“Straw?”
“No, Watkyn had gathered some bracken the day before and I spread my tunic over that. It was no featherbed, but we had our minds on less mundane matters. What were you wearing?”
“I-I, why my—”
“Oh no, my lady,” Agnes corrected, enjoying a rare superiority,
“you would have been wearing my best gown. It is blue, sir, with quite a low neckline and—”
“Thank you, Agnes,” Gervase cut in, although he was tempted to let her continue just to annoy her mistress. “And how was I clothed?”
“As God made you, I imagine, sir,” quipped the fool. “In nothing at all.”
Gervase must have seen Johanna clench her jaw, for he swooped a hand down upon his esquire’s shoulder and half-hauled him from the bench. “Jest not! If aught goes wrong, you will feel Holy Church’s lash as fierce as I.”
Johanna fidgeted, trying to retrieve the story. “Green, sir, you would have worn a hunting green so that you could not be seen easily in the woods, and brown hose.”
“The weather—” began Gervase but she interrupted.
“I hardly imagine the weather was—”
“We need to remember the details together. I might not have had my mind on the weather, but Watkyn and Agnes sitting on the log may have noted it. We have decided on St. John’s eve but we need to know whether the sun shone. If it rained all day, we may all be liars and proven to be in collaboration.”
“It might be better to have a day when the weather was memorable,” Johanna pointed out. “Then everyone who hears will say, ‘Ah yes, I remember that.’”
“I know, I know,” Agnes fanned the air enthusiastically with her fists. “What about after the storm that summer’s day when the tower at Bainham Priory was struck by a fiery bolt?”
“But which day was it, Agnes?”
“In June. The eve of the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene.”
“My lady?” Gervase was waiting for Johanna to decide.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “That might suffice. I oversaw some dyeing,” she caught his astonished expression, “—no, cloth dyeing, sir—in the morning and the violent rainstorm washed the colour out because the quantity of mordant was not sufficient. Petronella was not pleased.”
Gervase was regarding her with polite astonishment. “Petronella is my oldest married sister,” she explained, adding, “No, I know dyeing is not a respectable pursuit and I probably should have been the daughter of a mercer or dyer, but the Conisthorpe retinue colours are some of the finest—”
“Can we keep to the track, my lady, if you please.”
“Bridal path,” punned the jester, slapping the table, more of his old cheerfulness returning. Gervase silenced him with a frown and continued to cross-examine her.
“Why did you not order the cloth to be brought in?”
“Oh, let me see, I fell asleep in my bedchamber. It was a very moist day, sufficient to turn the milk.” It had been so hot that all the dogs had lain panting in the shade and the menservants had worn dampened apparel to keep sane.
“Did no one else think to bring the cloth in or rouse you? Your mother—”
“My mother was most displeased later but she also took to her bed and my lord father was away attending parliament. He returned the following week for Petronella’s wedding. I would have been more likely to commit a folly if he was absent.”
“The Lord take me if such a noteworthy day does not have its dangers,” the esquire interrupted. “You would do better, sir, to choose a mundane day. Where was the priest on this day? That is the nub. We may concoct stories to our heart’s content, but if there are a half-dozen villeins who will swear that Father Benedict was drunk as a lord—beg pardon, sir—and snoring like a pig throughout the storm, what then?”
“True. Did the priest keep a servant?”
“Servant?” Agnes sniffed disgustedly. “Leman, more like, sir, a fierce old besom she was too. Passed away soon after him, she did. The new priest turned her out and they found her dead in a ditch atwixt the Studleys up Ripon way a few weeks later.”
“That is to the good, though God forgive me for saying so,” Johanna rose and paced, “but what if Father Benedict was called to a shriving or some such?”
“Sir, sir, we could ask Father Gilbert, or Aidan would be sure to know—pull a wing off a fly and it will be all over the town by curfew.”
“Heaven forbid, Agnes, castle gossips are the last we should ask. The good chaplain will suffice. Now, let us sit and think out what we are going to say very carefully and then later I am going to ask the proctor to examine us on our stories in turn and discuss any errors.”
