‘If they see us or discover what we are about,’ Walter Manny said, ‘they may abandon the attack and try again on another occasion.’
‘Yes, we need to be inconspicuous, but with sufficient numbers to be effective, and we should muster now,’ said the King.
Thomas had been calculating how many troops they could gather at short notice, and how much equipment. ‘We should wear the clothing of the ordinary folk so as not to draw attention to ourselves,’ he suggested, ‘and if we take horses they should look like ordinary beasts to the casual eye, perhaps being brought in by a horse dealer.’
The King nodded his approval. ‘That is a fine notion, Thomas.’
‘And if we have to bring in equipment, we should put it in chests and bags and make it seem that we are traders in ordinary items.’
A general rumble of assent followed his suggestion, and the King nodded again. ‘We should begin preparations immediately. Thomas, see to the horses. Make sure they are not groomed for the next two days. William, find chests and bags for the equipment that will not look out of place. Edward, set your men to acquiring some plain, common clothing – nothing too new, but not so old and ragged that it will draw attention. Let the owners be compensated and sworn to silence. Tell them it is for a Christmas jape that the King is concocting, and intended as a surprise they are not to spoil. All of you go about your work quietly. No one must know beyond your own trusted enclave for no hint of this is to reach the French.’
The King turned to di Pavia and put his arm across his shoulders. ‘Eat and drink, take some sleep, then return to your post in Calais.’ He signalled to his senior squire. ‘Robert will attend to your needs and find you comfortable quarters.’ He gave the youth a subtle signal to keep a close eye on di Pavia, before addressing his knights again: ‘Go back to dinner and finish your meal. Say nothing of this and we shall reconvene at compline, and begin planning our strategy.’
* * *
Jeanette looked up as Thomas slipped quietly back into his place and picked up his goblet as though he had just come back from taking a piss. She noted the others, including Prince Edward and his father, returning too.
‘Well?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Just some business on which the King wanted advice.’
She raised her brows, wondering since when had drawing his senior knights away from a Christmas Eve banquet been a matter of nothing. ‘Business,’ she echoed with a straight face.
Thomas returned her look blandly. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘business.’
Over the next few days Jeanette became increasingly aware that something was afoot. After the feast on Christmas Eve, Thomas had escorted her to their chamber, told her he had matters to attend to, and had departed forthwith, not returning until the small hours, and saying nothing about where he had been. She knew he would not tell her, no matter what wiles and persuasions she attempted, so she let him be. Efforts to find out from the maids and servants produced tantalising crumbs, but no nutrients, and the Queen herself made it clear that tattlers would be severely punished.
There were comings and goings at all hours of the day and night. She saw people walking the corridors at unusual times and conspiratorial glances exchanged between certain of the men. She saw Thomas sitting on a wall talking intimately with his archers and serjeants. She came across people wandering about with bundles of clothing. One afternoon, returning to fetch her book of hours, she heard voices in their chamber and paused at the door, to hear Otto saying to Thomas that it was irritating to have to dull their fine armour and remove all the embellishments.
‘Pretend we are young knights again, setting out on our life’s adventures,’ Thomas said. ‘It will be like the old days when we kept our kit simple and sharp, and were eager for the fray.’
Jeanette heard Otto give a snort of grudging amusement.
Then Thomas said on a quieter, reflective note, ‘We were just young men out for the chance when I set eyes on Jeanette on that ship to Ghent.’
‘Hah, and look where that got you!’
‘Two stolen hearts, exchanged each for the other,’ Thomas said, and Jeanette almost melted.
‘You’re impossible – both of you! Look, I can’t take this dagger sheath, it’s too decorated.’ Beneath Otto’s complaint, Jeanette heard the relish of anticipation.
Jeanette quietly tip-toed away. Her book would wait.
That night, when she and Thomas retired to bed, she noticed a leather baggage satchel on which was placed a clean shirt and a serviceable brown tunic that she recognised as Duncalfe’s.
Thomas emerged from the latrine, hitching his braies. She indicated the satchel. ‘So, this is the big secret, is it?’ she asked. ‘This is the thing that does not exist?’
He looked at her and sighed. ‘It won’t be for long.’
‘And just when are you leaving?’
‘Tomorrow, when the tide turns. It must be done; we cannot delay.’
‘But it is too secret to tell wives – and it is going to involve fighting, and pretending you are common men?’
‘How do you know that?’ he demanded.
‘I overheard you and Otto in our chamber earlier today – I came to fetch my book. I was not deliberately listening, and I left you to it, but I am not foolish.’
