It was her turn not to answer. Instead she looked down again at the sundial. 'There's one more line here. “Time Is thou hast, employ thy portion small.” Edward, no one should waste their precious moments.' She raised her eyes again and met his.
Rather thickly he said, 'We've not squandered our time, either of us. We have done so much in our own ways.'
'Yes,' she said and could not keep the sadness from her voice. 'But there is, there must be, more. And weary as all these months have been without Tom, dearly as I loved him and honour his memory, I don't think I can live always on the ashes of what has been.'
He reached across the stone to take her hand. 'It would not be right that you should. I would see you happy again.' He broke off, his mouth taut. Then, stiffly, he said, 'I gave my word to one of my knights to bring his suit to you.’
'One of your knights?' She was startled. 'Who?'
'Sir Denis de Brocas.'
'Oh. I know him slightly. I did not think –'
'He begs me to plead his case. He says he loves you.'
To his astonishment she laughed, unable to repress her amusement. 'Poor fellow, does he so? I'm afraid then he will have to find some way to divert himself, for he's not the man for me.'
'No?' Edward was aware he was having to force himself to go on. 'He is a fine soldier, a man I can trust. I owe him at least that I should say so.'
'You may talk of him until doomsday, I'll not take him.'
'I told him you would not, that you could choose from more suitors than you can count.'
'I suppose I am much sought after,' Joan said. Her hand still lay in his. 'What should I do, Edward?'
'Do? How can I tell? Do you want to wed again?'
'I don't know.' She looked beyond him to the green hedges, the walls and the high beeches beyond. Slowly life was creeping back into her body, her heart. The limbo of Tom's death was yielding once more to the appeal of life. He would forgive her, surely, for not wanting to bury herself away from the full stream of the vivid and colourful circle in which she had always lived. This afternoon she felt warm in the sun, warm to the depths of her soul, and Edward's hand still held hers. 'I don't know,' she repeated. 'Your mother has hinted more than once that I should, but it would have to be a very great knight who could make me change my mourning gown for wifehood again.'
His fingers tightened until they crushed hers, the inexplicable anger of last night rising again. 'If you don't want de Brocas, is there a man you do want?'
And now, reading him rightly, sure of herself at last, she came round the sundial. 'I want one who does not know he wants me.'
'Tell me,' he said harshly, 'tell me! If he is so ungrateful as not to know his good fortune, I'll beat it into him. To be loved by you – do you love him, Jeanette?'
'Yes,' she said softly. 'I've always loved him – in one way. Now I know I love him in another, as the only man I will marry, but –' her eyes filled with sudden tears – 'I do not think it possible.'
'Not possible? Why not?'
'I see there are reasons,' she murmured. 'And if I may not have him, there's an end of it. I'll wed no one else.'
'That would be a pity,' he said. 'A waste, Jeanette, of – of all that you would have to give so favoured a man.'
'I do not know if he desires me.'
'How could any man not want you?' he demanded in such indignation that her smile came back despite the misgivings. She gazed up at him, her eyes still wet with the unshed tears, searching his face, every contour known to her.
'Tell me,' he demanded, and caught her by the shoulders. 'By God, I will know who it is.'
'Only the greatest knight in Christendom!'
'The greatest knight?' he exclaimed and his head went up. 'Who – who is greater than the victor of Crecy and Poitiers? Jeanette, how can you suggest –'
A little sob of laughter escaped her and she came even closer. 'Dearest Edward, foolish cousin. If I may not have you, I swear before God and Our Lady that I will have no man ever again.'
'Me!' The word came out sharply. 'Jesu!'
'It is impossible, I know,’ she said. 'Your father, the Queen – they would not approve, nor the Church – we are cousins. And I am a widow, older than you, with five children, and you are heir to England.'
'Jesu!' he said again as if she had not spoken. And then a sudden tearing light came into his face. He glanced up at the windows of the palace, aware that they were in full view. 'Walk with me,' he said and pulled her hand through his arm, holding it with the other. In silence they walked the length of a path bounded by the low cut box, and the strange sweet smell of it ever afterwards reminded Joan of this moment. He said in a low wondering voice, 'All these years, how could I not know? And yet now I remember so many little things that should have told me. And I always knew I measured every woman by you. Jeanette, do you mean it? You will wed me?'
