There was now a much better understanding between himself and Lady Janet Wynstede. There had come a day when he had lost patience with her refusal to accept offers of help from her own sister Maud Keepence.
‘My father Jack Blagge died a very rich man,’ she had said resentfully, ‘yet he left nothing to me and my children, though I’m as much his daughter as Maud – it all went to Cecily’s children and enough to keep Mistress Keepence in comfort for the rest of her life. And if it hadn’t been for that boy Aelfric, my Oswald would not have met with his death.’
‘For shame, Janet, your mourning is selfish, and is no help to your children,’ Wulfstan had answered quietly but firmly, not wishing to be unkind. ‘What does it matter if your bad-tempered old father left most of his hoard to Cecily’s children and the aunt who brought them up? God knows she put up with him for years, looked after him in his last days, and did all the duty of a daughter, as well as bringing up Katrine and Aelfric. And you can’t blame Aelfric because Oswald fell off his horse after visiting the boy at Lincoln’s Inn, a tragedy nobody caused. Come now, forget old grievances, make friends with Maud and accept her help. Let the children visit Blagge House and their aunt and cousin Katrine.’
He had expected an angry protest, even dismissal for his plain speaking, but to his surprise Janet had bowed her head.
‘Your words are harsh, Wulfstan, spoken to a sorrowing widow, but in fact I’m grateful for all the help you’ve given me. I will go to see Maud and take the children.’
From then on the atmosphere had lightened, and the children became happier. Ethelreda too came to visit the Hall, bringing Sofia and little Robert with her. This was about the time that Wulfstan began to think seriously about his future. He was long overdue to return to Bordeaux, where Lisette de l’Isle awaited him. And he did not love her. These weeks of absence had made him face this fact, and something else: he had begun to enjoy his position at Ebbasterne Hall, the service he was giving to his brother’s family, the sense of homecoming after the easy life at Bordeaux with its daily round of pleasures. He preferred England, especially the hundred of Hyam St Ebba, the home he had thought never to visit again. Could he stay here and continue to assist his sister-in-law? Could he desert the Black Prince who had so honoured him, and leave the woman to whom he was betrothed? In fact he had no serious scruples about Lisette, for she was the kind of woman who would always have admirers. She would never fit in with a rural English scene.
And Beulah would never fit in with the sophistication of the court at Bordeaux.
Now Wulfstan faced the truth. He had been betrothed to Beulah Horst before his promise to Lisette, and Beulah had never known about his fall from grace with Miril, or the passionate scene in the Princess’s garden. She – and her dominating parents – need never know. Sweet, patient Beulah, he knew now that he still loved her. He had not told Janet or Ethelreda about Lisette, and with a joyful flash of realization, he saw that it need not be too late for him to change direction. In less than a year’s time he could return to Greneholt and at last claim Beulah as his wife. The blessed surge of relief sent him down on his knees to give thanks for restoring his destiny, so nearly thrown away, but saved in time.
And then had come Janet’s offer.
‘There is something I have been meaning to ask you, Wulfstan, and I will put it to you now. You have been a good brother-in-law to me, and filled Oswald’s place as master of the house. I had nobody to turn to, and now I have to thank bailiff Widget and sister-in-law Ethelreda for summoning you from your life at Bordeaux, to help me.’
Wulfstan had at first feared that she was going to propose marriage to him, and listened in silence; she then asked him if he would like to take up a permanent position at the Hall on behalf of the heir, Denys, until the boy came of age.
‘You will be claiming the hand of Beulah Horst next year, Wulfstan, if your betrothal vows hold good after all this time. I want to let you know that I would agree to her coming here as your wife, living as master and mistress of Ebbasterne Hall. Your children will be Wynstedes, as mine are, and they would grow up together under your guardianship. It will be another ten years before Denys is able to take over as the heir, and who knows what will have happened by then? Meanwhile I could ask our attorney to draw up a legal document setting forth the agreed arrangement. What do you say, Wulfstan? Would you be willing to accept such an arrangement?’
