Philippa

by Bertrice Small

  Rosamund burst out laughing. “Oh, cousin,” she said, “I am not certain I should entrust my girls to your tender care. They will have far too much fun, and begin to believe that their lives should always be filled with merriment and beautiful clothing.”

  “Did I not care well for you?” he reminded her.

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed. “No one was ever kinder and more generous to me, dearest cousin. I almost envy my daughters the wonderful times they will have with you. Almost,” she finished with a little smile. She suddenly felt happy again.

  Logan Hepburn was not in the least offended by his wife’s words, for he knew them to be the truth. No one had ever taken such loving care of Rosamund until her cousin, Tom, had come into her life. They were more older brother and younger sister in their affection for one another. “Then we shall go home to Claven’s Cam tomorrow, and your heart will be at rest, lovey, knowing that Philippa’s future is safe with Tom.”

  She nodded.

  That evening their supper in the hall was merrier than anyone had known in a very long time at Friarsgate. Philippa was quite the storyteller, entertaining them all with amusing anecdotes of her life at court. Banon was filled with questions that her mother, her eldest sister, and Lord Cambridge answered. The Hepburn sons, though little, had been allowed at the high board tonight as a treat. When they became restless they were allowed to play before the fire. Jamie shared his beef bone with one of Thomas Bolton’s dogs, taking a bite, and then offering a bite to the canine, an enormous wolfhound with a fortunately gentle disposition. The little boy’s innocent actions set his elders to laughing.

  “Why, the beastie could eat the lad in two bites,” Maybel cackled, “but is the bairn not sweet, sharing his dinner with the creature?”

  Elizabeth Meredith sat and watched her family with curiosity. It had been a long time since the hall had rung with laughter, longer still since her whole family had been together. And tomorrow they would all be gone again, and she would be alone. Though sometimes she accompanied her mother to Claven’s Cam, she had decided she preferred her own home at Friarsgate. She didn’t care that she would be alone. She would have Maybel and Edmund to watch over her. Father Mata would continue to teach her, although he said she was learning faster than her sisters had, and there would soon be little left he could teach her. And there was Hans Steen, who was continuing to teach her German and Dutch. She would be happy to see them all gone, Bessie thought, so her life might get back to normal. She still had not come to like Philippa again, and she had nothing in common with Banon any longer. They were sisters in blood only. And that was enough.

  The following day dawned clear. Rosamund was ready at first light to begin her trek home to Claven’s Cam. She bid each of her daughters farewell individually, and in their turn. “I will make no decision regarding Friarsgate for now,” she told Philippa. “I know you think you won’t, but you might change your mind about it. I just want you happy, my daughter.”

  “I won’t change my mind, mama, but I think you wise to wait before deciding what you will do. It is a valuable inheritance for whoever will get it. I am happy in my choices, but remember that I always love you.” Philippa hugged her mother. Then lowering her voice she said, “I know what Uncle Thomas was saying to you yesterday. Can you prevent conceiving another bairn after this one is born?”

  Rosamund nodded. “I’ll tell you someday when the time is right. If you marry, Philippa, bring your husband to meet me. I know Tom will guide you in your choices.”

  “I will,” Philippa promised. Mother and daughter hugged a final time.

  “Now, Banon,” Rosamund said to her second daughter, “listen to your uncle, and obey his advice. He is a wise man. Wiser than your sister, though she thinks she knows it all. She doesn’t. Take your uncle’s counsel first.”

  “I will, mama,” Banon replied. “Philippa’s choices will not be my choices. And I shall be home to Otterly in the spring, for I take my responsibilities there seriously. Uncle Tom says the manor could not have a better mistress than me,” she finished proudly.

  “I am certain he is right,” Rosamund said. “Send to me when you return.”

  “I will,” Banon said, and hugged her mother. “And send to me, mama, when you have birthed my new brother.”

  Rosamund nodded, and turned to Bessie. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?” she asked her youngest daughter.

  “Nay,” Bessie replied. “I am happiest here, although I am happier when you are with me, mama.”

