The Shadow Queen

by Anne O'Brien

  I was in no mood to be soothing. I knew exactly the road along which my acknowledged love’s thoughts were travelling. How presumptuous of him, to believe that my sudden change in rank would seduce me. How humiliating. And yet how troubling that I had found myself thinking the same unsettling thoughts. Living as Countess of Salisbury would be far more comfortable than as Lady Holland.

  Thomas was scathing.

  ‘Of course I am concerned for the well-being of my horses. What did you expect? Declarations of my love for you at every opportunity?’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘My life depends on the soundness of my horseflesh.’

  ‘Ha! Thus your priorities.’

  ‘Hear me, Joan.’ Suddenly he had a fistful of my ermine crushed hard. ‘I feel honour-bound not to address you or touch you until our marriage is recognised. I may not be an Earl but I know what honour is. Just at this moment it’s like being confined in a…’ Thomas was not poetic. ‘… in a dungeon where all is black and formless and there is no way out. Until I can raise enough coin, you are destined to remain chained there as Countess of Salisbury. You might as well enjoy it.’

  It was like trying to follow a cat through a maze.

  ‘I thought you had just agreed that it would be a good thing for me to keep my ermine – for both of us.’

  ‘I did not agree. I stated what I thought might be in your mind.’

  ‘You have no idea what is in my mind.’

  ‘As I know.’ The air shivered between us. ‘I need another war.’

  ‘Well at least it might relieve me of one husband. Which would be better than having two. And an incomplete relationship with either of them!’

  He was preoccupied, and did not respond as I hoped he might, studying his hands where they were now clasped on his sword belt. I smoothed my mistreated fur.

  ‘I need employment of some kind, Joan.’

  Fury drove me, unfortunately, to sneer. ‘What can you do? Other than fight?’

  Here we were trapped, in a complex spider’s web of our own making. It might be better if I resigned myself to life with William which would not be unpleasant, but it would not have that spark of exhilaration that had brought me from my bed this morning in anticipation of seeing Thomas, even for a handful of minutes. Life with Will would not have this bright conflict that awoke my senses, even when I was angry with him. Crossing swords with Thomas was heady with possibilities. Arguments with Will were no better than a buffeting with a soft cushion.

  I knew which I preferred.

  ‘Is there nothing else you can turn your hand to?’ I asked.

  ‘I am a knight. A soldier. A fighting man.’

  ‘I did not presume you would turn to labouring like a peasant.’

  He frowned into the middle distance, as if I had sowed some small seed of an idea.

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Nothing that need concern you.’

  ‘An answer that I dislike.’

  ‘You’ll get no explanation from me.’ Then he gave a shrug of one shoulder. ‘I’ll say this. That campaigning gives a man many arrows for his bow.’

  Which was no more enlightening.

  ‘I’ve never seen you use a bow.’

  ‘I am excellent with a bow. I think I see my way to establishing myself.’

  ‘Until the next battle.’

  ‘Of course.’ His gaze, suddenly on mine, sharpened. Without warning he pulled me into a corner where there was no discreet shelter whatsoever, looked over his shoulder, then kissed me, full on the mouth. ‘I don’t like being furtive. It goes against the grain, but how long is it since I have done that?’ He kissed me again so that my skin was far too hot within my figured damask. ‘What value honour, Joan? I have just destroyed every tenet of chivalrous behaviour I placed before you.’

  Before I could answer that it was far too long, and I did not mind at all, even though it was dishonourable, he was striding away, leaving me none the wiser. What was he planning? I had the feeling that I would not like it.

  But I had liked his kiss. It had reawakened all I had forgotten.

  So what had I been thinking?

  Everything of which Thomas had accused me, because the death of the Earl had stirred up the whole order of my life, dropping it into a completely different formation of shapes and patterns, like a child’s mosaic. Now I was Countess of Salisbury with the future prospect of vast estates and wealth, an enviable position at court, in the close clique around the King and Queen. Not a position to be cast lightly aside if my mind was set on an influential future.

