Emma Campion - A Triple Knot (15 page)

“I pray you are wrong about the Van Arteveldes. I’ve arranged for Joan to stay with them during my lying-in.”

“Why? Would it not be better for Bella to have her friend here?”

“It’s for Bella’s sake that I’m sending Joan away. Since her bleeding, your cousin has suffered such nightmares that she’s upset all the nursery. I thought to give them all a respite. Bella’s already worried about me. Dame Katarina has ample room to provide your cousin with a private chamber where she will not disturb the rest of the household. Helena can tend her.”

Edward patted Philippa’s swollen hands. “Good, good. Artevelde will see her presence as an honor. Well done, my love.”

“And when I am churched we should send your cousin home. Once our Joan arrives with her entourage, we will be too crowded here. To make room, I plan to send Lady Lucienne and a few others back to England. Your cousin can join them. It is best, Edward. If we wish a chance at another, more suitable marriage for her among our allies, her absence should silence the gossip. In time.”

Heaving a great sigh, he agreed. “Her presence served its purpose. Albret saw in what high regard I hold her, what honor she would bring to his family.”

“Edward!”

“Peace, wife. I’ve come to no decision.” Edward drained his cup and looked round, at last noticing that her chamber was already crowded with her women’s cots, the birthing chair, and all the rest of the necessities of her lying-in. “I see I returned just in time.”

“Yes, I sense the birth is nigh, and we’ve much to do.” She held out her arms to him. “Come, rest beside me for a few moments.”

In the early hours, they planned several meetings for the next day. When all else was settled, Philippa handed him a sealed letter, to be opened with the children if she died in childbirth. He shook his head, pushing it away. She knew he did not want to think of the possibility of losing her. She was his anchor, his ablest adviser in matters of diplomacy, his protection against evil.

“I pray you, Edward.”

“Give this to the chamberlain, not to me. I cannot bear to see this. And you are healthy, yes? You have borne four babies without trouble.”

She stroked his forehead. “You dislike how powerless you are against nature, I know. But you must be prepared, husband. If God should choose to take me now, I will be at peace knowing that you have this safely in hand.” She tucked it into his girdle. “Put it in your scrip, then come lie down with me again—hold me before we must rise and meet the day.”

He left their bed at first light, returning shortly after Mass. “I prayed for you, my love.” He sat down in the chair she’d had brought near the bed, beside a table with the necessary documents. “Let us complete our business so that you might be easy in your mind as you withdraw for the birth of our child.”

EARLY MARCH 1340

H
AUNTED BY THE MEMORY OF A DREAM OF A SAVAGE BIRTHING
,
Joan found comfort in Queen Philippa’s serene air as she lay back against the silken pillows listening to Lady Lucienne read from tales of King Arthur’s court. The chamber had been freshened with sweet-smelling herbs and filled with bright-colored hangings and cushions. Lady Clare softly played her lute in the background. All bespoke tranquillity, comfort, sanctuary.

Every now and then, Philippa interrupted Lucienne to deliver one more instruction, particularly to Bella. The princess had suffered several nightmares of late after overhearing the wet nurses trading tales of horrifically difficult births, and had earlier beseeched her mother to permit her to stay in her chamber.

“Your sister Joan and her ladies will almost certainly arrive
while I am indisposed, Bella. You must welcome her into your bed and comfort her. From all accounts this has been an unpleasant experience for her, and she is much diminished in spirit. She will need you far more than I will.”

Bella had dabbed her eyes and shrugged. “Cousin Joan could welcome her.”

“No, your cousin cannot. Come the morrow she will bide with the Van Arteveldes to make room for your sister and her entourage. I am depending on you as the elder sister.”

Bella made a face at Joan. But her testiness was nothing against Joan’s fear. From the moment she had awakened with cramps and found blood on her chemise, she had been terrified, counting the days until she was safe in the well-guarded Van Artevelde home. Dame Katarina spoke of unusual activity at the lodgings of Sir Olivier, as if the household were preparing for an honored guest. Albret? Did he know of her flowering? Had he come to claim her?