  Rosamund fondled one of Bessie’s thick blond braids. “If you change your mind, send to me. There is plenty of time before the snows come.”

  Bessie smiled at her mother. “If I change my mind I will,” she said, but they both knew she wouldn’t. She kissed her mother’s cheek, and moved away.

  “Now don’t you go weeping,” Maybel said tartly, coming up to Rosamund. “I’ll take good care of the lass, and you know it.”

  “I hate to burden you at this time in your life, Maybel,” Rosamund said. “You are no longer young. You are already several years past a half century.”

  “Well, some may be old at my age, but I ain’t!” Maybel declared. “And for your information, Mistress Hepburn of Claven’s Cam, your uncle is still a most vigorous fellow, and he’s four years my senior. I have more than enough energy to raise another lass. What would I do if you took our Bessie away from me? Don’t you even think about it, Rosamund! Would you break my heart?” Her weathered face sagged with sadness.

  “No, no!” Rosamund cried, and she hugged Maybel. “I just did not want to encumber you if you could not do it. Bessie is not an easy child.”

  “She is a perfect little darling,” Maybel protested.

  “Then she is yours,” Rosamund laughed. She turned to her uncle. “As always I know I can entrust you with Friarsgate’s safety.”

  “You can,” Edmund Bolton said quietly.

  “Come, darling girl, your bold borderer is chafing at the bit to be on his way, and your rowdy sons are every bit as bad. You have said your farewells to everyone but me. I adore you, cousin! I shall look after our lasses. I shall make everything right for Philippa, and Banon shall have a wonderful time at court. Write to me.” He kissed both her cheeks heartily, and then led her outside to help her onto her horse. “Farewell! Godspeed! ”And he smacked her horse lightly upon its rump while giving Logan Hepburn a broad wink. “Farewell, dearest Logan! Until we meet again,” he called as the Hepburns of Claven’s Cam went on their way. Then turning to the others he said, “I am ravenous, Maybel! Is the food ready? My lasses and I must soon be on our way as well.”

  “Well, why are you standing there posing then?” she demanded of him. “Come into the hall, my good lord!”

  Rosamund turned to look back at her family, and she could not help but laugh. There stood Maybel shaking a finger at Tom. Banon and Philippa had linked arms, their heads together as they talked. And there was her Bessie dashing off towards the meadows, and the priest running after her, his long skirts flying, as his voice carrying on the wind called Elizabeth Meredith to her studies. They didn’t need her, any of them. She sighed, and turned her face back towards the border, and Claven’s Carn. She was surely needed there.

  Lord Cambridge departed Friarsgate shortly afterwards with his two charges and Philippa’s servant, Lucy. Once at Otterly Court the preparations had begun for Philippa’s return to court, and Banon’s first visit. True to his word Lord Cambridge had both the manor seamstress and a tailor from Carlisle working frantically to outfit them all. Even Lucy was to have two new gowns, and they were the first made, being the simplest. Lucy helped work on them herself, delighted. And there was material for her to have new caps as well, and aprons of fine lawn.

  “I must have several short coats with pleated backs,” Thomas Bolton said to his tailor. “My legs are still quite handsome, even considering my age. And the sleeves must be fur-lined, or padded. The royal palaces are never as well heated as they might b
e, I fear, dear Master Tailor.”

  “Your codpieces must be decorated, uncle. It is all the fashion now,” Philippa advised him.

  “No! Well, why not, dear girl? A man’s assets must surely be as well displayed as a lady‘s, n’est-ce pas?” And he chuckled.

  “What is a codpiece?” Banon asked.

  “ ’Tis a flaplike appendage at the front of a man’s breeches,” Philippa explained. Here in the country men did not wear such things, their garments being more utilitarian.

  “But does that draw attention to ...” Banon stopped, blushing.

  “Of course! That is the whole idea. The bigger the codpiece the larger the manhood, or so it is believed,” Philippa answered. “After all, women display their breasts, sister. But to leave a manhood dangling in plain view would be rude, and so the codpiece is now an important piece of fashion.”

  “A dangling manhood would certainly spoil the line of the garment, do you not agree, Master Tailor?” Lord Cambridge said drolly.

