Pavane sm-35

by Keith Roberts

  ‘Sir John,’ she said, adjusting a tiny coronet on her hair, ‘I’m afraid this is going to be a difficult meeting from every point of view. I don’t suppose for a moment Charles knows anything about all this, which makes His Eminence’s behaviour suspicious in the extreme; but I can hardly accuse an archbishop of attempted treason. Apart from that he’s obviously come to demand something I can’t give him, or rather something that I - ouch - that I refuse to for what seem to me to be excellent reasons. Yet he’s made such an exhibition of his quiet intentions that anything I say is bound to look churlish. I wish the King would stick up for himself a bit more; it’s all very well people calling him Charles the Good and pelting him with rose petals every time he rides through Londinium, but what it all comes down to is he’s very clever at sitting on the fence placating everybody. I’m getting so tired of strangers lording it over England, even if it is heresy to say so.’

  The seneschal thought carefully before he spoke. ‘His Eminence is certainly a crafty talker if what I’ve heard is right,’ he said at length. ‘And it’s also true that you’re not in much of a position for bargaining. But I don’t think you can be too hard on Charles, my Lady; he’s got a difficult enough job keeping this mess of Angles and Scots and so-called Normans out of trouble and satisfying Rome at the same time.’

  She looked at him very straight, sucking at her lower lip with her teeth. It was a trick he hadn’t seen for many years; her mother used to do it, when she was angry or upset. ‘If we fought, Sir John,’ she said, ‘if all of us just straightforwardly rebelled, what would our chances be?’

  He spread his hands. ‘Against the Blue? The Blue is like the blue of Ocean, Lady; endlessly it runs, from here to China for all I know. Nobody fights the sea.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘you’re not much of a help…’

  She angled her mirror, tweaked carefully at an eyebrow hair that had got itself out of line. ‘I don’t know at all,’ she said tiredly. ‘Give me a sick dog or a cat, or even Master Gwilliam’s old jalopy down there in the yard with its carburettor bunged up again, and I know where I stand; I’d have a go at putting things right even if I didn’t make much of a job of it. But churchmen, and high churchmen at that, put shivers up my back. Maybe they think with my father gone they can bully me easier than some of our great barons; but I’m certain now we’ve made our stand we shall have to keep to it or we shall finish up worse off than ever; they’re sure to impose some sort of fine for defying them in the first place.’

  She rose, satisfied at last that her appearance couldn’t be bettered; but at the door of the chamber she balanced suddenly on one leg, spat on her fingers and dragged a stocking seam straight. She looked up at the seneschal, with his fair round head and the odd features that looked now just as they had looked when she was a child. ‘Sir John,’ she said softly. ‘You who see all and say so very little… would my father have behaved like this?’

  He waited. Then, ‘He would; were his people involved, and his own good name.’

  ‘Then you will follow me?’

  ‘I was your father’s man,’ he said. ‘And I am yours, my Lady.’

  She shivered. ‘Sir John,’ she said, ‘keep very close…’ She ducked under the lintel and clittered down the steps to meet the delegation.

  His Eminence was friendly, to a point jovial; until it came to the matter of the unpaid tribute. ‘You must realise my child,’ said Londinium roundly, taking a turn up the hall and back, ‘Pope John, your spiritual father and the ruler of the known world, isn’t a man you can dismiss so readily or whose favours or displeasure can be taken lightly. Now I…’

  He spread his hands. ‘I’m merely a messenger and an advisor. What you say to me or I to you may be of no account. But once a word travels beyond these walls, and that it must if my duty’s to be done, then you and all your people will suffer; for John will crack this little place like an egg. His will must be obeyed, all over the world.’

  He walked back to Eleanor. ‘You’re very young,’ he said genially, ‘and I can’t help feeling towards you perhaps as your father might, if he were alive to counsel you.’ His fingers lingered on her arm; and Eleanor, perhaps from sheer nervousness, raised an eyebrow. Under the circumstances, it was an unfortunate gesture. His Eminence reddened and constrained his temper with an effort.

  ‘Find this tribute,’ he said. ‘Levy it somehow, make it up any way you choose; but get it, and send it. Do it inside the week and you can still catch the last of the ships for France. But if you delay and the weather worsens, if your merchantmen are lost or stray into out-of-the-way ports with your grain, then with the spring I promise you John will reach out to punish. And rightly too, for the half of all you own belongs to him. You hold your place, as you know very well, by his good will alone.’

