Jeanette knew, feeling sick, that he was answering not to her but to the Salisbury family, and merely paying lip service to justice. There would be no fair hearing from this.
Elizabeth accompanied him to the door, and she heard the old woman saying that every word was a lie. ‘There was blood on the sheets after the wedding night,’ she said. ‘I saw it with my own eyes and the laundry maid will attest to washing that sheet. You will find my son accords with the matter. Unfortunately, the girl has a weak mind and a tendency to muddle her facts. Make sure that your master knows this.’
‘That is not true!’ Jeanette shouted, leaping to her feet. ‘You know it is not! You are the one who is lying! If she was telling the truth, do you think Thomas Holland would go all the way to Avignon to prove his case?’
Katerine said curtly, ‘Master Heath’s representative has finished his task. He has sufficient information to make his report – do you not, sir?’
The clerk dipped his head to her. ‘Yes indeed, madam, I think everything is clear,’ he replied, and hurried out of the door, followed by Elizabeth.
Katerine gestured to two attendants. ‘Return my daughter-in-law to her chamber, I fear she is unwell.’
Jeanette drew herself up, and stood tall – taller than Katerine. ‘You know my word is true – you have always known. Unlike you, I bear no false witness.’ She shrugged off the attendants as they reached for her and stalked away from them back to her chamber.
Having seen the looks exchanged between Master Heath’s clerk and the two women, she knew they were damning her with falsehood. He would no more represent her than a fox could be trusted to keep a henhouse safe. She slumped on her bed, and began to cry.
Nosewyse came to her and pawed her skirts, and she scooped him into her arms and cuddled him, comforted, but desolate. She could imagine growing frozen and cold with despair untilshe became a tomb effigy – an unpainted one, devoid of all colour, naught but stiff folds on a slab.
27
Reading, Berkshire, February 1348
‘Sire, may I have a word?’ Thomas said to Edward as they stood on the tilting ground at Reading, taking a moment to watch the progress of the carpenters setting up the stands for the spectators. The sound of hammering carried across the field, and the smell of woodsmoke and stew from a workman’s fire. Tomorrow was the first day of the Candlemas tourney and tents were springing up like rings of colourful mushrooms around the perimeters. The lorimers and leather workers, the farriers and horse-copers were already busy with customers. Nearby, some squires were sparring with staves and the clack of wood on wood and the youthful shouts added to the melange. The February day was cold but clear and the puddles had dried up after last week’s rain – perfect weather for the sport.
‘Of course, what is it?’ Edward asked.
Thomas cleared his throat. ‘Sire, I was wondering if after the tourney you would give me leave to visit my wife.’
Edward’s expression sharpened. ‘Is that not a little provocative?’
‘I have a good reason.’
‘Which is?’
A knight rode past, testing a horse’s paces, and both men watched.
‘Jeanette did not attend court at Christmas. The Countess of Salisbury claimed she was unwell and hinted that she was with child – which I doubt.’
‘Even so, that is no reason to visit.’
‘There has been no word from her,’ Thomas persisted. ‘I have heard on good authority that the lawyer’s clerk sent to take her statement spoke as much to the Montagu ladies as he did to Jeanette. They say she is sick, but how do we know that? What if she is being held against her will and prevented from speaking? I will not be content until I see with my own eyes that she is whole and well and not being constrained. If there has been interference, then the papal court must be informed.’
Edward frowned. ‘You have heard “on good authority”?’
‘I heard it from a groom who had gone there to deliver two horses, and who spoke to one of the resident grooms. I am experienced enough to distinguish gossip from truth.’
‘Even so, whatever you suspect, you cannot just ride over to Bisham rough shod and cast accusations.’
‘I would not do that, sire.’
‘Would you not?’
‘I only want to know that she is safe and not locked away under duress,’ Thomas persisted. ‘If I were to visit under your authority—’
‘And land the blame on me?’ Edward said, but his mouth twitched.
‘I give you my solemn oath as a knight.’
Edward pursed his lips. ‘I suppose you could have done this without asking at all.’
