‘Thank you,’ Joanna said with heartfelt gratitude. ‘I would be glad of your opinion.’
When the women arrived at Iohan’s bedside, he had woken from sleep but had been sick again and his fever was raging. Cecily and Sybil exchanged glances and Joanna’s heart clenched with terror.
‘I fear that he is very unwell, poor boy,’ Sybil said. ‘But we must do what we can to make him comfortable. And pray for him. Prayer is always of great value.’
Joanna sat with Iohan for the rest of the day and throughout the night. At first he continued to purge and sweat, but then the sweating stopped and his mouth became very dry. He lost the power of speech, and she cradled him in her arms and prayed desperately to God to spare his life, knowing that while God was always listening, sometimes it was not part of His plan to fulfil the desperate need of the supplicant.
She stroked her brother’s lank hair and listened to his harsh breathing. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she whispered, ‘please, please don’t leave.’
‘How is he?’
Turning, she met the worried gaze of her cousin John de Warenne, Iohan’s close friend at court. She shook her head at him and swallowed.
John crouched at the bedside and took Iohan’s hand in his. ‘Cousin, come back to us,’ he said. ‘Who will go out riding with me or challenge me at wrestling if you are not here? You must not leave.’
Iohan gave a deep, shuddering sigh. ‘Too far,’ he whispered through cracked lips.
Joanna told him about the pie, and John grimaced. ‘I was going to buy one myself,’ he said, ‘but changed my mind. I wish I had stopped him too …’ He lifted his gaze to Joanna, and they looked at each other for a long moment.
Abruptly he broke the contact and fled the chamber at a near-run, leaving Joanna startled and a little hurt that he would desert in a moment of such extremity. Perhaps he could not deal with sick-beds. Some people, even grown men, could be squeamish.
However, a short while later he returned with Brother Adam, a friar who was a familiar visitor to the royal household and a confidant of both the King and Queen. Brother Adam stooped over Iohan, putting his palm to his brow, and spoke comforting words, and then he nodded at John who took Joanna’s hand.
‘He must be shriven,’ John said. ‘We should leave the good friar to hear his confession.’
‘He is not going to die,’ Joanna said, trembling. ‘He can’t. I won’t let him.’
‘No, of course, this is just for comfort.’ John’s expression was very different from his words. ‘When Brother Adam is finished, we shall sit with Iohan and keep vigil.’
He drew her from the chamber and gently sat her down on a bench outside, and then fetched a cup of wine, which they shared in silence, for there were no words.
In the deepest part of the night, Iohan exhaled his last breath in Joanna’s arms without regaining awareness of where he was, although she had heard him whisper ‘Mama’ a few minutes earlier. Joanna’s own breath caught when she realised that his chest had ceased to move. ‘Iohan, wake up!’ She kissed his brow and patted his cheek.
Brother Adam gently touched her shoulder. ‘Come, child, his soul is in the hands of God. It is over for him now.’
‘But he can’t be dead, he can’t!’ Panicking, she surged to her feet. ‘He’s my brother! He cannot die!’
John said softly, ‘Joanna, he has gone. God has made his will known. Come …’
She let out a wail of grief and John pulled her into his arms and held her close. She started to fight him off, and then reversed her action and, gripping the soft wool of his tunic, pressed her face against his chest. It couldn’t be true; she would not allow it. She didn’t want to think about being alone in the world with yet another tree in the forest cut down.
John brought her to Cecily who gently took over and led Joanna to her chamber and sat her before the hearth while she prepared a hot tisane sweetened with honey.
‘Why him?’ Joanna demanded, lifting desolate eyes to Cecily. ‘Why not me? I would have given my life for his.’
‘I know you would.’ Cecily came to embrace her. ‘But that is not what God intended for you. For now, you remain among the living and you must reconcile yourself with His will. It is never easy, but you are strong, and you have a duty to your brother and to your kin both living and dead to go forward and make the most of your life. It is right that you mourn, but do not drown yourself in grief, for that is a sin.’
Joanna barely heard what Cecily was saying, because she was already under water.
Joanna picked away with dainty stitches at the altar cloth she was embroidering in Iohan’s honour. She had been working on the piece for several weeks before his death, but had changed its purpose, and as she stitched she added her thoughts and memories to the piece. The King and Queen had been very kind and solicitous following Iohan’s death and had wept with her, but there had been some constraint. At a stroke, Joanna had become the King’s ward and a young woman of substantial means with an inheritance that included vast swathes of land throughout England, Ireland and Wales. Suddenly she had villages, mills and castles to her name, as rich as they were diverse. Courtiers who had barely glanced at her before now deferred to her. She had a higher place at the dining trestle and finer clothes, and dealing with the situation sometimes left her overwhelmed.
She pressed her lips together, and a tear blot fell on to the linen. Cecily, observant as always, swiftly came to her side and set a tender arm around her shoulders. ‘What is it, my dear?’
Joanna shook her head. ‘Iohan should not have died,’ she said miserably. ‘I saw it in my father’s eyes when he stood at the graveside. He wished me dead in his stead. It is all my fault.’
Cecily gave her a swift shake. ‘None of this talk! God decided that you should be female and it is an honoured position, not a lesser one. Straighten your spine and face the future head on. I will hear no more of this foolish nonsense! God has chosen you for this position just as He has chosen to take your brother to his bosom. You must stand in your brother’s stead and do as he would have done.’
Chastened, Joanna nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