  ‘I hold my place,’ said Eleanor icily, ‘by the favour of my liege-lord Charles; and that you know, My Lord, as well as I. My father promised loyalty at his knee, kissing his hand according to the ancient way. I too, until I am released, will follow him. And no other, sir…’

  There was a quietness, in which the clacking of the Challow tower could be clearly heard. Londinium seemed to swell, puffing himself up beneath his fur-trimmed robes much in the manner of a frog. ‘Your liege-lord,’ he said, and he obviously found it hard to keep from shouting, ‘has ordered you to send that grain. So you flout both Pope and King…’

  ‘I cannot send what I do not own,’ said Eleanor patiently. ‘What grain I do have to spare must be released to my people, or there will be famine in the land by Christmas. What will John have, a countryside of corpses to testify his strength?’

  The churchman glared, but would say no more; and she withdrew, leaving affairs thus unhappily in the balance.

  Matters came to a head in the evening, when dinner was prepared for the delegation in the Great Hall. The place was made cheerful by the light of many lamps and candles, and servants stood by with bundles of spares beneath their arms to replace the dips as they burned down in the sconces. Her Ladyship would have used the electric light, but at the last moment the seneschal had prevailed against such rashness; His Eminence would never have sat at meat beneath such open evidence of heresy. The exhausted globes with their delicate filaments of carbon had been withdrawn into the roof, the wall switches were hidden by drapes, and there was no visible sign of Eleanor’s disaffection. She sat on the dais, in the chair her father used to occupy; the seneschal was on her right, her Captain of Artillery to her left. Opposite her were the churchmen and such of the military as had been allowed inside the gates.

  All went well until His Eminence touched sympathetically on the early death of Her Ladyship’s mother. The Captain choked and converted the sound hastily into a cough; all the household knew that that was Eleanor’s sorest point. She had drunk more than was good for her, again out of nervousness; and she rose instantly to the bait.

  ‘This, My Lord, is very interesting,’ she said. ‘For had a surgeon been allowed to help my mother, perhaps she would still be with us now. I’ve read you Romans were once more daring than you are now; for the great Caesar himself was born by cutting his mother’s womb, yet now you deem the trick heinous to God -’

  ‘My Lady -’

  ‘Also I have heard,’ said Eleanor, hiccupping slightly, ‘that airs may be distilled, the breathing of which quietens the body and the brain, so that one awakes from a mighty pain as from a sleep; yet Pope Paul I think it was disowned them, saying the pain was sent from God to be a reminder of sacred duty here on earth. Also that acids sprayed into the air will kill the very essence of disease; yet doctors work on us with unwashed hands. Are we to learn from this, it is better to die of holiness than live in heresy?’

  His Eminence rose bridling. ‘Heresy,’ he began, ‘exists in many forms in each and every one of us; in you, my Lady, perhaps most of all. And were it not for the charity of Pope John -’

  ‘Charity?’ interrupted Eleanor bitterly. ‘Your duty here is scarc
e concerned with that. It seems to me, My Lord, the Church is fast forgetting the meaning of the word; for I would rather sell the drapes out of my house, were I Pope John, than starve my subjects in a foreign isle, unlettered idiots though they well might be.’

  Londinium of course could scarcely be expected to stomach such a double-barrelled insult; as well as a direct attack upon his ruler and the Church it was a slight against his own person as one of the very idiots to whom Eleanor had likened the English. He banged the table, red in the face with rage; but before his harangue was well enough started the household’s Signaller-Page ran in with his pad, tore off the top sheet and handed it to his mistress. She stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, lips forming the words it bore; then she passed it to the seneschal.

  ‘My Lord,’ she said, ‘you must be seated, and spare your breath awhile. This message just arrived; I want it read to everybody in the hall.’

  The archbishop’s eyes went automatically to the windows, curtained against the night; he knew as well as the others present that only matters of the greatest importance would induce the Guild to light torches on its signal arms.

