‘I am beginning to wonder,’ he said wryly, ‘but I suspect there is more here than meets the eye – and that you are enjoying yourself and leading me on.’
‘Well then, let me satisfy your curiosity and set your mind to rest.’ She cut open the side of a bale and returned the knife to him. Then she plunged her arm into woolly froth. ‘It’s the finest fleece,’ she told him. ‘From the flocks at Goodrich.’ She groped more deeply and eventually brought out a tight package of felted wool from the middle of the bundle. ‘Silver,’ she said. ‘There are ten packets in there, each holding ten marks.’
His eyes widened in astonishment.
She pushed the package back into the fleece. ‘I will bring needle and thread and sew this up in a moment.’
William indicated another sack. ‘How many?’
‘All of them, every single bale.’
Quiet triumph flooded through her as, flabbergasted, he puffed out his cheeks and with one hand to the back of his neck walked around the cart, mentally totalling the amount.
He looked at her. ‘Dear God, Joanna, there is enough here not just to keep us solvent but to make a huge difference to our situation. How did you manage it?’
‘A woman’s guile,’ she said smugly. ‘I led them to believe I was a sad little mouse under their hand, and I beat them at their own game.’
He laughed, then grabbed her, picked her up and whirled her round. ‘Joanna, Joanna, my clever, resourceful wife! It is a king’s ransom in truth. We can be players again with this sum.’
‘Yes indeed, but put me down! Remember what I said about not shouting it to the world.’
He immediately set her on her feet and stood back, straightening his tunic, but his eyes were sparkling and his smile was a sunbeam. Together they tugged the cover back over the bales of fleece.
‘Who else knows about this?’
‘Joli and Robert, because they helped to fetch and carry, and Mabel and Nicola. Iohan has half a notion but does not know the full story, but he is not foolish. Agnes too, I hazard, but they know it is more than the family honour is worth to say anything. John de Warenne knows, of course, and a couple of his trusted men. Indeed, I could not have done this without his help. I will tell you the story as we ride. Hugh Bigod was willing to look the other way. He is still in the de Montfort camp but not unsympathetic, and may change allegiance. He supports the reforms but he is not a natural ally of de Montfort’s.’
‘I suppose others will learn in the fullness of time. I have to tell James and Elias about the wool cart but they are trustworthy.’
‘I agree, and I leave you to tell whom you see fit, but I have more to show you first.’
He gazed at her in utter astonishment. ‘More?’
She took his hand and led him back to their chamber where she handed him her fur-lined cloak. ‘Feel the hem.’
He did so, and looked at her.
‘Gold coins,’ she said. ‘The children have silver stitched in theirs. There are jewels in my feather quilt and more coins sewn into the hems of my gowns.’ From there she showed him the silver cups hidden in the false bottom of the children’s toy chest and the coins and jewels concealed inside little William’s hobby horse. A toy carved knight and warhorse, the cavity filled with silver, and hollowed-out distaff rods full of rings and gold chains.
William stared, open-mouthed. ‘Now I am truly lost for words, save to say that before me is a massive debt I can never repay.’
‘And I would never ask you, for it is not your debt. This is my inheritance. It belongs to me, to you, to our children. Simon de Montfort shall not have it as long as there is breath in my body.’ She took his arm. ‘Come, we should be on our way.’ Her eyes shone. ‘You have business to conduct – and I have some wool to spin.’
33
Cognac, the Limousin, November 1259
Joanna gazed at the letter in William’s hand. ‘You are summoned to Paris?’
He nodded. ‘Henry wants to see me and my brothers.’
She bit her lip. They had spent the last eleven months dwelling on William’s holdings in the Limousin, being frugal in their daily lives and industrious in diplomacy, writing letters to allies and potential allies. They had corresponded with friends in England using trusted spies and messengers and John de Warenne had been keeping them reliably informed.
Reforms had been going forward, but de Montfort had delegated much of the work and was often absent from gatherings. Impatience and disillusionment had set in. A peace treaty between the kings of France and England was being arranged. Henry had agreed to renounce his claims to Normandy, Anjou, Maine and Touraine, as had his heirs. Eleanor de Montfort had at first refused, before finally, and begrudgingly, consenting.
‘Will this mean a return to England?’
William pursed his lips. ‘I do not know yet. Henry wants to see us because we are his kin and de Montfort cannot prevent it because we are not on English soil. It will be a good opportunity to observe the lie of the land and see what can be done. Even if it is not a way back, it might well be a way forward.’
