by Anne O'Brien
“Not to my knowledge, my lord.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, my lord.”
I sighed. Beverley was a man of few words, his eyes those of a terrified deer facing the hounds. Pray God he would use those words on my behalf.
“How is that? How can you be so sure?”
“I was in attendance on His Majesty constantly in those last days, my lord.” A few petals of hope began to unfurl beneath my heart. Beverley’s voice grew stronger as his confidence grew. Here was something he could speak of with authority. “I never heard the matter of a pardon mentioned by the King or by Mistress Perrers.”
“So neither of them talked of it.”
“No, my lord. Neither King Edward nor his…nor Mistress Perrers. I swear the King never gave the order for a pardon for the man.”
A dangerous statement, all in all. If the pardon had not come from Edward, it had been on Gaunt’s own initiative. Thus, Gaunt had usurped a royal power that was not his by right to use. I held my breath as the tension in the room tightened. There was a shifting of bodies, the slide of silk against damask, a scrape of boots against the floor. And on Gaunt’s brow a storm cloud gathered. If Beverley did not notice it, he was a fool. Would he stand by his word, or would he play the coward? Windsor’s intimidation or monetary inducement suddenly weighed little against Gaunt’s unspoken ire.
“You will swear to that? You will take an oath to that effect?” asked Northumberland. “That Mistress Perrers did at no time persuade the late King to issue a pardon for Richard Lyons.”
“Well…yes, my lord.”
“It would, you understand, be dangerous to swear to something of which you are to any degree uncertain.…”
“Ah…” And as I watched him, Beverley’s eyes skipped from Northumberland to Gaunt.
“Do you claim, Master Beverley, that Mistress Perrers had no influence on the King’s decisions? You say that you were with the late King constantly.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“But were there not times when Mistress Perrers was alone with the King, without your presence?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“And during those times, could she perhaps have raised the question of Lyons and his pardon?”
“Well…she could, my lord.” Beverley gulped.
“If that is so…are you free to say that Mistress Perrers did not undertake the pardon of Richard Lyons?”
I heard him swallow again, seeing the pit before his feet, a dark morass of claim and counterclaim that he had dug for himself. I too saw it, but forced myself to stand perfectly still, watching Gaunt’s face.
“No, my lord. I suppose I am not.”
“Then, by my reckoning, you cannot support Mistress Perrers with your testimony. Can you?”
“No, sir. By my conscience, I cannot.” I thought Beverley sounded relieved at having the decision made for him.
“Thank you. We appreciate your honesty. You are free to go.”
Gaunt’s face was blandly tranquil; he appeared satisfied with a job well-done as he looked at me. It was as if we were alone in the room, and I knew that I would be judged without mercy.
The Committee conferred in low voices.
John Beverley left the chamber with not one look in my direction, keen to dissociate himself from any suspicion of connivance between us. I could hardly blame him. Not all men were given the courage to stand by the truth. Not all men were like Windsor, who I knew would stand by me to the death. Standing alone before Gaunt’s handpicked lordly minions, I needed Windsor as I had never needed anyone before. Since Philippa’s intervention in my life, I had struggled and maneuvered to keep my feet in the fast-flowing stream of Court politics. I had striven to make my future and that of my children safe. I was even proud of my success. Now all was brought to nothing. Here I stood, helpless and vulnerable, without friends.
Except for William de Windsor.
The strange sense of relief that I was not completely alone, whatever happened, was my only glimmer of hope in this moment of dread.
“Mistress Perrers!” There was Northumberland demanding my attention. Gaunt’s expression was carved in stone. Northumberland stepped forward. “We have made our decision. This is our judgment.…”
And how little time it took to undermine all I had made of my life.
“We consider you to be guilty of obtaining the pardon for Richard Lyons.”
Guilty!
“Therefore this Committee, in the name of the Lords of the Realm of England, confirms the original sentence delivered by the Good Parliament. The sentence of banishment remains against you.…”
Banishment! Again! The word beat heavily against my mind.
But Northumberland had not yet finished twisting the knife in my heart’s wound.
“…also we command the forfeiture of all your remaining lands and possessions obtained by fraud and deceit.”
The enormity of it shook me. The illegality of my actions was simply presumed without any need to show proof. My own purchase of land and property was presumed to be through deceit, and so I was to be stripped of everything, whether illegal or not. I was presumed guilty, not proven to be so. So much for justice. How they must hate me. But had that not always been the case?
“Do you understand our decisions, Mistress Perrers?”
I stood unmoving, aware of all those eyes: some condemning, some sanctimonious, some merely curious to see how I would react. Gaunt’s eyes glittered with triumph and avarice. My estates were open to his picking. From ally to enemy in that one sentence. I could barely comprehend it. And when I did, I despised him for it.
“I understand perfectly, my lords,” I remarked. “Am I free to go?”
“We are finished here.”
I curtsied deeply and walked from the room.
Am I free to go? I had asked. But where would I go?
Before my mind could fully grasp what had been done, I was standing in the antechamber. The judgment was passed; I was not restrained, yet banishment, a black cloud, pressed down on me. Blindly I looked for Windsor, waiting for me by the window. I think I must have staggered, for in three strides he was beside me, holding my arm.
“Beverley played the rabbit, I presume. He scuttled out before I could get my hands around his scrawny little neck.”
I blinked, unable to string two thoughts together or find words to explain what had been done to me.
“Alice?”
I shook my head. “I…I can’t…but I need to…”
One close look at my bleak expression was enough for him. “Don’t try to speak. Come with me.”
He lost no time, but led me out into the icy air. I shivered but was glad of the cold wind on my face. In the courtyard, horses were waiting with Windsor’s servants. As if from a distance, I realized that he had feared this, and made provision even as he had encouraged me to believe that justice would smile in my favor.
“Thank you,” I whispered. How dear he was to me. How much I had begun to lean on his good sense, his cynical streak of practicality.
He raised the palm of my hand to his lips, then, realizing how cold I was, stripped off his own gloves and drew them onto my hands, wrapping his own mantle around my shoulders. The warmth was intense, welcome, despite the cruel tingling of my fingers.
“You are very…kind to me.”
“Kind, by God! Do I not love you, foolish one?” He peered into my frozen face. “I suppose you still don’t believe me. But this is neither the time nor the place to beat you about the head with it. Just accept that it’s true and that I won’t desert you. Feel that?” He pressed my gloved palm to his chest. “It beats in unison with yours. Is that poetic enough for you? Perhaps not, but it’s the best you’ll get at this juncture.” His kiss on my mouth was firm. “Now up with you. Before the vermin change their mind. I’ll take you home.”
“But where is home now?”
“Home is with me.”
What a strang
e 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
It 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.