  But then I had always been accepted within the King and Queen’s own family. There was no advantage for me in the Salisbury marriage. I did not need it. It would give me nothing that I did not already have as the daughter of the Earl of Kent. Except perhaps a permanence through Will’s foremost rank.

  But why would I rank the position of Countess above marriage to the man I loved enough to marry in the face of so much opposition?

  There was one supreme advantage, of course. I sighed a little.

  ‘I am Countess of Salisbury,’ I spoke the words aloud. ‘I am immune from all scandal.’

  It made good sense. Take the husband that fate has given you, I advised myself. Cut your garments to suit your cloth. To do otherwise risks untold grief and damage.

  All well and good.

  Why had I been so angry with Thomas? Because the title and the garments and the coronet did indeed tie me even more securely into this marriage. Escape became unimaginable. And so, being thwarted, my own wishes being overturned, I had aimed my ill humour at my bold knight. Now, in the aftermath, I was full of regret for my selfish attack, forced as I was by that kiss to accept that Thomas still had the power to make me forget myself. To want what I should not.

  And what was it that he was planning?

  I suspected, recalling his cold plotting, that I might not find it acceptable at all.

  ‘Joan. Joan!’

  I yawned and continued to read. I was alone, and enjoying the solitude, losing myself as I rarely did in the romantic exploits of the inestimable Sir Galahad in his search for the Holy Grail when, from Will’s chamber there was the unmistakeable sound of his boots being removed, of coffers being opened and slammed shut. My peace would not last long.

  Will had found a need to return to Bisham, a brief visit that, so it seemed, had lasted no longer than a week before he was back with me here at Westminster. I would give him five minutes before the door between the two rooms was thrust back.

  There. Barely five. He had exchanged his travelling garb for hunting leathers. I thought there was a furtive look about him as he loped across the room, took my hand and kissed my cheek.

  ‘There you are, Joan.’

  ‘How are things at Bisham?’ I asked.

  ‘Difficult. My mother thinks I should remain there to become familiar with the running of the estates, even though I do not have full power over them until I am twenty-one. My mother thinks that I should become accustomed. So does my grandmother.’

  I watched him as he shuffled from stool to window and back again. His thoughts were entirely suspect.

  ‘And what do you think, Will?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Then he grinned. ‘I feel shackles tightening round my ankles whenever my mother issues instructions to speak with the steward or my father’s council or even the cook about what my grandmother can and cannot eat.’

  ‘I know what you think.’ Standing, I tucked my hand into his arm. ‘You’d far rather take up your sword and join the King in his next campaign.’ I knew Will well by now. I knew how he reacted, and I knew how to get him to tell me the worst. ‘Come and walk with me. The King is still talking with Philippa.’

  Leaving our rooms we strolled slowly towards the royal apartments.

  ‘It is what my father would have done.’ For a moment Will grimaced. ‘And so would I. But it’s not as easy as…’

  ‘Of course it is.’ Not t
hat I wanted Will to hotfoot to France to engage in battle, but it was time that he threw off his mother’s yoke. ‘Who ran the estates when your father was elsewhere? When he was imprisoned in France? I’m sure that the Countess didn’t.’ My own mother might have her fingers in every estate pie, but not every wife or widow was as driven to oversee every insignificant detail from bedchamber to cellar.

  ‘Our steward,’ he said. ‘And my father’s council of knights and clerics to oversee all matters. My mother has no interest. Or application. Or ambition, even. I suspect she lacks the knowledge for checking ledgers. Not that she doesn’t keep an eye on everything that goes on, and if she does not, my grandmother certainly does. Despite appearances to the contrary, my grandmother is an uncomfortably percipient old woman, even if she does refuse to eat roast meats.’

  ‘So why can this not continue?’

  ‘Our steward is old. I think he was appointed by my grandfather. His sight is failing.’

  ‘So appoint another.’

  I sensed him looking at me, and returned it. There was a thought in his mind that continued to disturb me. As he blinked, I saw what it was.

