The King's Mistress (8 page)

Gwen had adopted what Dame Agnes referred to as a respectful silence, even when dressing me. At first I accepted it as the proper behavior, but as it continued I detected a tension between us and felt more and more strongly that hers was a wounded silence. That would not do, not if she was to be my maid for many years to come. It was too uncomfortable. I feared that her resentment could bloom into something more hostile and that I would then be unable to trust her. I did not choose to live that way.

On the fourth morning since she had grown silent, I spoke.

“Gwen, I regret having put you in such a difficult position, wanting to please me and yet having been warned by Master Janyn to refrain from gossip about his guests. I apologize.”

I had not expected her to warm to me at once, but was surprised that her response was to stop combing my hair and to back away a few steps.

“Yes, mistress,” she whispered.

“I’ve made you even less easy with me. What is it, Gwen? What is amiss?” I knew it was not the way I should address a servant, but I would not be waited on by a woman who held a grudge against me.

“I never imagined you would tell Dame Agnes, mistress.” Her eyes were lowered, hands hanging limply at her sides.

It was a hard lesson for me. “I accept the blame, Gwen. In future I’ll not repeat what we have discussed. But I expect you to be just as loyal to me. Do you accept that?” I turned to look at her, and felt quite bold and mature as I said, “In faith, you must look me in the eye and tell me your decision. Either we trust each other, or I find another lady’s maid. You already know my preference. What say you?”

The eyes she lifted to mine were satisfyingly astonished.

“I—” She took a breath. “I pledge my loyalty, Mistress Alice. I beg your forgiveness. I have been disrespectful in my behavior. I am happy with you and Master Janyn. I pray you, believe me, I will be true in heart and speech.”

“I believe you. We’ll say no more about it. Now come, Gwen, comb my hair.”

I was far more comfortable that day as we all sat with our needlework, and though she did not ask what had transpired I could tell that Dame Agnes sensed a shift as well.

The following day our routine was happily interrupted when Geoffrey came to dine with us. I was so glad to see him. It had been a week since I had seen Nan or my brothers and sister, whom I sorely missed, and he was the next best thing—in some ways even better, because I could confide in him and ask his opinion, and I sorely needed a confidant.

While we dined Geoffrey entertained me and my grandparents with tales of his fellow pages and the embarrassing mistakes he was learning to avoid.

“I lacked education in the fine points of interpreting people’s dress, you see. Suddenly I was expected to know a person’s rank merely by looking at their clothing. I had thought to learn their faces, but there was no time for that.” He glanced at my new green silk gown and said, “For example, I might guess you to be a propertied lady of the realm, or the daughter of a prosperous Italian or French merchant. Not a wife, for your hair is loose. Ah, you confuse me, my good friend, for I know you well enough to be sure I am wrong on all but your being a maiden.”

“Not at all,” Dame Agnes said with a teasing light in her eyes, “for she is the betrothed of a man who is Italian on his mother’s side and trades extensively in Italy and France!”

“Ah, but of course, Janyn’s mother!” Geoffrey bowed. “You have my eternal gratitude, Dame Agnes. You have redeemed me.”

A lively argument ensued about how stringently dress codes were followed, and the meal continued with much merriment. Afterward, my grandparents suggested that Geoffrey and I might enjoy some time without them and welcomed us to retire to the garden, where they might see but not hear us. I was most grateful. There was so much I wished to tell him.

But he was even more anxious to tell me something he had learned the previous evening.

“Your parents have been summoned to Castle Rising. Summoned by the queen mother, the Lady Isabella.”

I grew quite cold though the sun beat down on me.

“My parents at Castle Rising? Why? Where did you hear this?”

He’d been watching me as if curious how I would react. Now he
slowly nodded. “I thought you would be puzzled by this, as was I. Why? I do not know, nor did the man who told me of this. He is aware we are friends, and plainly hoped to learn more from me. But he did say that your betrothed and his parents are frequent guests of the queen mother, and that your own father has been there on another occasion—shortly before your betrothal.”

“I had forgotten about that visit. Father had said little more than that he’d been to Castle Rising. I had thought he meant the town. He’d certainly not mentioned the dowager queen.” I felt uneasy about saying more to Geoffrey, and just as uneasy about not doing so.