  “Indeed, my lord, and in some cases it could spoil a gentleman’s illusion of himself, I fear. I am glad I am but a simple tailor, and need not dress myself so.”

  “I will want my codpieces all bejeweled,” Lord Cambridge said, and the two girls giggled behind their hands.

  They celebrated Martinmas in mid-November with goose and roasted apples. Philippa found Otterly Court a very elegant house. I shall have a house like this one day, she thought. Not like Friarsgate, which is so ordinary with its old hall. But a modern house like Otterly with fine glass windows, and a fireplace in every room. Banon is very fortunate that she will inherit Otterly one day.

  And then finally the day of their departure came. Philippa was almost sick with her excitement. She had waited forever, it seemed, for her return to court. Cecily and Tony would be there. They had said they would come for the Christmas revels. She would introduce Banon to everyone, and serve the queen again as she had previously. They would travel slowly, for they had two full baggage carts, and Lord Cambridge had arranged for them to stop each night in either a fine religious house or the house of some noble family that he knew. There might even be others joining them on their journey to London. And Banon’s serving woman, Susan, would also come with them. Lucy was already explaining to her how it would be. And they were to have two dozen well-armed men from Otterly escorting them, and remaining with them until Banon returned in the spring. It was all going to be wonderful, Philippa thought happily. It would be the best Christmas revels ever.

  Chapter 6

  They rejoined the court in mid-December only to learn that Queen Katherine had been in extremely delicate health these past few months. The king was firmly told by a group of physicians that the queen would never conceive again. Henry Tudor was not pleased. The Christmas revels had a pall over them as far as the king was concerned. He had no son. Henry Tudor had no heir. Why had God denied him? Was he not a faithful Christian? A good king? He was, by the rood, and yet he was being denied a son to follow him! His wife was old, and dried up. And she had never been able to sustain enough life in her babies that they lived, but for their one daughter, Mary. He was to be followed by a girl? No, by the rood! He would have a legitimate son and heir! He must! His thoughts went to his new mistress, who had eased his distress by whispering in his ear that she was carrying his child. A child to be born sometime in early summer.

  Philippa was disappointed the revels would be subdued, but more for Banon than herself. “The Christmas Court is always marvelous. After Twelfth Night it seems that Lent is always just upon us. You will go home in the spring, and have had no fun.”

  “Think of your poor mistress,” Banon said. “My heart broke for her the other day when you brought me to meet her. She is so frail, and she looks so sad. Yet she greeted me with kindness and a smile. I think she must have been pretty when she was young.”

  “So mama has always said. But she also said Queen Margaret was prettier,” Philippa noted. “Hurry and get ready, Banie. We are due at court by afternoon. Dress warmly. The river will be cold.”

  “Do you think that Cecily and Tony will return to court for the Christmas revels?” Banon wondered aloud.

  “I hope so,” Philippa answered her sister, as she carefully adjusted her cord and chain belt with its dainty pomander case about her waist. Her gown was a violet-colored velvet with a panel of violet, cream, and gold brocade showing. It had a square neckline. The sleeves were narrow to the elbow, running into a wide deep cuff of rich fur with a false undersleeve of the brocade that had a frilled lace edging. She wore a French hood that was trimmed in tiny seed pearls and lace, set back on her head with a small back veil of delicate lawn. Lucy fastened a fine gold and pearl chain with Philippa’s emerald and pearl brooch, now made into a pendant, hanging from it. Philippa was very proud of this piece of jewelry, for it had been given to her by the king’s grandmother when she was born. Anyone who admired it was told the story. Fastening gold and pearl earbobs into her ears, Philippa completed her toilette and turned to see if Banon was ready.

  Banon’s gown was of peach-colored quilted velvet with an underskirt of cream and gold brocade. Her sleeves were slashed to show cream silk beneath the velvet, and tied with gold cords. The neckline was square like her sister’s but with a pearl edging, and she had a twisted gold belt with a long tassel attached to it. Like her older sister she wore a French hood with a back veil. About her neck was a long strand of pearls with a gold and pearl pendant in the shape of a cross, and from her ears hung pearls.

