‘Where do you think you are going?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Off to your imaginary husband, I suppose!’
‘I would if I could!’ Jeanette retorted. ‘And he is not imaginary. You are the one who does not exist!’
He raised his whip to strike her and she did not flinch. ‘Hurt me all you want, but it will never change the truth.’
He pulled the blow, his blue eyes glittering. ‘You keep up this pretence beyond reason. If Thomas Holland was your sworn husband he would have come for you by now, but he hasn’t, has he? Hah, he ignored you at court when he returned and said nothing to the King. It never happened!’
‘You will see,’ she said with a toss of her head. ‘And you will remember this time and all the other times I told you it was true.’
He made an exasperated sound. ‘You are foolish.’
‘If I am then you should help me, for who would want such a wife in the first place?’
Returning to the manor in hostile silence, they found it in a state of upheaval. A messenger had arrived from court, and William’s grandmother was chivvying the servants and lashing out with her fearsome ebony walking stick to assert her authority. ‘We are summoned to Windsor for the Christmas season,’ she said irritably, as if it was their fault. ‘Who knows if this weather will hold, and the cart needs a new wheel.’
‘To Windsor, madam?’ Jeanette strove to flatten her joy lest it further antagonise her husband’s grandmother. ‘Has the King summoned us?’
‘Who else?’ Lady Elizabeth snapped. ‘I need not tell you that any nonsense from you will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, madam.’
Jeanette dropped her gaze while inside she was dancing with excitement. Thomas might be there, and even if he wasn’t she could still find out what had been happening. They wouldn’t be able to keep her shut away all of the time.
Arriving in Windsor, Jeanette felt as though she had been pitched into the middle of a storm. The town and the castle were bursting at the seams with knights and soldiers and hangers-on. There were armourers and harness makers, traders selling belts and spurs and daggers. Gaudy jewellery, pilgrim badges, fertility badges, hot wafers drizzled with spiced honey, eel pies, gingerbread, purses and pins, false hair, candles, pigs and poultry, and whores, cut-purses and masters of the loaded dice seeking gullible victims. Bemused by the mad cacophony, Jeanette wondered if her reaction was caused by the bucolic existence she had been living. It all seemed so noisy and sprawling, garish, with fierce colours and exotic aromas. She looked out for Thomas, but it was like seeking a particular pebble on a beach full of pebbles.
Entering the castle grounds, she was amazed to see a great circular construction in the upper ward, surrounded by scaffolding. The sound of hammering rang out and workmen toiled, red-cheeked in the winter afternoon, working on the roof shingles. The knight who was escorting them to their quarters grinned at their astonishment and puffed out his chest to share his knowledge that the King had ordered the building of a great dwelling he was calling the Round Table in which he intended to hold feasts and entertainments where deeds of prowess would be performed, reminiscent of the court of King Arthur.
‘Forty thousand oak roof tiles,’ he announced, gesturing to the men hard at work. ‘A grand tournament is to be held with twenty-four of the King’s best knights against all comers!’
William’s eyes sparkled. Jeanette wondered as to the identity of the knights, suspecting that Thomas and Otto might be among them, and her breathing shortened with anxious anticipation while Lady Elizabeth looked around with the superior air of someone pretending to have seen it all before.
Their lodgings, as usual when attending such events, were a couple of large tents, lined with rich silk and luxuriously furnished. They had been set up in the outer bailey in the lee of a wall. Lady Elizabeth wallowed out of the cart and grimaced as she landed on her bad hip, then proceeded to scold the attendants as if it was all their fault. Jeanette gave the men a sympathetic look. At least she wasn’t lashing about with her notorious stick, because she was using it as a support.
Their horses were led away to the stables beside the smithy, and the party took refreshment and exchanged their dusty garments for fresh clothes appropriate to the court. Elizabeth, her stout figure encased in dark-red wool, ordered Jeanette to wear her plainest wimple and conceal her hair. ‘Have you painted your lips and cheeks?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘They’re just cold-reddened, my lady,’ Jeanette replied. It wasn’t exactly true; a touch of the rouge pot might have been involved. If she had to wear a head covering that made her look like a nun, then she would be an exotic nun – a fallen one. The notion made her lips curl with a bitter smile.
One of Queen Philippa’s squires arrived to escort them to her lodgings in the upper bailey and William formally offered Jeanette his arm. She declined to take it, but did walk at his side.
The Queen’s lodging stood against the north wall of the upper bailey, incorporating the nursery, her private chamber, and her own hall for receiving guests and supplicants. Today the latterwas full of people drinking wine, talking in groups, and being presented.
Resplendent in purple velvet embroidered with golden squirrels, Philippa sat on a gilded chair at the far end of the chamber. The royal children attended on either side. Prince Edward and his sisters Isabelle and Joan, now twelve and ten. Five-year-old Lionel was present and three-year-old John. Edmund, aged two, were in the company of their nurses while Philippa’s ladies stood in attendance nearby, including Katerine of Salisbury.
Jeanette curtseyed to the Queen, who gestured for her to rise, and smiled warmly. ‘It is good to see you,’ she said. ‘How are you faring, my dear?’
‘I am well, madam,’ Jeanette replied, aware that Katerine and Elizabeth were watching her closely for any infraction.
Philippa leaned forward to pinch Jeanette’s cheek. ‘You look a little downcast, my dear. We shall have to feed you up and put a glow back in your complexion if you are going to bloom for your husband and give him some little ones!’ She cast a twinkling look at William, who blushed and dropped his gaze.
Jeanette pressed her lips together for want of a suitable answer and curtseyed again.
Philippa beamed, but her shrewd eyes missed nothing.
Katerine hurried Jeanette away as soon as possible while the Queen was receiving other supplicants. ‘If there is a single moment of nonsense while we are here,’ she said against Jeanette’s ear, ‘you shall be sent straight back to Bisham.’
Jeanette looked daggers at Katerine. ‘Do not worry, I shall do exactly as you expect of me.’
The words, decidedly ambiguous, made Katerine frown.
