Joanna inclined her head, and behind her agreeable expression felt bitter. De Montfort had taken her best horses from Westminster. Now de Clare was appropriating a costly falcon in which she had invested much training. However, this was no chance visit; something was afoot. Better to grease the wheels than break them. ‘Fortunate indeed,’ she said drily. ‘Come and have some wine.’
‘I noticed the corpses on the gallows as we rode in,’ he remarked as they entered the manor.
‘It’s a deterrent. They caused a disturbance on market day and then tried to rob my mill. I have no desire to see bodies hanging in the wind, but it sends a message to others who would disturb my peace, and the villagers approve. They are loyal people, and loyalty matters these days.’
He flushed. ‘Quite so.’
She ordered the best wine to be brought from the cellar, together with bread, cheese and dried fruit. Weazel arrived to inspect the visitor and then sat on the sill in the sunshine to wash his paws. De Clare eyed the elderly cat sidelong with a fastidious grimace.
‘How is your wife?’ Joanna enquired pleasantly, his wife being William’s niece Alais, daughter of his oldest brother. ‘And your daughters?’
‘Alais is well enough,’ Gilbert said gruffly. ‘And the girls are in good health, although it is a pity neither of them are boys. Alais has been recently churched and hopes for a boy next time.’ He spoke indifferently, stating the details to get them out of the way and making it clear he had no interest in pursuing the subject. The marriage had been arranged when he and Alais were children and no love had grown from it. ‘Have you heard from your husband?’ he asked as they sat down.
‘Communication is difficult, but I understand he is busy on his estates in the Limousin,’ Joanna said, immediately on her guard. She pushed the platter of cheese towards him. ‘Of course, you must know this, so forgive me for being curious.’ She spoke courteously, and managed not to imbue her words with scorn or venom.
‘There are certain matters of diplomacy I want to discuss with him. Matters pertaining to the future, and where a man might fix his gaze and where he might not.’ He cut himself some cheese.
Joanna raised her brows. ‘What are you saying, cousin? Let us have this clear between us.’
He paused for such a long time that she wondered if he was going to reply, but at last he looked at her. ‘I have been having second thoughts of late. You speak of loyalty, but what do you do when you find that your loyalty has been ignored or misplaced, or paid back in false coin? Do you stay in that position and watch it grow ever more stained and corrupt, or do you step back and admit that you were wrong?’
Joanna’s heart began to beat swiftly. ‘I would do as my conscience bids me.’
Gilbert de Clare’s position in de Montfort’s regime was pivotal, and his Marcher lands of strategic importance. If he changed his allegiance then the whole balance of power would alter. However, his loyalty and conscience were both attached to his own gain. He might be disgruntled by de Montfort at the moment, but it could not be taken as carved in stone. It was, however, an opportunity worth a prized falcon.
She met his gaze, and to his credit he did not look away. His eyes were a striking shallow green with brown flecks, and he had thick eyelashes as gold as straw stubble.
‘Pembroke,’ he said. ‘You are lady of Pembroke, but it is in my custody as matters stand.’ He refreshed his cup. ‘However, if my attention lapsed, and if I were to leave the castle unmanned, then who knows what might happen.’
‘You would do this?’ Her piece of bread almost stuck in her throat and she had to swallow hard.
Gilbert drank again. ‘I have debated long on the matter. I would not have visited you otherwise.’
‘But even if Pembroke lacked a garrison, your other lands still stand between it and England.’
‘But I might not be there either to prevent anyone from travelling across them. Of course, it is late in the year now, and much may happen before the spring, but you remain my dear cousin and neither you nor your husband are my enemy.’
Joanna dipped her head. ‘That is reassuring indeed, but I will not mince words with you. We have been enemies in the past and until recently I did not have reason to believe otherwise.’
He smiled thinly. ‘We have seen things differently, it is true, but we are kin and times have altered. Changes are afoot, and I wanted to assure you that you are my dear cousin and I desire to become better acquainted with you and your lord in due course to our mutual advantage. I shall send messengers to him, but I wanted to let you know also.’ He drained the wine and stood up. ‘Your subterfuge with those carts of wool – it was talked about for a long time at court.’
She lifted her brows. ‘The duplicitous cunning of women no doubt.’
His lips curled with reluctant amusement. ‘It may have been remarked upon.’
She suspected that despite his apparent humour he agreed with the statement, but she said nothing as she accompanied him back to the mews, to arrange the handover of his new falcon.
‘Look after her well,’ she said as he took the young peregrine on his wrist and covered her eyes with a plumed hood.
‘Indeed, I shall, and I thank you for your generosity. I hope we shall hunt together in better times.’
‘Indeed, my lord,’ Joanna said, hoping no such thing.
She waved him and his troop on their way and then returned to the manor to write to William and Leonora.
41
Pembroke Castle, Wales, Spring 1265