  The seneschal rose, bowing slightly to the dignitaries. ‘My Lords,’ he said, ‘as earnest of his support for us here in the West, Charles today despatched tribute doubling the amount we owe to Rome. Moreover he confirms the Lady Eleanor in her governorship of the isle and its demesnes; and in further witness of his trust in her sends to Corfe from his arsenal at Woolwich the great gun Growler in company of a platoon of his own men. Also from Isca the culverin Prince of Peace; the demicannon Loyalty, and shot and powder for him -’

  The words were lost in an outbreak of applause from the lower tables; men shouted and banged their cups and glasses on the wood. The seneschal raised his hand. ‘Also,’ he said, eyes twinkling, ‘His Majesty requests His Eminence of Londinium, wherever he might be, to attend him at his earliest convenience to confer on matters of State.’

  The archbishop opened his mouth and closed it abruptly again. Eleanor leaned back wiping her face and feeling reprieved from death. ‘He did know,’ she whispered to the seneschal under cover of the din. ‘And look, we’ve made him stand. Who knows, perhaps the next time he will fight…’

  Two of the guns duly arrived; but the demicannon fell into a marsh while making the crossing into the island and the best efforts of the soldiers failed to lift it, giving rise in later times to the saying that Loyalty was lost east of Luckford Lakes.

  After the guns arrived Eleanor breathed easier for a time; for though the armament was little more than a token its effect on the spirits of the household was considerable. Also the castle was recognised to be one of the most impregnable in the country; Her Ladyship spoke of that one cold evening a month after the discomfiture of the churchmen. She was pacing the second bailey, muffled in a cloak against the chilling wind from the sea; she paused by Growler, still limbered up as they had brought him in, and ran her fingers along the rough iron of his breech. Her seneschal stopped at her elbow.

  ‘Tell me, Sir John,’ she said skittishly, ‘what would our father in Rome have done if Charles hadn’t made up our taxes? Do you think he would really have faced this creature and myself, both virgins in our way and still unblooded, for such poor chaff as we hold here in our granaries?’

  The seneschal thought carefully, almond-shaped eyes brooding put over the battlements, looking at nothing in the gathering dark. ‘Certainly, Eleanor,’ he said - no other would have dared to be so familiar - ‘His Holiness would have been very tempted to put us down. He wouldn’t dare let defiance go unpunished for fear of setting the whole country in revolt. But fortunately that problem’s over for a time; you can enjoy Christmas at least entertaining those of your father’s friends who’ll come to visit you in Corfe.’

  She looked up at the keep, frowning and black in the night, and at the scatter of softly glowing windows where her people were preparing beds and meals. Here and there harsher flares showed where her heretical engine was again supplying light to the place. The sound of the generator came faintly over the bailey walls, eddying and fading as the wind blew.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, shivering suddenly. ‘The cows in their stalls and the horses, the motors shut away against the frost - I bet Sir Gwilliam’s burning peat under his confounded cylinder block again for fear the cold bursts it; one day he’ll have the whole place go up in smoke - we shall be nicely shut away too, Sir John, and safe at least till spring.’

  He waited, gravely. She half turned to him, seeming to expect some remark; then she brushed her hair impatiently where the wind flapped it across her eyes. ‘I wasn’t fooled,’ she said. ‘And neither were you I’m quite sure. Not even by His Eminence riding out all smiles, showering blessings and good advice. Charles will go to the New World next year, won’t he?’ ‘Yes, Lady.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said broodingly. ‘Then all those unpleasant layabouts at Court, and all the little popish dogs scattered round the country, will get up on their back legs and run about to see what mischief they can make; and we shall be high on the list of priorities. I’ve got no doubt of that. We’ve shown our teeth, and not been beaten for it; they won’t let things rest at that. John might have a long arm, but his memory’s even more remarkable.’ He waited again; he knew more than she, but some secrets were not his to tell. ‘And, my Lady?’

  She touched the gun again, frowning down at its great black barrel. ‘Why,’ she said, ‘then they will come for these…’

  She turned away suddenly, tucking her arm through his. ‘But as you say, we needn’t worry till the better weather; John will need good seas in case he has to back his little people with arms and more valour than any of them own. Come on, Sir John, or I shall get worse depressed than ever; I hear a new showman came into the village this morning and Sir Gwill has bought his services for the night. We can have a look at the tricks he’s got to offer, though I expect we’ll have seen most of them before; and afterwards I’ll get you to tell me some more of your lying stories about the times before there were castles on our hilltops and before the world knew anything of churches, high or low.’

