Love's Intrigue

by June Francis

  ‘What’ll — he do with them?’ said Louise huskily. Her throat had gone tight.

  ‘He won’t kill them,’ said John, his brows drawn together in thought. ‘Not yet, anyhow. A quick death isn’t his way.’ He kicked their horse into action. ‘They’ll be taken south. Peter will be held to get me — Harry — to sign some papers that’ll probably give Dykemore authority over Dorothy’s estate, and Peter. Knowing him, he’ll indulge in a little torture as well.’

  ‘And when Dykemore does that he’ll discover that Harry’s Harry,’ said his father, gazing at him.

  John nodded. ‘And I don’t give a farthing for Harry’s chances then. He won’t need two hostages to bring me running.’

  ‘We’ll have to leave right away, then,’ said Louise. ‘They’ve already got a day’s start on us.’

  ‘Us! We?’ John look was incredulous. ‘You don’t think you’re going with me?’

  ‘Naturally I am.’ She frowned. ‘You weren’t considering leaving me behind?’

  ‘Of course I was. Do you think I’d take you into danger? I’ve told you the kind of man we’re dealing with!’

  ‘Exactly! So I’m not staying up here, wondering what’s happening to you,’ she said calmly.

  Guy shot her a glance. ‘I know someone, mam’selle, who said the same thing once during the great rebellion.’

  John scowled at him. ‘Yours and Mother’s affairs have got nothing to do with this, Father. Louise is staying here.’

  Her temper flared. ‘You can’t make me! You’re not my husband that you can command my obedience. You’d have to drag me, screaming and kicking, and lock me in somewhere!’

  ‘That can be arranged,’ he snapped.

  ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘Wouldn’t I? Try me.’

  Louise pressed her lips tightly together and her eyes smouldered. She would argue with him no more but pretend to be amenable.

  There was a long silence before John said quietly, ‘I’ll go alone. I don’t want to chance him getting his hands on any more hostages, and I have friends in Burford if I need help.’

  ‘You believe that’s where Harry and Peter will be taken?’ said his father.

  ‘Either there or the house in Oxford.’ John ducked a dripping branch. ‘Now let’s not delay talking but ride.’

  They arrived at Hugh’s manor a short while later and had no sooner clattered into the courtyard than Blanche, and John’s mother, came out of the door at the top of the steps. ‘You are safe,’ cried the older woman in a trembling voice. ‘Thank God one of you is! But where can Harry and Peter be?’

  ‘John has a fair notion, Philippa,’ called Guy, giving the reins of his horse to Nat and going up to meet her.

  ‘Go and find me a change of clothing, Mother, and pack me some food,’ said John, dismounting. ‘I’ll be leaving within the hour.’

  ‘So soon!’ Blanche, her face seeming paler than ever, came carefully down the slippery steps. ‘Could I not go with you, John?’

  ‘What?’ He stared at her disbelievingly.

  ‘I’m worrying myself sick about Harry.’

  ‘That’s a change,’ he said frankly. ‘But you’re not coming with me. You can keep Louise company.’ He brushed past her and went up the steps to his mother.

  Louise and Blanche exchanged glances and neither looked pleased with what he said, but it was Louise who said dispassionately, on dismounting, ‘It’s a woman’s place to wait while the men go off to fight the dragons. Surely you know that, Blanche?’

  ‘It’s not easy,’ she said tearfully, pulling at a handkerchief.

  ‘Of course it isn’t,’ replied Louise with assumed cheerfulness. ‘But men will not believe that some of us would rather fight alongside them, chancing death, than live without them.’

  ‘You feel like that about John?’ said Blanche with a touch of amazement.

  Louise nodded. ‘That’s why I’m not going to be left behind. Can you find me some boy’s clothes?’

  Blanche’s pale eyes rounded. ‘You mean it? But how? Why? Where is Harry? What is all this talk of fighting?’

  Louise told her, believing that it was her right to know about John’s suspicions if she truly cared for Harry. And she finished generously with the offer that if she wished to come with her then she was welcome to find two lots of boys’ clothes.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Blanche wistfully. ‘I would fear John’s anger — and besides I have no mind to cut off my hair.’