“Of course, we might be wrong,” Katarina had said to Joan. “And it is only hearsay. But I wished to warn you to have a care.”

Now the queen was asking Joan whether Dame Katarina had been filling her head with stories about the Sire d’Albret.

“Nothing that I have not heard from others, Your Grace.”

“I advise you to weigh all that you hear against the fact of a long-standing unpleasantness between Jacob Van Artevelde and Bernardo Ezi.”

At vespers Joan, Bella, and Lady Clare left the queen’s chamber and gathered in the chapel with all the household to pray for the queen’s safe delivery. Then, for this one last night, Joan cuddled beside Bella, whispering words of comfort, doing her best not to sleep and frighten her cousin with her troubled dreams.

D
uring the night the temperature dropped precipitously, freezing the water so that in the morning the household came to a halt while sufficient water was heated for Her Grace. Bella grumbled and declared that she would lie abed until she had her hot tisane. Unable to sleep, Joan dressed in her simplest gown and accompanied Lady Clare to Mass in the abbey church. She was glad of her decision when she stepped out into the courtyard. Thick snowflakes drifted down, and though clouds obscured the sun, the morning was bright with a lacy white coating. In the church nave, the scent of incense and the flicker of torches, though offering little warmth, wrapped her in a sense of cozy comfort, quieting her mind. The nave was far from crowded, so she was able to see more of the congregants than usual, noticing the mix of elegant and threadbare cloaks, and how many were sniffling from the cold. A group of men stood in the back by the doors, haggling about something in loud whispers; two women stood near them trying to shush a wailing child. And just beyond them—Joan gasped as her eyes met those of Bernardo Ezi. He grinned and bowed to her as bells signaled the end of Mass.

Grasping Helena’s arm, Joan whispered that they must hurry out with the crowd, they must not be left behind.

“What is it, my lady? What’s frightened you?”

“The Sire d’Albret. He is there, in the back of the church, and he saw me. He knows that I saw him.”

Helena looked where Joan pointed, and crossed herself.

“What’s amiss?” asked Lady Clare.

“I’m cold,” Joan said. “Let’s hurry back to the guesthouse.”

Outside, snow blanketed the abbey grounds and came down in graceful whirls on a wind that lifted their cloaks and left them momentarily breathless. Helena, Lady Clare, and her lady’s maid exclaimed as they bent into the wind for the short walk back to the guesthouse. Cloaked against the swirling snow, Joan lifted her skirts and hurried on ahead of the other women. This would be the perfect time for Albret to snatch her, when they were busy battling the capricious wind.

Suddenly Thomas was at her elbow, startling her as he offered her his arm. “God bless you, Thomas. My champion, even in the snow!”

“You rushed out of the church as if something happened.”

“Did you not see him there? Albret?”

“In church? No.”

“He stood in the back corner of the nave. Helena saw him as well. He has come for me, Thomas. I saw it in his eyes.”

“I’ll take you directly to the Van Arteveldes. Sir Roland is at the guesthouse. He’ll accompany us. Helena can follow later.” One arm around her, he steadied her along the slippery path.

Though he was a comfort, she was relieved when they were within sight of the guesthouse, light spilling out the open hall door, and Van Artevelde’s guards, a half dozen, mingled at the entrance with the king’s men.

Inside, Dame Katarina apologized for arriving early.

“I hoped to take you away before the storm worsened,” she said. “But you went to Mass! Helena, make haste to prepare. We must leave at once.”

W
HILE
J
OAN AND
B
ELLA SHARED TEARFUL EMBRACES
, D
AME
K
ATARINA
took Thomas aside.

“Did she see Albret at Mass?” she asked.

“How did you know?”

“One of my husband’s men saw him enter the church and came to warn us. My heart goes out to her. I pray you, dine with us today. She could use some cheering, don’t you agree?”

