Virley changed the subject. He clearly wasn’t going to get any more information from Woodham so it was pointless asking him if he knew why Margery Jourdemayne and the girl might be involved. He’d have to carry out his own investigation.
‘Let me get you another one of those,’ he said, getting to his feet and draining his tankard to the dregs. ‘And then I’d better get going. I’ve promised to meet a very promising companion and she’s cooking dinner for me.’
‘Hey, hey!’ Woodham leered. ‘Don’t let me stop you if you’ve got that sort of dinner in prospect!’
‘I won’t.’
***
Kitty’s arm felt very sore where Mistress Jourdemayne had dragged her up the path towards the church. Terrified, she wanted to run as fast as her legs would carry her, away from what might happen behind the church door, away from the unknown.
But where would she run to? If the church had been in Westminster, she’d have known the good hiding places and she could have stayed out of sight until there’d been a way of finding her friend Jack or one of the other boys, or perhaps Master Jourdemayne. She might even have run to the monastery and asked the monks if she could stay there. But this wasn’t Westminster: this was London. She stood in her damp clothes, shivering in abject misery, dreading whatever was going to happen.
In the church porch her mistress, still holding Kitty’s arm in an iron grip, pulled her round to face her.
‘Now, you’re sure, aren’t you, Kitty, that what you told me was the truth?’
‘What ... about what, mistress?’
‘That no boy has ever interfered with you ... put his hands on your ... down there?’
‘No, mistress,’ Kitty snivelled unhappily. ‘No, never.’ She couldn’t imagine why Mistress Jourdemayne wanted to know such a strange thing.
‘You’d better not be lying to me, Kitty!’ The Mistress knocked at the door and, almost immediately, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door was opened by a tall, thin man who nodded distractedly and mumbled a greeting. Then he bent down to look at Kitty as though inspecting her, adjusting his spectacles to get a better view.
‘Oh, a girl!’ he said, sounding disappointed. He made to close the door then had to hold it open again for another man to leave, a man who had a kind-looking face. If he really was kind, Kitty thought, she could have tried to slink away behind him and asked him to help her, but the mistress still had hold of her arm.
The thin man closed the door and glanced down again at Kitty. ‘Couldn’t you find a boy, Mistress Jourdemayne? A boy would have been better for what we hope to achieve.’
‘I’m sorry, Magister,’ said the Mistress, ‘there was no guarantee that the boy I had in mind would be entirely pure. You can’t always predict these things with farm boys. They behave like the animals they live with.’
‘Ah, well,’ said the thin man, ‘we’ll have to do our best.’ He turned the key to lock the door again and tried the handle to make sure, then he beckoned them forward.
‘The most important thing,’ he went on, ‘is that the child is a virgin. ‘You are quite certain of that, Mistress Jourdemayne?’
‘Yes, absolutely certain.’
‘That’s good. Because in fact, it’s the only thing about which the First Mirror of Lilith is absolutely specific. So maybe it’s not important that we have a girl rather than a boy. Perhaps we’ll be still be able to achieve a successful result. Come along, little girl,’ he said, leading the way up the nave as Mistress Jourdemayne prodded Kitty in the back, ‘don’t be frightened, we just want to carry out a small experiment and we want you to help us.’
Kitty’s heart was thudding as she took in her surroundings. The church looked like any other church so, surely, it was nothing to be frightened of. It all looked comfortingly familiar. This was the nave, there was the rood screen with the altar beyond it and the cross...
No! There was no cross. It was only as Kitty was pushed towards the altar she realised that a large circular object lay flat at the centre of it. It looked a bit like a shield, or perhaps it was a mirror, but it wasn’t easy to tell since the surface had been smeared with some sort of oil. And behind that stood, of all things, a doll’s wicker cradle with a doll in it. There were candles, too, a bit too near the dolls’ cradle, Kitty thought. It could catch fire. And the smell! What was that smell? Hyssop? Vervain? What was it?