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said.

  ‘You could do it.’

  Of course I could do it. I had the ability. I had the application. I had the education, and could learn soon enough where I was lacking. But like the Dowager Countess I lacked the interest, the ambition to become my own steward. I could overlook the ledgers at regular intervals under the guidance of the steward but I had no intention of spending every day with the minutiae of detail of the Salisbury possessions. The life I saw for myself was at court, in the whirl of government and intrigue and political gossip, not tied up in ordering and supervising every meal the family ate.

  ‘No,’ I repeated with some force. ‘Employ a steward. You have the money.’

  ‘No, I do not. Nothing like all of it. Not until I reach my majority.’

  ‘Then apply to the King. He will be understanding. He’ll not let you live in penury.’

  But Will showed more resistance than I expected.

  ‘I can’t employ just anyone. I need a man of loyalty and skill, of experience in handling finance and people.’ The more he talked the more I saw him persuade himself that this would be the best option. Will had no wish to do it himself. Then, as he remembered his financial state, his eye fell once more on me. ‘But why can you not do it while I am away fighting?’

  So we had our first real argument. I would not be tied to ink and lists and tally sticks. I would become as morbid as the Dowager Countess.

  ‘And if you think that your mother and grandmother would allow me to take precedence over their wishes at Bisham, then you are a fool!’

  ‘They would if I ordered it.’

  Sometimes Will was astonishingly naive, unwilling to let the matter lie, believing that I was the perfect answer to his problems, and selfish not to concur.

  ‘I prefer dancing to accounting.’

  By this time we were standing together in the Great Hall.

  ‘Can you not do both? If you would only…’

  ‘If I do that I will be supervising your ageing steward for the rest of my life. Employ another. Someone with life and ambition and foresight in him.’

  ‘But you have the time on your hands. Whereas I have to go and hunt.’

  ‘Hunt? Now there’s a valuable occupation! You hunt while I bloody my fingers with quills and tally sticks and endless rent rolls.’

  Will looked hurt. ‘It was you who told me to find time to be with the King.’

  ‘But not at the expense of the running of your estates. They cannot be neglected.’

  ‘Please Joan… ‘he wheedled, his smile a thing of great charm.

  ‘No.’

  ‘My lord – ’

  We both turned. There, also clad for hunting, a hawk on his gloved wrist, a brace of hounds at his heels together with a couple of enthusiastic pages, stood Sir Thomas Holland.

  Will, still preoccupied with my refusal, acknowledged him with a curt nod of his head. I simply stood.

  Thomas was solemn, worryingly formal. ‘My lord. I would request a word with you before the King arrives.’

  I looked from one to the other as Thomas sketched a somewhat dismissive bow in my direction as if he thought I should retreat and leave this discussion to men. Will looked as surprised as I. I returned a suitably bland expression. I was going nowhere.

  ‘I have a proposition, my lord.’

  ‘What sort of proposition?’

  I had no thought whatsoever of the thunderbolt Thomas was about to hurl into our midst.

  ‘It is in my mind that my proposition would be of mutual benefit.’

  Will now managed to look wary. He might have persuaded himself that Thomas had abandoned his pursuit of me, but the underlying suspicion would take a long time to die completely.

  ‘Of mutual benefit?’

  ‘So I think. Now that you are Earl of Salisbury. We both have soldiering in our sights, but there is none on offer.’

  ‘Well that’s true. I’m hoping the King sees a need for a new campaign in France…’

  And they were suddenly brothers in arms, discussing warfare. I would leave them to it, and drifted away to where Isabella, clad in a sumptuous array of verdant satin, had come to ride with her father. I had not stepped twenty paces when, behind me, my quick hearing picked up the fact that the merits of this sword against that one, this helm or that one, had been abandoned.

  ‘… my services,’ I heard Thomas say. ‘It is my understanding that you have need.’

  I could not believe what I was hearing. Ignoring Isabella, I marched back again, to hear Will admit: ‘Yes I do. I’ve only just been speaking of it with Joan…’

  ‘I could remedy the problem.’

