‘Worry-wort?’
He grinned at her. ‘It means you worry too much.’
‘Do you blame me? It’s not a game, William!’
‘I know, and I hear you,’ he said, and kissed her again, but Joanna suspected he was mollifying her without paying full heed.
Boniface set down his goblet and wiped his lips. ‘The King’s Lusignan brothers have made a big difference at court since last I was here,’ he said to Alienor. ‘They seem to me to have had a detrimental influence on the King and the lord Edward.’
‘You know what the King is like,’ Alienor replied. ‘These young men are his womb-brothers. I do sometimes think he loves them beyond reason.’
Boniface raised his brows. ‘That to me is folly.’
‘I am fond of William,’ Alienor said, trying to be fair in the midst of newly kindled resentment. ‘I love Joanna dearly. I thought she might curb some of her husband’s excesses, but you are right, he is a rash and headstrong young man. I agree that my husband gives him too much privilege, and certainly he was irresponsible with Edward today. He has no heed for consequences.’
Boniface pressed his fingertips together. ‘I would hate to think of him usurping your place in the King’s counsels. It is not good to exchange rashness for service, and if your husband is giving him money, estates and favour then who is he pushing aside to do so?’
Alienor studied the rings on her fingers and nodded at the point.
‘You do not want him gaining influence over the lord Edward. Today it is just a horse, but what of the future? My dear, you would do well to look to the situation and do something about it. You need people around you with your interests at heart, not their own. All of the King’s brothers need reining in. I have heard that Aymer’s studies involve more wine, women and gambling than they do serious learning.’
‘But you can do something about it?’ she said. ‘He is clergy.’
Boniface said tautly, ‘If he does gain a bishopric he will be under my supervision and I shall keep him within my sight and under my boot. The King may have control of secular interests, but the wellbeing of the Church is my jurisdiction.’
‘Thank you for your support and advice, Uncle,’ Alienor said. ‘You have given me much to think upon. I fear I have been lax and you have made me realise I must deal with this before it grows worse. I shall be on my guard from now on.’
He patted her knee and spoke with a benevolent smile, but his eyes were hard and calculating. ‘I am here to help you and our family, and to guide the lord Edward so that he may be worthy of kingship and not be subject to undesirable influences.’
William looked out of the window on to a cold January morning. Snow had been threatening since dawn and now desultory flakes had started to fall, harbingers of a heavier burden. He had arrived at Hertford from court two days ago, for Joanna’s lying in. Sybil Giffard was coming from Windsor, a day’s ride away, to look after Joanna’s labour, but had yet to arrive, and now the snow might hamper her journey.
‘I think I’ll go and check the roads,’ William said. ‘It is not snowing too hard yet and the horse needs the exercise.’
‘You mean you do,’ Joanna said with a rueful smile.
William grimaced at her. ‘You have found me out,’ he said, but anxiety glimmered beneath his jesting. Aliza had borne a child but was no midwife. Sybil, however, was an expert in these matters, and Joanna had not had an easy pregnancy. She had been troubled by pains in her back and squeezing sensations for several days and had spent much of yesterday evening in the garderobe voiding her bowels. If he was riding out, it was because he felt so helpless sitting here twiddling his thumbs.
With William gone, Joanna sat with her feet up and drank a warm tisane. Aliza read to her from a romance of Alexander borrowed from the Queen, and Joanna smiled at the irony because it was full of tournaments, jousting and heroic deeds – all the kinds of sport banned at court.
The back pain was steadily intensifying and Joanna could not find a comfortable position. Outside, the snow continued to fall lightly but steadily. Aliza arranged a warm blanket over Joanna’s legs and had the maids light more candles. The flames danced on a little statue of St Margaret, patron saint of women in travail, emerging from the belly of the dragon that had swallowed her. Joanna had been praying to her every day since realising she was with child.
A sharper, stronger pain squeezed her belly and released. Then a short while later, another one.
‘I do not think that the baby is waiting for Sybil,’ Joanna said.
Aliza’s gaze widened, but she set the book aside and set out to be practical. Helping Joanna to bed, she instructed the other ladies to heat water over the fire and have clothes and napkins made ready.
‘I expect you still have a while to go. When I was having Alienor, it took almost a day.’
Joanna grimaced. She wanted the labour to be quicker than that, but she would also rather that Sybil was here.
Several hours later the pain had increased and the contractions were coming at close and regular intervals, strong and hard. Joanna prayed with all her might to St Margaret. William should be back by now. What if he had taken a fall in the snow? She gasped her way through another contraction, telling herself not to be foolish. He had his men with him and they would look after each other.
The gripping pain released her, and as she fell back, panting, the door opened and Sybil Giffard entered. ‘My horse cast a shoe and went lame,’ she said breathlessly as she bustled forward. ‘Your husband found us and put me up on his squire’s palfrey.’ She threw off her cloak, which glittered with melting snow.
Joanna bit her lip and could only manage a wordless nod as another contraction tightened her belly.
Sybil curtseyed to honour the statue of St Margaret and then pushed up her sleeves. ‘Come,’ she said to Joanna, ‘we have work to do.’
