The King’s Concubine: A Novel of Alice Perrers (59 page)

“But where is home now?”

“Home is with me.”

What a strange place and time for such an assurance. Beneath his harsh exterior was a sensitivity that always had the power to move me. His intuitiveness was a thing of wonder. And he must have known: I needed those exact words to bite through the paralyzing horror. Nor did he wait for any reciprocal response from me. Blasted by rampant shock and fear, I could not tell him what had occurred. By now I was shivering constantly, a reaction that was nothing to do with the whip of the wind off the river. I gripped the reins that he forced between my fingers, but sat there, unable to make the simplest of decisions, until he leaned from his own mount and grasped my bridle. With an impatient grunt he pulled my horse after him into a stumbling trot. It jerked me back into my senses, and I pushed my mount alongside his.

“Will they enforce the banishment this time?” I asked, even as I knew the answer.

“So that’s what they did. I wondered what had reduced you to silence.”

I could not smile at the heavy humor. “Yes, and worse.”

“Who was it?”

“Gaunt. He was there. He sat in judgment on me.” All I could see was his hard face, his furious desire to wash his hands clean of his association with me.

“Then we’ll not wait around to find out.” Windsor urged our mounts into a faster trot, our escort keeping pace.

“Where are we going?”

“To Gaines. Do you agree?”

Why not? Would I be safe anywhere? “Yes. To Gaines. It is our own. They cannot question my ownership of Gaines, since it is in your name too.” I saw his quizzical look. Of course, he didn’t know. “Oh, Will! They’re going to take away all my property, my land.…”

He showed no surprise.

“Then I’ll take you to one of my own manors, if you prefer. You and the girls…”

As I thought about it, the cold in my belly began to melt. He would take care of me, whatever happened. Yet, I decided that I needed the comfort of familiar surroundings. “No. Take me to Gaines. And, Will…?” He looked across. His face was vivid and alive, strong enough to confront any danger. “I know you love me. And I love you too.”

“I know you do. Now get on, woman. The sooner we’re out of London, the better, before they find another crime to hang around your neck.”

Chapter Seventeen

I
t was not my neck the Lords had their eye on next. The Lords launched their new assault against Windsor, not against me, with a charge breathtaking in its audacity, its low cunning: the most obvious of charges that it would be impossible for him to deny. Windsor was accused of harboring a woman who was under sentence of banishment. He was ordered to London to appear before the Lords.

“How dare they,” I raged. Anger can most assuredly take the chill from terror. “How dare they transfer my guilt to you?”

“They dare with no compunction whatsoever,” Windsor remarked with astonishing nonchalance. “It’s a perfectly pragmatic decision by Gaunt, or Joan, to make life unpleasant for you.” Infuriatingly, unlike me, he seemed to have no concerns. He admitted his guilt openly to the official who brought the summons, with me standing at his side, my hand clamped to his arm as if to prove his culpability for all to see.

“I can hardly deny it, can I?” he remarked mildly, offering the courier a cup of ale before his return journey. “We’ve been sharing a roof and a bed, to the knowledge of everyone who cared to take an interest in our doings. It’s no secret that we’re married, is it, Lady de Windsor?” He bowed to me and smiled placidly at the startled official. Since when did the accused ever admit to guilt?

I growled my disapproval.

Windsor went to London to face his accusers.

“Look for me within the month. If I’m not back, I’m in the Tower. Send me a parcel of food and wine!” His mouth was warm but fleeting on mine, his mind already racing ahead. “Don’t worry. And for your safety don’t leave Gaines—or they’ll have you clad in a white shift and crucifix before you can sneeze. We don’t want that, do we?” I caught the spark in his eye. “What do I know about bringing up young girls? They need their mother here. I will not have you living barefoot on the seashore until some passing ship can be found to take you off and deposit you in some godforsaken spot in France. So stay put!”

What sort of advice was that? I sat at home and harried the servants as the days lumbered past, all my old fears surfacing, my body cold, my mind frightened and unbearably lonely. The weeks crawled.

