Before he took his seat in the Abbot’s study, William felt in the pocket of his leather jerkin for a sample of the wool from a sheep which had been shorn that morning.
‘It’s good enough,’ said Abbot Harweden, taking it from him and pulling the strands knowledgeably between his fingers, testing their resilience, ‘but I believe we can do better than this.’
‘The colour is good,’ said Tom. ‘Nothing wrong with the colour.’
‘Indeed not,’ agreed the Abbot. ‘It’s a good, clean white.’
‘And it’s the first cut,’ added William. ‘So it’s long. The men Tom hires in know what they’re doing with shears. You won’t get any chopped-up bits of wool from them.’
‘I appreciate all that,’ said the Abbot, ‘but I’m anxious for us to try something a little different. I’m told the best fleeces come from Herefordshire nowadays, from Leominster. They’re softer, silkier. They fetch a good price.’
‘That’ll be the Ryeland sheep, then,’ Tom nodded in agreement.
‘That’s not the name I’ve heard,’ said the Abbot. ‘I thought they were called Lemsters.’
‘They are,’ agreed Tom. ‘Lemster Ore. It’s a nickname. They’re from Leominster and they’re as good as gold to a farmer.’
‘Then we must acquire some as soon as we can,’ said the Abbot. ‘I dare say we can enquire of the drovers whether we can do that easily.’
‘Robin Fairweather will know,’ said William. ‘He’s bringing four hundred head of bullocks up from Devon next week so I’ll ask him. The drovers all know each other so he’s bound to know someone from the Welsh borders, up Hereford way. I’ll ask him.’
‘I’d be grateful,’ said Abbot Harweden. ‘When he arrives, tell him to come and see me up at the monastery to discuss the matter, would you, Master Jourdemayne?’
‘Certainly, Father Abbot.’
‘Well, thank you. That will be all for the moment, gentlemen,’ said the Abbot in dismissing them but, just as Tom and William were about to leave the room, he called William back.
‘Yes, Father Abbot, what can I do for you?’
Abbot Harweden dropped his voice and beckoned William to come a little nearer.
‘Mistress Jourdemayne, your good wife – I trust she is well?’
‘Indeed, Father, she enjoys excellent health.’
‘Sadly, the same is not entirely true of me,’ said the Abbot. ‘I have been suffering lately from the same miserable discomfort which has plagued me for some time.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘I’m not greatly indisposed, you understand, not as long as I have an adequate supply of the salve which your wife kindly provides me with. It does seem to be the most efficacious unguent I have tried. I wonder whether you would be kind enough to ask her to bring some to me while I’m here at La Neyte?’
‘Certainly, Father Abbot. Will she know what it is?’
‘Oh, yes. She will know. Just ask her for my usual salve. And I would like it as soon as she can let me have it.’
‘I’ll tell her. Will that be all, Father?’
‘Yes, there’s nothing else at present. Things seem to be running smoothly. You have even construed the accounts in good time. Your good wife must be a great help to you. Good day to you, Master Jourdemayne. And thank you.’
‘Thank you, Father.’ William inclined his head towards the Abbot and took his leave. He said nothing about the fact that his good wife had not construed the accounts for many a long month. That job had now been taken over by Mistress Jenna Harding.
Abbot Harweden shifted in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Still, it wouldn’t be long now before he’d be able to do something about it. He didn’t know what secret ingredient differentiated Margery Jourdemayne’s pilewort unguent from Thomas Southwell’s but, whatever it was, he knew which he preferred; Mistress Jourdemayne’s was infinitely superior. In the Abbot’s opinion, her herbal remedies were excellent. When she came to see him, he would ask her about his indigestion, too, and the constant dull pain in his stomach. Perhaps she would have something to cure that. That Jourdemayne fellow was very fortunate in his wife.
***
William didn’t like the threatening look of the rain clouds gathering in the west. If hay was allowed to lie overnight and it chanced to rain, it would soon go mouldy and be rendered useless for winter fodder. The hay must be kept dry at all costs. All the available farmhands were needed to load it onto the cart and take it up to the big barn for storage. This meant the dairymaids would have to take over the milking tonight so that the men could get the job done. That’s how it was with farming.