  I saw Will’s face brighten. ‘Do I understand, Sir Thomas, that you will offer me the use of your wide experience?’

  ‘Yes. I know you’ll see the value of it, for both of us.’

  Will was looking as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders. Within seconds I was standing beside him.

  ‘As I am aware, you have no talents in this field, Sir Thomas,’ I said.

  Which Thomas acknowledged, and promptly rejected, his reply addressed uncompromisingly to Will.

  ‘If I can organise a campaign and lead men into battle, my lord, I can supervise the running of the Salisbury estates. I can negotiate with your council. I am in need of an income. You need a steward. I would see it as an honour to serve you, and your family.’

  It was quite a declaration, and all of it probably true, but it filled me with a cold dread, even as I admired his gall in seizing the opportunity. And no one looking at Thomas would ever believe that this was anything but a genuine offer; I had not known he was so skilled at dissembling. But was he dissembling? Nothing would persuade me that this would be good policy. Nor did Will seem to think so, regarding me as if I were guilty in inviting Thomas to make the offer. I lifted my shoulder in a little shrug. I had no wish to live in such a household, maintaining a semblance of seemly co-existence. But first I would wait to see what Will would say.

  ‘As my wife says, you have no experience of stewardship.’

  A smile curved Thomas’s mouth. ‘Campaigning gives a man many arrows for his bow.’

  A statement I recognised. So this was what he had been planning. I fixed Thomas with a stare that would leave him in no doubt of my displeasure.

  ‘It might work.’ Will rubbed his thumb along the edge of his jaw, an action I recognised when his decision making was compromised, as he avoided my gaze. No, it certainly would not work. I took a breath to suggest that Will should take time to think about this, and consider other alternatives – any alternative – when a hand came down heavily on Will’s shoulder and a fourth voice entered the fray.

  ‘An excellent choice, I would say.’

  None of us, intent on this negotiation, had heard the King approach. Edward was positively jovia
l.

  ‘It will give you a helping hand, lad. And you, Thomas, some experience for when your ambitions lead you into land ownership, when you have sufficient prize-money at your disposal. You’ll need something to leave to your heirs other than a worn suit of armour and a bundle of weapons.’

  By the Virgin! Edward did not know what he was doing.

  ‘We have not considered other stewards yet, sir,’ I said.

  ‘Why bother? This can be done in a handshake – and then we can all blow the cobwebs away with a good run after the hounds. If it’s a matter of money, Will, I’ll arrange a grant until your own resources become free for your own use. There!’ He clapped his hand down once again on Will’s shoulder. ‘All signed and sealed, and you have your new steward.’

  The King beamed and moved away, the hounds following in a wave of brindled flesh, leaving Thomas and Will to shake hands, well pleased with the deal.

  As the King had said, we had a new steward.

  Will was light with relief. ‘We must talk further about this, Sir Thomas. Are you going, Joan?’

  Why would I stay? To listen to these two men set up a household containing the three of us? I would if I thought for one moment that either would listen to a word I said. Will would see the offer as manna from heaven as long as Thomas did not demand too much in payment. As for Thomas’s motives – I could not discern them. And the King, all unwittingly, had put his blessing on the whole procedure.

  I smiled with an air of sweet acceptance that challenged my control, and left them to the discussion of terms.

  I had no intention of allowing a ménage à trois of this strange nature to develop without my hand on the reins, my pride balking at such an outrageous situation. The fact that there were no adverse comments regarding our new household was an irrelevance. If anyone should discover the truth of our marital difficulties, we would all be cast into the mire. I would fight tooth and nail to prevent it.

  And what is it that you will do?

  My query remained unanswered, since Edward had countenanced the agreement and all Will could see was the relief at being able to shrug off his duties onto broader shoulders than his own. I could see no possible intervention that would make the slightest imprint on this new scheme. But to have all three of us, together with Will’s mother and grandmother, under one roof was more than I could tolerate.