Joanna (18 page)

In fact, Joanna would have been happy to dispense with the company of her young admirers if she could have obtained what she really wanted from the older men. She did glean some information from them by indirect routes, but they could not really be drawn into political indiscretions. Not only were they more experienced, but Joanna did not dare use the same techniques with them. Also, the older men could not believe that such a pretty little girl
could
be interested in such dry and difficult subjects.

It was from one of Richard Marsh’s squires that Joanna learned that a legate of the pope had requested and received permission to come to England to try again to settle John’s differences with the Church. A young knight in Oxford’s service told her that matters were at the breaking point between Renaud of Dammartin, count of Boulogne, and the French king. That news sent Joanna to her writing desk to dispatch a warning to Sir Giles to transmit to the guildsmen of Roselynde town. The merchants would need to be prepared in case the French triumphed and wished to change trade arrangements.

Even so, time hung heavy on Joanna’s hands. When, in the third week in June a battered troop came in bearing letters, Joanna nearly wept with frustration. In that delightful   parting she had been paying so close attention, as she had promised, to Geoffrey’s kisses that she had forgotten to tell her betrothed to write to her. And the news would take days to filter down to her, she knew. Then she called herself a fool three times over and set out with determination to find Richard Marsh. It was the most natural thing in the world that she should ask openly for news about the campaign in Wales when her betrothed husband was involved.

Before she found the chancellor, however, his page found her. Geoffrey had not needed a reminder. The page handed her a thick roll of parchment, closed with Geoffrey’s seal, showing the rampant lioncel of Salisbury above the bend sinister, and the Danish axe of his mother’s family below.

Somehow, Joanna felt that the only proper place to read it was the garden. She looked down at Brian, who looked up hopefully. “All right,” Joanna said, “I will take you, but only if you are quiet.” At the small cost of a few flower heads and a few sage and basil leaves, Brian was convinced to lie down at his mistress’s feet while she read.

“To Lady Joanna, greetings. I hope this finds you as it leaves me, well. As we spoke of matters when I last had words with you, so has it fallen out. We came swiftly across into Gwynedd and pursued that will-o’-the-wisp Llewelyn until our supplies failed. I am almost sorry now for my foresight for it has brought much labor upon me and upon the poor men given into my care.”

Joanna looked up from the letter momentarily. They must be in sore straits, she thought, to make Geoffrey sound so pettish, but so long as he was well and safe other matters could be mended.

“Because we were best fitted for that task, it has been our fate to bear the brunt of this pursuit. We are more weary and angry than hurt. Forewarned though I was by Lord Ian, still they tricked me finelyand not only me but Sir Peter and others better versed than I in warleaving such signs as I could swear they were just ahead out of sight. We pursued the more eagerly until men and horses dropped from exhaustion. I must be grateful, I suppose, that the signs were false. Had the Welsh really been ahead, they could have returned and come upon us then and we could have protected ourselves no better than overtired babes.”

That made Joanna smile in spite of the bad news. It sounded much more like Geoffrey.

“In another way, it was as well that we were so assiduous at our hopeless task and that there were men of credit with me to back my word. It seemed to me that my uncle’s eyes held little warmth when I told him my tale, although his reaction was fair. In that, however, I might missay him. His anger might have another cause. I am again at fault in being too often right. Before I left to pursue Llewelyn, I warned him that, if the Welsh came down from the mountain before I and my men went up, they might raid in force. This they did with unusual stealth and made off with many horses and much-needed supplies.”

Blast and curse men and their sense of duty, Joanna thought. Geoffrey knew, after what he had already said, that there would be no gain in such warnings. Why did he not keep his mouth shut or speak only to his father? And I am as much a fool as he, Joanna decided, to desire what I know is impossible. Then she shrugged. The king was the king and talk or silence would make little difference.

