‘You must drink it while it is hot. I promised your mother I would care for you as if you were my own daughter. I am sorry to say I have lapsed at times, but I intend to make up for it now.’
Jeanette just wanted to curl up and be alone, but perhaps if she drank the tisane, Katerine would let her be. She sat up and sipped the brew, grimacing. Katerine watched her. ‘All of it,’ she insisted. ‘Even the dregs, for they are the part that work best. You must drink another cup of this after dark, and when you wake in the morning, all will be well.’
Shuddering, Jeanette finished the tisane. The gritty dregs in the bottom made her retch, but Katerine gripped her shoulder. ‘None of that now. You must keep it down or it will not work.’ She gave her a box of sweetmeats and made her eat a small piece of sugared ginger. ‘Rest now, and I shall return later.’ She touched Jeanette’s cheek with her fingertips. ‘A word of advice. You may dislike me, but you will discover for yourself as you grow what it is to be a woman in this world, and that we must deal according to our resources, and turn them to our advantage.’ Rising from the bedside, she took the cup and departed in a whisper of silk.
Feeling heavy and lethargic, Jeanette closed her eyes and slept. Katerine returned soon after dusk with a second dose of the tisane and Jeanette was so groggy that she could barely sit up to drink it and soon fell into a deep, drugged slumber. Towards dawn, she awoke to griping pain in her lower abdomen. Staggering from the bed, she managed to reach the latrine, and as she sat over the hole, her bowels voided themselves in a sudden, agonising plummet. Pain expanded through her lower back and became a griping, constricting agony. And then red, sticky heat between her legs. She lifted her chemise above her waist, looked down and screamed.
Hawise appeared at her side with a candle, her eyes enormous.
‘Help me,’ Jeanette whimpered. ‘Dear God, Hawise, help me! What is happening?’
Hawise stared. ‘My lady, your flux has come!’
Countess Katerine arrived and her nostrils flared at the stench of faeces and blood. ‘Go and fetch Mistress St Maur,’ she commanded Hawise. ‘Quickly and quietly now.’
Hawise hurried away and Katerine gripped Jeanette’s arms. ‘Come now,’ she said. ‘In order to balance your humours, you first have to purge out the bad ones until nothing remains.’
Consumed by fiery pain, Jeanette was beyond responding. Lady St Maur arrived and, clucking her tongue, took charge.
‘Not a word of this beyond this space,’ Katerine said to the woman as they exchanged glances, and Lady St Maur nodded her head in complicit agreement.
‘Come, come, Jeanette,’ Lady St Maur soothed. ‘I know it is bad now, but it will ease soon.’ She turned to Hawise. ‘Have a bowl of warm water ready and your lady’s flux cloths, and more to spare.’ She examined Jeanette again. ‘There now, the worst is over. You will bleed for some days but your womb will settle down, and you will be better.’
Jeanette moaned and shook her head, certain that she wouldn’t.
Between them the women helped Jeanette to a freshly made bed, and dressed her in a clean chemise, with a wad of flux cloths placed between her legs to absorb the blood. She felt weak and sore and empty.
‘Sleep now,’ Katerine murmured, stroking Jeanette’s brow. ‘We shall watch over you, and as I promised you, all will be well.’
Jeanette wanted to pull away in disgust from Katerine’s cool, long-fingered touch, but she lacked the strength. ‘No, it won’t,’ she whispered. She knew she had lost the child. That her dilemma was solved should have filled her with relief, but there was only shock and misery and pain. She turned her face to thewall and closed her eyes, and let the tears come as the blood trickled slowly into the flux cloths.
11
Hertford, Hertfordshire, May 1340
In England, King Edward was assembling a fleet to return to Ghent, bearing troops, money and supplies for his campaign against France. Thomas had spent the last three weeks recruiting and acquiring men and provisions. His particular skill for logistics had been tested to the limit, but he had enjoyed the challenge, and risen to it. He realised how much he had been stagnating in the smaller pool of guarding the Queen and her household. He was also aware that had he been able to stretch himself, he might not have failed the test of temptation with Jeanette that had led them into a scrape that would probably sink his ambitions and perhaps end his life.
Summoned to the King’s presence soon after morning mass, Thomas was as tense as a primed bowstring. He dared not speak of marrying Jeanette just now, while the business was all about their return to Ghent. The matter had to be approached delicately at the right moment. Edward had recently received bad news that his close friend William Montagu, Earl of Salisbury, had been captured by the French during a reconnaissance manoeuvre and was being held for ransom, and his mood was dour.
Thomas arrived to find the King seated at a table with a jug of wine and a loaf of bread. ‘Sire,’ he said, kneeling and doffing his hat.
Edward gestured for him to rise but did not invite him to sit. ‘You have done well,’ he said. ‘I am pleased with your work and how swiftly you have accomplished your tasks. It is rare to find a fighting man who can think like a clerk, a staller and a ship master all in the same parcel.’
‘Thank you, sire,’ Thomas said, pleased that his skills had been noted.
‘I have more work for you before we embark, but you may see my officials for my requirements. If I have summoned you, it is to give praise where praise is due. I always pay such debts to those who serve me well. However, there is another matter that greatly concerns me.’
‘Sire?’ Thomas hoped he did not look as guilty as he felt.
‘Disturbing rumours have come to my ears regarding your familiarity with my young cousin Jeanette of Kent. It is neither seemly nor suitable for you to take an interest in the young lady. She is a valuable asset to me when it comes to making alliances. Reports of untoward behaviour have been regarded with dismay by certain interested parties. Your duty is to protect the women in the Queen’s care, not take advantage and compromise their integrity, no matter how delectable they are, and no matter how much they tease you. My cousin is not innocent in this I suspect, and wilful enough to create a reputation for herself in order to escape a match of which she does not herself approve. My order to you is to distance yourself forthwith, so neither she nor your career are compromised – nor your family name.’ He gave Thomas a fierce stare. ‘I know you understand perfectly well what I mean.’
Thomas’s stomach knotted as he wondered how much the King actually knew. If he spoke up, without a doubt he would bethrown into the sea in a sealed barrel and it would do nothing to aid Jeanette’s position. He returned Edward a wide-eyed look that he hoped passed for innocence, and swallowed hard. But he did not protest the accusation.
Edward nodded curtly. ‘There are plenty of ladies at court who are not out of bounds and who I am sure will accommodate you. All men have to sow their wild oats, but they must do so appropriately, and let that be all I need to say.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Thomas said. How on earth was he going to broach the subject of his marriage now? Dear Christ.
Edward waved in dismissal. ‘I leave you to your duties, and I shall hear your report in due course.’