I began to understand how much Father might gain by my marriage to Janyn—the royal connections would bring preferments. It was no wonder he had been willing to defy Mother. I pressed my icy hands to my hot cheeks. Geoffrey watched me with interest.

“Do you think this summons has something to do with Janyn?” I asked.

“There is gossip about his family, that they are retained by Isabella. But that does not surprise me—she has done much to promote Lombard art in London, and Janyn’s dam is a Lombard.”

“But I do not see how my family would be involved.”

“Nor do I, Alice.”

“Should I be worried?” I had always valued Geoffrey’s opinion. He had seemed better able to comprehend the world at large than I was, and now he was part of a noble household and well traveled.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “You now know as much as I do. I confess that I am disappointed you did not know this already, and more!” He chuckled, but in his eyes I saw concern.

“I have been cast out from my parents’ house, no longer privy to their comings and goings. But I begin to think that I have never been knowledgeable about their lives.” I told him of my parents’ apparent rift over my betrothal.

“So it is because of Dame Margery that you are here?”

“I believe so. Or because Father insisted on my betrothal to Janyn even against Mother’s wishes. I don’t know which one to blame.”

Geoffrey took my hands and squeezed them. “I see that you are hurt, and I am sorry.”

“Bless you.”

“Are you pleased by the prospect of being Janyn Perrers’s wife?”

“For my own part, oh yes, Geoffrey. And yet I fear it as well. He
is older, and knows so much more of the world. And I much fear that once I am wed I’ll not see any of my family.”

“As for the latter, that might be true no matter whom you wed. A woman joins her husband’s family and is guarded by them against anything that might threaten her honor. But he seems a fascinating man to whom to be bound—handsome and so elegant that I would think him a noble. I see that your grandparents mean for you to dress as well as he does.”

I smoothed my silk sleeve. “It is not all their choice. Janyn has made generous gifts and provided me with a maidservant who is accomplished in all the skills needed for a fashionable lady’s maid.”

“Indeed. That gown becomes you.”

I twirled for him. “You, too, are dressed in costly garb,” I noted, pleased by the admiration in his eyes.

His brown jacket was a fine, light wool; his boots were of beautiful red Cordoba leather. I had never seen him in such elegant dress. I did not think it livery.

He blushed. “I thought I might spend a little money to feel like a man of substance when I am about in the city.”

“It seems that I am to dress in escarlatte, silk, velvet, and soft leathers, and be an ornament of my husband’s household.”

“Criseyde’s cloak,” Geoffrey said, looking bemused. His expressive eyes seemed to gaze at something vast and distant.

“Who?”

“A poem of ancient Troy that we listened to night after night in the hall while a gentleman who fancies himself a bard was a guest in the household. My lady particularly loved the part about Criseyde and her lovers. She is sent from Troy to the Greek camp, and dons a cloak redder than roses, whiter than lilies, and decorated with pictures of all the beasts and flowers on earth, fashioned from enchanted cloth and lined with the skin of a fabulous animal whose fur includes every color God has ever created. The trimming comes from the hide of a beast caught in the river of Paradise. It is fastened by the two richest and most beautiful rubies that have ever been seen. Beneath it she wears a silk tunic, embroidered with gold and trimmed with ermine.”

The image captivated me. I could see an exquisite woman in fabulous dress illuminated by the campfire, dazzling the men who thought her a specter.

Geoffrey bowed to me, his mood quieter now. “I’ll tease you no more.”

I did not understand why his mention of this Criseyde led him to a more serious mood.

“Are you finding time to compose ballads?”

“There is always idle time in which to compose in my head.”

“Are you composing one of Criseyde?”

“She deserves a better poet than me. Now tell me,” he said, laughing again and confusing me even more, “has Janyn kissed you?”

The mere question made me blush with the memory of our kiss.

Geoffrey slapped his thigh. “Ah! I see by your confusion that he has, and that it was much to your liking.” His eyes were very merry.

I laughed. “Yes, he has kissed me, and yes, it was very much to my liking. And you? Have you met a suitable lady?”

“No. But parents are in no hurry to marry off their sons, just their daughters. In faith, I’ve seen few women younger than my mother.”

We shared a companionable laugh, and I felt more at ease than I had in a long while.

“When do you wed?”