Her words had taken his breath away, and he paused before he answered. It would mean that he had a prestigious home to offer Beulah for the foreseeable future, a home and an estate which he would continue to rule, having proved his skill during these past weeks.
‘Oswald would have approved, and your sister-in-law Keepence thinks it a good idea,’ she went on. ‘In fact, she has suggested that I go to live with her at Blagge House if you and your wife agree to take over as temporary owners of the Hall. And you would continue Oswald’s duties as Justice of the Peace in Hyam St Ebba.’
Wulfstan had been silently frowning in deep thought, but now his brow cleared and he declared he would put the plan before Beulah and Sir William Horst for consideration.
‘Blessings on you, sister Janet!’ he said sincerely, taking her hand. ‘You’ve helped me to make a decision. I’ll let the Black Prince know that I shan’t be returning to Bordeaux, because to speak truth, I have no wish to do so, for I choose to live in England as an Englishman. I will ride over to Greneholt and tell this news to Beulah and her parents. Oh, God’s name be praised, and let them accept!’
And so it was settled. Wulfstan sat down to write to Queen Philippa, asking her to send word to the Black Prince, and then to the Princess Joan, asking her to break the news to Lisette de l’Isle and wish her happiness with a better husband than himself; and then he rode over to Greneholt, a much greater distance from Hyam St Ebba than from Berkhamsted, and greeted the Horst family with his news. Old Sir William gave him a cautious welcome, and questioned him closely about the status Beulah would enjoy as mistress of Ebbasterne Hall for the next decade. He made no offer to shorten the long betrothal, as Wulfstan had secretly hoped he might: there was still one year to go.
But Beulah’s soft brown eyes had shone with love and happiness at the sight of her betrothed husband-to-be, and she clung to his arm, asking no questions about his life at the court at Bordeaux, as her father did, and filling Wulfstan’s heart with renewed thankfulness for the love of such an adorable woman, as truthful as she was beautiful. In front of her father’s stern frown he managed to kiss her cheek just once when he left Greneholt, and rode away happier than he had ever been in his life before. He rejoiced over his prospects of living with Beulah at Ebbasterne Hall as landowner in place of the nine-year-old heir; at some future date he would become adviser to Sir Denys Wynstede, and by then he might well be the father of a family. God had indeed been good, and blessed him far above his just desserts.
And then the blow had fallen, overthrowing all his thanksgiving at a stroke: the blow that reminded him of his sinful state, his lechery and heedless courting of disaster: and not only was he reminded of it, but he was commanded to make reparation for it, straightway.
There came a message from the Queen, sent by rider from Westminster. She had received word from her son the Prince by the special courier used by royalty and military leaders, that the Princess, the ‘Fair Maid of Kent’, demanded Wulfstan’s instant return to Bordeaux, on pain of dismissal from the Prince’s service, and stripping of his knighthood.
The lady de l’Isle was with child, three months into her time. Wulfstan was its father, and therefore urgently required to return and marry Lisette before any more time passed. He had no choice: this was his only honourable course of action, with no time to lose.
‘Why, Wulfstan, what dire news is this? You look to have seen an avenging angel!’ Janet was staring at him in real concern, for he had gone as white as a sheet and his hands trembled as he held the message. The messenger from Westminster stood beside his horse, awaiti
ng a reply to take back to the Queen.
‘Has tragedy struck at the Black Prince’s court?’ asked Janet. ‘Tell me what’s happened, in God’s name!’
He did not reply but turned to the waiting rider and hoarsely muttered, ‘Yes, tell the Queen I’ll return as soon as I can set sail.’ To Janet he added, ‘God’s punishment has come upon me, Sister, and I have to make amends.’
‘Amends for what, Wulfstan? Wait, tell me—’
But he turned away and went to his bedchamber where he fell to his knees.
‘O Christ, my Lord and Saviour, have pity on me, for I repent with all my heart.’
He was used to attending Mass and hearing the liturgy in Latin, though his thoughts often strayed, and he had got out of the way of praying privately. He added a Hail Mary for good measure. ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us – for me, the worst of sinners, now and at the hour of my death.’