Why is it that time allows us to ponder our gravest fears rather than our brightest hopes? Once, I had been certain that Windsor would stand by me, certain that I would never be alone again. I had been so sure. But now the doubts crept in. What if I was wrong? Would he betray me under Parliament’s intimidation? Would he abandon me and leave me to Joan’s mercies? Would he promise never to see me again, if that was what they demanded from him in return for his own freedom? No one could ever deny that Windsor had a streak of self-interest as wide as the Thames through his very bones.

The days were endless, and I felt increasingly bereft.

Thank God! Thank God! Four long weeks and Windsor returned.

“What did they say?” I demanded, standing at his horse’s shoulder, looking up into his face, and making no attempt to hide the anxiety that had raged since the day of his departure. I had not even waited until he dismounted, but had run out into the courtyard from my bedchamber without veil or shoes. I now gripped his bridle so fiercely that his horse sidled and tossed its head. I held on, wincing at the stones beneath my feet.

“And good day to you too, my lady!” he replied as the animal snorted, sidestepping.

“Don’t play with me, Windsor.…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. If you’ll allow me to dismount…”

I stepped back. “Well?” He swung to the ground in a cloud of dust, beating it from his tunic and the folds of his mantle. “Now will you tell me? Why keep me waiting…?” Fear was a hard knot in my throat, and my blood was laced with lead.

His stare was speculative. “They’ve dropped the charge against me.”

As simple as that? “I don’t believe you!”

“I can’t think why not. I told you not to worry.”

“So you did.” I grimaced at his easy confidence, a confidence I might once have had. “I’m so pleased, Will…but I still can’t quite believe…”

“There’s more!”

Of course there was. The knot that had momentarily slackened tightened again, and my blood seemed to drain to my feet. “Tell me. What terms did they demand?”

“The members of Parliament, in their wisdom, have changed their collectively narrow minds on the little matter of your banishment.”

“Changed their minds…?”

“You are, as of yesterday, free. And so am I, from the charge of willfully consorting with a banished woman.”

Still unsure, I watched Windsor’s expression for any reaction, for confirmation, but there was none. It might have been chipped out of stone. He neither expanded on his news nor moved to touch me. There was something between us, much like one of Wykeham’s formidable walls of stone blocks. There was something more that he was not telling me.

“There’s a fly in this bowl of pottage,” I said, hating to have to ask, fearing the answer. “What is it?”

“How do you know there is one?”

“I can tell by your face.”

“And here was I thinking I was being inscrutable!”

I punched his arm, not playfully. “There is always a price to be paid by someone.” I frowned. “I just can’t see how it would work.…Joan would never want the banishment lifted.” I was certain of it. So what had prompted this turn of fortune in my favor?

“Pour me a cup of ale, my love, to rid my mouth of the poison of
Court negotiations, and I might just tell you all.” Windsor tossed his reins to a waiting groom and wound an arm around my waist in his habitual comforting greeting. “It’s been a long few weeks. I feel in need of some home comforts.”

He kept me waiting while he ate his way through a plate of beef and a flat loaf, by which time I was all but hopping with frustration, but I knew him well enough to keep my mouth closed and my impatience to myself. I sat opposite, eyes fixed on his every move, every damned mouthful of bread and meat, and waited.

He drained the cup.

“Another draft of ale?” I inquired sweetly.

“I might…”

I reached for the pottery jug, then held on to it and did not pour. “A slab of cheese, perhaps? A collop of mutton?”

“Well, I might be persuaded.…”

“And I might empty this over your head!”

He laughed. “You won’t provoke me!”

“But
you
provoke
me
!”

“I’ll do it no more.” The lines of his face grew stern. “Accept the lifting of the banishment for what it is, Alice.”

“Because I won’t like what they demand in recompense.”

“No. You won’t. There are strings well and truly attached.…”

My voice caught. “You said they had changed their minds.…” Surely he would not hide an even worse outcome from me? No, no. He would not have sat through a meal without telling me. He had said I was free, that we both were. But what had that woman done? How far would Joan’s vengeance stretch?

“God’s Blood, Will!”

