The Tapestry

by Nancy Bilyeau

  A third chimed in: “I heard there was a well-loved statue of Gabriel in here.”

  A bishop said, “So which is it—Peter or Gabriel?”

  Without thinking, I said, also in Spanish, “The statue is the Angel Gabriel.”

  As one, the group of a dozen men turned to stare at me.

  “What’s a Spanish woman doing in Regensburg?” exclaimed one.

  “I’m English,” I said, although I said it in Spanish.

  “That is nonsense,” said the stooped man. “Yours is the face of Spain, and no English woman can speak our language.”

  The only Spanish person I’d known my entire life was my mother. Not even Ambassador Chapuys was of Spain; his homeland was the Savoy. Señor Hantaras was from Portugal. Now, finally, I was among people whose blood ties I shared, and, blushing, I told them who I was: Joanna Stafford, the daughter of Sir Richard Stafford and Isabella Montagna, of a family of Castile.

  “But I have heard of you, I know your family,” said the stooped man, in wonder. He turned to the bishop and the cardinal. “She waited on Catherine of Aragon, as her mother did, and then took vows in a Dominican Order when the saintly queen died.”

  The cardinal gestured for me to approach and I knelt to kiss his ring. He blessed me, I rose, and he moved on with several attendants while the bishop and Spaniards lingered. The bishop said, “Stephen Gardiner uses a brilliant secretary who was once a Dominican friar. Are you also in service to the bishop?”

  Not knowing how best to answer that, I nodded.

  The bishop turned to two men and, beckoned, saying, “And what do you think of this?” The men moved toward me, and to my joy, I recognized the black capes and cowls over white robes of Dominican friars. All of the men seemed as delighted to learn of my existence as I was to learn of theirs. There was a volley of questions before, bowing, they took their leave. I felt regret to see them go. I couldn’t remember the last time a group of strangers had made me feel that immediate sense of belonging.

  As I sat there, reflecting on the experience, a shadow stretched before me. It must be another of the Spaniards, come to say a final word.

  I looked up, a shy smile on my face, and, an instant later, I shrank back into the pew, convulsed with terror.

  Standing before me was Jacquard Rolin.

  36

  Am I not to receive the same courteous treatment as the bishop’s party?” asked Jacquard. “You enchanted all the others.”

  Jacquard hadn’t changed one iota as he stood before me, a feather curling from his jaunty cap, smiling with those full red lips. At first glance, a man of slight build. But the tightly fitted finery he wore concealed a lethal strength and reflexes faster than any other man’s or woman’s. In our training, he’d tried to teach me how to move as quickly as he did, but he was impossible to match. The only time I’d done it was when, certain he was about to kill me, I seized a silver tray and smashed him on the head, leaving him senseless. And that was also the last time I had seen Jacquard.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  “I go where I am needed,” he said, with that elegant half shrug. “The Diet of Regensburg is an important conference of delicate diplomacy. The Emperor Charles requires a wide variety of talents.”

  I remembered what Chapuys once said—Jacquard was the premier spy in the emperor’s service. That is why the ambassador requested him for the delicate mission of my recruitment to fulfilling the prophecy. Like Agrippa, he infused his talent for spying with his expertise in dark magic.

  Tilting his head, he said, “The more interesting question is, what are you doing here, Joanna Stafford?”

  I said nothing.

  “I suppose, once I spotted Edmund Sommerville scurrying after Bishop Gardiner, I should have known there was a possibility of you turning up. You were always in love with that dreary friar.”

  “Stay away from him, Jacquard,” I said.

  “Of course I will stay away from him. He knows me as the clerk from the Low Countries who assisted with the building of the king’s manor house in Dartford. I could not risk his seeing me here in Regensburg, although it has created inconvenience for me to avoid being in the same place as the English party.”

  Fear leaped even higher inside me. Jacquard did not take well to being inconvenienced.

  His voice silky, he said, “And what about me? Do you want me to stay away from you?”

  Summoning all of my courage, I said, “I believe that goes without saying.”