  Louise shrugged. ‘You could tuck it inside a hat. But no matter. You bring the clothes to the stables. I will hide in the loft till you come, and if anybody asks after me tell them I’m sulking and have gone for a walk.’

  Blanche nodded. ‘You can trust me. I only wish I had your courage.’

  ‘I’m not brave,’ said Louise honestly. ‘I’m quaking inside. But I have to go.’

  The other woman shook her head and left her.

  Louise took the horse to the stable, talking softly in its ear till Nat left, and then she climbed the ladder to the hayloft and made herself comfortable. It seemed a long time before she heard Blanche’s voice below. She took the clothes handed to her and whispered a goodbye. A ‘God keep you!’ floated up to her, and then she was alone.

  The clothes, she presumed, were another set of Nat’s because they fitted just as well, and were warm and comfortable. Silently she praised Blanche for remembering a cloak, hat and gloves. Then she eyed up the horses in the stable and picked out a nice grey palfrey and saddled up.

  Louise mounted outside and was soon beyond the walls of the courtyard, and cantering along the road towards Knaresborough. She took it for granted that John would travel south the way they had come and determined not to stop until she was beyond the town. There she would wait for him.

  Louise was anxious. There was the glimmering of a pale moon in the afternoon sky and soon darkness would fall. What if John did not come this way after all? Yet within the hour she heard again the sound of hoofs on the muddy road and to her relief recognised John’s outline. With a heavily beating heart she urged her horse from behind the rock to meet him.

  Before Louise had a chance to speak she had to duck the cudgel he swung at her. ‘John! ’Tis me,’ she cried frantically.

  He swore loudly, adding, ‘By all that’s holy, woman, what are you thinking of coming at me like that?’

  ‘You’re not surprised to see me?’ she asked in a faltering voice, bringing her horse alongside his.

  A grim smile played about his mouth. ‘I’m annoyed to see you, but I suspected you had tried a trick like this when you weren’t there to wave me off. I didn’t quite believe that you’d go for a walk and not be back in time to wish me God speed. You’ve been crafty enough to have travelled this far as well, knowing that I wouldn’t have the time to delay and take you back.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I could send you back, of course.’

  ‘But you won’t, John? I thought if we’re going south then we might as well look for Marguerite as well.’ She clutched at a fold of his houppelande and gazed up into his face. ‘Please let me come.’

  ‘I should tan your hide,’ he said crossly. ‘Marguerite’s the last person I have on my mind right now. Hasn’t it sunk into your head that trying to get Harry and Peter out of Dykemore’s clutches could be dangerous? He has the ear of the King!’

  ‘But the King’s in France,’ she said eagerly.

  ‘He comes home occasionally.’

  ‘Not yet, though. He’ll delay till he’s married the princess Catherine.’

  He had to agree with her. ‘But I’m going to travel through the nights sometimes. It’ll be a hard ride,’ he warned. ‘You’ll suffer.’

  She smiled. ‘That should please you.’

  A reluctant grin eased his face. ‘Let’s ride.’

  It was like old times travelling together and Louise did get sore and weary; not that she admitted it to John. But he was not impervious to her suffering and he made sure that they stop
ped often enough for them both to sleep and rest the horses. He asked after his brother and son in towns and inns whenever he could, and never once did he receive an answer to his liking. It was as if they had vanished utterly. He had not really expected anything different but it filled him with self-doubt. Perhaps he was mistaken about Dykemore.

  They came to Burford at dusk one day and John knew that he would have to go carefully. If Dykemore was in the town and it got back to him that he had been seen then his advantage would be lost. It would be best if he went to Master Fulcombe who had had Peter in his care. He lived further down the street in one of the old timber and thatch houses, although he had spoken last time John had met him of building a new one of stone. He huddled inside his collar and pulled his hat down over his face as they passed down the high street, barely glancing in the direction of his own house.