A shorter, plumper man stood behind the altar, watching as Kitty approached with Mistress Jourdemayne behind her. At first he smiled encouragingly then he looked more closely at her.
‘Is this a girl?’ he asked. Kitty felt indignant. Did she look like a boy? No, on second thoughts, she didn’t like his smile very much at all. He didn’t look as if he really meant to smile.
‘A boy would have been more appropriate,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t a boy be found?’
‘I’m not sure it’s really that important,’ said the tall man. ‘The child’s innocence and virginity are the most important things.’
‘Very well then,’ said the other man with a sigh. ‘We’ll have to do what we can with what we’ve got.’ Reaching forward, he tilted the big shield-like object in Kitty’s direction.
‘Now, Kitty,’ whispered Mistress Jourdemayne, ‘all you have to do is to look into the mirror and tell us what you see. That’s all. Don’t worry, it’s only an experiment, but you must be sure to describe exactly what you see.’
With that, the short man looked upwards, closed his eyes and began intoning some words in a language that Kitty had never heard before.
***
‘I deserve that!’ said William as Robin Fairweather placed two pewter tankards of ale on the table.
‘No more than I do,’ said Robin. ‘It was a tough drove this time. Thirty more bullocks than usual and it’s amazing what a difference they make. Still, I always enjoy the midsummer drove. Can’t complain.’
William pulled a tankard across the table towards him and raised it to Robin’s health as they settled themselves comfortably in the village ale house. The low light of the setting sun was streaming through a small window as they both relished their reward for a long day’s labour.
‘More animals, more responsibility,’ said William, ‘it stands to reason. But, believe me, it’s no more tough, in its way, than construing the accounts for the new abbot!’
‘You’re right. Reckoning is hard work,’ Robin agreed. ‘I’m always pleased when I get back home to Devon and hand over exactly the right amount of money to the cattle traders. Doesn’t Margery help you with the figures?’
‘No,’ said William abruptly. ‘She used to, but she hasn’t done that for a long time. Mind you, believe it or not, young Kitty had started to help me and she was shaping up very well. Had a natural knack for it.’ William frowned.
‘Isn’t she doing it any more?’
‘No, she isn’t. Margery grabbed her as soon as she realised the girl was getting good at writing and reckoning. She’s done that before.’
He had to change the subject. He was so angry with Margery and her selfish behaviour that he could hardly bring himself to speak about it and any more talk on the subject would surely bring the conversation round to Jenna. He certainly didn’t want to talk about Jenna.
‘How’s everything in your neck of the woods then, Robin?’ he asked. ‘Is your new wife still putting up with you?’
‘She does her best. Poor Rosamond, being married to a drover is no life for a woman. Her old man is away from home too often. Can’t rely on him not to have a mistress in every parish on the road!’
‘And have you?’
Robin glanced at William from under his eyebrows and tapped the side of his nose. ‘That’s for me to know and you to wonder about,’ he said. ‘And talking of secret passions, how is yours?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh yes you do. I’m talking about Jenna Harding. The last time her name came up in conversation in this self-same ale house, you
admitted you were in love with her.’
There was a long silence before William said quietly, ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’
‘And?’
William took a morose draught of ale. ‘And yes, nothing has changed,’ he said and sighed as he replaced his tankard on the table, ‘for all the good it does me. I never see her. She’s working for the Duchess of Gloucester now: she hardly ever comes back to the farm except to collect face creams and so on from Margery. And that’s not very often these days.’
‘So it’s just as well, then, in a way. After all, Margery is still your wife –’
‘And a damned bad-tempered one at the moment.’
‘So Jenna’s husband is irrelevant.’
William, trying to control his ire, didn’t really take in Robin’s words at first. Then, in the act of raising his tankard to his lips once again, he slammed it back down in astonishment, spilling ale on the table.
‘A husband! How do you know?’
‘I made it my business to find out.’ Robin was enjoying this. He leaned closer to William, with his elbow on the table, talking quietly.