  He laughed, quietly, glancing around me to see who else was in this part of the cathedral. Thankfully, there were other people within sight, examining a shrine surrounded by votive candles.

  “Just when I least expect it, Joanna Stafford, you can make me laugh. It’s an important quality in a woman. Well, I will say good-bye and join the others. And I will attempt to get over my hurt that you were so much sweeter to them than to me, in particular the Inquisitors.”

  “Inquisitors?”

  “Don’t you remember what I taught you? In Spain, the friars of the Dominican Order control the Inquisition. The emperor never travels without at least two of them. In fact, it is just possible that those two who just bowed to you in a Bavarian cathedral would have tried you and burned you for heresy should you have remained with me in Ghent.”

  Don’t show him your fear. Jacquard thrives on fear.

  I blurted, “You never would have let me escape in Ghent, no matter what I did. That was your plan, Jacquard. To kill me, one way or another.”

  Jacquard blinked, twice, and then smiled again, but it was a tight one.

  I rose to my feet and said, “Ambassador Chapuys told me that the emperor forbade anyone to harm me. I know that, too.”

  “Of course, Joanna Stafford,” he said, and with this time a broader smile. “The emperor did issue a decree concerning you. I am most familiar with it.”

  It took all my strength, but I turned and walked toward the entrance of the cathedral. To turn your back on Jacquard Rolin was perhaps the most foolhardy thing anyone could do. But I had to drive home to him that I knew I was safe.

  My arms trembling, I pushed open the heavy cathedral door and stepped back into the sun.

  During the walk back to Bishop Gardiner’s residence, I found I had lost all reluctance to set out for England. Being in the same city as Jacquard seemed an incredibly bad idea. I hurried to the room where Geoffrey convalesced, but he slept, a slight wheeze in his breathing. I looked down at him in his bed, curled up in his blanket, his arm thrown over his head. How vulnerable Geoffrey was. What would Jacquard do if Geoffrey saw him in Regensburg? He was forbidden to harm me, but that protection did not extend to Geoffrey—or to Edmund, for that matter.

  Geoffrey’s eyes suddenly opened, and I gasped.

  “What is the matter?” he said, his voice scratchy.

  “Nothing. I came to see how you fared.”

  He struggled to sit up, with the help of the apothecary. “You’re frightened, Joanna. Why?”

  “You’re mistaken,” I said. “I am merely anxious to discuss our plan for returning to England—which route we should choose, and how a ship’s passage should be arranged. Those things.”

  Although I continued to deny being frightened, Geoffrey was not fooled. That evening, he insisted on coming downstairs for supper rather than eating in his room. The conversation at the table centered on the news of the Diet. Edmund said that the first four articles— the integrity of man before the fall, free will, the cause of sin, and original sin—had passed, with agreement between Catholic and Reformer. There was much reason for optimism, Edmund insisted, and he did not seem wrong.

  After I’d finished my meal and was about to climb the stairs to my small room, Bishop Gardiner materialized. I hadn’t known he was in the house. He beckoned to me to follow him to the parlor.

  �
��The Spanish bishop mentioned meeting you in the cathedral today, Joanna, and wishes to invite you—and myself and Edmund—to a banquet he is holding next week. The emperor himself will attend.”

  I took a step back. “Oh, I don’t think I should attend. I am not important enough.”

  The bishop’s mouth tightened in disappointment. How he hated it whenever I did not immediately comply with his wishes.

  “Your humility is most becoming, but as we both know you are of noble blood, and if you were to decline the invitation, it would be seen as an insult—and injurious to me.”

  But I did not want to be presented to the Emperor Charles, the man who had allowed Ambassador Chapuys to recruit me into a secret and deadly conspiracy in England and who had issued a decree about my life just months ago. How would he react when told my name, particularly when he had Jacquard Rolin at his disposal—and the Inquisitors?