It was of no use. As he begged for divine intervention, his duty stood starkly before him, like the avenging angel Janet had spoken of. His words sounded hollow in his ears, empty and unheard. He rose from his knees and returned to the entrance hall where he had left his sister-in-law; she beckoned him to the counting-house where they could talk privately. As he began to speak of his shame and misery, he broke down in tears, and Janet laid a hand on his shoulder; when she spoke her words were unexpectedly sympathetic.
‘I can understand what a shock this is to you, Wulfstan, and you are right, you must face your duty by this Frenchwoman.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I have suffered the loss of a good husband, and compared to that, your misdemeanour doesn’t seem so terrible. I shall miss you, and so will the children, but the sooner you can be on your way, the better.’
Wulfstan did not tarry. He did not want to face the shocked reactions of Ethelreda or Maud Keepence. Before he saddled Jewel, he had one more duty to perform, and he forced himself to do it. He wrote a letter to Sir William Horst, making a complete confession of his two moral lapses, accepting his disgrace and asking that Beulah be told that he had to marry a woman at Bordeaux for reasons of honour, so would never see Beulah again. This made a complete end to the betrothal, making it impossible to change his mind. Janet Wynstede promised to send the letter by special messenger, and added that if the day ever came when Wulfstan returned to England with his French wife, her offer to him still stood, with Lisette in place of Beulah. He thanked her, but could not foresee it ever happening.
As a man sows, so shall he reap. The words burned into Wulfstan’s heart and mind as he rode down to Southampton and boarded a flat-bottomed ship carrying cargo. It was a miserable journey for Jewel, one more cause for self-blame, and he rode southward across country from Honfleur rather than sail round the Bay of Biscay, for the mare’s sake.
He arrived at Bordeaux and the former archbishop’s palace, now the renowned court of the Prince and Princess of Aquitaine, bathed in mellow September sunlight. It was evening, and the well-proportioned building was a fine example of France’s many beautiful chateaux, yet Wulfstan’s heart sank at the sight of it. Like some perversion of paradise, it offered an over-abundance of pleasure, an endless round of entertainment, of satisfactions that remained ever unsatisfying – banquets that satiated the appetite, Bordeaux wine to lead a man into temptation, as he knew only too well – this was more like purgatory. And for Wulfstan it was a prison.
The massive front entrance, guarded by two military sentinels, was surely not his way into the palace, and he turned to go round to the rear of the palace, a humbler entry where there would be stabling for Jewel; but one of the helmeted guards called out to him.
‘Who comes hither? Answer at once!’
He hesitated, not knowing how to style himself. The other guard eyed him up and down, then nodded to the one who had challenged him.
‘Sir Wulfstan? Wulfstan Wynstede?’ he asked.
He inclined his head, and dismounted. After a few moments of consultation, they came over to him; one led Jewel away, and the other beckoned to him.
‘Come this way, sire.’
Wulfstan followed him into the entrance hall and then along a stone-floored passage that led to a flight of stairs which he remembered, and then another long passage and more stairs that took them to the Princess’s solarium where she sat with her ladies. Wulfstan’s eyes swept over the group, fearing to see Lisette. She was not among them. The Princess rose, and Wulfstan bowed low to her.
‘You may leave us,’ she said to the guard and her ladies. They hurried out, some glancing back at Wulfstan, as if half afraid or half amused. She resumed her seat.
‘Be seated, Sir Wulfstan,’ she said, indicating a long stool upholstered in green brocade. ‘Have you had a good journey?’
He bowed again before sitting down. ‘Thank you, Your grace, it was good enough.’ (How could it be good when accompanied by such a calamity as this?)
‘You have come promptly in answer to my message.’
‘I’ve come to do your will, Your grace.’ He wished that she would come to the point, but she seemed reluctant to do so.
‘You may remember one of my ladies, a pretty girl called Suzanne d’Avour?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I believe I do, Your grace, but it is not her that I have come to see, but Mademoiselle de l’Isle. She was the lady you mentioned to the Queen.’
