‘No, mistress, the work has mostly been yours.’
She flushed at the compliment. ‘I am going to name him Frederick,’ she said, ‘for the emperor who wrote the treatise on falconry. I have been reading the Queen’s copy.’ She secured the falcon on his perch and stepped back to admire him.
‘A fitting name, demoiselle. I was thinking that perhaps he is ready to be taken up on horseback and ridden out?’
Their eyes met in simple friendship. ‘I would like that,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
‘At a time mutually agreeable then.’
The King’s falconer arrived as they were leaving the mews, carrying his master’s white gyrfalcon on his glove – a magnificent creature, fierce and proud with plumage gleaming like icy snow.
‘Do you know the legend of Saint Bavo to whom this convent is dedicated?’ Thomas asked.
Jeanette shook her head. ‘No, sire, I do not.’
‘He was accused of stealing a gyrfalcon and condemned to death, but on the day of his execution the missing bird appeared and flew down in front of his judges to prove his innocence; ever since, he has been the patron saint of falconers. It is said to have happened exactly where we are standing, and there has been a mews on the site ever since that time.’
Jeanette looked round, seeing their environment with new eyes. ‘You have a veritable store of tales and legends,’ she said.
‘Everyone should. Stories stir men’s minds, hearts and souls until they become part of it. And then they live in the tale and the tale lives in them – and both become immortal.’
His complexion brightened as he spoke, and Jeanette’s heart flooded with warmth. She understood precisely what he was saying. ‘Then let us have many tales of our lives,’ she said, ‘and let us be magical.’
He bowed to her again, and took his leave, and she watched him go with a new and tender feeling in her solar plexus. Hawise hurried to her side, for, while waiting, she had been talking to John de la Salle, and her own cheeks were pink.
Jeanette returned to the Queen with her mind in a dream. Her relationship with Thomas had changed as they worked together with the birds; she was no longer a silly girl ogling his looks and giggling with the other young women. They were well past that stage. He talked to her as he would to a grown woman of the court, and with the natural camaraderie of a mutual interest – as a friend. But it was more than that. It was like thetension in the air before a thunderstorm. Before the lightning struck the dry grass and set it ablaze.
That night when she prayed, she asked the Virgin and St Bavo to let her have Thomas instead of Armand d’Albret, and swore she would give anything to make it come true – absolutely anything.
‘You know the King is planning his cousin’s marriage to the son of Bernard d’Albret,’ Otto said.
The brothers were sitting at a table in the guardroom after Thomas had returned from checking the men on duty and ensuring their diligence. Thomas’s knight Henry de la Haye was with them.
Thomas poured a fresh cup of wine. ‘Yes, of course. The messengers set out before he left. What of it?’ He lifted the cup and drank. The King had departed for England three weeks ago, leaving the heavily pregnant Queen as surety for his return with arms and supplies.
‘Tongues will start wagging if you keep on riding out with Jeanette of Kent.’
Thomas lowered the cup and gave Otto a hard look. ‘I do not,’ he said shortly. ‘We have been out on horseback once a week at the most to accustom her new falcon to being carried thus. It’s not ready to fly in a big hunt yet but they are doing well. And we always have an escort.’ He gestured to Henry de la Haye.
‘That is true.’ The young knight lifted his own cup in toast. He was mildly drunk. ‘I can say, hand on my heart – or any other part you wish – that nothing untoward has gone forth.’
‘And you spend time in the mews too,’ Otto said doggedly. ‘People notice.’
‘There is nothing to notice, and “people” should mind their own business,’ Thomas snapped. Otto was treading on sensitive ground. What had begun as an amusing flirtation to while awaythe time had developed over the past weeks into something far more intimate and dangerous. He enjoyed her company, and looked forward to their rides together and the training sessions at the mews more than he should. He could not imagine her married to some boy in Gascony. The matter was not yet set in stone for the King baited many a hook to see what he could land, and would sometimes toss back the catch, but it was looking very likely.
Otto shrugged. ‘I do mind my own business, brother, but I always tell you the truth as I see it.’
‘Well, now you have.’
‘I hear there’s a new girl at the Gilders,’ Henry spoke up. ‘Yellow hair to her arse, and a grip inside like a wet velvet glove.’
Thomas refreshed his cup. ‘By all means try her out then, but when talk flashes around about a new girl, she very quickly becomes not so new!’
‘I’ll take that chance.’ Henry stood up and waggled his brows at Otto. ‘Want to come, are you up for it?’ he asked with deliberate innuendo.
Otto drained his cup. ‘I’m always up for it! What about you, Tom?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘I have duties to attend to,’ he said, ‘but you go and enjoy yourselves.’
