ‘Have you met Lord Henry?’
‘Yes,’ I nodded.
‘He is charming, and his wife is a lovely young woman if a trifle ignorant of the world. Maud is with child. Did my mother tell you?’
‘No, she has said nothing.’
‘I’m surprised. She believes in spreading our family news far and wide. I’m not sure if I envy Maud.’
‘Would you like a child?’
‘Not if it means sharing a bed with my lord.’
‘I was raised to believe it is a wife’s duty to share her husband’s bed,’ I said cautiously.
‘So was I,’ said Alice. ‘And I believe should be so. But a husband has duties too, would you not agree? And if he is like my lord of Lancaster then I’d not find fault with any wife who barred the door of her bedchamber.’
I was surprised her husband tolerated such behaviour.
‘I never understood what it was to hate,’ she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the pool of light lying between us where her words floated and disappeared. ‘Until my marriage I was treated with kindness. I was thirteen and my lord was three years older and although my parents were anxious in case I was too young, it was agreed we should bed on our marriage night.’
She sat very still.
‘He was not kind me,’ she said flatly. ‘I liked him well enough before but afterwards ... and of course it was the same every night. After a week I went crying to my mother but she reprimanded me and sent me back, telling me I must do my duty by my husband. I’m sorry, Marguerite, I shouldn’t burden you with this. It isn’t as if there’s anything you can do. There isn’t anything anyone can do.’
‘You must have been very frightened,’ I said, thinking Lady de Lacy should have prepared her daughter better and silently thanking my own mother for the care she’d taken.
‘If I was frightened, I learned not to be,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he was a particularly cruel man, as men are often inclined to violence if thwarted, but we made each other very unhappy. So now I prefer not to share his house.’
‘But surely he wants sons?’
I thought of my own husband’s preoccupation and knew Earl Thomas must want an heir, one to carry on his name and inherit his titles and vast estates. All men wanted sons.
‘I think I am barren,’ she said. ‘After six years there has been no sign of a child, not even once, so perhaps in this one thing I have defeated him. He is not pleased, in truth he is furious. He says it makes him look a fool. But what can he do?’
‘Have you tried potions to help you conceive?’ I asked.
She smiled. ‘You sound like my lord. He accused me of visiting a wise woman to prevent a child and beat me soundly for that supposed disobedience.’
‘Surely you cannot continue like this?’
‘I see no reason why not. For all his supposed virtues, my lord is greedy. He has three earldoms already but has eyes for those of my parents which should be mine by rights. Together with his grace, the king, he has arranged that my inheritance shall remain within his family no matter what should happen. In the end he will take it all but if he dies I shall get nothing. So, he will be content and I shall stay here. What better arrangement can there be than that?’
She laughed but I could see she was bitter. There was no escape from her miserable marriage and she would be shackled to her husband until God saw fit to release her.
‘Besides,’ she said. ‘What choice do I have? My lord pays for my household so long as I reside at Pickering but I have no money of my own. How would I live if I did not live here?’
When the fire died down to glowing embers, we prepared to retire. As we were rising from our chairs, she put her hand on mine.
‘Be careful my dear Marguerite. Not everyone rejoiced at your marriage and there are some who wish it had never been. If you should conceive a child there may be those who would wish to do you harm.’
I hadn’t told Alice I was with child and obviously Lady de Lacy had not yet shared the news with her daughter.
‘Who would wish me harm?’ I said, looking fearfully into the darkness beyond the firelight for an assassin lurking in the shadows. I felt that same cold, slithering feeling within me that I’d felt once before and an immediate need to protect the fledgling life in my belly.
‘I know no names but my mother told me that before the old queen died an agreement was reached as to who should take the throne if anything happened to the king’s son.’
‘And who would it be?’
‘I don’t know, she wouldn’t tell me. But I know my husband covets power and a son of yours would lie in the path of any would-be usurper. So please be careful. Men are greedy. They know your husband is old and some, like my lord of Lancaster, think young Lord Edward an unsuitable candidate for the throne.’
As I lay in bed that night I wished she hadn’t spoken. The mattress was lumpy, the castle draughty and rain seeped through the shutters. While the winds howled round the castle walls, my three women tossed and fidgeted through the long hours of darkness, and I lay awake worrying.
Despite the enjoyment of Alice’s company I was not sad when it was time to leave. With promises to see each other for the Christmas festivities, and exhortations to improve the running of her household, her mother and I waved farewell to the lady of Pickering and set off back down the road towards York.
Now the days were dark and short and we spent our waking hours inside, unwilling to brave the relentless cold and rain. We attended to matters of business, we sewed, we read, we made music and we played games. I wrote letters to my family and wished I had heard from Blanche.
