Jeanette returned his kiss and silently prayed he was right, and that they had not brought calamity down upon themselves. She turned to embrace Hawise and John, and congratulate them on their own nuptials. At least under the pretext of celebrating her maid’s wedding, she and Thomas could have their moment.
‘I am sorry this is not the grand wedding you should be enjoying,’ Thomas said as they shared a meal of bread and beef stew in a nearby ale house, ‘but I swear I will cherish you for the rest of our lives.’
They could neither hold hands nor kiss in a public place. That was all for John and Hawise, who drew the cheers and attention, but they did manage to squeeze fingers and touch legs beneath the trestle.
‘It is a finer wedding than any other I might have had,’ she said. ‘We may be marrying out of necessity, but we are also marrying for love, and how many married people at court can say the same?’
Later, when Hawise and John had retired to John’s lodging by the mews to spend their wedding night, Thomas returned Jeanette to the Queen’s apartments, but paused in the shadow of the wall to draw her against him for a long kiss. Holding her close, he stroked her face. ‘We will find a way to bring this intothe open, I swear,’ he said. ‘We have been wed before witnesses and that is what matters.’
‘I know, I trust you.’ Again, she thought of the branch in the flood.
They kissed once more with lingering hunger, before he escorted her to the door of the Queen’s domicile and told the guard they had been celebrating the marriage of his falconer and Jeanette’s maid. Having seen her safely inside, Thomas returned to his own quarters and leaned against the door, taking a moment to collect himself. His wife, his pregnant wife. He was still trying to come to terms with what he had done, and the future consequences for himself, his family and his beautiful Jeanette. He had said he would find a way. But he did not know what it was or even how to begin.
In the morning, after mass, Thomas was giving orders to the guards when a squire summoned him to the presence of his senior commander, Maurice of Berkeley.
Thomas’s stomach jinked, his first thought being that the marriage had been discovered, but the squire’s face wore no particular expression and he seemed to think the matter was routine. He followed the youth to Maurice’s lodgings and found the banneret seated at a table, a satchel of messages at his elbow. An inky-fingered scribe toiled at a lectern by the open window.
‘Ah, Tom!’ Maurice beckoned to him, poured a cup of wine, and shoved a platter of bread and sausage in his direction. ‘Orders from the King.’ He extended a strip of parchment. ‘Your services are required in England. Get your men together and find a ship.’
Thomas picked up the parchment and looked numbly at the orders.
‘It’s good news for you,’ Maurice said. ‘Better than kicking your heels here day and night attending on women. It’s anopportunity to climb another rung of the ladder since the King wants you in person.’ He gave a teasing grin. ‘You are a marked man!’
In more ways than one, Thomas thought, swallowing.
Maurice raised one eyebrow. ‘I can see your good fortune has numbed your delight.’
‘It is unexpected,’ Thomas said blankly.
‘Not really.’ Maurice cut some sausage from the platter he had offered to Thomas. ‘The King is preparing to return to Ghent but needs aid garnering supplies, and you have a particular skill for it. You will not be gone for long.’
Thomas poured and drank some wine, but ignored the food, his mind racing with the implications.
‘There’s a ship leaving on tonight’s tide – be on it.’
Thomas nodded stiffly. ‘Of course.’
He took his leave. Maurice pursed his lips and looked at the door and wondered about certain rumours he had heard. Then he shook his head and returned to work. Sometimes it was best not to become embroiled.
Thomas found Otto and Henry at sword practice with the squires. Wiping his brow, Otto gestured for the lads and Henry to continue with their sparring, and stepped aside. ‘What is it?’
‘Orders to return to England immediately.’ Thomas showed him the parchment.
Otto read what was written and shrugged. ‘Nothing for it then if it’s a royal order. I’ll take the lads off their training and begin seeing to it. Duncalfe can go to the docks and talk to the ship’s master.’ He looked at Thomas, an unspoken question in his eyes.
‘It could not have come at a worse time. I cannot leave her – dare not.’
Otto snorted. ‘Don’t talk like a fool. We have no choice. If we disobey a royal summons, we shall be obligated for far morethan just a secret marriage. Look what happened to our father when he ignored a call to arms. We are finished if we do not go, and I personally want to keep my head on my shoulders.’
Thomas knew Otto was right – the solid dog in the kennel who never deviated – and he would always speak truth to him, no matter how disagreeable. ‘Get it organised,’ he said with a brusque nod. ‘I shall talk to Jeanette.’
Jeanette gazed at the baby lying against his wet nurse’s arm. Little John of Ghent had his father’s golden-gilt hair, his mother’s smile, and he was beautiful. She still could not equate this baby before her with the idea that there was probably another such growing inside her own womb. The act of mating began in such a small way with the meeting of seed, and it was almost impossible to believe that it led eventually to this outcome. The secret of yesterday’s marriage was like that too. A seed that would grow and grow, and yet how was it to be told without the world falling apart?
The Queen summoned her to attend on her, together with Katerine of Salisbury and Lady St Maur. Leaving the wet nurse and the baby, Jeanette wondered if the Queen wanted her to rub her feet or comb her hair, but she had not sent the maid to bring her toiletry box and had dismissed the other women, so that no one else was within hearing.
Philippa’s expression was pursed and taut. ‘Messages have arrived from the King this morning,’ she said, and indicated a piece of parchment set to one side. ‘Jeanette, it seems that Bernard d’Albret has chosen not to pursue the proposed betrothal between you and his son and has informed the King that while he is not averse to negotiating a bride for his boy, he considers you unsuitable.’
Experiencing a rush of relief, Jeanette lowered her gaze, concealing her delight.
