Every Noble Knight

by Maggie Bennett

  When the King unexpectedly bestowed on his son the title of Prince of Aquitaine, it was generally seen as a late mark of approval, though it was an honour with a price attached. As Prince and Princess of Aquitaine, the couple would be expected to make their home in Gascony, the scene of the Prince’s greatest triumphs, where he would rule as a King, striking his own coinage and upholding the law under his personal seal of three silver ostrich feathers on a sable field. It would be an exile, such as Sir William Horst had hinted should happen, and would also put a good distance between the Countess, soon to be Princess of Wales, and her embarrassed father-in-law.

  Rather to Wulfstan’s initial surprise, the Prince accepted this honourable exile, not only with agreement but with enthusiasm.

  ‘Depend upon it, Wulfstan, we shall make Bordeaux the most magnificent court in Europe, ruled over by the Prince and Princess of Aquitaine, the envy of all the rest!’

  All of which put Sir Wulfstan Wynstede in a quandary.

  As that summer passed, Wulfstan’s visits to Greneholt Manor became more and more irksome. Any mention of the Prince’s firm resolution was denounced as his blind obstinacy by Sir William, and the only way to avoid arguments was to say nothing at all on this all-important subject. Beulah’s parents frowned on her unconcealed adoration of Wulfstan which showed in her bright eyes and the kisses she bestowed upon his hand when he kissed hers. Gladly would he have returned those kisses on her rosy lips if he only had the opportunity to do so. He began to dislike her father, and found it hard to be civil to him; to wait another two years for Beulah filled him with mounting frustration and anger, and he wondered if his patience would last so long. The Prince’s absolute determin­ation to marry the woman he loved, in the face of all objections, was an example he longed to follow, but he lacked the authority of his royal master, and to take Beulah away from the only home she knew in defiance of her parents would cause a rift that might never be healed. Wulfstan could not contemplate such an upheaval when the other option was to keep the betrothal vow and wait for two more years. But then came another possibility . . .

  ‘You’ll come with us, Wulfstan,’ said the Prince as if there were no question of doing otherwise. ‘My sweet Jeanette and I will be married before this year is out, and will set up court at Bordeaux, where I shall need you to continue as my scribe and treasurer, and you’ll have a better life than you have here. Grant me two more years at least.’

  Two more years. At first Wulfstan could not contemplate leaving England – and Beulah – for another two years, but on second thoughts it began to look like a solution to his problem. If he went to Bordeaux with the Prince’s household, he would no longer have to endure Sir William’s stubbornness, his insults against the Prince and his bride. He would not be constantly frustrated in his efforts to obtain one short minute of privacy with his love, the bliss of one brief kiss. Parting with her would be difficult, and her tears would accuse him of hardness of heart; but on his return when the two years were up, he could claim her as his lawful wife.

  The Prince saw his hesitation, and spoke more bluntly. ‘You’ll never last another two years of swallowing insults from that old fool Horst, Wulfstan. It would be far better for you and the lady to dream of each other across the Narrow Sea, and if she loves you as she says she does, she’ll wait, and the parting will prove your sincerity and hers. Tell old Horst that your Prince commands you to accompany him to France.’

  Yes, thought Wulfstan, this could be the answer to his dilemma. He therefore told the Prince that he would do as he was commanded, privately deciding to say nothing at Greneholt of his impending departure until he knew the day of sailing.

  Eventually a date was fixed for the wedding, the tenth of October, but the newly wedded couple would not sail for France until the next year.

  ‘I have to show my father the King that we will not immediately disappear,’ the Prince said with a certain defiant humour. ‘On the contrary, my bride and I will spend Christmas here at Berkhamsted, and invite my mother and father and half their precious court to enjoy our hospitality!’

  There was time, thought Wulfstan, to visit Hyam St Ebba again. He was reluctant to do so, but his conscience reminded him of his family there, and his obligation to see them before he sailed for France, so on a clear September day he mounted Jewel and took the Winchester Road. He planned to stay three nights at Castle de Lusignan with his sister and brother-in-law, and from there ride over to Ebbasterne Hall to see his brother Sir Oswald and Lady Janet Wynstede; then on to Blagge House to see his orphaned niece and nephew, Katrine and Aelfric for whom he felt a special attachment, being Cecily’s children. And he would also call on good Friar Valerian at the Abbey who had loved his sister Cecily and saved Wulfstan’s life by ridding him of the hideous withered arm. Such were his intentions . . .

