Emma Campion - A Triple Knot (11 page)

Joan slowed so that she might hear their host’s response.

“It is said that the Sire d’Albret cares little whether he kisses the ring of England, France, Brabant, or the Holy Roman Empire as long as his own palm is crossed with enough silver to maintain his extravagant court and fund his border wars,” Jacob said. “I believe it in my best interest to demand that, in exchange for my promise to support your cause, you provide me some
assurance that Albret’s and Brabant’s power over you will not jeopardize our alliance. They do not approve of commoners bonding together to rule.”

“Power over us?”

“I pray you forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but you
are
in debt to Brabant, at least.” Van Artevelde’s hooded eyes were inscrutable from Joan’s vantage point, but by his posture and the hint of a smile on his wide mouth she had an impression of self-satisfaction. He could not be more different from his wife, or from Joan’s first impression of him.

Where would His Grace draw the line in wooing supporters, this king to whom his barons’ and subjects’ respect and love meant everything? Honored and beloved monarchs did not lose their thrones, as his father had. How much, then, would King Edward tolerate from a commoner like Van Artevelde? Or a lord like Albret? Too much, it seemed to Joan.

She shivered and continued on. Bella’s tone was querulous as she tried to interrupt Thea’s flow of questions.

“I see that this is the lively end of the table,” Joan said as she joined them.

“Cousin!” Bella looked relieved. “Allow me to introduce you to Thea’s brother and sister.” She commanded Thea to step back and make room for Joan.

“But I—” Thea began to protest, then thought better of it and moved aside.

Cecilia, a few years younger than Thea, was a slender, rather solemn girl; Phillip, her brother, was a sturdy, pleasant-looking boy, though at the moment he seemed on the verge of falling asleep from boredom. But when Joan suggested that they all escape out into the garden, she was met with horrified looks. All three felt it an honor to be at the high table with a queen, a princess, and a lady.

The venison had just been served when Joan and Thea resumed their seats. Dame Katarina leaned over to tease her
daughter that she must not make Joan feel as if she were being interrogated.

“You must forgive Thea,” Katarina said with a smile. “She is excited to meet a young woman of royal blood. I do believe she and Cecilia expected you, Princess Isabella, and Her Grace to wear heavy crowns to the feast.”

“I assure you, Dame Katarina, I asked almost as many questions in return.”

“Good! Thea and Cecilia need practice in social discourse. You have been gracious in your responses. I noticed your reticence in describing the Duke of Brabant’s children. And I apologize for her mention of the duke’s friend, the Sire d’Albret. I noticed your discomfort at mention of him.”

Joan felt herself blush and wondered at her hostess’s admitting to such close observation. “He is an unpleasant subject.”

“My daughters have heard him described as the most handsome, most amorous noble in France, and they heard a rumor that you and he … Well, you see how silly they are. You are far too young to be mentioned in the same breath with such a man.” It seemed she only then noticed Joan’s distress. “I am as thoughtless as my daughters, it seems. I pray you, forgive me.”

It was no wonder such things were said. Joan had walked right into his snare, and to the world it would look as though she had done so willingly. But to hear her shame so widely known … “I would prefer to know what people are saying about me, unpleasant though it may be. As I would have appreciated knowing more about why he’s called the Gascon stallion before suffering his company.”

Katarina gave a surprised laugh. “That seems too amusing a description for such a man as he.”

Joan agreed. “What do you know of him?”

“That he is feared by his people, trusted even by his allies only so far as their interests align with his. That he does nothing without consulting astrologers, alchemists, and geomancers,
which suggests to me a man desperate for power yet mistrusting his own wisdom. But perhaps nobles are less wary of such guidance. Merchants put no faith in such purveyors of mystery. We are practical people, trusting in God and the fruit of our own labor.”

“I am glad to know these things.”

“Let us pray you are free to forget all you’ve learned of him.”

She won Joan’s affection with those words.

On the way back to St. Bavo Abbey, Joan and Bella shared what they’d observed, declaring their favorites. Neither cared for Jacob Van Artevelde. Bella thought Thea a bore—all those questions!—and Dame Katarina dressed above her station.

“I liked Dame Katarina’s honesty and thought her more worthy of respect than many a noblewoman,” said Joan. “As for Thea, I agree. But she’s a collector of information, like you.”

