In the hot June evening, Joanna’s womb was as round as a full moon and she felt heavy and tired. The child remained vigorous, so she knew it was healthy, but what it was going to be born into frightened her.
Leonora sat by the window in the last of the light, reading letters that had recently arrived from Henry. A month after the disastrous battle at Lewes, Windsor still held out against de Montfort and his faction. As yet they had not been besieged, but messengers arrived daily, bringing threats, demands and intimidation, all of which Leonora ignored.
At least they had received solid news that Edward and the King were safe and that William, Iohan, John and his brother Hugh had reached the Queen in Flanders. William had written to say he was heading to Bordeaux to recruit troops, and would return as soon as he could. Realistically that would be months, and the sudden turns of Fortune’s wheel could spin from top to bottom in a heartbeat.
‘The King has a message for you,’ Leonora said as she perused the last sheet of parchment. She rose from her seat and came to Joanna, at the same time ordering the servants to light the candles. ‘I think perhaps the time has come.’
Joanna took the letter. Henry called her his dearest sister. He said he understood the predicament of her advanced state of pregnancy and was worried for her welfare since Windsor must yield to opposing forces and it was no fit place for a gravid woman. He had arranged for her to leave under safe conduct and go to either a convent or one of her manors to give birth. He guaranteed her safety and that she would face neither persecution nor molestation.
‘It is a good offer,’ Leonora said. ‘The King has no influence in great matters of state for the moment, but he does have power to grant a safe conduct for our wellbeing. They will not dare to harm us.’
Joanna smoothed the parchment under her fingertips. ‘No, but they might take us hostage.’ Her heart filled with fear, for herself, for her children, for the baby. Whatever Leonora said, murder was common coinage these days.
‘We are prisoners here anyway,’ Leonora said. ‘We have held out and bargained for the best terms we are going to receive, but it is now time. It would seem that I too am with child after February, and I do not want to continue dwelling here while Edward’s son grows in my womb.’
‘I am glad for your news, but not our situation,’ Joanna replied.
‘I have done what I can. The King has summoned me to go to him at Canterbury. I shall bolster his determination and raise his spirits and he shall do the same for me. But you should prepare to leave very soon. Your confinement is almost upon you and you must have somewhere peaceful and close to bear the child. I would not want your travail to happen at the roadside.’
‘I would not want it either,’ Joanna said fervently. ‘But I must have that safe conduct before I stir from this place.’
‘You shall have it. I will write back immediately.’
‘The nunnery at Cookham is only half a day’s journey; I will go there.’ She shook her head. ‘Dear God, if you had told me this would be my lot when I was a girl, I would not have believed you.’
‘I would not have believed it of my own life either, but when you are an old woman with grandchildren playing at your feet – God willing – just think of the life story you will spin for them.’
Joanna gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Perhaps, but it will be dark at times.’
‘The best tales always are,’ Leonora replied. ‘But if you are there to tell them, then you will have won through, and they will be there because of your strength – yours.’ She added the last word with emphasis and her cheeks grew pink. ‘This much I know.’
‘Not mine alone.’
‘No, but your part in it is as bright as anyone’s – perhaps brighter for what it has endured without being sung as a great deed.’
Joanna stood up. Her chest was full, swollen with emotion. ‘You will be a great queen,’ she said.
Leonora’s flush deepened. ‘That remains to be seen. For now, I am doing what I can with what is possible. I will have my scribe write to request a letter of safe conduct, and you must make preparations to leave.’
A week later, Joanna set out with her children for Cookham Abbey with a safe conduct tucked in her pouch, bearing Henry’s seal and approved by the council of barons. Leonora remained at Windsor, awaiting her own escort to Canterbury.
‘Take care and may God protect you,’ she said, embracing Joanna as they said their farewells in the courtyard.
‘And you.’ Joanna hoped she would see Leonora again, but nothing was certain.
Trying to quash her fears, she settled in the cart, adjusting the side cushions to support her spine. The journey to Cookham was only half a day, but far too long when being escorted by men who, while professional in their duty, bore no love for her husband. She felt as vulnerable as a hermit crab pulled from its shell. As the cart rolled away from Windsor, she realised that Agnes was watching her with knowing eyes.
‘All will be well,’ she said, too brightly. ‘Your father will be home soon. He just has things to do elsewhere first.’
Agnes said quietly, ‘Mama, I know the truth. I am old enough to understand, and sensible enough not to say anything to the others.’
Joanna gazed at her eldest daughter with an aching heart, reminded of herself at that age. ‘Yes, I know, sweetheart, and I am not hiding anything from you, but it is true that your father will soon be home.’
‘How soon? A week, a month, a year?’ Agnes jutted her chin.
‘Whatever time it takes, but sooner than never.’ Joanna’s tone sharpened. ‘Do not look at me like that. Truly there is nothing I know that you do not. Your father will return as swiftly as he is able but at the right moment, and until that time we must husband our resources and take each day as it comes. You are almost a woman grown, and brave – I know you will help me in this.’ She put an arm around Agnes and hugged her narrow shoulders.
After a moment, Agnes hugged her back, adding an extra-tight squeeze at the end by way of affection and apology. ‘It is so hard, Mama.’