  Master Fulcombe was a man of enormous height with a mop of grey hair, a large nose and a ready smile. He was surprised to see John but made him and Louise welcome. ‘Surely you can stay here,’ he said, leading them into a stone-flagged kitchen where a merry fire sent shadows dancing round whitewashed walls and a round, dark-headed woman sat sewing. ‘And I reckon I know why you’re asking me. That barrel of lard of a priest is firmly ensconced with a neat little guard around him. There was a rumour going the rounds that you’d been and taken the lad off, but I said to the wife that you’d be back.’ He waved a hand in the direction of a settle. ‘Sit you down and I’ll have my good wife bring you some supper.’ The woman had risen and was smiling at them.

  ‘That’s kind of you, mistress,’ said John, and Louise murmured agreement as she sank wearily on a seat. ‘Dykemore’s there now, you say?’ He addressed the master of the house as its mistress bustled over to the fire.

  Master Fulcombe nodded. ‘Been busy about your business,’ he said bluntly. ‘Had several familiar faces from round about visiting him. Fetterstone of Newsbury, the clothier, and his mistress, are staying with him right now.’

  ‘You haven’t seen anything of my brother or my son?’ Master Fulcombe’s eyes widened and he rested one of his great hams of an arm across his knee. ‘Peter isn’t with you?’

  John shook his head and began to tell him what had brought him to Burford. The older man nodded his grizzled head several times. ‘He was always trying to take the lad out of my charge but, give your wife her due, she wouldn’t let him. I could have the boys keep a watch out for you. Send them up on a couple of errands — spy out the land, like. See if there’s anything suspicious going on. Although if he’s got guests, can’t see how — ’

  ‘Neither can I,’ said John ruefully. ‘But I can only think of here or Oxford.’

  ‘Reckon if your brother and Peter were captives then they wouldn’t be travelling on horseback,’ said Master Fulcombe. ‘Come by waggon — which would take longer.’ ‘Dammit! Of course,’ groaned John, slapping a hand against his head. ‘That means we’ve arrived before them.’

  ‘Which could be a good thing,’ put in Louise, yawning. ‘We could take them by surprise.’

  ‘Ay! That’s right, young master.’ Fulcombe’s eyes twinkled warmly. ‘I reckon the best thing to do is for you to have supper and put your head down. And in the morning we’ll get the lads to have a look around. If you take Old Lardy by surprise before he can whistle up reinforcements, then you’ll do the job nicely if matters lie the way you reckon.’

  John nodded agreement, and the next minute Mistress Fulcombe was setting food before them. The talk became more general. Louise dozed off without finishing her supper.

  The next morning she woke to a wintry sun streaming through a window and she was lying on a pallet in the kitchen covered with a blanket. John blew on her face gently and she blinked at him sleepily. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’ve slept late but that doesn’t matter. A waggon’s just gone up the alley to the house.’

  Louise was fully awake immediately. ‘You think it’s the one?’

  ‘Could be. Fulcombe’s sent one of his prentices to have a look.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Wait.’ John’s eyes were bright. ‘I don’t want Dykemore having an inkling that I’m here. If the lad comes back with the answer we want then we act.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Get in and get Peter and Harry out.’

  ‘How, if the place is guarded?’

  ‘We’ve got in before.’

  ‘Ay, but … ’ Her worried gaze held his. ‘There were only a few of them that time.’

  He leaned towards her and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Stop worrying. We’ve got surprise on our side — and I’m not alone.’

  ‘No.’ She forced a smile. ‘Why do you think he’s got so many guards?’

  ‘He’s not liked in the area. He’s greedy and cruel — one of those churchmen who don’t live up to their calling.’

  ‘Is Master Fulcombe a Lollard?’ she asked curiously. ‘Is that why he’s so willing to help you?’

  John shook his head. ‘No, but he’d like to see changes in the Church and he’s a thinking man. He hates the burnings.’ He stood, picking up his hat and pulling it down as far as he could over his eyes. ‘I’m going to walk up the hill and have a word with the shepherd. Fulcombe’s not far away, and the mistress of the house has gone marketing. She left word for you to help yourself to something to eat. And there’s water in a pail in the corner for you to wash. If the lad returns before I’m back, Fulcombe will know where to find me.’

  Louise nodded and he left her. She yawned widely but did not dally any longer, rising and going to the privy before washing and breaking her fast. Afterwards she planned to go for a walk herself.