“You mean a gossip.”

“I don’t know how much of it she shares.”

“Then what’s the point?”

Joan shrugged. “How did you like Cecilia and Phillip?”

“She is a sly one, with funny names for everyone in the room. He was asleep with his eyes open throughout the feast. And he farted a lot.” They laughed.

On their return to the abbey, they knelt with the queen and her ladies before the travel altar in her chamber, praying for the king and his men. “Even now they may be preparing for battle against my uncle,” said Philippa.

Joan prayed for Thomas’s safe return, and that her experience of Bernardo Ezi was well behind her.

I
n the morning, Queen Philippa greeted Joan with unusual warmth.

“I’ve just had a message from Katarina Van Artevelde. My dear Joan, you have triumphed. You share your father’s affability. When Queen Isabella and my Edward first appeared at my parents’ court, Margaret and Edmund had just married. They were such a handsome couple, and so lively. They were the talk of Valenciennes. All their best attributes have come together in you. Countess Margaret will be proud of you. You won Katarina with your beauty and grace, your maturity and courtesy.”

“I am honored, Your Grace,” Joan said, though her heart was hammering. Such praise usually came at a cost.

“What? So serious?” Philippa reached for Joan’s hands and pulled her close to kiss her on the forehead. “She invites you and Bella to accompany her with her daughters to a local fair two days hence. Indeed, she expresses a desire for you to befriend her daughters, hoping that by your example they might grow in courtesy and grace. How say you? Is that not praise indeed? And something you might enjoy?”

“It is, Your Grace.” Despite her impression that Thea and Cecilia were all duty and no play, Joan looked forward to exploring the markets and fairs. But, considering the queen’s purpose
in Ghent, she knew that something more than befriending Thea and Cecilia was expected of her. Particularly as Bella had not been included in this conversation.

And now she saw the look that presaged a more serious discussion.

“Let us sit by the brazier, my dear.”

She was charged with learning all she could of the Van Arteveldes’ tastes, their circle of friends, their loyalties.

“It is not so difficult as it sounds,” the queen assured her. “Listen, observe, and when the opportunity arises ask questions—such as the identity of someone Dame Katarina has addressed, whose livery the messenger is wearing. Your mother has entrusted me with your training in diplomacy. Here is your first test.”

Her mother had asked for no such thing, but Joan merely nodded. It was dangerous to cross or disappoint Queen Philippa, and Joan felt the weight of this new responsibility.

To spy on those who were likely using her to spy on the queen? A delicate mission, particularly as Joan saw in Katarina Van Artevelde a potential ally against Bernardo Ezi, should she need one, considering the enmity between her husband and Brabant, and, by extension, his good friend. She must find a way to please the queen while endearing herself to Dame Katarina and her family.

“One more thing, my dear.” The queen, smiling, told her that the Sire d’Albret’s knight, Sir Olivier, awaited her in the courtyard with a gift.

Joan recoiled. “I will accept nothing from him!”

“It is meant as a peace offering, an apology, and you
will
accept it. I order you to do this, Joan. It binds us to nothing. Lady Angmar will accompany you.”

The sorrel palfrey was bright-eyed and eager for the apple Lady Angmar had given Joan to offer, delicate in taking it. Joan thanked the knight in the name of Queen Philippa, and as he
spoke she realized that she’d seen him before, most recently in the abbey church, though never before had he worn the livery of Albret. At the market and elsewhere in Antwerp, he’d dressed plainly—so that she would not know he was Lord Bernardo’s spy? She tried to tell the queen about him after he left, but she waved it off.

“It is necessary to keep the peace, dear Joan. You see? You are learning a great deal about diplomacy.”

Or betrayal
, Joan thought, biting her lip as she took her leave.

E
SCORTED BY TWO KNIGHTS FROM THE QUEEN
’
S HOUSEHOLD AND
the armed guards who accompanied the family at all times, Thea and Cecilia Van Artevelde led Joan and Bella through the city to the waterfront, where they would board a barge to take them to the fair. All the while, the girls regaled them with colorful gossip about the townsfolk. Their witty exaggerations had Joan laughing much of the way.

