A sudden flurry at the back of the church heralded the late arrival of Simon and Eleanor de Montfort. Their matching robes of scarlet and gold and the manner of their entrance in all their tardiness and magnificence was like the appearance of the royal couple at the heart of the event.
Joanna glanced at Cecily for guidance, but her tutor gave a minute shake of her head, her lips tight.
Grooves of tension deepened in Henry’s cheeks and his expression was livid as the de Montforts pushed their way forward to the altar. ‘How dare you force yourselves to the forefront as if this is your occasion, when nothing could be further from the truth,’ he said, almost grinding his teeth. ‘Your ill manners and arrogance are not welcome at the Queen’s churching.’
De Montfort started to open his hands to explain, but Henry gave him no opportunity.
‘You,’ he said, stabbing an accusatory finger that stopped a fraction from de Montfort’s chest. ‘You! Let all hear the truth for what it is, since you so desire fame and notoriety! Let everyone witness that you took my sister away from me and from the heart of her family. You pursued her in shameful secrecy; you seduced her so that she broke her sacred vow of chastity. You dishonoured her for your vile ambition after others had refused your suit. You have changed my sister so that she no longer gives honour to her natural family – to her own brother! You have stolen away treasure from beneath my nose and sworn me to honour debts that are yours, not mine. You are the root cause of all this ill. Get out, for I do not want to see your face!’
A collective gasp shivered through the congregation and Joanna covered her mouth in shock. Richard of Cornwall reached out to Henry, who shrugged him off hard.
De Montfort said nothing, remaining still and upright. Then he bowed and swung round to leave.
Eleanor started to follow, but Henry seized her arm in a biting grip. ‘No, sister, you stay. He should never have had you. I was fool enough to turn a blind eye and even wish you well, but I was never more wrong.’
She wrenched free, a flush blooming under the powder whitening her cheeks. ‘You are beside yourself, brother, and do not know what you are saying. I am lawfully married, a mother like your own wife, and in the charge and good care of my husband.’ She turned and pressed into the shelter of Simon’s outspread arm. ‘Dear God, I pity you.’
‘We shall leave as you wish, sire,’ de Montfort said, his tone steely. ‘We are both aggrieved at your treatment, but we shall not stay to argue.’
‘Do so,’ Henry answered, his voice rising and growing shrill. ‘I will speak to neither of you again until you have mended your ways.’
Richard of Cornwall tried again to intervene but Henry rounded on him. ‘You complained of the marriage at the time and I pacified you, but you were right, brother, and nothing you say or do now will change my mind for he has sullied my wife’s churching.’ He closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. ‘The matter is closed. I will not have him further destroy the occasion.’
Joanna felt queasy both at the de Montforts’ brazen arrival and the King’s response; it was like watching a parent become the child. Where was the gentle, kindly man who patted her head, praised her learning and considered her welfare?
‘Be calm.’ Cecily touched Joanna’s shoulder. ‘We are in the sight of God for the Queen’s churching as the King says, and that is our concern now. Let this be a lesson in how to behave, and how not to.’
Joanna gathered herself and stood upright, strengthened by Cecily’s guidance. The Queen entered the church, bearing a lighted candle, her expression smooth and calm, her step measured. Joanna admired her, for she must know what had just happened, yet she was performing her role with focused dignity. Henry, pale and tense, played his part and gave his full attention to his wife and to the ceremony, like a man trying to banish a bad taste by rinsing his mouth with sweet wine.
However, the moment they left the church, Henry ordered his knights to evict the de Montforts from the Bishop of Winchester’s palace, where they were lodging.
‘Is that wise, brother?’ asked Richard. ‘Some might accuse you of being vindictive.’
‘Let “some” say as they will,’ Henry retorted, still tight with anger. ‘The Earl of Leicester has gone too far, so let me send him a little further – and my sister shall learn her lesson too. I do not want them here. Let them consider their manners in exile for a while.’ He shook his head at his brother. ‘I am more than half minded to put Simon de Montfort in the Tower to show him exactly where he stands, but let exile suffice as lenience. They have insulted me and the Queen beyond forgiveness. Let them reap what they have sown.’
*
That night, the King slept in the Queen’s bed with the door firmly shut on the servants in the antechamber. The heavy summer air smelled of thunder and the atmosphere permeated the household. The ladies cast glances at each other, but no one broached the subject of what had happened at the churching ceremony because the magnitude of it was too enormous.
Joanna knelt with Cecily to pray. She could tell her tutor was upset from the way she pressed her rosary tightly between her clasped hands, leaving small round impressions in her skin. Joanna bowed her head and asked God for peace in the household – and if it pleased him, to keep the de Montforts in exile for ever.
Cecily sighed and raised her head. ‘Soon it will come time for you to marry,’ she said to Joanna. ‘You are nine now and many girls are brides at twelve and must wed to the dictates of their family and their overlords.’
‘Yes, Dame Cecily,’ Joanna said dutifully. Her father was paying to have her trained at court so she could make the best marriage possible with the resources at the family’s disposal.
‘Some may become brides of Christ if they have a vocation, and their families agree, and a few will continue in service, unwed, but for most, their future lies in matrimony.’ Cecily took Joanna’s hand. ‘I never had any girls, only sons, but I have raised many men’s daughters and I have taught them well. The Countess of Leicester was my pupil. I educated and protected her as best I could, but I was no match for the wolf when he came prowling around the fold in search of the most delectable of my lambs.’
Joanna eyed Cecily in surprise for usually she was more circumspect in her opinions.
‘What happened today was disrespectful to the King and a disgrace to all,’ Cecily said. ‘A wife should obey her husband, but it is also her duty to try and turn him from folly and dishonourable behaviour, for a husband dishonoured puts that reflection on his wife. Even if it is not her fault, it becomes her dishonour too.’
Joanna solemnly dipped her head, absorbing the lesson and feeling afraid. It must be terrible to be the wife of a husband who could not be turned towards sense.
‘I am sad for the Countess,’ Cecily continued. ‘Some men are hard of hearing and difficult to manage. It would not have happened had she heeded my advice and remained true to her vow of chastity, but she was rash, I am sorry to say, and gulled by blandishments and lust. I do understand her yearning for offspring and a family life and I shall always love her – she was my charge for too long that I could let go so lightly – but I worry for her wellbeing.’ Cecily patted Joanna’s arm. ‘You are a sensible girl. I want you to think on what has happened today, and try always to stay true to your path whatever temptations you face. Never listen to the blandishments of men, and trust your own heart. Promise me you will do that.’
‘Yes, I promise,’ Joanna replied fervently. She could not imagine being married to anyone. Whatever Cecily said, it was a distant land. She knew several girls of her age who were already betrothed, but it might not happen to her. Her dowry was modest and she was no great heiress to be married the moment she came of age. If her life continued at court in service to the King and Queen, it was enough for all her days.
5