'You or no one,' she answered. 'But Edward, it will be difficult. I'm sure your father will be angered, though perhaps your mother will understand.'
'Of course she will, and he always listens to her. And we'll talk to the Archbishop, he is in my debt for much I've done at Canterbury.'
'There will have to be a dispensation,' she said though at this moment it seemed the smallest of their problems. The figure of the King loomed largest, the old secret lying between them. Yet nothing mattered now except Edward, and when they turned in the walk, pausing to look at each other, it was in amazement that it had taken them so long to recognize what they were to each other. No disloyalty to Tom, she thought, all the world knew how much she had loved him, but now that she was to be Edward’s it was as if it had been foreseen long, long ago.
He was looking down at her in pure adoration. ‘What a simpleton I’ve been,’ he said. ‘I was so angry when everyone blamed you for the business with Tom. If I'd known why maybe I'd have challenged him for you, and William too. But I was a boy then, and that was not how God meant it to be.'
'No,' she answered, 'not then, but do you remember King Jean once thought we were betrothed. He saw more than we did, our destiny perhaps, that we would one day belong to each other. And it has come true, my darling.'
'That you should call me that!' he said wonderingly. 'And I'll not wait for our future, Jeanette. Islip shall contract us at once. After that the holy men can take their time. The Papal court goes on leaden feet as we know, but the Holy Father won't refuse us.'
'Not if your father gives his consent and urges the match,' she said slowly. 'But to tell you the truth, Edward, I fear what he will say.'
'We'll see the Archbishop in the morning,' he said confidently. 'I'll not be baulked now.'
Joan gave a little sigh. 'I never believed I would love again after Tom died. This is a miracle.'
'I know, beloved, and I thank God for it, and for you. I think I had better take my brother Lancaster into our secret.' He led her back, entering the palace by a door leading to his private suite and there in the deserted passage he took her in his arms. He had done this often before with cousinly affection, but this time it was as a lover and Joan yielded to him, responding to him in a way she had never thought to do again since that dark December night last winter.
'Tomorrow,' Edward said, 'somehow, some way, we will be contracted and you will be mine.' She flung her arms about his neck. The speed of his wooing now it had begun did not daunt, neither did it surprise her. She knew Edward too well for that.
In the morning they rode to Lambeth. She had slept little, torn between her new-found love for him, rising delight in the knowledge that she would be Princess of Wales and the future Queen of England – and what woman, she thought, could resist that? – and fear of the King. Suppose he utterly forbade the match? What could she and Edward do? Edward might well defy his father, but what then? Her joy was tempered by fear, rendering it the more precious, but when she went down to the courtyard where Roger held her palfrey, Edward's smile and the warmth of his hands as he lifted her into the saddle renewed her courage. If
he was certain so was she.
At Lambeth Edward demanded to see the Archbishop and was told he was at his prayers. 'We will wait,' he said and led Joan to a bench. 'You'll not disturb his grace in his chapel.'
A flustered clerk brought them wine and hurried off to hover outside the oratory door. The hall was a busy place, chaplains and clerks and monks in and out about their affairs, all bowing hastily when they saw the visitors. Bells seemed to be ringing constantly and Edward said, 'I swear it is worse than my chancery office.'
After about ten minutes, the Archbishop came, surprised to see the Prince in company with his cousin and only a few followers to attend them.
'My lord,' he said, 'I did not expect the honour of your presence today. In what way can I serve you?'
'First by conducting us to a more private place,' Edward said, and they were led through to a small chamber looking out on to the river. Simon Islip was a tall man, neat and fastidious, who liked his affairs kept in meticulous order, and when the Prince told him plainly that he and the Countess wished to contract themselves immediately he was astounded and sat down so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance.