  He smiled at her in the dark. ‘All lies, Eleanor? You seem to develop less and less respect for your oldest retainer as the years go on.’

  She stopped, silhouetted against the brightness of a window. ‘All lies, Sir John,’ she said, trying to keep her voice firm; for she spoke of forbidden things. ‘When I want the truth from you, you’ll know…’

  Christmas came and went pleasantly; the weather was neither so hard nor so cold as the year before and enough travelling entertainers, musicians, and the like passed through the district to provide variety at night. One man in particular fascinated Eleanor. He brought with him a machine, a strange stilt-legged device with complex parts. A strip of unknown substance was fed into it, a handle turned; a limelight spat and hissed, and pictures, flickering and seemingly alive, danced across a screen rigged on the other side of the chamber.

  Her Ladyship made efforts to buy the apparatus, but it was not for sale. Instead she added to her mechanical armoury, setting two more generators clanking and hissing beside the first. The globes, always fragile and short-lived, were replaced by arc lamps that gave a more ferocious light; with her own hands she made shades for them to soften the glare. One of the brachets spawned a great yelping litter of pups that ran through the corridors and kitchens piping and squeaking, stealing from the cooks’ soup bowls, tearing up everything they could find with their tiny teeth. She was delighted and kept them all, even the runts.

  When winter gave way to the blustering wetness of March nothing more had been heard either from Charles or the Church concerning the events of the year before. Nothing out of the ordinary happened except that a few days before His Majesty was due to leave the semaphores brought a request from Sir Anthony Hope, Provost Marshall of England and the King’s hereditary champion, who asked to be allowed to hunt the Purbeck Chase for a few days and enjoy the pleasure a
nd delight of Eleanor’s company.

  She pulled a face at the seneschal when he told her. ‘As far as I can remember the man’s hugely conceited and a complete boor; and anyway the season’s nearly finished, we don’t want him trampling about with his great hooves just as everything’s settling down to breed. But I suppose there’s nothing to be done except put up with him, he’s far too influential to upset over a trifle. I can’t help wishing though he’d go up to the Taverners at Sherborne or over into the Marches like he did last year. You’ll have to help me out with him I’m afraid, Sir John, I’ve got nothing in common with him at all; after all he is almost old enough to be my father, though perish the thought of that.’ She sniffed. ‘But if he sends any more of his laboriously gallant messages I shall feel very inclined to greet him like Daddy did that famous Golden Eagle…’

  The towers of the Guild sent back her agreement and soon brought news that Sir Anthony was on his way in company with some score of soldiers of his household. Eleanor shrugged and ordered extra barrels of beer to be laid in. ‘Well the ground’s still pretty soft,’ she said. ‘There’s always the chance his horse’s foot will turn and break his fat neck for him, though I suppose we mustn’t hope for miracles.’

  Certainly none took place and within a few days Sir Anthony arrived at her hall, where his men were quartered in the lower wards and played havoc with the serving girls till Eleanor took the matter up more than firmly with their master. The party stayed two weeks and Her Ladyship, who at first had been inclined to be suspicious about the whole affair, found herself relaxing and merely wishing Sir Anthony, his gang of roughnecks, and his repertoire of tall boasts all safely back inside the walls of Londinium. But on the fifteenth morning came disaster. When dawn broke, England was at peace; by nightfall the first of the acts had taken place that would lead inevitably to war with Rome.

  Eleanor had risen early and ridden out to hunt, accompanied as usual by her seneschal and some half dozen servants and falconers of the household. They took dogs and a brace of hawks, hoping to see a little sport before Sir Anthony and his cavalcade spoiled their chances too much. For a time they were fortunate; then one of the gentle falcons missed her kill and refused to come to the swinging of the lure. Instead she winged away across the heath, flying strongly and high, making apparently for Poole harbour and the sea. Eleanor galloped after her, swearing and banging her heels into her horse; she had put in a lot of time on that bird and didn’t intend to lose her if she could help it. She rode fast, letting her mount pick its way among the tussocks and clumps of gorse, and soon out-distanced the rest of the party; the seneschal alone kept pace. After a mile or two it became evident the bird was gone beyond recall. There was no sign of her, and they had already travelled so far that Corfe towers were tiny in the distance.