The Law of Angels (13 page)

The Domincan’s white habit looked much like her own, but Hildegard resented the fact that he assumed they shared the same point of view. She decided to test him.

When there was a pause in his monologue she threw in a casual remark. “I see the constables are doing their job of putting the gangs of beggar children outside the walls.”

He pulled a face expressing approval. “Indeed. Mayor de Quixlay, courting popularity among the poor as usual, wanted to make some dispensation for them over the festivities. He was voted down to our intense relief.”

“The competition would have been unfair,” she remarked, wondering whether he would hear the irony in her tone. He didn’t.

“Indeed,” he replied. “We must all uphold the law.”

Especially when it works in your favour, she thought. They reached the bridge. Hildegard made some excuse to get away and they parted. As she crossed the street into Conyngsgate she thought, Nothing will change in this realm until the mendicants set their affairs in order. It was most unlikely. In the meantime all the Orders were tainted by the same accusations of greed and hypocrisy.

*   *   *

A handful of servants wearing the de Hutton livery of a lion d’or rampant on a ground gules were lounging around in Danby’s yard when she reached the glazier’s workshop.

“Is your lord within?” she asked of them generally.

A spry young fellow nodded and jumped forward to sweep open the door for her. She entered to the murmur of voices.

*   *   *

The workshop was crowded. Hildegard had to peer over the tops of heads to catch sight of Lord Roger.

A man with his back to the door was blocking the little passageway leading from the yard. He wore a light sleeveless tunic over a cambric shirt bunched in under a thick leather belt and was bareheaded. When he moved aside to let her in she noted again the jewel glinting on a chain round his neck. This was the third time she had seen Master Baldwin.

He gave the man standing next to him a nudge. Edric Danby turned and, seeing who had arrived, greeted Hildegard with a beam of pleasure.

He wore an orange turban on his head, despite the hot weather, but his dark blue surcoat was of light linen suitable for such intense heat. Even so he looked as if he was about to expire. His face was filmed with sweat and he wiped the back of his hand across it before he spoke. “You’re most welcome, sister. The lord steward told us he’d invited you along and Lady de Hutton was just saying she hoped you’d come by and offer your opinion. It seems we’ve reached stalemate.”

Roger himself came forward and gripped her by the arm. “Bad business, this attack on Deepdale, Hildegard. Praise the Lord none of you were harmed. We’ll bring those devils to book, don’t you worry. I’ll have them tracked to hell and back. It’s all in hand.” He released her arm.

Lady Melisen stepped forward in a scented cloud of lavender. “It’s shameful, sister. All your hard work gone for nothing. But now I need your support against another set of dreadful men!”

Gilbert, with a stick of charcoal in one hand and his hair loose, had a smile on his face. Jankin was attending to the filling of the wine cups, and two pages in de Hutton livery were leaning against a workbench with bemused expressions, as if they’d never seen anything like it. Clearly these were not included in Melisen’s sweeping description.

“There they are!” she announced, indicating her husband, the glazier himself and the steward. “Just listen to them! You won’t believe your ears!”

“Oh now, my lady, I’m sure we can reach some accommodation with your wishes that won’t run counter to those of Lord de Hutton.” Master Danby spoke in the tones of somebody who wants to make peace at any cost.

His words brought forth a sarcastic laugh from a dark-haired woman standing next to Baldwin whom Hildegard had not immediately noticed. Evidently she was Baldwin’s wife, judging by the way she was resting one hand on his sleeve. Her fingers and wrists were weighted with gauds and baubles and her dark hair was coiled in a crispinette kept in place by an embroidered padded roll. With a narrow smile she was taking obvious pleasure in Master Danby’s discomfort.

The glazier introduced the sarcastic woman as his sister-in-law, Mistress Julitta. She bestowed on the nun a perfunctory nod. Standing in the background was the master’s young wife, Dorelia, her violet eyes vacant as she gazed off into space in a world of her own. The discussion resumed and Hildegard observed everyone in silence.

Julitta was a plain woman. She looked more so next to Dorelia’s luminous beauty, yet there was something hard about her that did not yield precedence to anyone. Hildegard concluded that she was the sort of woman who would go to any lengths to please a man and to whom experience had taught the most effective method of doing so. All this in a flash. I’m being unfair, she thought.