  Bishop Gardiner continued: “I don’t think you understand how important the Diet is, not just to the kingdoms concerned but to individual lives, including yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “If the Church can be unified, King Henry is prepared to consider returning to obedience,” said Gardiner, his voice quivering with emotion. “It is negotiable. Now that Cromwell is gone, we can be blessed again.”

  “I’ve prayed for this,” I said, “over and over and over, but it seemed impossible.”

  “It is possible,” said Gardiner. “And while a sweeping return of every monastery is unrealistic, I believe that a few abbeys and priories of England can be restored—such as the Dominican order of the Sisters of Christ.”

  I covered my face with my hands, I was so overcome. I hadn’t allowed myself to hope that I could ever put on a habit again.

  “And Edmund?” I choked. “Will he, too, be restored?”

  “Edmund is a different matter,” said Gardiner. “He could retake his vows as a friar, but I have other plans for him. With his superior mind, I believe he could have a future at court, serving the king’s council. I can even see Edmund one day donning the miter of a bishop.”

  To my astonishment, Gardiner beamed with the pride of a father.

  “This is so much to take in—I must, I must pray on it,” I stammered.

  “Of course, Joanna, or should I say ‘Sister Joanna’?” said Gardiner with one of his rare smiles. “Do you like the sound of it?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Gardiner left the parlor. Tears gathering in my eyes, I left, too, and nearly collided with a man just outside the door. It was Geoffrey.

  “So you’d like to be a nun again, Joanna?”

  “You were listening to us!” I was appalled that Geoffrey would do such a thing.

  “Please answer my question.”

  “Bishop Gardiner is offering a future that does not exist,” I said. “First the Diet must come to an agreement, and heal the deep divisions of more than twenty years. And then King Henry must be persuaded to agree to restore some of the monasteries, which, in spite of the bishop’s enthusiasm, I doubt he will want to do.”

  Geoffrey stood there, his eyes burning into mine, and I knew that was not the answer he hoped for.

  “You want too much from me, Geoffrey.” It escaped from my lips before I could stop it. “I cannot deny my faith, my calling. I was the happiest I’ve been in my whole life when I was in the priory. I was a novice when I met you.”

  “But you weren’t wearing your novice habit that day,” he said, arms folded.

  “No,” I conceded. “I wasn’t.”

  Suddenly Geoffrey looked exhausted. He was still far from well. “You’re right, Joanna, I probably do want too much from you,” he murmured. “We will not speak of this again, not until we return to England.” He turned away, and paused on the stairs, saying in a stronger voice: “But I will find out what frightened you so much at the cathedral today.”

  As he made his way upstairs, it sank in that by eavesdropping on Bishop Gardiner, Geoffrey had managed to put together my eagerness to leave Regensburg with my visit to the cathedral, a link I had tried to conceal from him.

  Try as I might, I could not think of a way out of attending the bishop’s banquet. All that was left to me was to hope that I’d not be presented to the Emperor Charles, or, if I was, that a man whose empire stretched across most of the world would have forgotten about me.

  • • •

  “Bishop Gardiner, these are your two Dominicans?” purred the beautiful woman who received us at the banquet. She wore a violet dress, with diamonds shimmering on her exposed bosom. I had no idea who she was or why she would possess hostess status at the bishop’s residence. But I knew enough not to ask.

  “Ah, but they are both so attractive,” she said, looking me up and down, and Edmund, too. I did not like this, it felt as if I were a piece of sculpture, or even a doll, wearing the Bavarian-style full-sleeved dress that Bishop Gardiner had obtained for me.

  Looking sideways, I detected a blush on Edmund’s cheeks. He, too, did not enjoy this inspection. It had always pained Edmund, the moral corruption of some of the church leaders.

  The Emperor Charles was the last to arrive, with his large retinue. The room was already boiling over with conversation—all the dignitaries of the Catholic countries coming together and a trio from England, too. Reverent silence replaced the chatter when the emperor appeared. Discreetly looking over the room, I was thankful for not seeing Jacquard Rolin, although it struck me that he would blame Edmund and me for missing such a prestigious evening.

