‘Briefly,’ he whispered back. Alfred placed a finger to his lips and hurried them both around snoring bodies to the small antechamber behind the hall.
Alfred said, ‘Why come by darkness, Thomas? Is aught amiss? No, wait, eat first. There is bread and cheese here already in the cupboard and we’ve wine too.’ He turned to Rosalind. ‘Fetch it and he can eat. He looks exhausted.’
Rosalind opened the cupboard and within a few moments had placed bread, cheese, and a tankard of wine before Thomas.
Falling onto the bench, Thomas waved the bread and cheese away and drank deeply from the tankard. Rosalind noticed tears gather in his eyes. ‘There are two things you must know,’ he said slowly. ‘First of all, Nell’s little Joanna died in April. Nell is distraught, deeply saddened for she couldn’t save her. It was an ague in the child’s chest. We rode back from Castilian triumphant, but the little girl was already laid out in the chapel at the Palais des Ombres. Earl Simon ordered a hundred candles lit and prayers said. Lady Nell was inconsolable. After the burial, the palace sank into a deep sorrow. How terrible to lose a child.’
Rosalind’s hand flew to her breast as she remembered their own Eleanor, sleeping peacefully above them with her nurse. To mourn a child, a little thing only three years old, was tragic. ‘I can only imagine their pain,’ she managed to say.
Thomas laid the tankard on the bench beside him. ‘That is not all. I am here because the King has recalled Earl Simon to London to answer charges of incompetence. They are treasonable charges. We had to sail immediately. Nell too, and their younger boys.’
‘God save them all,’ she said. ‘How can Henry be so unreasonable?’
‘Indeed. Amen to all that,’ he said. There was a catch in his voice.
33
Ailenor
Spring 1252
Ailenor could cut the atmosphere in Henry’s antechamber with her eating knife. Her mouth opened in astonishment as he swept around, his face flushed and angry.
Henry hissed at her, ‘What do you mean, taking it on yourself to appoint your chaplain to Flamstead Church? Women do not make clerical appointments. I warned you before.’ He threw a letter at Ailenor. It fell onto the floor tiles. He was angry. ‘It’s from that insufferable Bishop Grosseteste.’
Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘I am no ordinary woman. I am a queen,’ she retorted. It was bad enough he was accusing Earl Simon. Now he sought a new quarrel and it was with her. She exhaled loudly, tired of placating him. ‘What is it about this time?’ she said wearily as she bent to recover the letter. He scooped it up before she could read it. As he crumpled it in his hand, the vellum seemed to crack.
‘How high does the arrogance of woman rise if it is not restrained?’ His tone remained superior. He twitched his velvet gown about him and looked at her with menace in his pale eyes, one lid sinking lower than the other. ‘Your chaplain leaves Flamstead at once. I’ve called in the Sheriff of Lincoln to evict him. Whilst we were in York last year, you were plotting with Grosseteste, Simon’s dear friend, behind my back.’
‘Henry. . . I never plotted with Bishop Grosseteste, nor with Earl Simon for that matter.’ But he was gone with a flurry of robes, in an attitude of high pique.
She sank into a chair, mortified, angry, and hurt, all at the same time.
That afternoon, Henry removed himself from the Tower where they were in residence. His tone was icy when he marched into her chamber and informed her she was not to accompany him to Westminster. She looked at him as if he was a beetle to be trampled into the floor. He glared back. ‘You will regret this,’ he said, anger seeping from his furred mantle.
She had no choice but to wait until Henry calmed down. Her accommodation in the Tower was pleasanter than her apartment at Westminster. She would be out of Henry’s storm by remaining in her Rose Chambers. She watched from her casement as he was rowed up river to Westminster, determined not to mind.
A month later Ailenor received a correspondence from Bishop Grosseteste. She fell onto one of her rose cushions, pulled another close and leaned on it to read that Bishop Grosseteste had placed Flamstead under an interdict because the priest appointed was a Burgundian, another foreigner, Henry’s choice. She gasped. Everyone feared an interdict. Parishioners could not marry in the church. They could not bury their dead in the churchyard. Their immortal souls were in danger. In addition, Bishop Grosseteste had excommunicated Henry’s appointment. She crumpled the letter. ‘Oh no,’ she whispered into the air. ‘He’ll blame me for this. I never thought Henry would object to the Bishop’s choice. I was not plotting. It was on one of my estates. And now this problem will go to the Church courts.’ She closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do. Henry was at Westminster. The only child she had with her was Beatrice. Edward and Edmund were at Windsor with their tutors. She wanted them all to be together again. She did not want this ridiculous situation.