“Of course I will come.”

Within no time Joan and Helena departed, leaving Thomas to stew about how soon he must be away. He had so little time to ensure Joan’s safety.

When he made his way to the Van Artevelde manse several hours later, the snow had ceased and the day had warmed, turning what had been a muted wonderland into a cacophony, roofs and trees dripping, the melting snow crunching underfoot. By the time he arrived at the manse, his left boot had sprung a leak and he cursed himself for a fruitless detour past Sir Olivier’s lodgings, where he’d seen no sign of life. A servant helped him off with his boots, offering him a pair of soft leather shoes for his comfort. Dame Katarina swept by to welcome him, assuring him that Joan was settling in.

“We’ve given her the visitor’s quarters, set apart with her own little parlor and bedchamber, to allow her some privacy. My daughters might else drive her back to the abbey with their constant attention.” With a flustered smile, she was off to see to something in the kitchens.

Now Jacob appeared to invite Thomas to his private office for a talk “while my wife sees that all is ready.” His welcome was carefully staged, Thomas thought, even down to his glimpse of Joan in the hall, smiling up at him from her seat between the Van Artevelde daughters. God in heaven how he loved her, how it hurt to think of her smiling so at another, how impossible it was to accept that she might marry another and be gone from his life forever.

“Lady Joan is safe here, I assure you,” said Jacob. His smile—was it truly what it seemed, knowing, slightly amused by Thomas’s infatuation? He hoped he was not so transparent.

Inviting Thomas to take a seat on a cushioned bench, Jacob settled across from him, a small table with a flagon of brandywine and costly Italian glass goblets between them. A servant poured, then withdrew. After the usual courtesies, and a surprisingly frank explanation of the business deal gone wrong that had caused the initial enmity between him and Albret as well as an admission that he made it his business to know Olivier’s movements, Jacob Van Artevelde apologized for his wife’s earlier behavior.

“Clearly she upset the entire household, rushing Lady Joan away as she did. When she learned of Albret’s arrival in the city last night, and that he’d gone to Mass in the abbey church, she believed her worst fears—” He paused, sipped his brandywine as if to steady himself against his wife’s emotions. “To be blunt, Katarina insists that Albret purposes only to seduce Lady Joan, that she’s not meant for his son. My wife means to propose to you a plan to rescue Lady Joan from Albret’s clutches once and for all. It is, of course, not my place to advise you. I mean only to give you fair warning.”

“She would have us wed?”

Jacob closed his eyes, bowed his head. “Ah. I am too late. I had not anticipated that.”

“No, Dame Katarina has said nothing to me. We are merely in accord, if that is her plan.”

“You are both mad!” Jacob gave a pained laugh, squeezing his brows together, shaking his head. “Forgive me. It is not my place. But to abduct the cousin of His Grace the King of England and France … He would not forgive you. You, one of his most trusted captains.”

All true. His mother, his elder brother—they trusted Thomas to restore honor to the family. Knighted young, he was meant
to rise in the ranks of King Edward’s army. He had prayed over this, begged God to clear his mind of her, his heart. But from the moment she offered him her friendship Joan had possessed him, body and soul, and God had left it so.

As for Albret, Lucienne had left Thomas with no doubt as to the Gascon’s intentions. He had noticed how she avoided Albret, never smiling at him, this woman who could not rest until she had aroused every man in the room, touching them, looking deep into their startled eyes, convincing each that it was he she desired. Except Bernardo Ezi.

“You’ve shared his bed and he frightened you.”

“No. He prefers younger flesh.”

Thomas had begged her to warn Queen Philippa.

“Not
so
young as your Lady Joan, I assure you. Besides, Her Grace has heard all the stories about the man.”

It seemed it was up to Thomas to save Joan. He prayed that his family would understand. “Would you and your wife stand as the witnesses to our vows?” Thomas now asked Jacob.