“MY BRAIN FEELS as though it has been drained,” Johanna murmured later after morning mass, rubbing her fingers across her eyelids.
“The rest of you does not sound it. I have been trying to ignore your belly’s gurglings for the last hour.” Gervase paused on the steps to the new hall as he spoke. The lady was a riddle; if she was hungry, why did she never assuage it? He had never known a woman eat so little and he disliked the results he saw in her pallor. “I can hear horses. That must be your men escorting the proctor in for dinner. I know it is a chore going over the story again with him, but practice makes perfect.”
“Yes, I am sorry. It must be very irksome for you,” she replied gravely and found he was laughing at her.
“Describing where and how I consummated my marriage with you? No, not so.” He gestured for her to enter before him.
“Well, it would have been,” Johanna assured him. “Now tell me what questions the proctor is setting for . . . for Fulk?”
“The articles, you mean,” he said loftily, with that male habit of insisting on precision; a woman would have given the answer knowing exactly what was meant. “I want him to demonstrate to the court that your lack of obedience to Fulk was due to the fact that you were beaten and starved into the match when you knew yourself to be contracted to me.” He held up a hand and tapped his fingers one at a time. “I have suggested he ask: whether Fulk was aware that you had been coerced into the marriage; and whether it is true that he felt compelled to beat you into submission several times a week?”
Johanna paused before the hearth and raised her skirts a little to dry the hem. “Does this need to be aired? Sir?” He looked confused for a moment, as if the view of woolly-stockinged ankles had disconcerted him. “I am not talking about this,” she continued, shaking the hem.
“It is not just a matter of the truth,” he muttered, looking back up at her face, “but whether the court perceives we are worthy characters. Since we are not as white as snow, blackening Fulk may help. Given time, about eight years or so, you could bring a libel for divorce a mensa et thoro—that is, a judicial separation on the grounds of cruelty because of continual and undeserved physical force.”
“I think I would be extremely dead. Eight years!”
“Fortunate I came along.” His tone was dry and he fell silent, as if he was thinking more on the morrow’s hearing. There were voices behind them as her mother led the proctor in and Gervase turned with a sigh.
Johanna knew he shared her apprehension. “I wish tomorrow was over,” she whispered softly.
“Tomorrow is the easy part.”
Eighteen
HER HEAD ACHED so after the long session finalising their testimony with Stephen de Norwood in the great chamber before dinner that Johanna fled to her bedchamber. Her mother found her sitting in the early afternoon sun, a line of split-stitching embroidery neglected across her lap. She had tried to nap but her thoughts were too anxious.
“Why did you not come down to dine?” exclaimed her mother, a little breathless from the stairs and a heavy repast.
“I-I am not hungry.”
A derisive snort came from the stairwell. So the upstart esquire still thought he had the right to walk in, lording it.
“Ha!” Johanna rose, tossing her needlework onto the bed. “Anyone else coming to disturb me in my bed-chamber?
The lord chancellor, the king’s favourite hunting dog or are we limited for choice?” She glared pointedly at Gervase.
“Johanna.” Her mother looked as though she was about to make a proclamation. Undeterred by her offspring’s suspicious scowl, Lady Constance announced, “Johanna, Gervase and I have been talking. Since the world expects you to live as man and wife, we should follow the proctor’s advice without delay.”
“We!” Johanna threw her mother a look of furious reproach.
“Gervase has made an extremely practical suggestion.”
“Have you, Gervase, dear heart? What a treasure you are.”
“May I remind you, Johanna,” exclaimed her mother, her fingers tapping folded arms, “that we are dependent on Gervase’s performance in court.”
“Yes, Mother dearest, and he is being paid for that, not for performing in my bedchamber.”
“I suppose hunger is making you peevish.” Gervase looked damnably contrary himself.
“Peevish!”
“Yes, womanish, perverse, lacking in common sense. You are wasting time, my lady. We have to shift your belongings out of here.” He turned an angry shoulder on her and picking up a fallen bodkin, placed it back in her wooden needlebox.