It didn’t help that the weather was miserable and cold and she couldn’t walk in the gardens. Her ladies tiptoed around her. They kept Beatrice busy embroidering. A tutor employed for her daughter patiently taught the child to read and write. Alix of Lusignan befriended the little girl and although there was an age difference, they sat together holding hands, watching the multitude of ships on the river as Ailenor had done years before. She smiled to see their friendship, glad Alix was not like her despicable uncles.
Ailenor could bear it no more. Henry had called Simon back from Gascony to face trial for fraud. A young nobleman visiting the Tower told her King Henry was in a grim mood and the Bishop of Bordeaux was ensconced in Westminster Palace whispering ills against the Earl. Gascon noblemen including her cousin, Count Gaston, accompanied the Bishop, who was accusing Earl Simon of terrible things.
‘What things?’
‘Sacking Castle Castilian is one. I’m not exactly sure about the rest.’
‘I intend to find out,’ she said.
‘The King is angry. He rages about. . .’
‘Thank you,’ she said with firmness to the nobleman, and sent him to find his betrothed, who was none other than Lady Margery. She summoned Alix to her bedchamber. The girl was indeed so beautiful, eyes a deep violet like Nell’s and her grandmother Isabella’s. She looked artless but Ailenor decided not to be deceived. Alix may be of a pleasanter demeanour than her uncles but she could also be capable of scheming.
‘Keep an eye on Beatrice. I shall be at Westminster for a few days,’ she nonetheless said to Alix.
‘Yes, Aunt Ailenor,’ Alix replied, her bright violet eyes softening to blue like the sky on a gentle summer’s day.
Sooner the nobleman she was to marry grew up, the better.
When Alix curtsied and was gone, she turned to Willelma. ‘Get me an escort. Pack a coffer of clothing and linens. We are returning to Westminster on the next tide.’
On her arrival at Westminster, she sought Henry out. He was in the painted chamber. He, to her disbelief, was warm towards her, but then Henry was always changeable.
‘Ailenor, whilst your presence pleases me, I have a problem. Nell has a problem too. Her husband goes on trial. It will commence in the Abbey refectory in a week’s time.’
‘What has Simon done to deserve a trial?’ She knew his accusations but he would repeat them to her and perhaps hear how absurd they were, spoken to her, Nell’s friend and sister-in-law.
‘The Archbishop,’ Henry indicated the shadows where she saw standing by the arras leading to the chapel, none other than the Bishop of Bordeaux, a long thin man in a heavily embroidered chasuble. He had likely just served Mass to Henry in the very chapel where Henry had witnessed Simon and Nell’s marriage.
She quickly realised the Archbishop’s presence went some way towards explaining Henry’s warm welcome. The Archbishop of Bordeaux stepped forward. She knelt and kissed his ring, as was the custom.
His voice slid over his words like wine trickling from an altar chalice. ‘Your Grace, Earl Simon is accused of fraud, mismanagement, and cru
elty. The Gascon noblemen he has held to ransom threaten to seek a new lord.’
She pondered this. Lord Edward was their ruler in waiting and Simon their governor.
Henry said before she could remark this fact, ‘Earl Simon had my full confidence once, but now Gascony, our son’s inheritance, is more troubled than ever. He has had money flowing to him as if it pours never-ending from a sorcerer’s vat. Gascony’s future peace hangs in the balance. I am trapped with the rogue unless we can undo his seven-year agreement. He will be legally challenged before my barons and earls for mismanagement and fraud and, believe me, there are witnesses.’
She said with firmness, though she felt her hands moist because she was so anxious, ‘Henry, simply, this is unwise.’ She folded her hands inside her mantle.
‘I told you, Ailenor, do not interfere in the business of kings.’
Ailenor bit back a response. The Archbishop said smoothly, ‘Dear Lady, I am willing to counsel you should you seek my advice.’