On board the barge, Joan chose to sit in the covered area with Dame Katarina and Sandrine, who escorted Bella everywhere, while the other girls stayed out in the sunlight flirting with the two knights. For a little while, Joan was content to drift in and out of the polite conversation, noticing the flatness of the landscape, the scents of the river. Equally of interest to her was Dame Katarina, expensively clothed in a gown and cloak of brunette, and a hat that seemed woven of peacock feathers. Such wealth. Even the barge would have been quite acceptable to the queen.

Catching Joan’s eye, Dame Katarina asked, “How do you find my two magpies? I hope they do not weary you—they have so looked forward to showing you their city.”

“Not at all, Dame Katarina. They are very funny, and they seem to know everyone in Ghent.”

Dame Katarina looked out. “They are amusing. Ah, look,
they’ve fallen asleep in the sunlight. Do you think Princess Isabella is warm enough?”

Sandrine took that as a suggestion to see to them, and went out to tuck a lap rug round the girls.

“I understand that you are pursued by the Sire d’Albret even here,” said Katarina. “That his man, Sir Olivier, presented you with a fine sorrel palfrey.”

“Her Grace assures me it is no pursuit but meant as a formal apology. How did you hear of it?”

“My brother witnessed the purchase. The palfrey is of noble lineage, like you, and impeccably trained. A costly gift for an apology. I should think it would trouble you.”

Joan nodded. “
And
the man who presented it—I believe he has followed me from Antwerp to Ghent. But to what purpose? I do not agree with Her Grace that accepting the gift binds me in no way to the Sire d’Albret.”

Katarina’s eyes widened. “I do not like the sound of this. Point this man out to me if you see him. At least when you are in my company you will be safe from him.”

Katarina’s response troubled Joan, seeming to confirm her suspicion. It stayed with her throughout the day, dampening her enjoyment of the fair, though she did her best to keep up with the others, tasting unfamiliar foods, dancing with Thea to songs in languages she did not understand, choosing colorful feathers and ribbons to present to her new friends on the journey home.

In the following week, she and Bella accompanied Dame Katarina and her daughters on a tour of the gardens of Ghent, dined with a peat baron and his four daughters, and spent a night at the country manor of a minor noble whose daughter Jacob Van Artevelde hoped to win for his son Phillip. It was on their approach to one of the gardens that Joan pointed out Sir Olivier standing beneath the eaves of a house across the narrow street. Dame Katarina had called to her guards and quietly
identified the man as someone who should be encouraged to move on whenever he was spotted in their vicinity. Not seeing him again on any of their excursions that week, Joan began to relax and enter into the enjoyment of exploring Flanders.

Queen Philippa seemed satisfied by what little Joan gleaned for her. “You have befriended the most important family in Ghent, my dear. I could not ask for more. As a token of our gratitude, I have a gift for you. It is high time you had a skilled lady’s maid of your own. Mary is ill suited to the task. Go on. Helena awaits you in the nursery.” She looked quite gratified by Joan’s surprised thank-you. “She comes highly recommended by your new friend, Katarina Van Artevelde. The young woman was trained by her sister-in-law, who married very well—a minor lord in the service of Jan of Brabant. Alas, she died in childbirth a few months past, and Helena needed a new position. Their tragedy is our good fortune. Now go! You’ve much to discuss!”

Gowns and a lady’s maid. Joan distrusted the queen’s uncharacteristic largesse. But she liked Helena at once. A pleasant-looking young woman, small, plump, and efficient, she had impressed Felice and already befriended Sandrine and Prince Lionel’s nurses. Indeed, all in the nursery seemed cheered by her arrival—except Mary, who scowled and sulked and waited for Joan to prompt her before following any of Helena’s directions.

As the days grew shorter, Joan, Bella, and the Van Artevelde girls spent more of their hours together indoors, often talking over needlework, Dame Katarina and her friends rounding out the group in a pleasant corner of the Van Arteveldes’ hall that had the benefit of southern light. How easily they all took their turns in the conversation. No one was queen here—not even Bella, with her royal title. The servants often interrupted Dame Katarina, who wore the household keys on her girdle when at home. Master Jacob sometimes paused in his coming and going to tease his daughters—he was a different man with them than
he was in public, jovial and warm. Phillip and his younger brother Jan studied with their tutor at the opposite end of the hall, often calling out to ask what had set the women laughing. Joan envied them this life of ease and daydreamed about what it might be like to wed a wealthy merchant, or a lesser knight, such as Sir Thomas.