  The first thing Wulfstan noticed about his sister Ethelreda was how much older she looked. Gone was the high-spirited little sister he knew, replaced by a care-laden woman with four children to bring up, an invalid husband and his two ageing parents who looked to her for their domestic comforts and the smooth running of the castle household. Lines had appeared around her eyes, and her pretty mouth drooped at the corners; nevertheless she was very pleased to see her brother.

  ‘Dear Wulfstan, you are right welcome!’ she cried, embracing him, and when he remarked upon her busy life and many commitments, she shrugged and gave a little sigh.

  ‘The children are my greatest blessing, Wulfstan, and help me to carry out all my duties. Piers is eleven now, and such a comfort to Charles and me. He’ll make a splendid heir to his father’s title and the castle, I know it!’

  Having talked with his nephew, Wulfstan was inclined to agree. Charles de Lusignan remained a thin, pale man resigned to lifelong invalidism. He seldom left the castle, and walked slowly with two sticks to assist his one leg. As his bodily strength had diminished, so his mind had become limited to the daily happenings at the castle; he did not want to remember wartime invasions and battles, and had little interest in Wulfstan’s news of the Black Prince’s marriage and subsequent banishment to Bordeaux with his wife. Ethelreda by contrast was eager to hear all the details of the Prince’s ‘fair maid of Kent’, having heard something of the scandal surrounding the lady’s name.

  Count Robert de Lusignan was prematurely aged and troubled with gout in both feet which prevented him from walking very far. Lady Hélène had become a sad, white-haired old lady who forbade all talk of warfare. Having lost one fine son and seen the other crippled, she actually congratulated Wulfstan on his loss of an arm.

  ‘It means you’ll not take part in any further savagery and bloodshed,’ she told him. ‘The sooner you marry your lady Beulah and settle down to a peaceful country life, the better it will be for you. I have no time for your Black Prince, using our best men to kill the French and get killed in return.’

  Ethelreda had further news for her brother. ‘We have lost Friar Valerian,’ she said sadly. ‘He was ministering to the sick right up to the day he died. It was a lovely summer day, and he was called to the bedside of that horrid old man Jack Blagge. I’ve heard it said that at first he refused to go, because of the way Blagge had treated Cecily, but in the end he went, and Mistress Keepence says that the two men were closeted together for some time, and when the friar left, they were reconciled. Blagge died peacefully that night, and our dear Friar Valerian died also, sitting on a garden seat at twilight in his herb-garden. Of course we miss him, especially for the way he cared for us and our children in sickness. He was . . . why, Wulfstan, are you not well? You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’

  For Wulfstan was deeply affected by the news. ‘He saved my life when he cut away that dead arm,’ he said, and she saw that tears had come to his eyes. ‘He was a friend to all of our family, especially . . .’ He could not continue, but turned his face away. Ethelreda laid her hand on his arm.

  ‘Especially Cecily,’ she whispered. ‘She loved him, didn’t she? Through
both those marriages, and right to the end. I’ve never said it before, but I think I’ve always known it.’

  ‘Yes, and he loved her in return. They’re reunited now, so we need not mourn them, Ethelreda. We should rejoice, even for our loss.’

  At Ebbasterne Hall, Lady Janet Wynstede frowned and directed Wulfstan to go and look for Sir Oswald on the estate.

  ‘He spends more time with that bailiff than with his own family,’ she said resentfully. ‘He takes the boys with him when they should be at their lessons with Brother Somebody from the Abbey, and I’m left here with Joanna and Lois. I don’t wonder you’re staying at the castle, instead of here with your own brother.’

  ‘Lady Ethelreda is my sister,’ he politely reminded her, knowing that she would not have welcomed him at the Hall. The twin girls curtseyed to their uncle, and seemed pleasant enough, good at embroidery and tapestry, so their mother said.