He could have sent one of the men up to the dairy with a message but, always glad of an excuse to call in there himself, William hoped none of the dairymaids would guess the real reason for his visit. The truth of it was that his path hadn’t crossed Jenna’s for a month or more, even though she had a disconcerting habit of invading his dreams. But this was a legitimate excuse to see her. He put his head around the door of the dairy.
‘Hello, ladies!’
‘Master Jourdemayne!’ Kitty was always delighted to see him.
‘Well now, young Kitty. How are things going?’
‘We’re very busy, master, we’re trying to make a new kind of cheese.’
‘Really? And why are you doing that?’
‘It’s Jenna’s idea, master. It’s a cheese they make down in er ... er ... where she comes from...’
‘Devon,’ said William. ‘You know about Devon, Kitty, it’s where Robin the Drover comes from.’
‘Oh, yes. That’s right. Well, Jenna says their cheese is better than our cheese because they knead salt into the whey. So we’re trying it.’
‘Really?’ said William, his eyebrows raised. ‘I look forward to tasting it. And where is Jenna?’
Suddenly evasive, Kitty wouldn’t meet his eye. ‘I ... I’m not sure, master.’
Hawys wasn’t so reticent. ‘She’s gone up to the farm,’ she told him.
‘Has she? And do you know why?’
‘She’s gone to see Mistress Jourdemayne,’ Hawys said. ‘Mistress came looking for her.’
Unaware that he was scowling, William nodded curtly to the dairymaids and turned to leave. What on earth could Margery want with Jenna?
‘Thank you,’ he said as he left. That was all.
***
On her way to respond to Mistress Jourdemayne’s command, Jenna stopped for a moment as she walked past the physic garden, admiring its meticulous neatness. White pebbles divided rows of healthy plants into twelve sections and small wooden markers identified sturdy seedlings. Nets were stretched between poles over the more vulnerable plants to provide protection from birds and the whole was overseen by a splendid scarecrow which, much to Jenna’s amusement, was wearing what looked like an old leather jerkin of William Jourdemayne’s: Jenna could have sworn she’d seen him wearing it only last week. Though she was no stranger to physic gardens, she had never seen one quite as well-maintained as this. Not one of the plants within its tidy confines looked as though it would have the temerity to grow out of line.
Walking on past the well and around the corner to the back of the farmhouse, she lifted the latch on the big oak door into the kitchen. It was silent, in that after-dinner lull when the food has been eaten and the debris cleared away. Jenna listened but could hear nothing other than the sound of a dog under the table contentedly gnawing on a bone, though she didn’t always trust her hearing nowadays.
She called out, ‘Is there anyone at home?’
‘Is that you, Jenna?’
‘Oh, yes, Mistress Jourdemayne.’
A door off the kitchen opened and Margery Jourdemayne beckoned her to enter.
‘Come in, Jenna, come in.’
‘Thank you, mistress. Forgive me for shouting, but Kitty said I must knock at your door and not barge in. And I wasn’t sure which door it was.’
‘Quite right. No one come
s into this room under any circumstances, other than by my invitation. Now, I expect you wondered why I wanted to see you.’
Jenna nodded, trying not to stare around her at a room the like of which she had never seen before. It was laid out just as meticulously as the physic garden and it was plain to see that the same organisational skills were behind it. Jars and bottles were stored away neatly on shelves: and there were so many of them! Why on earth did her employer’s wife need such things? There were books, too, at least three of them as far as Jenna could see.
Margery was watching her. ‘I’ll explain all this in a moment,’ she said. ‘But first, why not make yourself comfortable? I have a proposition to put to you which you might find interesting. Please ... do sit down.’
She had clearly prepared for this interview: two small wooden cups and a jug stood on the table with a bench positioned nearby. As Jenna seated herself, Margery Jourdemayne poured small beer into both cups then she, too, sat down.