It was certainly the case, however, that in such close juxtaposition, Dorelia looked even more ethereal, her features devoid of expression, her strangely empty eyes, though beautiful, never resting on anyone for more than a moment. As the matter of the glass was discussed, Hildegard silently pondered a question suitable for one of Melisen’s elevated supper party discussions: Which is the more dangerous: stupidity or cunning? She glanced from Dorelia to Julitta and could not make up her mind.

What puzzled Hildegard was the undercurrent of hostility emanating from Baldwin’s wife.

Gilbert was watching everyone in silence. It was difficult to guess what he was thinking. His pale eyes reminded her again of the grisaille glass in the minster. He has her measure, she realised, as his glance rested briefly on Julitta’s hard features.

As affable as usual, and happily unaware of any undercurrent, Master Danby invited them all to try to resolve the issue of the glass by going through to the inner workshop where they could have another look at the sketches he and his journeyman had put together.

He led the way to the inner sanctum where there was a long trestle in the middle of the room with a little stack of vellum pieces on it. “As you know, anything can be changed at this stage. We only aim to please.” He gestured towards his journeyman. “Gilbert has been working up a few changes but we can change things again. As soon as we get it right we can proceed with the vidimus.” He punched his journeyman on the shoulder. “Go ahead, Gilbert. Show ’em what we’ve knocked together.”

They all positioned themselves around the trestle and Gilbert picked up one of the pieces of vellum from the top of the pile. It was small, no more than five inches square, and done in pen and ink.

“Are we all agreed on this one?” Danby asked.

Roger gave a brief nod. “We saw that last time. I liked it then and I like it now. It’s good. The Queen of Heaven. Very good. I said so before.”

“Except that she still has no face,” objected Melisen. “I trust you will give her a face when it’s drawn to scale? I don’t want a simple blur of light. I want—and so does my lord,” she added hastily in deference to the fact that he was footing the bill, “we expect definite features to make her human.”

“Human. I’ll make a note of that.” Gilbert put it to one side. It was difficult to tell what mood he was in. Had that been a note of irony? He turned the drawing over and showed them the reverse. “My lady?” He held it in front of Melisen so she could have a better look.

“And this one we like as well. The angels on either side. You’ve added more detail to their wings. That’s really quite wonderful. And the baby is so charming. Yes, we love that.”

“And these little roundels,” added Roger, “the ones with my coat of arms on them and the ones with the flower. They’re good.”

“This little fox is very sweet,” commented Melisen, fingering the smaller sheets with the border drawings on them.

Gilbert took it from her and pushed it out of sight

“That’s his sign,” said Danby. “Gilbert, the little fox.” He smiled with innocent good humour at anybody who met his eye.

“Is this a drawing of some sleeves?” Melisen had found another small drawing and held it up. “Look at the folds. You can almost feel the softness of the silk. I take it they were silk?”

Gilbert made no reply.

“You seem to be in agreement on most of it,” Hildegard remarked. “Where’s the problem?”

“It’s in the figures of the two donors,” said Roger, turning his back to glare at the wall. He was plainly irritated but unwilling to let off steam in his usual manner in front of strangers.

“I saw the drawing of you when I was here with Ulf before. It looked very fine.” She gave Gilbert a smile as she knew he was responsible for it.

Roger turned back with a sigh. “It’s what Melisen has in mind for the depiction of herself that’s causing the problem.”

“You simply don’t understand,” Melisen scolded. She turned to Hildegard. “If Lady de Clare can do it, why can’t I?”

Hildegard’s lips parted in astonishment.

Melisen continued. “I want myself depicted exactly as I am. Gilbert is quite willing to attempt the drawing.”

Roger gave the journeyman a baleful glance. “I’m sure he is.”

Gilbert was unabashed. He took the collection of smaller drawings from Melisen and put them back tidily on the trestle. “If I may make a suggestion, my lord, why not allow Sister Hildegard to be present while I do the drawing of Lady Melisen?” He gave Hildegard a glance. “That way my master will have no qualms about anything indecorous taking place and, my lord, I trust you will feel the same way?”

“It’s what’ll be going through your mind while you draw my wife babe-naked that worries me!” snarled Roger.

