Thomas grimaced. ‘I can say nothing. I am bound to secrecy and I would be breaking my trust if I told you what it was. We won’t be gone long.’ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Jeanette kissed him back. ‘Just come back to me,’ she said. ‘I have spent so much time waiting for you, I do not want this to be all we have.’ She could not keep the anxiety from her voice, remembering nine years of separation and heartache, but she could not confine him. If you hooded and leashed a hawk that needed to fly, you destroyed its very nature – as had almost happened to her.
Jeanette watched her husband for a few moments as he checked the contents of his satchel.
‘I wish I was going with you,’ she said.
‘Hah, you would be too much of a distraction,’ he replied with a laugh.
On impulse, she went to her sewing box, took out her shears, and going to the chemise she had worn yesterday that was awaiting the laundry maid, purposefully cut a large square from the area over the left breast. ‘This is my heart,’ she said. ‘Carry it with you when you go.’ She pressed the piece of cloth into his hand.
He looked down, then raised it to his lips and kissed it, before tucking it down inside his shirt. ‘I carry all of you for ever, my lady wife,’ he said. ‘Do not worry, we shall return before you even know we are gone.’
The King and his entourage departed the following morning before sunrise. Horses circled in the courtyard, breath steaming in the frosty air. There were a few carts and sumpter nags, but most of the supplies awaited at the port. The assembled men were keen to leave to catch the morning tide and all necessary farewells had been said in the night.
They took the Dover Road as the day dawned in a peep of paler grey on the eastern horizon. Jeanette watched, dry-eyed, until they had gone, then returned to her chamber to change her clothes for mass. Looking through a coffer for a fresh chemise, she noticed the folded pile of soft linen cloths used for her monthly flux and bit her lip. She looked at Hawise, who looked back at her. She pressed her hand to her belly. She had not experienced any symptoms and it was still early to think she might be with child, but her bleeds were usually regular, and she and Thomas had been making up for their years of lost time. She swallowed, feeling afraid. He had gone away again and she was on her own, remembering the panic of their early days in Flanders and that first missed flux. Abruptly she sat down, feeling faint.
Hawise stooped at her side, and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘It is all right, my lady.’
Jeanette gathered herself together. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I know it should not come as a surprise, because last time it happened swiftly too – but to find out when he has gone into danger . . . it frightens me.’ She gave a tremulous laugh, and wiped her eyes. ‘I do not want anyone to know – not yet, not until Thomas returns, and until I am certain.’
‘My lips are sealed,’ Hawise replied. ‘As they have always been.’
Jeanette embraced her and, distracted but determined, set about dressing to attend mass.
36
At sea off the coast of Normandy, December 1349
The evening was dark but clear as the English ships steered a course to Calais by starlight. The men’s breath whitened the air in the bitter cold. Thomas gazed towards the Norman coast, straining to see the land against the darkling stir of the sea. They were all wearing sombre colours to hide in the night.
At his side, Prince Edward blew on his cupped hands. ‘I hazard you did not think you would be sailing to Calais during the twelve days of Christmas?’ he said with amusement.
Thomas shook his head as the sea slashed against the vessel’s sides and the scent of salt whipped off the water. ‘I have learned to plan ahead, but never to assume, sire. My life has been like this boat, sailing in the dark towards a destination, but always the unknown when it comes to the landing. But yes, I would rather be warm abed with my wife or drinking mulled wine with my boots towards the hearth than sailing to war this night.’
Edward laughed. ‘You are an ambitious man, Messire Holland.’
Thomas shrugged. ‘Only moderately so. I have everything that I need. My only wish now is for your father’s goodwill.’
‘You have it.’ Edward looked at him. ‘He is not your enemy. He has accepted the match between you and Jeanette, and you have my own goodwill and support, for I know you are trustworthy and loyal. You have the ability to think, organise and deliver, and such skills are highly valuable, as my father well understands. He also desires my mother’s goodwill, and she is fond of you and Jeanette.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Thomas said neutrally.
‘I mean it. Jeanette was my childhood friend and companion. I want to see her satisfied and happy.’
‘So do I, sire,’ Thomas said.
‘The only reason I would ever turn against you was if you harmed her, or did anything to make her unhappy. She loves you with a pure and faithful heart and you will answer to me if ever you break it.’ His eyes sparked with a vehemence that Thomas recognised.
‘Sire, I love her with the same heart,’ Thomas said steadfastly. ‘We are two halves of one whole. You have my oath, even as I give my oath of fealty to you, that I will never break that trust while there is breath in my body.’
‘Then we are as one. Care for her well, my lord. She is a most precious jewel.’
He moved away to speak to someone else, and Thomas delved inside his tunic, took out the scrap from Jeanette’s chemise and drew in the scent of her body as he kissed it. He did not mind that Edward felt so strongly about Jeanette. He trusted her, and he trusted Edward, who would perforce marry elsewhere. But he felt a little sorry for him, while being glad for himself to have that powerful rock-solid support.
* * *
Under cover of the hours before dawn, the English contingent of three hundred men at arms and six hundred archers slipped into Calais, disembarking at the harbour tower controlled by Amerigo di Pavia which had a gate from the tower into the citadel.