'My lord! My lady! What can I say? Have you the King's consent? Or the Holy Father's? I've not heard of such a request sent to Rome. You are cousins, and you, sir, are godfather to the lady's son – another stumbling block.'
Edward fixed him with swiftly fierce blue eyes. 'I have faced the French chivalry many times – do you think these difficulties are going to turn me from my purpose?'
'No, no, my lord. But it is a very different case. These are niceties. And your immortal soul would be in danger! I cannot permit that and if His Holiness sees fit to deny you –'
'You talk nonsense,' Edward retorted. 'Why should he? Only it takes time and I'll not wait. I've waited too long to wed already.'
'As your grace says, but I cannot disobey the laws of Holy Church. If, mind you, your father is agreeable –'
'Come with me to him now,' Edward demanded and when the Archbishop flinched he gave a sudden laugh. 'Very well then, wait here and I will return with his consent, his seal on a letter to the Pope. Will that satisfy you?'
'It would be a start, my lord. Then I have to send to Rome and await the answer. It may take weeks.'
'Archbishop –' Edward rose –'do I have to remind you of what I have done for Holy Church, of the offerings at Canterbury? I think the Church owes me something.'
'They were gifts to God, were they not, sir? And without thought of reward?'
Edward's look was cold. 'You take me to task for my motives? Yet you know me, my lord, and you know I gave willingly. I ask only that you should aid me now.'
'Sir, I will do what I can, but have you thought –' the Archbishop hesitated, 'has it occurred to you that past scandals concerning the Countess may be raked up again?'
Joan gave a little start and Edward's anger flared.
'Why should they?' he demanded.
The Archbishop was not one to be deflected from what he saw to be his duty. 'If, my lord, God should bless you with children, your eldest son will be heir to the throne. There may be people who will say the lady has a husband living, the Earl of Salisbury. They may dare to say your children are not legitimate.'
Joan gasped. 'But the Pope himself gave judgement for me. How could anyone question that?'
'There are men who do not hesitate to work with dirty tools, my lady. I do not say it would be so, but I beg you to consider it. If you were in a lesser state of life it would not matter so gravely, but as it is –' he broke off with an expressive gesture.
'As it is,' Edward finished haughtily, 'I am determined to wed this lady, with or without consent, and I defy any man to deny my children their birthright. If you will not contract us I'll find other means, but I am England's heir and it is more fitting that you should do it.'
'Sir, you know as well as I do,' the harassed Prelate pointed out, 'it is a matter of law not love. I am sure you care for the lady and she for you, but that is hardly relevant.'
'Relevant!' An explosion of Plantagenet rage threatened and Joan came to the Archbishop and smiled into his anxious face. 'You are our father in God, my lord. You will not turn your back on us?'
'No, my daughter,' he answered gravely, impervious to the smiles of lovely women, 'but I am bound by two things, my vows to Holy Church and my loyalty to the King.'
'Then I shall go to him at once,' Edward said.
'Look to hear from me before nightfall.'
They left the Archbishop to return to his prayers with something indeed to occupy them, and Edward commandeered the episcopal barge to row them across the river, to the amusement of Sir James Audley who was in attendance and in the secret. Robin Savage was also so favoured and overawed by the thought that his mistress was to wed the Prince, the King's heir, the most famous soldier in Christendom.
Edward, however, was treated by his father as none of these things but as a rebellious son who had no thought for his parent's comfort. Raging, the King paced his solar while the Queen sat in a chair, Joan on a stool beside her. Philippa looked troubled, but after the first shock, she gave Joan's hand a pat and whispered, 'Don’t fear, my love, he will come round.'
The King, however, showed no sign of coming round. He stormed up and down the small room, pulling at his beard, shaking with anger. 'Damned ungrateful knave! Where is your duty, sir? Have I raised you to forget what is due to me? I have said you are to wed the Duchess Margaret and add Burgundy's lands to our own. England and my will should be your only care.' He gave Joan a sudden glowering glance. 'What will this marriage bring? Nothing!' He saw her pale face and paused for a moment. 'I'm sorry to have to say such words, but they are true. You are of royal blood, cousin, but such a match would be of no advantage to the state.'
