‘And what was it about this girl that you had to go behind the King’s back?’ she asked, to the point. ‘What led you to such a rash action?’
Thomas hesitated. He did not know what to say to his mother, but he owed her a truthful answer. ‘We had lain together,’ he said, ‘and she was with child.’
She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, Thomas!’
‘It was not just lust,’ he said defensively. ‘I love her, and she is my life.’
‘And the child?’
His expression twisted. He didn’t want to think about it. ‘She lost it before it quickened – the Countess of Salisbury gave her a tisane to “balance her humours”. She was supposed to be chaperoning Jeanette; perhaps she feared recrimination, or perhaps her plans went deeper. Whatever happened, Jeanette lost the child. I had to leave to attend the King, and then I took the cross to atone for my sins. When I returned to make a clean breast of everything, I discovered Jeanette had been coerced into a bigamous marriage with William Montagu. They had told her I was dead – and that is how things now stand.’
Maude regarded him with a gaze that was half compassionate and half reproachful. ‘This is indeed a tangled web – a dangerous one too. What will you do?’
‘I scarcely know, except that we made our vows in the sight of God, and she no more desires her match with William Montagu than I do.’
‘Does the King know? Does the Queen?’
‘Not that I am aware. I have not approached them, for the time has not been right and the matter of the Montagu marriage will not be easy to resolve.’
His mother reached for her wine and took a fortifying swallow. ‘You will find it difficult to undo this coil without angering powerful people. Your life – our lives – are in their hands and we have neither the money nor the influence to fight them on their terms.’ She looked at him directly. ‘I do not know how I am going to help you with this. You may have to accept the blot on your soul and take another wife, or else live your life in silence.’
Thomas drew back abruptly. ‘I will not do that, mother. I will find a way and nothing shall stop me. I mean it.’
‘Yes, I do not doubt it.’ Her chin wobbled, but she rallied, and Thomas remembered her saying to him as a small boy watching his father ride off to war that when men set out to do battle, it did not help to see the anguish in the eyes of those who loved them. ‘I can see you are set on your course,’ she said with resignation, ‘but you are wise to be cautious and not make any sudden moves given the stakes involved for everyone.’
‘I have thought long and hard about it,’ he said. ‘I know I have caused great difficulty and upset, but I have learned some hard lessons. Nothing will come of this until I am ready to move. I will not put you or any of my family at risk.’
She raised her brows. ‘I doubt it will be your choice. The moment you do move, you will endanger us all, whatever you say. Nevertheless, I will do what I can to help you. You are my son, my flesh and blood.’
Thomas dipped his head, acknowledging her offer, filled with feelings of guilt and unworthiness.
‘Be very careful,’ she said. ‘You as well, Otto.’
Otto spread his hands and gave her his usual innocent, wide-eyed look. ‘I have tried to turn him from this course to no avail, but since he is set upon it, I shall do my best to keep him out of trouble – not that I always succeed.’ He nudged Thomas’s armand Thomas nudged him back, hard, letting the gesture serve for acknowledgement and affection.
‘I have orders for Brittany and I can do nothing before then,’ Thomas said. ‘I need to gather sworn witness documents and consult with lawyers versed in such matters. And before I can do that, I must accumulate funds to pay for their services, which means acquiring booty and taking ransoms on campaign. I also need to speak with John de Warenne, for he has the legal knowledge to guide me.’ He rubbed his face at the side of the eye patch. ‘I do not foresee an easy resolution – the Montagu family is too deeply invested not to fight, and Jeanette’s mother the same – but even so I must take up the challenge.’
His mother shook her head. ‘I will say nothing more. I know your tenacity when fixed on a desire. But, my son, be sure it is truly what you want.’
‘Yes, Mama, it is,’ he replied, setting his jaw.
19
Manor of Bisham, Berkshire, December 1343
Jeanette drew rein and waited for the falconer to join her, so that she could place Frederick on his glove. It had been a productive morning’s hunt and two pigeons and four mallards hung at the man’s saddle. The dogs were panting and ready to turn for home, but Jeanette wasn’t. Riding out on a day like this was as close to freedom as she could come and it kept her from going utterly mad. The December day was crisp and sunny even if the air was bitter. The fresh air, the frosty scent of winter and the movement of the horse beneath her soothed her raw, hurting soul. It was a great pity that her unwanted boy-husband was riding with her, but she was ignoring him, and pretending he wasn’t there.
She tried to avoid him as much as possible and he spent most of his time in reciprocation. He was mostly absent, dwelling in Prince Edward’s household, but was visiting Bisham for a couple of weeks, and to Jeanette, every hour seemed to stretch for a year. One of the reasons for his visit was the necessity of begetting an heir to secure the family dynasty, even though he had a brother. His parents desired the connection to royal blood and she and William had been married for nearly three years with no sign of offspring.
He had come to her chamber a few times, but she had lain as limp as a corpse and dissuaded him in every way possible, knowing he too had little taste for the deed, and it was only the insistence of his mother and grandmother that pushed him. The old lady kept giving Jeanette fertility tisanes that Jeanette contrived either to spit out, or swallow then visit the latrine and stick her fingers down her throat.
She had heard nothing from Thomas, but then she was stuck at Bisham, and from the little she had been able to glean he had been absent on campaign, fighting in Brittany, in Gascony and in Spain, even under the command of William’s father the Earl of Salisbury at times. Wherever there was war he had been a part of it. She was hoping he might broach the subject of their marriage with William’s father, but she had heard nothing and it was becoming increasingly difficult to believe they would ever be together. Since the only alternative was despair, she clung grimly to her hope, but it didn’t make her happy. She did not know where he was now, whether still on campaign or at home.
Tears would fill her eyes when she thought of hawking and hunting with Thomas in Flanders. The joyful companionship, and the breathless, exquisite moments by the riverside or in the woods. In her mind’s eye it was perfect. To be out on similar pursuits with William Montagu made her feel as if those moments were being sullied by a tarnished overlay of discontent.
Unable to bear the thought of returning to the manor and the gimlet scrutiny of Lady Elizabeth, she gathered the reins and dug in her heels. The mare took off with a startled snort, and Jeanette urged her on with voice, hands and heels to a swift gallop. As the ground rushed beneath the mare’s hooves, and the wind streamed past Jeanette’s face and rippled her headdress, the tight knot inside her started to unwind and she shouted with exhilaration, wishing the mare would race faster still.
Hard, fast hoofbeats thundered behind her and she knew without looking round that William was in pursuit and gaining. She urged the mare on, determined not to give in, but his horse was faster, and he drew alongside, reaching out, seizing her rein and heading her to a rearing stop so that she had to hold on hard to prevent herself from falling off.