  Burford was a pleasant little town but not very busy that January morning. Louise found herself the target of several pairs of eyes as she strolled up the steep high street. She paused at the entrance to the passage that led to John’s house, and on impulse walked up to it and into the courtyard.

  There was no sign of a waggon, but there was a man leaning against the wall of the house by its entrance, and two more, wearing padded and studded jupons, stood as if on guard outside the door of an outbuilding. She began to stroll over to them but one of them began to make his way towards her. ‘That’s far enough. State your business, lad!’

  ‘I’m new to the town,’ she said, smiling. ‘I was just finding my way around.’

  He glowered at her. ‘Then find your way out again. A very important man lives here. A witch-hunter!’ he said with relish. ‘So you don’t want to be hanging about round here.’

  ‘A witch-hunter!’ Louise looked suitably scared. ‘It’s a good house. Fine stabling and storehouses as well.’

  ‘You’re a furriner?’ The man jerked his head in the direction of the house and his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s a maid visiting with those from Newbury inside, who speaks like you.’

  ‘Speaks like me?’ Louise’s pulses jumped.

  ‘Ay. A Frenchy. It’s getting that way that there’s too many of you around these parts. Now get back to your master before I haul you up before his eminence. He’s planning a bit of entertainment tonight, and you could be part of it.’ He laughed raucously. ‘I wager you won’t like it, lad.’

  ‘No.’ Louise’s smile flashed briefly as she backed away. Then she turned and ran. Her thoughts were chaotic but her hopes were high.

  She tore down the street and was sent sprawling when she collided with Master Fulcombe. He seized her by her upper arms. ‘What’s the rush, lad? You look as if you’ve found a fortune.’

  ‘Something like it,’ she said. ‘Where’s Jo — Master Milburn? Is he down from the hill yet?’

  ‘No.’ He dropped his hands. ‘And my prentice was sent packing from yon house,’ he muttered with a hint of anger.

  ‘So was I.’ Her voice was slightly breathless. ‘But there were only three of them outside. We must get inside.’

  ‘Ay, lad. We know that,’ he said drily.

 
She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and opened them again. ‘Not for the reason you are thinking. In my opinion Peter and Harry are not in the house but in an outbuilding that two of the men seem to be guarding.’

  His look was keen. ‘If he’s got guests inside then he’d want to keep them well away from them. But we’d have to be sure about it.’

  She nodded. ‘Let’s find John and work out a plan.’

  ‘Ay, lad.’ He gave her a curious glance as they strolled down the street.

  John had just got back so Master Fulcombe told him what had happened. As soon as he had finished Louise burst out in her own tongue. ‘John, there’s a French girl in the house. One of the men told me.’

  ‘What?’ John stared at her. ‘You think it’s Marguerite?’

  ‘Don’t you? She was supposed to have come here.’

  ‘Ay! Weeks ago! But it mightn’t be her,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t get your hopes too high. Marguerite wasn’t the only French child brought to England.’

  Some of the excitement faded from her eyes. ‘But you’ll try and find out if it is her?’

  He hesitated. ‘We must get Peter and Harry out first.’

  ‘I understand that. But Master Fulcombe seems to think we need to have a look in the house,’ she said earnestly, leaning forward across the table. ‘Surely there’s a chance then to see if Marguerite is there?’

  ‘I’m for leaving the house out of the reckoning for now.’ He glanced at Master Fulcombe. ‘It doesn’t make sense to guard an empty outbuilding.’

  The older man said gruffly, ‘You’ve got to consider that they could be minding valuables. Confiscated property.’

  ‘Stolen, you mean,’ said John, frowning. ‘It’s doubtful. You’d stow it in the house. We’ll go for the outbuilding. Tonight! Hopefully there’ll be no moon.’ Louise wanted to mention Marguerite again, but realised that John’s thoughts were for his son and brother. She understood, but she felt dissatisfied as she half listened to them making plans for Harry’s and Peter’s rescue. Knowing John she felt certain that they would not include her. Which was perhaps just as well, she decided suddenly. Convinced that the French girl was her sister, she decided to make her own plan and put it into action that evening.