“Before Michaelmas.”

“So soon?” He looked disappointed. “Then I shall not be there to witness it. I return to my new household in two days and shall not be in London until Christmas.”

“Oh, Geoffrey. I had so hoped you would be there.”

“Perhaps I can be second godfather to your first son, eh?”

“Children. I have not even thought about them, let alone choosing godparents.” Janyn would no doubt choose a man of some prestige for first godfather. “I’ve been occupied with preparing my clothing and household items. Yes, Geoffrey, I would like you to stand as a godfather to our first son—or daughter.” I giggled about what came to mind. “Dame Agnes says that riding will strengthen my legs for carrying the weight of children.”

Geoffrey smiled broadly and took my hands for a moment. “I am happy for you, Alice.”

“I feel most fortunate except for my warring parents and the she-wolf casting a cloud over it all.”

“I am sorry about your parents. But perhaps you need not worry about the queen mother. The gossips love their clever names for those
they fear. It makes them feel superior and less afraid. The king’s mother is often at court now that so much time has passed since her treasonous and immoral behavior. In the end, the people were glad of her rebellion. It was Mortimer’s greed for power that soured them.”

“I overheard my grandparents speaking of her one night and they sounded uneasy about my marrying a man who communed with the queen mother. They must not have known about my parents being summoned to Castle Rising.”

“Perhaps as Janyn’s patron, Isabella wished to make certain that your mother will not cause trouble. I have observed that nobles often look on commoners as well-to-do servants. She may feel she owns him in some way.”

I paused and turned to him. “Have you any advice for me, my worldly Geoffrey?”

He grew serious. “I have seen good people seduced by wealth and finery to their ruin. Have a care, my friend.”

“Geoffrey, you make me shiver.”

He forced a laugh. “You asked! But do not mind me. You know that I delight in hearing my own voice. You have ever been more practical and clear-headed than me. You will fare well.”

It grew late, and my friend reluctantly departed. But he swore that he would not be a stranger, and I believed him. As I lay abed that night I tried to recall his description of the enchanted cloak. Fabulous beasts, every color imaginable, great rubies …

I
N THE
morning, knowing that my parents were away, I coerced Dame Agnes into accompanying me to see Nan and the children. I might have slipped away at any time to see my siblings despite how busy we were preparing for my marriage, but I had dreaded an encounter with Mother. We sent a message that we would come the next day—I did not want Nan to feel that I was checking up on her with a surprise visit while she was in charge. I had recently made new hats for all three of my siblings from scraps of beautiful cloth, and I looked forward to presenting them. Gwen asked to accompany us so that the children might meet her.

“Then when they visit I’ll not be a stranger to them.”

I was glad that I had made my peace with her.

I had not anticipated how odd it would feel to return home after little more than a week away. Nan greeted us at the door looking far more than a week older, and although I recognized the gown she wore
it seemed more frayed and patched than before. The furnishings were unchanged, yet they seemed unbalanced, as if the hall had grown and the furnishings had shrunk. Everything felt subtly unfamiliar, as if my spirit had been erased from my former home.

After a tearful reunion with Nan, Will, and Mary—John would try to stop in later if his master could spare him from the shop—I asked about their activities since I’d left.

Later, when the children were absorbed in trying on their hats with Gwen’s and Dame Agnes’s assistance and searching for a gift they had made for me, I asked Nan what she knew about my parents’ journey.

When I’d arrived my first impression of my beloved nurse was that she was weary and heavy of heart, and now her words confirmed that at least in part.

“A messenger came—well dressed, thought highly of himself, insisted on waiting for the reply. Cook fed him while the master and mistress went above and spoke in hushed voices behind a closed door. I had handed them the note, but they had told me to leave the room while they spoke to the messenger, and then I was sent out with the children while they discussed it and I presume composed their response. As soon as the messenger departed I was ordered to look after the children while they prepared for a journey, and was told that Cook and I would be seeing to them for a week or more. Such a fuss, Alice. Your parents seemed excited and fearful at the same time. Cook says the messenger began to say something about a castle, but changed it to Norfolk. She said that he wore livery that had the royal fleur-de-lis on it. We thought of Castle Rising—the Lady Isabella, the king’s mother, lives there. But why would she summon your parents?”