  ‘I hear that Sir Charles has grown selfish and petulant,’ said Lady Janet. ‘I don’t envy your sister married to that poor shadow of a man, and burdened with his old parents into the bargain! They say the old Count is laid up with the gout. Do you think he will make over the castle to his grandson Piers, with a proviso that his mother is allowed to stay on?’

  ‘I can have no views on such a matter,’ replied Wulfstan, repelled by her vulgar curiosity.

  ‘Well, let’s hope that some instructions are laid down before one or other of them goes to his Maker,’ she said, and unable to think of a civil reply, Wulfstan went in search of his elder brother. He found Oswald and Dan in a corner of a harvested field with the three little Wynstede boys running around with their dogs. There were smiles and eager greetings, but not much approval of Wulfstan’s plan to accompany the Black Prince to Bordeaux after the wedding.

  ‘You’d be far better advised to marry the lady Beulah Horst and settle down over here in your native land,’ said Oswald. ‘Our country could be at war with France in another two years, and you – well, you could find yourself on the wrong side of the Narrow Sea, and no place to . . . er . . .’

  Wulfstan knew that his brother was thinking about his lost arm which rendered him unable to fight as a soldier. And although Dan Widget believed that Wulfstan had every right to choose his own path through life, he was broadly in agreement with his master. They commiserated with each other over the death of Friar Valerian, while giving thanks for his peaceful end.

  ‘I must visit my niece and nephew and good Mistress Keepence next,’ said Wulfstan. ‘How have they fared since the death of old Blagge?’

  ‘We haven’t heard much, except that the two children are suddenly very wealthy from his legacy to them,’ said Oswald, ‘and we presume that Mistress Keepence is provided for. Lady Wynstede said . . . er, I told my wife I think we should wait for a while before stepping in, but you were always closer to Cecily’s sister-in-law than the rest of us, and she’ll probably be glad to have your opinion. Katrine and Aelfric are in their mid-teens now, and the old man was looking around for a husband for the girl. Kitty won’t have to submit to that now that he’s gone, but there must be some thought given to her future. See what you think, Wulfstan.’

  As he approached Blagge House, Wulfstan was conscious of a sense of freedom. The very air of the place seemed to be lightened, as if a burden of hostility had been lifted from it, and he could now call upon Cecily’s children without the tension of former visits. Maud Keepence must have felt the same, for she greeted him at the door with smiles and an outstretched hand.

  ‘Welcome, Sir Wulfstan! Cecily’s brother may now cross this threshold without let or hindrance! Kitty, Aelfric, come and speak to your uncle!’

  As the young people approached, Wulfstan saw the resemblance to Cecily in both of their faces, and his heart swelled, in spite of all his efforts to control his emotions. When Katrine curtseyed to him, he held out his hand to raise her up, and embraced her with his arm; as soon as he released her, he shook hands with Aelfric, and then drew him close, together with Katrine. Maud Keepence looked on, smiling with tears in her eyes, and when the four of them sat down to talk, it was surprisingly easy for them to come to an agreed arrangement.

  ‘My father wanted Aelfric to go in for the Law, and there is nothing but his youth to stop him going to London and the Inns of Court to witness the course of justice from the Bench,’ she said, looking approvingly at the beardless boy who nodded his agreement with his aunt. She then turned to Katrine, and tactfully omitting the question of early marriage, said that she would like her niece to be received into some noble house.

  ‘Somewhere she could learn the arts of gracious living by experiencing life as lived at court, Wulfstan. She is already a competent needlewoman, and has a sweet singing voice. I wonder if you know of such a household? Somewhere she may be seen, rather than hidden away here.’

  Wulfstan nodded. Finding a good husband was still paramount, he realized, but this should be a husband of Kitty’s own choosing, or at least approved by her.

  ‘These years of their childhood have been the happiest of my life,’ Maud Keepence continued. ‘But now with their grandfather gone, leaving them most of his money and property, it’s time for me to think about their future. But it must be absolutely right for them.’

  Wulfstan agreed, thankful that the brother and sister had such a wise guardian. They were both still very young. An idea came into his head.

  ‘I could introduce Kitty to the court of Queen Philippa, and she would be able to advise as to where best she might be placed.’