‘Now,’ she said again, ‘I expect you’re wondering what this is about?’
‘Well, yes, mistress,’ said Jenna, ‘I am. I hope it has nothing to do with the standard of my work.’
‘No, not in a critical sense,’ said Margery. ‘In fact, my husband often tells me that you are quite the best dairymaid he has ever employed.’ Jenna felt a rush of pleasure at that and hoped her cheeks weren’t burning.
‘But I think you’re wasting your time.’ Her words immediately wiped the smile off Jenna’s face.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, mistress. But ... I ... I rather enjoy working in the dairy. Did you want me to work elsewhere on the farm?’
‘No. I don’t want you to work on the farm: not at all.’
‘You want me to leave?’ Jenna’s heart was thudding.
‘No, I do not want you to leave. On the contrary. Look ...’ Margery leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her cup cradled between her hands and her eyes fixed compellingly on Jenna’s face. ‘Women like us need to understand each other, we both have a little learning and we’re both prepared to work hard. Now, I know you’re a good worker because my husband keeps telling me you are, so you must be: he won’t tolerate slovenliness. And I’ve seen the figures. Yes, yes,’ she went on, putting her cup down, her hand on Jenna’s arm now, to stop her interrupting, ‘let me finish. Yes, I am able to read as much as I need to and I can construe the accounts as well as any other woman, or any man come to that. I have made it my business to learn.’ She paused. ‘You’re not surprised?’
‘No, not at all, mistress. But it’s a rare thing.’
‘Indeed. You know, you and I are probably the only two people on the entire farm who are able to read. William has a little learning, but not very much, though he’s fairly good at reckoning. But he always used to rely on me to check his figures at the end of each month before he showed them to Abbot Harweden. He doesn’t do that now, of course, since he has you working in the dairy, keeping the milk tallies. But, no, this has nothing to do with that.’
Jenna waited until Margery spoke again.
‘Well now, Jenna, as you might have heard, I run a small enterprise of my own outside the farm and I’m pleased to say it has become very successful of late. In fact, I need an assistant to help me. Which is why I wanted to have this talk with you.’
Jenna hesitated. ‘Were you thinking of me as an assistant, mistress?’
‘Assistant, apprentice, call it what you will but, yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.’
Jenna suddenly felt protective of William. She had so often seen him frown over a particularly difficult set of figures. Who would help him if she didn’t?
‘But ... but that would mean Master Jourdemayne would have to find someone else to do the milk tallies.’
‘He’ll manage. He can go back to doing them himself until he can teach one of the others to replace you. I, on the other hand, need very specific help as a matter of urgency and it could take me a long time to find someone – a woman – with your precise qualities. Up until now, I have been able to manage on my own, but these days I find Her Grace the Duchess of Gloucester is making more and more demands on my time and I cannot let her down. That would be most disloyal.’
‘No, of course not, mistress. You wouldn’t want to do that.’
Jenna didn’t know what to think. This had come as a great surprise. On the one hand, Mistress Jourdemayne was telling her how good a dairymaid she was and, on the other, she was suggesting that she should leave the dairy. But Jenna didn’t want to leave the dairy.
‘I ... I don’t know what to say, mistress,’ she said, hesitating.
‘Then say you’ll give it a try,’ said Margery. ‘Look ... let me give you an idea of what I do, let me show you some of the things I make, creams, ointments and the like.’ She rose from the table and went to the shelves, taking down half a dozen phials and jars. Setting them down in front of Jenna, she took her seat again.
‘Here,’ she said, picking up a small flask of greenish liquid, ‘this is an infusion of nettle seeds in vinegar. It does wonders for dandruff. And this? Well, this is Hungary Water, simply made with rosemary, but it’s critical to use exact quantities in its preparation. Now, this is tooth powder but beware, because this ...’ she held up a small pot full of what looked like white dust, ‘this is powdered cyclamen root to whiten the face. No good mixing those two up: they look exactly the same but they do quite different things. So they have to be labelled because it’s crucial that you can identify which is which. That is why I couldn’t take on an assistant who could neither read nor write. You can do both and that’s a rare talent. Your abilities could take you a long way. You don’t have to work your fingers to the bone in a dairy for the rest of your life.’