‘Yes, indeed, Sir Wulfstan, I was highly incensed at your treatment of her, and I blamed you for deserting her at such a time.’
He looked straight into her face, tired of this exchange which seemed to be getting nowhere. ‘I did not know then that she was with child, Your grace, but I have now come to marry her with all possible speed.’
‘But perhaps not quite speedily enough, Sir Wulfstan. You have been forestalled.’ Now she was clearly embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, but Mademoiselle de l’Isle is now the Countess d’Avour.’
He stared back at her in complete bewilderment, as she continued.
‘The Count d’Avour is a courtly, honourable gentleman who brought his daughter Suzanne to be a lady-in-waiting. She is very young, and the Prince and I invited him to stay here for a few weeks so as to continue to see her, he being widowed with no family at home. He admits now that he was immediately taken by Mademoiselle de l’Isle, and therefore disappointed at hearing of her betrothal to you. Then you were called to your brother’s home in England, and it was said that you had forsaken her. My husband the Prince told him that you had not forsaken her, and would return when you had finished your business at home. But then we received your letter saying that you would not be returning, and the Count told me of his own feelings towards the lady. I advised him to wait before declaring himself, to give her time to recover from your desertion. But then she became deeply distressed and confided in Suzanne that she was with child, and the girl went straight to her father the Count.’
She paused and looked at him to see how he was taking this news. He sat open-mouthed, hanging on her every word, scarcely able to take it in. The Princess made a little apologetic gesture with her hands, as if denying any responsibility for this turn of events, but Wulfstan waited with a pounding heart for her to continue.
‘And as a consequence of receiving the news from Suzanne, the Count came to me to offer his protection to the . . . to Lisette. And . . . and they were married last week in the palace chapel, Wulfstan, just after I had summoned you to return. She has become his second wife, the Countess d’Avour. He already has a son who will inherit his title, and other grown-up children, so the child Lisette is carrying will not pose any problems of succession – and as her husband, the child will be looked upon as his, which he gladly accepts. I was too hasty in sending for you, Wulfstan, and I’m sorry. I simply could not believe that you would desert a woman who was expecting your child, and I was right, you have come at once. I’m sorry,’ the Princess said again, and looked at him helplessly. ‘You have had a great shock, I know. Shall I send for wine?’
‘No, Your grace, I have no need of wi
ne,’ he said, rising to his feet. Feeling slightly light-headed, he held out his hand to her.
‘My thanks are due to you, Your grace, and to the . . . the Count. I wish them every happiness, and hope the child will be safely born. I . . . I must return to England.’
When the Prince heard of Wulfstan’s arrival, and of his interview with the Princess, he greeted him with laughter and ironic congratulations.
‘God’s bones, Wulfstan, you’ve found a worthy husband for another of your paramours! Now you can return to your virtuous little English maiden who’s waited for you all this time. I’m exceedingly sorry to lose such a scrivener and keeper of the royal purse, but I wish you as happy as I am with my lovely Jeanette.’ He lowered his voice and spoke in Wulfstan’s ear. ‘We’re going to be the parents of an heir to the throne of England! If it’s a boy he’ll be second in line to the throne, and if it’s a girl, well, there will be more, another chance of getting a boy!’
Wulfstan smiled and shook his mentor’s hand, not having the heart to tell him that there would be no marriage to the virtuous little maiden. ‘I’m needed at Ebbasterne Hall, my liege, and must return as soon as I can.’
‘But you must stay overnight, to rest both yourself and that poor, patient mare,’ said the Princess. ‘You’ll join us for supper in the hall this evening, won’t you? Unless you would care to eat in private.’
‘It might be best not to come into the hall,’ said the Prince quietly, with a warning look towards his wife. Wulfstan saw it, and immediately chose to eat in the hall. He was not likely to speak to either the Count or the Countess d’Avour at table, but if he did so, he would wish them happiness in their marriage.
‘Thank you, Your grace, I shall be happy to attend you in the hall.’
Every Noble Knight Page 24