I had two letters from my husband who was a dutiful correspondent. He told me of the failure of his men to raise enough foot soldiers, how he had delayed their advance in the hope that more would be recruited, but how, when they finally reached Berwick on the Scottish border, he had less than a quarter of the men he had been promised and fewer than a tenth of the nobles who should have turned out to fight for their king. His people had let him down just when he most needed them. I could feel his despair and my heart bled for him.
Even with a prolonged visit from Alice we passed a subdued Christmas. My husband promised that once he had passed New Year at Berwick he would come south and we would return to his castle at Windsor where he would set about planning a new campaign for the summer.
I was standing at the top of the steps worrying about how I looked when the first man rode in under the gatehouse. I wanted it to seem as if I had just drifted out wearing my best gown to greet my lord but in truth I’d been in and out of the hall ever since noon when the harbingers had arrived to tell us my husband was on his way. My girth had increased since November and I so hated feeling fat. It was as if I had eaten too much at dinner.
I wanted to run down the steps and throw myself against him and envied the castle hounds who raced into the courtyard the moment they heard the horns. I stayed where I was, twisting my hands into knots, my heart knocking hard against my ribs.
A groom held his horse by the head and one of his servants helped him onto the ground. He looked around at the gathering crowd and then raised his head. When he saw me he acknowledged my presence but stayed where he was. He didn’t come to greet me and he certainly didn’t run up the steps into my arms. I watched as he issued instructions and drew his senior men around him. I began to feel cold. Lady de Lacy touched my arm.
‘Come inside, my dear. He is safely returned and it won’t do for you to be shivering out here. His grace will have important matters to attend to now he is back. There are bound to be messages waiting for him and people who must be seen, so come upstairs and wait.’
I trailed back and up into the solar feeling a sense of despondency when I should have been feeling j
oyful. My husband had returned safely and soon we would travel south to where it might be warmer.
After what seemed like hours, while I sat half-listening to one of my women read a text on the temptations of the saints, my husband came. The doors were flung open, his men lined the entrance, my women moved back so that he could see me sitting beautifully in my chair, and there he was.
‘She’s at it again,’ he stormed, waving a letter in his hands as he crossed the floor. ‘Doing exactly what she wants. Here! Read what she says. Off to visit her sister indeed!’
I rose and made a reverence. ‘My lord.’
‘The child is well?’ he asked taking note of my new rounded belly.
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good. Now what am I going to do with my daughter?’
The offending parchment came from The Hague, from Elizabeth, my husband’s youngest daughter, the one who had dared to defy her father.
In the end, our reunion, which should have been joyful and tender, was tarnished by his anger at the news. It transpired that Elizabeth was now a widow. Her husband, fifteen-year-old Count Jan, had succumbed to one of his frequent illnesses and died. Elizabeth wrote that she would travel to visit her sister, Margaret, in Brabant, and would return in the summer to see her father and the rest of her family.
‘Poor Elizabeth,’ I said. ‘A widow at seventeen.’
‘I shall have to find her another husband,’ growled her father irritably. ‘As if the news from Stirling isn’t bad enough, now I have to deal with this as well.’
‘What has happened at Stirling?’ I enquired, trying to remember where Stirling was.
‘They’ve surrendered to the Scots. The moment my back was turned.’
His mood was dark and he continued to grumble about the difficulties of finding another husband for Elizabeth.
‘Where will you look?’ I asked, realising that there was to be no pleasant rekindling of warm feelings until he had resolved his numerous problems.
I knew he would consider the usefulness of another alliance with the counts of the Low Countries or possibly with the kings of Castile or Aragon. The closer my husband could bind these powerful men, the stronger his own position would be. Of Elizabeth’s feelings in the matter he gave not a single thought. Like all men he believed women were there to play their part in the furtherance of their men’s ambitions. It was only because I had been where Elizabeth stood that I considered her at all.
‘Perhaps she is with child,’ I said hopefully to Lady de Lacy when my husband had left.
‘I think it unlikely,’ she replied. ‘I suspect she is still a maid. They were betrothed when very young and he was always a sickly little boy.’
After two days we began making plans for our return south. My husband spent every waking hour closeted with his officials and I barely saw him other than at mealtimes. Sometimes he even missed Mass which surprised me for he was usually diligent in his devotions. In the end I decided I must be brave. He was my husband. What could he do to me?
‘My lord,’ I said quietly as we dined together in the hall. ‘It is cold and lonely in my bed without you. Will you not come to visit me?’
He stopped with a slice of venison half way to his mouth. He turned, a look of intense surprise on his face, then replaced the meat on his platter and leant back in his chair, his elbow on the arm and his chin on his hand. He regarded me with great interest but said nothing. A flush was rising into my cheeks and I began to wish I hadn’t spoken.
My mother would have been horrified at my presumption and I imagined Blanche saying how stupid I was, insulting my husband for his neglect. I felt foolish for having spoken but after that one long hard stare my husband ignored me and continued to eat and drink as if I’d said nothing amiss.