Joan spoke in a low voice. 'Sire, l cannot help loving your son. You once said yourself I could not live happy without love.' She saw the swift, half startled, half appreciative look cross his face and wondering if he feared what she would say next, she went on: 'If I truly thought it was for Edward's good, I love him enough to leave him and hide myself on my farthest manor, but I do not believe it.'
Edward drew her to her feet beside him and stood with his arm about her. 'Your grace, I told you I had no desire to wed the Duchess of Burgundy. If I had not discovered my love for my cousin I think I would have stayed unwed all my days. You have other sons.'
'You must be wed for England's sake!' the King exploded. 'Have you no sense of what is fitting? You are my greatest bargaining asset with other royal heads in Europe. Do you think I will let you throw yourself away on one who –'
'Be careful, sire!’
Father and son faced each other and the Queen said quietly, 'We must think on this matter, my son. You must see that it is of such importance that no quick decision can be made.'
'Madame –' Letting Joan go he came to her and went down on one knee beside her to kiss her hand. 'Surely you understand? I'm thirty and unwed and I'm in love.'
Impulsively Joan knelt beside him. 'Lady, I would do naught to offend you, but I can make Edward happy.'
Tears filled Philippa's eyes for she had always regretted her handsome eldest son's bachelor state. 'Dear child, dearest Edward, of course I understand. Yet it is not easy. There is so much against it.'
'We know,' Edward said, 'but no difficulties so great that they cannot be solved. Do we have your blessing?'
'If your father consents.'
Edward rose and faced the angry King once more. 'Will you give it, sire?'
'I will not.'
'And if I say I will wed my cousin even if the whole of Christendom is against us?'
'You can't!' the King blustered. 'Without the Pope's permission you will be living in vile sin.'
Edward gave a harsh laugh. 'Then we will live in sin, God help us. Many do the like for worse reasons.'
There was a silence and then the King banged his fist into the palm of his hand. 'You are mad,
Edward, even to consider it. Joan has had enough scandal raised about her, and I'm sure the Archbishop pointed that out.'
'He did,' Edward answered, dangerously cold.
'Then you should listen to him. Great God, for my heir to wed a twice widowed lady about whose marriages there is considerable doubt –'
'Sire.' Philippa rose and came to him, touching his arm tentatively. 'It is Joan you are speaking of, Joan whom I raised as one of our own children. And the past is done. Sir Thomas Holland is dead.'
'William is not,' he retorted. 'And whatever the Pope says, there will always be no doubt as to whose bed she properly belonged in,' he added crudely.
'I care not how much mud is flung at us,' Edward broke in. 'I can deal with any man who dares to throw it, or woman for that matter. I will wed Jeanette or I will wed nobody.'
'You will espouse Margaret of Flanders if I say so.'
'I will not,' Edward saw his father's face suffuse and went on, 'I tell you, I will contract my cousin this very day.'
'Today!' the King roared. His eyes flickered to Joan. She seemed to him to have an assurance now that she had not had on that Mayday so long ago, and he knew that, despite his cruel words, he could not now force his will on her as he had before. 'Then it will have to be a secret contract and you make a habit of those, eh, little cousin?'
'Sire!' The jibe hurt but Joan answered with calm dignity, her strength the greater for Edward's presence so close by her side. 'You are well aware that when I contracted my late husband I was a girl of thirteen. It is hard that you should hold that against me now that Edward and I have come openly to you.'
'Aye, openly,' he retorted bitterly, 'but determined to have your will whatever I say.'
Edward said, 'Yes, sire, we are. But it would be better done with your good will.'
'And that you have not.' The King strode to the door. 'I ought to clap you in chains, disinherit you if I could. And if you persist in this you can go to hell-fire and damn your souls for all I care.'
He went out, slamming the door, to the fascination of the pages and squires in attendance outside who had been listening in awe to the echoes of the quarrel.
Lady of the Garter (The Plantagenets Book 4) Page 16
