He pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, and when he looked up again, discovered that Otto was looking at him.
‘Brother,’ Otto said, and was then seized by another heavy coughing fit. Thomas rushed to prop him up on the pillows and had the tisane ready at his lips. Hawise joined them, bleary with sleep, a shawl around her shoulders.
‘No buboes,’ Thomas said, having checked again, ‘and I fancy he is not as hot as he was before.’
Hawise tested Otto’s forehead against the back of her hand. ‘I think you might be right, thank God.’
Otto slept again, and Hawise took over the watch from Thomas who went to attend to his bursting bladder and then to lie down wrapped in his cloak. He felt as if his vision was filled with sawdust, and his own throat was gritty and sore, the more so when he wept with delayed reaction and relief, choking as he tried to suppress his sobs.
Over the next few days, Otto made a slow recovery and managed to leave his bed and sit by the fire, though still riven by a hacking cough. By this time, Thomas and Henry de la Haye were both suffering from the same malaise. Hawise and John de la Sallewere less badly affected and cared for everyone else, although Otto seemed to have had the worst of it.
No one developed the dreaded buboes of the great pestilence, but the malaise still proved to be debilitating, and although everyone gradually recovered, they were left with the legacy of a gravelly cough and weak exhaustion. It was several weeks before they were well enough to face the return journey to England. Seeing the daily procession of shrouded corpses through the streets as they left Avignon, Thomas knew how fortunate they were to be among the living – for now – and gave great thanks to God, while wondering just what they might find on their return.
31
Royal Manor of Otford, Kent, January 1349
Jeanette admired the silver cup Edward had just presented to her as a New Year’s gift. Her name, ‘Jeanette’, was engraved upon it, and beneath it a little dog in the shape of Nosewyse in hot pursuit of a rabbit. He had bestowed fine New Year’s gifts on others too, including a silky grey palfrey for his mother, and cups and gems for his siblings and friends, but his thoughtfulness to herself melted her heart.
‘For my favourite cousin,’ he said, his eyes bright with pleasure, and he kissed her on the lips. It was an easy thing, not beyond friendship, and made her feel happy and warm and loved – emotions that were sparse in her life.
‘Thank you, sire, I shall drink from it every day and think of you,’ she said.
‘And I shall think of you drinking from it, and be glad,’ he replied, and moved on to present a pair of embroidered gloves to William, sitting beside her. William received them with gratitude, and showed them to her.
‘They are very fine,’ she said with polite courtesy. ‘They will suit you well, my lord.’
They had reached an understanding. In public they fulfilled the roles expected of them as the Earl-apparent of Salisbury and his wife, performing with dignity, and distance. The former heat and violence had departed their relationship, leaving impersonal strangers trapped in a marriage neither of them desired. But William refused to actively defy his mother and grandmother, and so they waited. If it came to the worst and the Pope rejected Thomas’s petition, this, Jeanette knew, was the best they would ever have of their union.
Jeanette had remained at court since the summer in the Queen’s household, mostly at Langley with the royal nursery. For the winter feast, the court had moved to Otford, everyone dwelling in fear of the great pestilence and wondering where it would strike, and if they were next.
The King had been making plans to renew his campaign against the French, but the truce had been extended because of the devastation wrought by the pestilence. So many had lost their lives. Fields were going unharvested and untilled. New graveyards and cemeteries were being opened to accommodate the dead, often in mass graves. Along with Princess Joan and the baby William, the Archbishop of Canterbury had succumbed to his years, and his successor had died of the pestilence before he could assume office so they had no senior ecclesiastical leader in England. Sometimes Jeanette felt as though they were sailing off the edge of the world in a rudderless ship.
She had heard briefly from Thomas, who had been serving in Calais with the King’s troops but had sent her a message via her brother, that all was progressing well, and she should be hearing from Master Heath on a few final matters and that Master Beverley might want to speak with her again to clarify a few minor details. That had been in late autumn, and she had heard nothing since. Thomas and Otto had then been sent home to their family’s estates, and the court was in a diminished statebecause of the pestilence. For all, it was a matter of waiting out the sickness and hoping that God would be merciful.
Master Heath finally arrived at Otford to talk to Jeanette. He looked worn and tired, his features drawn, but he was stoical as he sat down with her to go over her testimony again. Once more, a little impatiently, she gave him her evidence, and swore to its truth.
Master Heath pursed his lips and consulted his notes. ‘It emerged at the court hearing that you had been with child when you wed Messire Holland, yet you said nothing of this to me. Is this true?’
An icy burn shivered her spine and she gripped the edge of the table, feeling dizzy. Master Heath looked round to summon assistance.
‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘I am all right. It is a memory I have tried and tried to forget. I did indeed believe myself to be with child and it was one of the reasons for our marriage. The Countess of Salisbury gave me a herbal tisane to balance my humours, and it brought on my flux. The Countess wished to avoid a scandal, for she was my guardian in lieu of my mother, and she wanted me for her own son because of my royal connections and dowry. She and my mother turned rumours of Thomas’s death on crusade into truth to further force me into marriage with William Montagu. If I must, I shall travel to Avignon myself and state all this in person.’
The clerk was staring, pen poised. Master Heath nodded to him. ‘Write this down,’ he said.
Jeanette stared at her tightly clenched fists, her eyes prickling.
‘I think you will win your case,’ Master Heath said. ‘The opposition is standing on quicksand, and the evidence for themarriage being valid has the greater veracity in the scales. I was not certain at the outset, but now I am convinced.’
‘Neither I nor my true husband would have put ourselves through all of this danger and unpleasantness had we not been truly wed,’ Jeanette replied. ‘My husband could easily have found a new bride with the ransoms he gained in battle had he wished, and even if I am the King’s cousin, I would not be worth the fight he has had to sustain to come this far. For my part, I could have dwelt in power and contentment as the future Countess of Salisbury, and been feted at court, instead of being locked in my chamber for months on end.’ Her voice grew fierce with determination. ‘Every day I pray to God to finish this soon, and grant that Thomas and I may be together. We shall never stop fighting until justice is done – and I hope that is true for our lawyers also.’
‘Of course, my lady,’ Master Heath assured her. ‘You are courageous, and you deserve that courage in your legal representation.’
He gathered his materials together and was bowing to leave with his scribe when Katerine walked in. Jeanette recoiled. She wondered if the Dowager Countess had been listening at the door. Master Heath bowed urbanely. Katerine inclined her head.
‘Stay a little while, Master Heath,’ she said. ‘I have some new sweet wine of Cyprus you would enjoy.’ She firmly took his arm and ushered him to sit down again. ‘I know you are here to take my daughter-in-law’s deposition, and I will not interfere with that, but I thought you might have news of the world beyond the court. Is it truly as bad in France as we hear?’
He had no choice but to accept her hospitality, although his body was stiff and self-contained.