His hands, now unoccupied with knife and bread, took mine. “No, no. Do you think me so cruel? You are free, Alice, as I said. No banishment. You don’t get your manors back—you can’t expect miracles—but there’s no further punishment. But here’s the rub.” And there was the gleam of friendly mischief back in his eyes. “You are free as long as you live with me, as my wife, and I am willing to keep you and stand surety for your good behavior.”

I inhaled sharply. “A prisoner…”

“I thought you might see it in that light!”

“So I have to live within your governance.”

When he handed me his cup, I gulped the ale inelegantly.

“As would any wife with her husband. And Parliament in its wisdom has decided to leave the judgment against you intact and unrepealed, to hang over your head, undeserving as you are of their compassion. To ensure your future good behavior.” His teeth showed in a cold smile.

“So I am not pardoned.”

“Yes, you are—but only on their terms—and mine.” His expression warmed. “You have of necessity to please me, so that I don’t cast you off.”

“We cannot live without arguing!” I retorted.

“Oh, I think we can.” He stretched his hands across the board again, to pin my restless fingers flat beneath his. “Don’t you trust me? After all we’ve been through? And I thought you liked living with me.”

“Yes…No! Of course I do! But, oh, Will!” The words were there before I could stop them. “When you didn’t come back—I was afraid that you would betray me,” I admitted. “I thought you would agree never to see me again, and I would be alone.…”

“Foolish girl!” He was completely unmoved by my lack of faith. By now he knew my buried fears well enough. “I will only abandon you and drive you from my door if you are very bad and argue over every juncture.”

Turning my hands so that they could grip his, I sighed softly, letting myself respond appropriately to his dry wit. “Then I must be good. I’d better start now!” I reached for the jug again and refilled his cup, one question still remaining. “Why did they do it, Will?”

“That’s simple, my love. The situation in France is deteriorating and they need able men.”

I stared at him. Of course. It made sense. “You.” My heart leaped uncomfortably against my ribs.

“Me, as you say. I think they have in mind a position for me. So they’re keeping me, sweet.”

“You bargained with them.…”

“I did. They’ve too many issues knocking on their door, not least a child king, to spend time on you and me.”

“What did Joan say? Did you see her?”

“Briefly.” His mouth twisted with distaste, but there was a flash of enjoyment after all. “Joan kept her opinions to herself in the presence of the young King’s counselors. She managed to refrain from cursing you—but from the look in her eye I expect she has set fire to Richard’s inherited bed. But for once she made the right decision. She put the good of the realm—my expert offices—before her personal vendetta—you, my love. She needs me.” He yawned widely. “Now, since you’re legally bound to be an amenable wife, or I may cast you from my door, come and help me remove these boots.…”

I removed more than that. Nor was I reluctant.

It was good to have him home.

Windsor was right. What an uncanny nose he had for political intrigue. Within the month he had been offered the eminent position of Governor of the newly acquired port of Cherbourg. His eyes positively gleamed at this new venture, and in them I read that he could not refuse. Nor should he. He was a politician, through blood and bone and sinew.

Ah, well! Loneliness beckoned for me.

“You’ll take it,” I said, a statement rather than a question.

“I think I will.” He slid me a quizzical glance over the official request, heavy with its ink and red seals. “But they’ll not get me cheaply. I’ll make them pay for my loyalty.”

“With what?”

“Aha! Nosy!”

“Tell me!”

“Not I! Or at least, not until I’m sure of my ground.”

Not for the first time, his confidence, his damned superiority, rattled me. “Are you so sure you’ll find the right bait to hook Parliament?”

“Certainly I am. There are few with my expertise in handling difficult provinces or squeezing money out of a reluctant populace.”

He spent the next few days in the parlor, his lawyer and clerk in attendance, the door closed firmly against me. He emerged, so it seemed to me, only to eat and sleep. The work was long and laborious, if the number of ruined quills was anything to go by.

Then, without a word of explanation, we were packed and off to London.

“Why won’t you tell me?” I asked.

“It would risk ill luck to air my plans at this stage. It’s the Lords I need to convince.” He was morose and preoccupied, staring between his horse’s ears. Perhaps he was not as confident as he would like me to believe, which made me shiver. Then suddenly he grinned. “But they will have no answer to make against my arguments, so there’s no reason for you to be concerned.”