‘Thank you, Archbishop, but I must go now and pray to my own saints for guidance. If you will excuse me.’
Ailenor bowed low to the Archbishop and to Henry. Without another word, her head held high, she glided to the door, her rising temper reined under control. She needed to think how she could help Simon and comfort Nell. She would return to the Tower and hope she could be reunited with Nell. Unwilling to linger at Westminster, she simmered with anger at Henry. It was clear to her it was Simon who had been trapped, not her husband. Simon was doing his job, the task Henry begged him to undertake when he’d wished to crusade. Her position was difficult. She could not openly challenge Henry’s decisions.
She decided not to linger with Henry after all. On her return to the Tower, she wrote to Uncle Peter in his new palace which he called The Savoy and waited for news. Nell accepted her invitation to stay with her whilst Simon lodged with the Bishop of London in his palace nearer to Westminster. Uncle Peter visited her with his wife, Agnes, who on seeing that Ailenor was distressed over the interdict on Lincoln and the trial at Westminster also decided to lodge with them at the Tower. Ailenor prepared a comfortable apartment for Agnes and her two ladies. Some days later, Nell was rowed down river to lodge with Ailenor in the Queen’s apartments.
The three women rediscovered a close bond. When Uncle Peter visited he said, ‘I shall argue we stay the course in Gascony. Henry has confirmed the grant of Gascony to Lord Edward but it will be some years before Edward can go there himself as their lord. Earl Simon did try to keep the peace.’
‘Will others support Simon too?’ Nell asked.
‘I believe they will. Only the Gascons stand against him. And I can vouch for the Clergy. Boniface, of course, is on side. The barons, too, support Simon. None of those who fought there in the past underestimate the difficulties Gascony presents.’ He drew a long breath. ‘Only Henry underestimates them all.’
‘My dear foolish husband,’ sighed Ailenor. She took Nell’s hand. ‘All will be well, Nell, you shall see.’
34
Rosalind
Summer 1252
Earl Simon’s trial began in the refectory at Westminster. Simon was not arrested but he was rigorously questioned. When he could get away from the Bishop’s palace, Thomas sped on foot through the stinking-hot, rumour-filled City with word to his father-in-law’s house in St Martin’s Lane.
He related the news to Rosalind, whose baby was due to be born. ‘Henry is listening to Earl Simon’s enemies, to stop them looking elsewhere for a new lord. The gossip at the court is that the Gascons hate Simon so much they are now seeking leadership from Alfonso of Castile, grandson of the second Henry. . .’ Rosalind wrinkled her brow. ‘Through that Henry’s eldest daughter,’ Thomas explained. ‘The King thinks he must convict Earl Simon to make Gascony safe for Lord Edward. Pah, it’s nonsense.’ Thomas threw back his ale and shook his head. Looking up at her, he gave her a half-smile. She couldn’t smile back. She was too worried for Lady Eleanor, who had been so kind to her, and for the Queen who was estranged from the King. Thomas was saying, ‘It may not go well for the King. The English earls and barons have a say. As yet they’ve not said anything. They’ll be our Earl’s judges and so far, they are not condemning him.’
She stood heavily to fetch more ale. The evening was a thirsty hot one in late June. ‘Once, long ago, those same earls resented Earl Simon,’ she said, placing the jug of ale on the table. ‘It’s freshly brewed,’ she added.
‘’Tis a pleasure to drink English ale again. Gascon wine leaves a sour taste on my palate.’ Thomas looked thoughtful. ‘Henry is trying to throw the weight of opinion against Simon and by Christos, I pray he doesn’t succeed.’
As June slid into July, Rosalind thought about Queen Ailenor every day. Lady Eleanor was with the Queen in the Tower. She wouldn’t be there if she was at odds with Her Grace so the Queen’s position remained a puzzle. When Rosalind asked, Thomas shook his head. He was sure the Queen disapproved of Henry’s actions but she had no influence this time. Rosalind, heavy, uncomfortable, and about to give birth, pushed it all from her mind and took herself to her birthing chamber.
