6
Palace of Westminster, May 1242
Under Willelma’s watchful gaze, Joanna carefully folded one of the Queen’s gowns and laid it in a travelling coffer, layered with sweet-smelling herbs. The blue silk robe was loosely cut, and light for a hot southern summer and the last months of pregnancy. The court was moving to Gascony for the King had disputes to settle with the French and other business to conduct. The Queen was accompanying the King, for they both desired their third child to be born in Gascony to further their claim to the lands. Edward and his little sister were remaining behind with Sybil Giffard and her husband. Joanna had half expected to stay too, but the Queen wished her to perform tasks and run errands for those less agile. ‘No one else folds as quickly and neatly as you do, or reads with such a sweet voice,’ she had said.
‘You have never crossed the Narrow Sea and seen the lands of France, have you, Joanna?’ the Queen asked. She was sipping a tisane and sitting with her feet propped up on cushions.
‘No, madam.’
‘This will be a true adventure for you then.’ Alienor’s eyes glinted with mischief. ‘Cecily is a fine tutor but she cannot teach you all you need to know about womanhood.’
Joanna’s cheeks burned. The Queen enjoyed matchmaking and adored tales of valiant knights and virtuous ladies. Of hidden smiles and the whisper of a silk gown slipping through a doorway. Of great deeds and courtly pleasures.
‘What you are told is well and good,’ the Queen continued, ‘but you must have practical experience too.’
She beckoned to Willelma who came stiffly to her, rubbing her sore hip. She was a good ten years older than Cecily with a crop of silver whiskers sprouting on her chin. Her faculties were sharp though, and she missed nothing that went on in the Queen’s chambers, even if she could no longer see well enough to thread a needle. Caring for the Queen was her sole reason for life, and she was protective, always observing the other ladies in the chamber to ensure they did not shirk their duties. In her charge, hanging from her belt were the keys to the household coffers, the linen press, the spice box and the Queen’s jewel casket.
‘Now,’ Alienor said to Joanna, ‘I have decided to entrust you with some of my keys. I have had duplicate ones made to Dame Willelma’s so that if a lady requires linen from the fabric press, or needle and thread, she need not trouble Willelma if she is busy, but may come to you. I expect you to note who asks and what is taken, but the duty shall be yours. I am depending on you to do it well and honestly.’
A sunburst of delighted surprise expanded inside Joanna, and she dropped in a deep curtsey. ‘Thank you, madam! I will do my best!’
‘I know you will, and that is why I am recognising and rewarding your service.’ The Queen picked up an embossed leather belt, to which was attached a chatelaine’s ring holding three new, shiny keys. ‘Do this well for me and you shall have more authority in due course. You shall answer to Dame Willelma. Do as she tells you and ask if you have any concerns.’
Striving not to appear flustered, keenly aware of the sharpness underlying Willelma’s smile, Joanna took the belt and curtseyed again, accepting her new obligations with a feeling of deep seriousness bordering on the sacred.
Joanna was kept extremely busy over the next few days as the packing continued apace and she had to be everywhere – folding garments, checking boxes and baggage, dealing with servants, running errands, answering questions. Several ladies came to ask her for access to the fabric chest and linen closet and she had then to report faithfully back to Willelma. She suspected the first few were deliberate tests of her ability to perform the task, but she accomplished the duty well, and it gave her the confidence to become more assertive.
The court and contingents of troops arrived in Portsmouth to cross the sea and there was more supervision to do as servants loaded the baggage on to the anchored ships. Joanna gazed at the banners flapping from the masts of the moored vessels as the sailors hefted packages and barrels on board. Her stomach tightened with apprehension when she looked at the wide stretch of water glittering under the sun to the horizon, but excitement filled her too. The Thames at Westminster often carried the salt tang of the sea, and her childhood home at Swanscombe lay on the estuary, but travelling across miles of ocean on a ship was a new experience.
The King’s famous grandmother Alienor of Aquitaine had ridden to Jerusalem with an army and crossed great mountain ranges as an old woman. The young Queen herself had been Joanna’s age when she left her homeland to marry, and Joanna bore their inspiration in her heart as the ship cast off. She gripped the keys at her belt and fixed her gaze, not on the diminishing coastline of England, but on the sparkling sea-road to Gascony.
The hot May weather more resembled the middle of July as Queen Alienor rested on her bed in her chamber at the royal camp in Pons while the King met the barons of the Lusignan to discuss and deal with French encroachment upon English Crown interests. War, it seemed, was inevitable.
Joanna looked up from rubbing Alienor’s swollen ankles and feet with a lavender unguent as a squire arrived to announce that the King’s mother and the Countess of Leicester were here to pay a social visit.
Caught by surprise, Alienor hastily bade Joanna wipe and dry her feet and help her put on her embroidered shoes. Roberga hurried to bring refreshments and another maid set about plumping the cushions and smoothing covers. The musicians were summoned. Joanna retreated to the background with her sewing, ready to be called too, but hoping not to attract the attention of the Countess of Leicester now she had returned to court.
Since their return from crusade, Simon de Montfort and his wife had been staying with the Count of Burgundy. Henry, desperate for military expertise, had summoned de Montfort who had agreed to join him – for a payment of six hundred marks, citing the King’s injustice to him in the past, and his own difficult financial circumstances. Henry had acquiesced and they had patched up their quarrel, their need of each other for the moment being mutual.
The King’s mother, Isabel, once Queen of England, now Countess of La Marche, poised as the herald announced her, and then entered Alienor’s chamber, bearing herself regally as though she still wore a crown. Rising from her curtsey, Joanna saw a long-limbed, slender woman with the loosely rounded belly of someone who had borne numerous children. Her features were fine with high cheekbones and slanted dark-blue eyes. Lines of weariness and strain grooved her face, giving it a harsh aspect, although her beauty still shone through. Joanna noted the strong resemblance between her and Eleanor de Montfort, their relationship as mother and daughter clearly defined.
Isabel waved her hand as Alienor started to curtsey. ‘No, my dear, sit and rest. I know what it is like to be heavy with child in the last weeks of carrying – although my youngest is thirteen now.’
Alienor relaxed on to the bed and Willelma plumped the pillows at her back. Cushioned chairs and settles were arranged at the bedside for the visitors.
Isabel introduced her attendant ladies, presenting a lithe young woman with glorious warm-bronze hair woven in a long plait, topped by a gauzy veil. ‘My daughter Aliza,’ she said.
The girl curtseyed modestly to Alienor, but her vivacious smile hinted at concealed mischief.
Joanna and Roberga served wine and small pastries to the Queen and her guests in a slightly strained atmosphere, for the women were strangers, their common ground being Henry, who had had no contact with his mother since childhood. Isabel had returned to the Limousin soon after the death of Henry’s father, King John, and had married Hugh de Lusignan, Count of La Marche, bearing another nine children to add to the five she already had from her first marriage.
The attending younger ladies were dismissed to a different part of the chamber out of earshot while the Queen spoke with Henry’s mother and sister. Joanna settled down beside Aliza de Lusignan.
‘How long have you been attending on the Queen?’ Aliza wanted to know.
‘Four years,’ Joanna replied. ‘My brother is at court too and a royal ward. Our mother died and our father remarried and he has a second son, but I do not see them often.’ She surprised herself, for usually she was more circumspect, but she had felt an immediate, instinctive rapport with Aliza.
Aliza did not pry, but volunteered information in exchange. ‘We are here because my mother greatly desired to see her other family again. She had to leave Henry and Richard and my sisters behind when she returned to Angoulême and it has always haunted her. Four of my brothers are here too, with the men.’