‘I happened to be working for a trader in the Newton Abbot area who’s new to the game and he didn’t have the animals ready in time. So I had to wait for a couple of days, kicking my heels in Kingskerswell until he had them all assembled in one place.’
‘Kingskerswell? Isn’t that where...’
‘Where Jenna comes from, yes. Yes, it is. She told me quite a bit about the village while she was on that drove with me a few years ago, but she never said anything much about her own background, her family and so on. So I made it my business to ask a few questions. Thought you might be interested.’
‘And was there ... is there ... a man?’
‘What do you think? Where there’s an attractive woman, there’s always a man. And she’s an attractive woman. I took quite a liking to her myself at one time. I even hoped I might get somewhere with her. But that was before she set her pretty brown eyes on you.’
‘And? What about the man? Come on, Robin, tell me.’
Robin nodded. ‘A hopeless drunkard. Well known for it, apparently. I got talking to the Parson after mass the Sunday I was there. Nice fellow. Name of Middleton. I didn’t say who I was, of course. Pretended I’d met Jenna a long time ago and I was just making casual enquiries.’
‘You lied to a parson?’
‘Not really. I just ... well, gave him to understand. You know. I don’t think I’ll rot in Hell for that.’
‘And what did he tell you?’
‘He said he remembered her very well, and it was a pity things turned out the way they did. But everyone knew her husband was a drunkard and that he hit her. They were quite used to seeing her turning up in church with a black eye or a cut lip.’
‘Bastard!’ William’s hand clenched into an involuntary fist under the table. How could any man hurt Jenna? If he ever met the bastard, he’d ... well, he’d...
Robin laid a hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Don’t, William,’ he said. ‘It won’t get you anywhere. It won’t solve anything.’
‘Just don’t tell me his name,’ muttered William. ‘I might go looking for him.’
‘What, all the way to Devon? Don’t be stupid. Wouldn’t do you any good anyway, so I might as well tell you. His name was Jake. But he’s dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Apparently he drank himself stupid most days. Everyone knew that. But last summer, come harvest time, he was drunk in charge of a scythe, newly sharpened, and all but harvested his own leg. They say he bled like a stuck pig. Didn’t stand a chance after that.’
Of all ways to go, that was a bad one. William was silent for a long, long moment, his mind reeling. His instinctive revulsion at the thought of any farm worker dying from a stupid, careless accident like that was fighting a losing battle against his initial desire to avenge Jenna’s hurt. But above all, he was trying to control his feeling of pure exultation at the knowledge that she was not tied by her vows to any other man. She was free but he wasn‘t, so there was no hope that she could be his. His mind was in turmoil. He didn‘t know what to think.
Robin had the sense to stay silent with his friend, to let him take in all he’d been told.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
June 1441
It was quiet now that the Duchess had finally left for the King’s Head. She had been especially pernickety this morning, deciding first on one gown then another, changing her mind at least three times about which shoes to wear. And when it came to choosing her jewellery, Jenna had almost despaired. No sooner had she written garnet necklace in her notebook than she had to cross it out again and amend it to ruby necklace and earrings. It had taken more than an hour before the Duchess Eleanor was satisfied that she was looking her best.
Jenna couldn’t imagine why she was being so fussy. After all, the Duke was away so she didn’t need to please her husband and she wasn’t going off on one of her secret expeditions with Canon Hume: besides, she always dressed circumspectly for those. This time, she had simply arranged to dine with several of her ladies and some of the more entertaining gentlemen in her social circle. They had all left the palace in a noisy, colourful procession of carriages and a blessed silence descended on Jenna’s domain. She only needed to tidy up the dressing room before removing her apron and going out.
With some precious time to herself, she knew exactly where she was going because she still hadn’t managed to see Kitty since she’d found out she was working for Margery Jourdemayne. The new arrangement could be perfectly innocent, of course, indeed it could be to Kitty’s benefit if she was learning to read and write and reckon. In fact, there had been moments when Jenna had felt rather embarrassed at the memory of her outburst in the dairy in front of Hawys and the other dairymaids; but there was still a worm of worry gnawing at her heart.