Lady de Clare, it was well known, had been drawn as Eve in the Garden of Eden with only her famously long hair covering her modesty.

“Oh sweeting,” cried Melisen, putting her hand on Roger’s sleeve. “I’m sure Gilbert has never had an impure thought in his life. You’d be willing to be present, wouldn’t you, sister?”

“Would you?” demanded Roger.

To Hildegard it seemed he had already bowed to Melisen’s desire. She knew him. He was making a meal of his objections now but it was really all over. He had given in, proving that his fifth wife could twist him round her little finger. Astonishing, thought Hildegard.

In order to ease his defeat she said, “I’ve heard about the glass depicting Lady de Clare.” She turned to Melisen. “I assume this is the one you’re referring to?”

Melisen nodded.

“I admit I haven’t seen it myself, but I’m told it’s a most reverential depiction and if everything is holy under God, as we are told, then I see nothing wrong with the naked human form as such. It’ll stand as a memorial to youth and beauty. Any husband would be proud to sponsor such a theme. And, as Lady Melisen has pointed out, there is a precedent for a donor to appear unclothed. And the figure will be small, no doubt. And if you want your chantry to be celebrated, Roger, this will do it.…” She trailed off feeling that she had overdone things.

Roger gave her a stony glance. “So I’m to relish having a pack of strangers gawping at my naked wife in return for a few prayers?”

“I’ll draw her in profile,” suggested Gilbert, as if that would help. He received an even stonier look.

Hildegard had one more idea. “Why not let her wear a close-fitting garment like the one Eve wears in the pageant?”

Melisen clapped her hands. “I knew she’d solve it! What do you say, my lord? You can’t possibly object to that!”

After an involved discussion about the quota of truth to illusion in the glazier’s art it was agreed. She could wear the Eve suit and still appear with her natural youth and beauty—as if unadorned.

Danby wiped his brow. He was plainly delighted that the commission was now firmly in the bag and invited everyone to return to the larger workshop where they would be more comfortable and could tie up any other loose ends while they finished their wine. When they went through Gilbert remained at his bench. Hildegard lingered. “Will that be satisfactory from your point of view?”

He gave her that bright smile she had seen before when his eyes seemed to shoot sparks of silver. “It won’t affect my drawing, although I can’t believe Lady Melisen will be satisfied to do as they tell her—” He broke off with a laugh. So he had got her measure too. Proving it, he added, “I might draw in the lines of an imaginary Eve suit just to tease her.”

“She would probably take a hammer to the glass in that case!”

“Indeed, I pray she will should I be so dishonest!”

“It won’t put you off to have an audience?”

“Nothing puts me off drawing. Let’s just keep my master and Lord Roger happy.”

“Agreed. So when do we start?”

“Let’s go through and find out.”

She was slow to follow. “Gilbert, is Fox really your name?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“I thought not. I heard your master refer to you as Gilbert of Leicester.”

He lowered his head so that his hair fell in a silver veil over his face. He began to move things about on his workbench to no purpose.

“I suppose you must know Lutterworth if you’re from that part of the world?” she continued, genuinely interested.

He didn’t lift his head. “Everybody knows that place.”

“Did you ever hear Wycliffe preach?”

“We all did. You couldn’t avoid it.”

“I’ve heard he’s quite brilliant?”

“That’s what they say.”

She turned to go, then remembered how they had got into this conversation. She turned back. “So why did you choose a fox for your sign?” She was smiling, imagining it must be something to do with having a pet cub as a child.

Instead of responding he gazed at his workbench in silence. His eyelids quivered. When he eventually looked at her his glance was as hard as steel. “You should know the answer to that one, sister.”

He stepped back with a small bow to allow her to pass, then followed after, limping and trying to conceal his deformity under the fall of his summer cloak.

*   *   *

Roger would probably have objected to Melisen being drawn naked by anyone, but the fact that Gilbert was young and good-looking despite his crooked leg must have made matters worse. While they all stood out in the street waiting for the horses to be brought up, Hildegard tried to smooth ruffled feathers. She said to Ulf, “Tell Roger he shouldn’t be too bothered about this drawing. It’s only for one morning. It isn’t as if Gilbert’s going to be drawing her every day.”