Jenna hesitated, buying time. ‘It all looks very complicated, mistress. I don’t think I could ever learn it all.’
‘On the contrary, I think you could. Of course, you would need to start slowly as you learn the techniques involved, but I don’t think it would take you long. You’re an intelligent woman and it would save me having to do everything associated with the business. Then, later on perhaps, you could keep account for me, or perhaps ...’, and here she paused, ‘perhaps you would prefer to come up to the palace with me to help me sell my wares.’
‘The palace! Oh, but, Mistress Jourdemayne, I couldn’t! I would have to wear fine clothes to go up to the palace. And I have none.’
‘Not yet perhaps, but nothing is impossible. I have a fardel of cloth I bought at St Bartholomew’s Fair. That was last year but the cloth is still perfectly good. It wouldn’t take long to make you a very fine kirtle.’
Jenna paused, mildly shocked. She needed a moment to take it all in. The few clothes she possessed had been bought at second hand from the fripperer in Newton Abbot and now Mistress Jourdemayne was talking about a brand-new kirtle. How things had changed! She was being offered the chance of a lifetime, an opportunity which was given to few. She would be working in a scrupulously clean environment and given the chance of wearing pretty clothes. Even going to the palace, perhaps, and mingling with beautiful ladies and grand gentlemen. She might even catch a glimpse of the King himself!
Margery Jourdemayne was smiling at her, reading her thoughts as she took in the possibilities she was being offered.
‘So, would you like to try it for a few weeks?’
Jenna hesitated. ‘No. No, thank you, mistress. Really, I can’t. I’d be letting the Master down. He really needs us all in the dairy. There’s such a lot of work to do.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about Master Jourdemayne,’ said Margery, waving her hand airily, as though brushing away a fly. ‘I’ll settle it with him. He’ll be perfectly agreeable to you doing it for part of the time.’
Given this assurance, Jenna didn’t hesitate. ‘Then yes, mistress, I would like to try it very much. As long as you’re sure the Master will agree. And thank you for considering me.’ Then she paused uncertainly. ‘Would I still be sleeping over the br
ewhouse? I don’t think young Kitty would forgive me if I went away and left her.’
‘Yes. My plan is that you’ll be working here in the farmhouse every day, in this room, not in that freezing cold dairy. But you’ll still be sleeping in the dormitory with the other women, so Kitty needn’t worry. She hasn’t seen the last of you. Though I don’t know why you concern yourself with the child. There are hundreds like her.’
‘I’ve become fond of her, that’s all. She hasn’t had a very happy life.’
Margery shrugged. She didn’t much care about the bond of affection between Jenna and the little orphan. She was only too pleased to have found an obviously intelligent apprentice who could read sufficiently well to follow a recipe and was capable of reckoning; an attractive woman, neither too young nor too old, who was sufficiently pretty to please her aristocratic male clients without alienating the ladies of the court, making them aware of their own deficiencies. And she had the smooth, unmarked skin which was often typical of dairymaids – but the ladies would be quite ready to believe it was entirely thanks to her regular use of Margery’s face cream. That would be good for business.
Jenna’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Perhaps, mistress, I could start the day in the dairy, rather than let the Master down. Then, when you need help, I could come up here to lend a hand and learn a little more about your skills.’
Margery stood, gathering up the two wooden cups on the table. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘we’ll try it like that for a while. But only so long as you don’t tire yourself too much. You dare not make mistakes if you’re working for me.’
‘I’ll do my very best, mistress,’ Jenna promised. ‘And if it gets to be too much, perhaps one of the other girls can take over my work at the dairy.’
‘Good,’ said Margery. ‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’ She intended to make the work so irresistible that Jenna would never want to go back to the dairy. She’d square it with William and he’d soon forget the girl.
‘Out of sight, out of mind.’
Though she muttered the words under her breath, it was nevertheless Margery’s fervent hope.
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