Rather than take her favourite leisurely route along the banks of the Thames, she took the shortcut through the fields, keeping a sharp eye open. While on the one hand she ached to see William, on the other hand she dreaded seeing him. Nothing had changed and though she still felt exactly the same about him, he was still the husband of another woman and she could never trust herself not to blurt out something she might regret.
In the hour before the midday dinner, the kitchen was a hotbed of clattering activity. Pottage simmered in a cauldron over the open fire and one young woman was cleaning and chopping vegetables while another removed a batch of loaves from the bread oven. At the big table in the centre of the room, two kitchen maids were filling jugs with small beer and assembling trays of bread and cheese to be taken out to the workers in the fields. They barely looked up as Jenna entered the room. There was no sign of Kitty.
‘Has anyone seen Kitty?’ Jenna shouted above the din. ‘Is she down in the dairy?’ She was answered with blank looks and shrugs. No one seemed to have seen her.
‘She might be in there,’ one of the women said casually, nodding towards Mistress Jourdemayne’s room. ‘She works in there quite a lot these days.’
‘Thank you, Janet.’
Jenna approached the door and knocked cautiously, quietly, using only the knuckle of her index finger, her ear almost against the door. Having no reply, she knocked again, louder this time.
She didn’t quite know what she’d been expecting but the door opened a crack and Kitty’s face, pale and drawn, peered round it.
‘Kitty!’
‘Oh, hello, Jenna.’
Kitty opened the door as far as she needed to in order to admit Jenna then closed it immediately. She was entirely alone. Jenna, used to having Kitty throw herself at her and hug her in great excitement, felt uneasy.
‘What’s wrong, Kitty? What’s the matter?’
Kitty shook her head and avoided Jenna’s gaze.
‘Nothing’s the matter,’ she said in a small voice.
‘Yes there is, Kitty, I know it! Tell me. Tell me why you’re not in the dairy any more. Are you help
ing Mistress Jourdemayne? What are you doing? Tell me, Kitty, please, for God’s sake tell me!’
Jenna’s voice was rising and anxiety threatened to get the better of her when Kitty gave a gulping sob. Immediately, she wrapped her arms about the girl.
‘Hush, hush, my dove. It’s all right. It’s all right, sweetheart.’ She rocked the little bundle of misery that was Kitty from side to side, crooning comforting words, stroking her head. ‘It’s all right, my dove. Come on, just tell me what’s the matter. I’m here now. You mustn’t worry about it, whatever it is. I’m here now, I’ll look after you.’
Kitty raised a tear-stained face to look at Jenna. ‘M ... Mistress Jourdemayne has been ... doing ... making ... making me do ... ex ... exmeripents.’
‘Exmeri ... do you mean experiments, Kitty?’
‘Yes,’ Kitty sniffed. ‘Exmeripents. She said it was a big secret. I mustn’t tell anyone.’
‘What sort of experiments? No, wait. Dry your eyes. Tell me first of all – where is Mistress Jourdemayne?’
‘She’s just gone out to the physic garden. She doesn’t trust me to cut herbs. She says I bring the wrong ones.’
‘All right. Is that water in the bowl over there?’ Kitty nodded, sniffing. ‘Right, then, go and bathe your eyes and blow your nose.’
Kitty drew back. ‘No, Jenna, I’ll ... I’ll just blow my nose.’
‘All right, Kitty, but try to stop crying, my dove. We may not have much time before the mistress comes back and we mustn’t let her know that I know anything at all. So if she sees me, we’ll have to pretend I’ve called to collect something for the Duchess. I’ll try and think of something she needs.’
Inwardly, Jenna was seething, but she must be very wary about not upsetting Kitty any more. She would have to be very gentle if she was to get at the truth of what had been happening without causing her more distress than she was clearly feeling already. She didn’t even chide the child for wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
‘Come and sit down, Kitty,’ Jenna said, patting a place on the bench beside her. ‘And tell me as calmly as you can what Mistress Jourdemayne has been asking you to do.’
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