A week later, Thomas returned with another report. He spoke to her from the doorway of her chamber. ‘The King has hurled the most vociferous abuse against my lord.’ He drew a long slow breath. ‘Earl Simon responded with self-restraint, meekness, and magnanimity towards the King. Oh, Rosalind, my lord is treated appallingly and my heart aches to see it.’ He drew breath again. She heard him painfully exhale with a sigh. He said, ‘Countess Eleanor is with child again. They say she is thirty-eight years old.’
Rosalind raised herself and said to the doorway, ‘And the Queen. How is she?’
‘I’ve heard the King is still displeased with his wife. He’s changed some of her household staff. He told her never to question his Church appointments.’
‘You would think the trial would keep him busy.’
‘She sides with her uncle Boniface against the Bishop of Winchester. Boniface placed his man as Prior at St Thomas’s Hospital and Aymer objected, saying it was in his jurisdiction. Remember he has a palace just south of the river close to the hospital. Well, anyway, Bishop Aymer roused up a great band of Lusignans including his brother, William of Valence, to attack Archbishop Boniface’s man in the Hospital. The Archbishop’s own prior had Aymer’s man ejected from the position.’
‘Don’t tell me the King sides with the new Bishop of Winchester instead of Boniface who is an Archbishop?’
‘Queen Ailenor is furious. Letters are ferried downriver to her daily. She writes back. The messenger is an old friend of mine. He says the King is petty-minded and ever wants his own way.’
‘Poor Earl Simon and poor Queen Ailenor,’ Rosalind said and sank back onto her pillows, for she knew not what else to say. They would have to wait. They, as little people in the City, were powerless to help Simon or the Queen. If she was not so heavily pregnant she would go to them. Instead she wrote a letter from her birthing chamber giving her support and sent Gruff with it all the way to the Tower.
‘Has Countess Eleanor received my note?’ she asked Mildred on his return.
‘He gave it to Lady Mary as you requested and waited for a reply.’ Mildred handed a folded letter to Rosalind stamped with the Countess’s leopard seal. She broke the seal.
All will be well, Praise God. When this is over I shall return to Kenilworth. I wish you well with your birth and hope you will attend me when my time comes too. May the Madonna watch over you and may St Katherine take care of you during your travail. Your friend, Countess Eleanor.
It was a brief note but kind.
Thomas returned after several days’ absence and this time as he stood by her chamber door he was smiling.
‘The nobles are not swayed by the Gascons. Not at all. In fact, the barons and earls extol my Lord Simon’s virtues. They said he has been loyal, energetic and just.’
‘Which earls took his side?’ asked Alfred.
‘For a start, Earl Richard and the Earls Gloucester and Hereford all spoke for Earl Simon. Peter de Montfort also spoke in Earl Simon’s favour. Peter of Savoy supports him, which suggests Queen Ailenor does too. And then I heard say that Queen Ailenor insists that Earl Simon must return to Gascony to complete his care of the state since he can bring order there.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ said Rosalind. ‘Now go away, Thomas. I am going to give birth imminently.’
On the next day when Rosalind felt her birthing pains arrive, Thomas brought her the best of all news. He was not returning to Gascony with Earl Simon, and neither was the Countess. They would all go home very soon. The Countess wished to give birth at Kenilworth.
‘You shall see her there, Rosalind. I am to keep an eye on her, to be on call, so to say. We are close by after all.’
It was the best news she had heard since Thomas had set off for Gascony in February.
‘What about the Gascons? Are they subdued by the court’s verdict?’
‘Of course they refuse to accept the verdict. Simon offered to surrender his agreement to act as Seneschal to Gascony in return for compensation and absolute exoneration.’
‘And?’
‘And, indeed, there is more. Henry said Simon was free to break their agreement because he was a traitor to the Crown. Earl Simon retorted that the King’s piety was a sham. Henry raised his voice. He shouted, he never repented any act as much as permitting Earl Simon to enter England to gain land and honours, grow fat and insolent.’
‘After that?’
‘The King said he will prepare to go to Gascony himself to attend to matters. In the meantime, Earl Simon announced he was going back there and would not return to England until the Gascon lords grovelled at the King’s feet and the King paid him what he was due.’
Rosalind felt her mouth break into a smile. She felt tears gather behind her eyes. It looked like Simon had won a victory against the King himself and the lords of England were on his side.
The Silken Rose Page 32