“Shift my belongings!” She swished her skirts and fronted her mother waspishly. “Oh, I thought my lord Gervase was moving in here with me, considering he has slept in my bed more than I have recently.”
Her mother slapped her palms together. “Be quiet, Johanna! I insist that you do as he suggests.”
“I can imagine what he suggests!” hissed Johanna, “No! You cannot expect me to lie with this arrogant upstart. He could have the crabs for aught I know.”
Gervase took an angry breath and wheeled round on her with the fury of a robbed miser.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Johanna!” exclaimed her mother, stepping in between them. “Will you not hear this matter out! You do not have to actually lie with Gervase, dearest.”
Johanna’s glare told her differently. “What are you expecting me to do, Mother? Close the hayloft off for an hour each afternoon and set up a crier to proclaim we are fornicating?”
“Very inventive,” snarled Gervase venomously, closing in on her, flaunting his height and strength. “And how do I know you do not have crabs?”
Lady Constance held up her hands as if keeping them from throttling the other. “Hush, the pair of you! I am sure we can settle this amicably.”
“Amicably! Oh yes, and Fulk will turn into a sugarplum tomorrow and withdraw his petition. Any other impossible solutions, Mother?”
“We have to resolve this today, Johanna. I have agreed that the south tower is to be refurbished for your use. You may take the upper chamber and Gervase shall have the lower. It may not be as comfortable—”
“No!”
“Then I will refuse to appear in court.” Johanna did not miss the cold, wicked glint in his eyes as he stood before the hearth. “Let us have an end to this, my lady. I have discussed with your steward how this may be managed as soon as possible and he merely awaits your mother’s assent.” He tossed his head back like a haughty stallion, his glance challenging her. Arranged it, had he? Well, if he thought she was going to give him an intimate pat and a piece of apple, he would be disappointed.
“Get out of my sight, you braggart! You and Stephen de Norwood may go hang.”
“Johanna, keep your voice down.”
“If he thinks he is going to beget a child on me . . .” She grabbed off her shoe and hurled it at his loins. It hit him lightly in the belly but he caught the second before it met his head.
He folded his arms. “Pah, lie with a wench who only attracts pigs.” The sewing box broke its hinge against his breast, exploding spools of thread all over him. He kicked his legs free of the coloured cobweb catching upon the cuffs of his kneeboots and strode to the window, thrusting open the shutters. “You wish to shout abuse. Do so. They will say that Fulk de Enderby is well rid of you.”
“I thought you were honourable!” Her voice shrank to a whisper.
“Me, oh no, how can I be? I am willing to perjure myself for your mother’s gold.”
“I will not be your whore.”
He cocked his head. “No, nor my wife either, it seems. We agreed to provide the semblance of two cooing turtle-doves, yes or no?”
“You Hellspawn!” He was smiling like the Devil welcoming another sinner.
“We have to believe our vows, Johanna, if we are to convince the world and his wife. So, how are we to do that, if the world knows you deny me your bed?”
“Oh you are enjoying this!”
“You think so? Have done!” He sighed, and let the fight go out of him. Turning to Lady Constance, his tone was stern. “Rest assured, I have no intention of becoming embroiled with this Fury between the sheets. A viper would be more friendly.” With a curt bow to her mother, he left them staring at one another.
Lady Constance had her lips glued together, but her eyes were brimming with laughter.
“Ohhhh!” The sewing box made another flight, this time through the open window. “A pox on it!” Johanna rushed to the casement and hiked herself out. Jankyn was staring at the landed box in amazement. Her supposed husband, entering the courtyard down the steps, was hailed and invited to examine the missile. He looked up, blew her a kiss and took charge of the box.
“I will kill him before this is through!” Johanna ducked back in. “I warned you he was more trouble than he was worth.”
Lady Constance gave a little sigh but it was not at the mess of silken threads scattering the floor.