  They joined Lord Cambridge in his hall, which overlooked the river.

  “Uncle!” Philippa exclaimed, seeing him. “Your clothing today is even more magnificent than yesterday! Next to the king you are surely the most stylish gentleman at court,” she teased him.

  “I am more splendid than King Hal,” Lord Cambridge replied, “but we shall not quibble the point, darling girl. Do you like my hose? I thought to keep it plain so as not to detract from the glory of my doublet and my short coat.” He spun about so they might admire him, flashing his embroidered sleeves at them. “And what do you think of my shoes? I had them dyed to match my coat! And my embroidered gauntlets too.”

  “Sky blue, gold, and white suit you, uncle,” Philippa said. “I particularly admire the pleated edge of your shirt collar, and your cap and plume.”

  He grinned at her. “The whole suit was made to complement my fair coloring. There are few men who are true blonds as I am. Banon, have you nothing to say?”

  “Uncle,” she told him, “you astound me with your incredible sense of fashion. While you have always dressed well, when we were back in Cumbria I would have never imagined you capable of such sartorial splendor.”

  He chuckled. “Nay. Otterly is not the place for such garments. I had almost forgotten how much I enjoyed wearing clothing like this. Alas, it will not be for long.”

  The servants were bringing them fur-lined cloaks, and setting them on their shoulders so they might exit the house for Lord Cambridge’s barge.

  “Do you regret coming north, uncle?” Philippa asked him.

  “Nay, darling girl, I do not. Court is far too exhausting now for a man of my age, and your mother means far more to me than gallivanting about after the king. Nay. At this time in my life Otterly suits me well, as does the quiet life. I have but come back to court to make certain that you are well settled, Philippa Meredith.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I love you, Uncle Thomas,” she told him.

  He smiled, pleased. This would be their second visit to court. They would soon be leaving London for Greenwich. Thomas Bolton was just beginning to slip into the thick of the court intrigue again. He had already picked up one delicious little rumor that the king’s new and very discreet mistress was the delightful Mistress Bessie Blount. It was also said that Bessie was expecting a child. Tom did not discourage Philippa from pursuing her friendship with the charming Bessie. Indeed, he went out of his way to seek out her company as well. Henry Tud
or would not be jealous of him, particularly if Lord Cambridge were paying extravagant court to the girl, helping to defuse any serious rumors that might reach the queen’s ears which could cause Bessie to lose her place in the queen’s household. She would lose it eventually, of course, but now was not the time. Katherine was very fond of Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge, and if she had heard any gossip regarding his unorthodox inclinations she had refused to listen to them, for she saw nothing untoward in the man’s behavior. She would judge him by the Thomas Bolton she knew, and not the scurrilous whispers of other people.

  The Christmas kept at Greenwich was simple and quiet. The feasts for each of the Twelve Days were subdued in consideration of the queen. But the king, yet angry, danced openly with all the pretty young women, and more with Mistress Blount than any other. Bessie was not a malicious girl, and so she continued to treat the queen, her mistress, with the utmost deference and respect, hurrying quickly back to her side when the music would end. Some thought her a simpleton for it. But Queen Katherine knew in her heart what was happening although she showed no indication of it. She was grateful for Elizabeth Blount’s good manners and good heart. Bessie’s natural sweet nature made it difficult to dislike her or be angry with her. The king had chosen her, and Bessie had been raised to obey and listen to her king.

  On the first day of the new year 1520 Lord Cambridge overheard a bit of news that piqued his interest. Lord Melvyn had died, and there were no heirs to his small estate in Oxfordshire. The land would either revert to the crown, for it had a fine wood for hunting, or it would be sold for the benefit of the crown. It was near enough to London so that Philippa might continue her service to the Tudors. And it was a prosperous estate. Lord Melvyn’s apple orchards were famous for the excellent cider that came from them, and his pastureland was rented at an excellent fee to a neighbor who raised cattle. This was the information that Lord Cambridge had been able to obtain from one of the king’s secretaries, William Smythe.