“Then we followed again on what seemed a well-marked trail of many men and horses only to come to grief in a blind valley where not even a goat could climb out by any path save that we came in upon. All this while we were most bitterly harassed by their accursed bowmen. I would have liked to string my own bow and return their shots, and would have done it had I the least idea where or at what to shoot. The best I can say is that they did not fall upon us from ambush while we were trapped in the valley nor on our way out again. From this I conclude that Llewelyn is hard pressed for men. Even a quarter and perhaps a sixth of our force could have inflicted great loss upon us when we were so entrapped and entangled.”   Unconsciously, Joanna nodded in approval. Angry as he was, Geoffrey was still thinking.

“The men were so enraged that they near came to blows among themselves, but by God’s help we held them back and escaped that trouble. It may be that was what Llewelyn hoped for. If so, he hoped in vain, but in another way his hopes were well fulfilled. We are now near to starving. I would have had enough for my own people, at least enough to stave off real hunger, if not what would either fill their bellies or please their taste, but I was constrainednot by any man but by good senseto share out what we had.”

Joanna knew the sharing had been necessary, but she resented it. It was plainly impossible considering the strained tempers of the men that Geoffrey had just described to let some go hungry while others fed full. But if all were near starvingwere they returning? Joanna bent her eyes eagerly to the letter again.

“One good thing alone has come from this. My father looks and speaks to me as a man to a man. He knows I can be sore mistakenI was as eager as any other on the trail that led us into entrapmentbut he also knows that I do not speak to put myself forward but only when something
must
be said. I, too, have learned something. Whatever the king is, he is no longer a fool in matters of war. He was as quick as my father to see the worth of what I offered once he was convinced of the folly of his past decision. More, even, he has added to the plan several most excellent parts. For what he is, I cannot love him, but I am coming to see for myself the truth of what Ian has always told me. A great part of our trouble is that no man truly knows what is his right. But this letter grows so long it will fatigue the messenger to carry it. Of this matter I will speak more when I see you.”

The words seemed to go from the parchment directly to Joanna’s heart so that it fluttered as the letters rose and fell on the page. It may be long in the future, she reminded herself, and then mingled warnings quieted the stirring in her breast. The most direct fact was that obviously the campaign was not over if Geoffrey was writing of plans for war.   The most nebulous notion threatened that it was not safe to care whether she saw Geoffrey soon or not. Why not? She challenged herself. I have always been glad to see Geoffrey. He is my long-time friend. But she would not question why her heart should move now at the thought of his presence when it had never moved before, and she returned more eagerly to her perusal, skimming the words, seeking for the word “Whitechurch” or “Chester.” It did not appear however, and Joanna was constrained to read more slowly.

“It has been decided that we can do no more in our present state and we will make the best speed we can to Oswestry, northwest of Shrewsbury. To that place, therefore, in so short a time as is possible, do you send all that can be gathered to feed our people fitting for a brief but strong attack. What we need, you know, but I beg you to add some cattle and sheep fit for slaughtering, enough for two sufficient meals for all my men. This I will pay for from my own purse, knowing it is no part of your duty to the king to provide such delicacies as fresh meat. The men, however, have been so good and uncomplaining, seeing how much they have suffered, that it is my earnest wish to pleasure them in some special way.”

Joanna looked up again. Where was she to find cattle and sheep fit for slaughter? Whitechurch and its environs as far as even Chester were bare because the court and the gathering army had eaten all that was available. Shrewsbury itself was probably best, if she could get there before the king’s procurers reached it. She fingered the keys that hung between her breasts, trying to remember how much money remained in her strongbox. Some of the other supplies might be obtainable there also. It annoyed Joanna to spend good gold for what, had there been more time, could have been culled from her own herds, but plainly her lands were too far to drive cattle in time. Even from Clyro, which was the closest, the beasts would arrive mere sacks of skin over bare bonesif they arrived in time. From Clyro, however, she could obtain much dry provender, grain and meat, and perhaps even salt meat and fish. Anxiously, she looked back   at Geoffrey’s letter. Time was of the essence.