“Oh I will do that.” Johanna set her aside and knelt to sort out the tangle. She sent a covert glance up at her mother and caught the wistfulness in the older woman’s face. “Would you contemplate him as a lover?”
“Gervase? In your shoes, probably.” Then realising that Johanna was not amused, she abandoned her smile and added gravely, “No, my darling, no one is expecting that of you, least of all me, not after what you have suffered. And Gervase is not either.” She looked around at Johanna’s chamber. “This is a beautiful room and I can understand that you are loath to leave here, but you can be private in the south tower and no one will know that you are not lying together.”
Johanna was still imagining what it might be like to know Gervase as a lover. Once she would have had her mother’s courage.
“I wish I could—but I cannot, Maman.” Her eyes misted and she sniffed. “Fulk has—” She broke off, tears choking her voice. “This morning crossing the courtyard I saw the fair-haired groom you sent to me at Enderby lathering himself in one of the troughs. Had I let her, Agnes would have lingered to enjoy watching him but I looked away—nearly ran away—because I could not bear the sight of him naked.”
Her mother crouched down before her. “Time will heal you, my love.” Fingers gently, reassuringly, clasped her shoulders.
“I-I do not think so.” Johanna averted her glance from the pity in her mother’s face. “Besides, that upstart is the same under the skin as every other man.”
“The weavers and the fishers might not agree with you. There is more to a man than a crowing cock.”
“Mother!” But Johanna found she could laugh.
Constance sighed and let go of her. “Do agree to moving your belongings, my love. You need pay lipservice only to Brother Stephen’s advice, and you must remember Gervase is suggesting you share the tower, not his bed.”
“He will expect more than is his due. Come, madam, you know men think only with their pricks when their lust is upon them. Even priests. No, truly. I have gone along with this outrageous notion of yours but now you ask too much.”
Her mother nodded with seeming resignation and rose. In her face, Johanna guiltily glimpsed the shadow of aging and recognised the weight of cares she struggled to carry.
“Did you remember to send the parliament writ back?” she asked her.
“Oh yes, I did that. Father Gilb
ert couched it beautifully. An unspecific excuse about your father being temporarily indisposed. Of course, they will not swallow it for long. The king is out to strengthen his hold over the north and will want an active, vigilant constable here at Conisthorpe to hold the dale against raids. He will soon send another man to fill the post. Oh, my darling, if only we can hold them off until the hearing is through.” She sat down on the windowseat that Johanna had vacated and rested her head wearily against the side of the recess. “I did not tell you that there was a fire in one of our barns up near the Franciscans’ fishponds and Fulk’s reeve has been trying to force rents from one of my villeins on your dowry land.”
“It is costing too much, is it not?”
The older woman passed a hand across her eyes. “It will if it takes more than a few weeks. There is rumour too that the Scots will come down again before the autumn and harry us. If Hal had lived . . .”
Her mother still grieved. To bear a son and see him grow to manhood, handsome and blithe, blessed by God with intelligence and courage, only to have him slain by the Scots at Bannockburn. Had he lived still, he would have been scarcely older than Gervase.
Johanna knelt before her and carried her mother’s hand to her cheek. “You should have been a warrior princess, Maman. My lord father did not deserve you and nor do I. When I used to hear the other demoiselles at Richmond talk about their parents, I realised that you were uncommon rare.”
“What is to be done? I am tired, Johanna, and you, look at you, you urchin. Such wan cheeks. You should go and sit in the sunshine to gain a milkmaid countenance for tomorrow.” She stroked the lap of hair above Johanna’s temple and tugged at one of her plaits with a watery smile. “Your father loved you just as much as I, you know, in his own way.”
“So much that he finally said, ‘The next man who asks for her shall have her!’ and gave me to his good old friend Fulk.”
“Forgive him,” whispered her mother softly. “I know you despise him, but . . . Do you remember when he rode off to the Scots war when you were a little maid? There was such splendour in him. I was so proud and he came back after Bannockburn so ashamed at the defeat and poor Hal’s death. He laid his head upon my lap and wept.”
The Knight And The Rose Page 28