That evening as my hair was being tucked up into my nightcap there came a rap at the door. It was one of my husband’s servants come to inform my women that the king would sleep with the queen tonight. There was an immediate flurry of activity while the women scurried round, whispering to each other, making sure everything was tidy.
I was sitting upright against my pillows when the door opened and in he came, striding across the floor, dressed in his nightgown and crimson bedrobe. He waved everyone away except for his personal valet who helped him off with his robe and assisted him up the steps and into my bed, pulling the fur coverlet over his legs. Once the curtains were drawn I heard the man leave the room.
‘Are you well?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
There was a long pause.
‘I’m sorry your time in the north came to nothing and your barons let you down,’ I said.
He grunted.
‘Lady de Lacy was very concerned.’
No answer.
‘Our Christmas festivities were very sombre when we heard the news. We had the countess of Lancaster with us but nobody had the heart for singing and dancing when there was nothing to celebrate. Even my fool found it hard to raise a laugh from the company.’
I was talking too quickly but was more frightened of the silence than of filling the void with nonsense.
‘My women were pleased to see your men returned. It brightens their lives and gives them an excuse to dress in their finery.’
More silence.
‘Will you try to engage the Scots next summer or will you wait to see what they do?’
He put his head back and eased himself against the pillows.
‘When the Scots stop slinking off into the hills and finally issue an invitation to do battle,’ he said, ‘I know exactly what they will do and how they will conduct themselves because they are easily read like most men.’
I wondered why he was instructing me on the military strategies of his enemies.
‘An invitation to do battle means just that - to join our forces in a show of strength.’
‘Naturally,’ I said. ‘What else would it mean?’
‘As I said, men are easily read. However I am not so sure about the daughters of Eve. Are they also as transparent as a pool of clear water? I used to think they were. But when my wife invites me to her bed and then prattles inconsequentially and gossips of people in whom I have no interest, well, then I wonder if I have misread the signs. Was it a conversation she was after or a treatise on difficulties within her chamber? What does she really want?’
He raised his eyebrows, a small half-smile curving one side of his mouth, making him look less severe.
‘I ... I thought.’ I found myself unable to go on.
He leaned over and stopped my words with a kiss.
I felt his beard brush my face and the heat of his mouth on mine.
‘You thought?’ he said quietly, untying the ribbons on my nightcap and starting to unbraid my hair. ‘Or you desired?’
I looked up into his eyes as he unwound the long fine strands. I was betrayed by my body for how could I hide the quivering of my limbs and the trembling of my lips.
I breathed the words he wanted to hear. ‘I ... I desired you.’
‘And do you still? Or was this just a passing fancy to do battle?’
I slid into his arms and pressed myself against him.
‘I think it is a lifelong campaign.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘is what every commander likes to hear.’
At the last moment he drew back. ‘It is alright? Your physician is not concerned this will harm the child?’
At that moment I wished my physician consigned to the farthest reaches of the universe.
‘No,’ I lied. ‘No he is not. My lord, please don’t stop.’
How easily won is a battle when the antagonists realise they are both fighting on the same side and wish for the same end. So it was with my husband and me. If in our marriage bed we had not both found love we had at least found passion and mutual desire. We were each filled w
ith a hunger for the body of the other and if on my part it was more than just passing lust, I was certainly not able to tell him so.
5
Spring 1300
I was in the garden at Langley, the pretty little manor house on the hill where Ned and his household spent most of their time.
‘What in the name of Our Lady are you doing?’
My stepson, clad in a tattered shirt and hose, was standing up to his knees in mud and earth in a ditch, wielding a large spade. Beside him, several other young men, swarthy and mud-spattered, were throwing out mounds of evil-smelling soil and debris. Robert the fool capered around while a small crowd of onlookers, mainly the richly dressed young men of Ned’s household, laughed and jostled each other. The chamberlain was mortified at this total lack of decorum and begged me to return inside.
‘I am sorry, lady mother,’ said Ned, scrambling up onto the grass. ‘We are constructing a new type of garden which requires an immense parterre here to the east of the wall. Do you like it?’
He was trying, unsuccessfully, to brush the mess off his clothing.
‘But why are you doing this?’ I said. ‘Surely you have men to do work like this? His grace, your father, cannot mean you to spend your days grubbing about in the earth.’
At the mention of his father, Ned scowled.
‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t work in the gardens if I like. This will be my manor one day and if I choose to dig a ditch rather than spend my time sword-fighting I don’t see that it’s anyone’s business but mine.’
I sighed. I had come to Langley to see Ned as I knew my husband was concerned. He wished his son to accompany him on campaign this year and I wanted relations between them to remain cordial. The plan was to go north in early May, well before our child was due. I would remain at York while my husband and his army would ride on to Carlisle, which I now knew to be close to the border with Scotland.
The Pearl of France Page 10