“As soon as the men are a little rested and the supplies renewed, we will move upon Llewelyn’s keeps and towns, as I first advised, I have high hopes of success because the king is sending Faulk de Bréaute south to take Cardigan and his place will be filled by the Welsh princes who are opposed to Llewelyn’s usurpations. I have not always felt great trust in the promises of these men, as you know, but that they are coming in their own persons gives me greater confidence that they will truly do their best to forward our purpose. It is desired that we set forth again before the tenth day of July. I beg you, therefore, to make what haste you may. If it is not possible for you to serve me in this, I will buy what is needful, but the cost will be very high as many, including the king, will be forced to do the same and the prices will be driven up. Please be sure to write to me at Oswestry so that I will know whether to buy or to await what you send. This is all my news, so then, farewella sad, dry thing is a farewell thus written. I would rather, although it gave me much pain, to say farewell to you in my own person, as I did three weeks agone. I would still rather give you greeting. Written this twenty-second day of June, God knows where in Wales, by your loving husband Lord Geoffrey Fitz William.”

The summer breeze, soft and warm, stirred the leaves on the rose canes, speckling the parchment with dancing light and shadow. Joanna reread the last few lines and then read them still again. The words were flickering with the light, but she found no difficulty in making them outnor would she have had any more difficulty had her eyes been closed. There was much to doletters to be written, permission to leave, at least for a few days, to be obtained from the queen, her men to be warned and messengers readiedbut Joanna reread very carefully the end of her letter, which told her nothing of any importance, nothing that she needed to know, until Brian got suddenly to his feet, tugging at the leash, and a shadow fell over the parchment.

“I do not believe my eyes,” Henry de Braybrook said.   ‘‘In what do you fear they deceive you, my lord?” Joanna asked, rolling up her parchment and smiling up at him.

“I hardly know which of two marvels to name as more unlikelyyour beautiful eyes fixed on a roll of writing or your beautiful person all aloneunless you have Lady Ela concealed under a rose bush.”

Joanna laughed, although she was annoyed for she had gone to some trouble to conceal her abilities. “The one is the cause of the othera little. Not wishing to be looked upon as out of the ordinary, I came here to read in private. You have found out my unmaidenly secret, but I hope you will not spread my disgrace about.”

“Oh, no. I will keep it quiet,” Braybrook assured her. He found it rather disgusting that Joanna should be literate. Such a woman was a freak, like a calf with two heads or a chicken with four legs. It was as unnatural for women to think as for men to produce children. Nonetheless, he would keep her secret because it would give him a little power over her. Also, it must be admitted that Joanna did not seem to have been much spoiled by her learning. She was always interested in everything he said and never contentious. What was more, she knew how to keep a confidence. He had tested her several times with juicy bits of gossip and, when he bid her be silent, she had not breathed a word. It was fun to tell Joanna things. She gazed at one with such wide, admiring eyes, with lips a little parted in wonder.

“If you believe it unmaidenly,” he said gently, “why do you do it?”

“It is my mother’s will,” Joanna whispered, lowering her head and her eyes.

“Poor beautiful one,” Braybrook murmured.

Joanna’s hand tightened on the scroll of Geoffrey’s writing as anger flashed through her. Amusement followed swiftly. The ass had not realized she was teasing. And what a cod’s head to ask such a question! If she could not read, could Geoffrey write such a letter as he had written? Imagine allowing a clerk to read what he had said about the king.   How could a husband confide in a wife who would need a third party to communicate with him? But Braybrook, she thought, would never wish to confide in his wife. He would rather use what tidbits he knew to impress a whoreor a woman he wished to turn into a whore.

“I have comfort in that I am an obedient daughter, Joanna said in a rather choked voice.

“As dutiful as you are beautiful,” he praised, crooking a finger under Joanna’s chin and lifting her face. “I cannot tell you how it grieves me that you escaped my notice when I was seeking a wife.”

Joanna’s eyes widened and she bit her lip to restrain a mixture of mirth and irritation. Popinjay! As if he had ever entered anyone’s mind as a suitable match for the future lady of Roselynde. That needed a
man
. Her struggle to find something to say that would not betray her true emotions kept her silent and gave Sir Henry a totally false notion of what she felt. He took the wide eyes as evidence of her amazement that he would have wished to marry her, the bitten lip as regret that it could not be.