  ‘Oh, Wulfstan, bless you; it would be just what their mother would have wanted!’ exclaimed Maud, and Kitty’s eyes brightened in anticipation.

  When Wulfstan spoke to Oswald about the matter, he said he would escort young Aelfric Blagge to London and one of the four Inns of Court to start training for the Law.

  ‘But the boy’s only fourteen, and next year will be soon enough for him,’ he added. ‘And Katrine is but fifteen. I suggest we leave them at home with their Aunt Maud until another year has passed.’

  And so Wulfstan returned to Berkhamsted, satisfied that his reluctant duty visit had been of some real use to his family at Hyam St Ebba.

  The royal wedding took place on a Sunday at Windsor Castle, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, having decided to overcome his scruples about the validity of the marriage, conducted the ceremony which included a Nuptial Mass in which the King and Queen took part, along with the Prince’s three brothers. There was not the same exuberance as there had been at the May wedding of John of Gaunt to the Duchess of Lancaster five years previously, which had been accompanied by jousting tournaments, and much dancing and drinking. Nevertheless, the pride of the Prince and the beauty of the new royal Princess made an impression on all present, from the members of the court circle down to the townspeople who turned out to see the Fair Maid of Kent on her journey from Westminster to Windsor where the Black Prince awaited her.

  Wulfstan cheered as loudly as any other man in the Prince’s retinue, along with Sir Ranulf Ormiston; even Guy Hamald joined in, for it was not a day for harbouring grudges, at least not on the surface. In the King’s retinue Wulfstan noticed André Demoins, and in the Queen’s Lisette de l’Isle, a slim figure in green silk, with her abundant hair loose upon her shoulders, signifying virginity. He hastily looked away before she could notice him in lofty disdain. How happy he would be with Beulah at his side! The Prince had asked him to write invitations to the family at Greneholt Manor, but he had not delivered them, knowing that Sir William would consider himself insulted; he had composed a letter declining with regret because of an outbreak of fever at the Manor.

  Berkhamsted Castle now had a gracious Princess and a bevy of ladies-in-waiting, along with the maidservants and sempstresses she had brought with her. It made an enormous difference. The Prince was in a constant good humour, generous with gifts and granting requests for a delay or even a cancellation of rents due from tenants. It was not difficult to find the reason for t
his largesse: Princess Joan was always willing to plead on behalf of household members, from courtiers and guards to maidservants and pot-boys, and the Prince could deny her nothing. ‘If you can’t move him, try her’ was a joke based on fact, but it was not only her bargaining power that made her so popular.

  ‘You were right, Wulfstan, she is as sweet as she is beautiful,’ said Ranulf, adding with an appreciative grin, ‘and where does she find all those pretty girls? Every one of them has eyes to melt the hardest heart – and what with their singing and their laughing, it’s enough to drive a man crazy!’

  The Princess’s five children happily played around the great hall with a newly acquired litter of puppies, adding to the general gaiety; the grey stone aspect of the castle seemed transformed by the happiness within. At Christmas they entertained royal guests, for the King and Queen had accepted an invitation to spend the festive season with their son and his bride. Although at first there was a certain awkwardness in the presence of their hostess, the Fair Maid of Kent, the Prince’s beloved Jeanette, her unaffected sweetness and the high regard in which she was held by the Prince’s retinue caused them to suspend their objections over the festive season. Even so, Wulfstan keenly felt the absence of his own beloved, the lady Beulah, and when he rode over to Greneholt early in the New Year of 1362, he knew there would be trouble, for he had to tell her parents that he was going to France with the Prince and Princess of Wales for the remaining two years of his betrothal, and to bid farewell to Beulah until the summer of 1363.

  In this he was not mistaken. Sir William expressed his dis­appointment and disgust in no uncertain terms, and said he doubted that he would ever see Wulfstan again, to which Wulfstan bowed and simply replied, ‘I shall return, sire.’

  More painful than her father’s anger was Beulah’s distress and her tearful promise to wait for him. To comfort her was difficult, for they were not allowed a minute alone; his farewell kiss on her hand and his reassurances of his love had to be made with her parents looking on, likewise his solemn declar­ation that he would return to claim her as his wife.