  Charles V looked much older than his sister, the queen regent, but I saw a resemblance: plain features, sallow skin, and long chin. With Queen Mary, a restless energy and curious mind lent her a certain charisma. The emperor, not surprisingly, emanated a more somber dignity. He did not wear large jewels or a crown. Unsmiling, he took his seat at the head of the highest table, next to Cardinal Gasparo Contarini, the representative from Rome and the same prince of the church I had spoken to at the cathedral. I noticed the two Dominican friars—the emperor’s Inquisitors—take seats much lower.

  To my surprise, we were all served simple German fare. Bishop Gardiner explained in a low voice that the emperor requested grilled sausages and ragout of meat with bread dumplings and iced beer. He was forced to travel his dominions near constantly, often at the head of an army, and missed the Flemish and German meals of his youth. As I watched the Emperor Charles devour his ragout with abandon, making loud chewing noises, I couldn’t help but contrast his table deportment with Henry VIII’s exactitude when dining. What made it still more curious was that the Hapsburgs were a family of ancient royalty, and the Tudors recently elevated.

  The meal finished quickly, and the moment arrived for our presentation, something that could not be avoided. I tried to quiet my nerves, hovering behind Bishop Gardiner.

  “Your Imperial Majesty, this is Mistress Joanna Stafford, ” said Gardiner.

  I curtsied as low as I possibly could.

  The emperor’s sad features brightened as he regarded me, and I had a sense that Charles V enjoyed the company of women.

  The Spanish bishop leaned over and whispered in the emperor’s ear.

  “Ah, your mother was of Castile and served my aunt the queen of England, that is interesting,” the emperor said. To my surprise, his Spanish was far from melodious. He sounded more Germanic than the men in his Spanish retinue.

  “Yes, she had that honor, Sire,” I said.

  The Spanish bishop said something else. A line deepened in the forehead of the emperor. His blinked, twice, and sat back in his chair. In response, my heart beat faster, and I felt a drop of sweat trickle down the back of my Bavarian dress.

  The emperor said, his features forming a scowl, “You were a novice of the Dominican sisters in a town near London?”

  “Yes, Sire, the town is Dartford,” I said and curtsie
d again. It was not protocol to dip a curtsy when answering a question—I was so frightened, I did not know what I was doing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bishop Gardiner glaring at me.

  “You should stay there,” he said. “You should stay in Dartford.”

  Bishop Gardiner stepped forward, words were said of reassurance, and I moved back. It was Edmund’s turn to be presented. All who were close enough to have heard the emperor stared at me, curious. I longed to run from the room, but to where? Bishop Gardiner’s residence was hardly a safe place, even if Geoffrey was waiting for me there. He didn’t know of my connection to the Emperor Charles, Ambassador Chapuys, and Jacquard Rolin. What did Geoffrey say in Antwerp? It’s like fighting with both arms tied behind my back. Never did I want to confide in him more than now. But never was the truth more dangerous for him to learn than now.

  Back in our seats, it was Edmund who said, “Joanna, don’t be troubled.”

  “I’m not,” I said, fingering my goblet of wine, poured from a bottle carried all the way from Portugal.

  “I’m afraid I know you better than that,” said Edmund gently. “I’ve been in the same room with the emperor for months now. He is beset by strange moods. You did nothing wrong—you were splendid, as you always are.”

  I turned to look at Edmund, to really look at him. These weeks under the same roof had been strange, and rather difficult. I’d spoken to him nearly every day but rarely had I looked at him like this, straight into his large brown eyes.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Edmund.”

  He smiled at me, and for a moment, it was as if we were back at Dartford, engaged to be married.

  I have so missed such kindness. I wanted to say it, but couldn’t.

  Gardiner was of course upset by my encounter with the emperor. Why did learning of the location of my priory displease Charles V? I professed myself just as confused.

  But in the days to come, the bishop had more pressing matters to worry him. Conflict sprouted at the Diet; compromises that seemed secure wavered. June approached, and the conference threatened to stretch on for a good while longer.