by June Francis
John stepped back and Louise looked at him. ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Tell me everything you said.’
‘Up on your horse first and we’ll talk on the way to my cousin’s house.’
‘Your cousin’s?’ she said quickly. ‘Is that where Marguerite is?’
He shrugged. ‘I have no notion of your sister’s whereabouts, but it could be that Adam knows.’ He dug in his heels and pulled on the reins, lifted a hand in farewell, and left Maud staring after them.
John told Louise of the exchange between himself and Maud. ‘It could have been Marguerite,’ she said eagerly. ‘At least she has been here.’
‘A week ago — probably,’ said John cautiously. ‘But to say where she could be now would be purely guesswork.’
‘But your cousin — ’
‘That is a long shot, Louise. It’s unlikely he’ll know anything definite. After all, what happened wasn’t on his manor. But news does get round, and although Adam has little to do with Dykemore I gather from Matt that there is some interchange between him and the steward at Cobtree.’
‘Then perhaps it would be best to see the steward,’ she pressed.
‘Only as a last resort,’ he murmured, his eyes narrowing. ‘I would not like it to get back to Dykemore that I’ve been asking questions of his steward. Actions and words can be misconstrued, twisted and used against one. It’s happened in the past to me and I’ve no intention of giving Dykemore the satisfaction of toasting my toes on the gallows.’
She gazed at him and her eyes were sombre. ‘I’m sorry, John. I have done what your brother feared.’
He smiled slightly and shook his head. ‘I’ve lived with that danger stalking me for years. Dorothy was Dykemore’s tool. She betrayed me when I went to warn Harry five years ago when he got himself involved in a plot to capture the King and his brothers, and to demand drastic changes in the Church. I know my enemies and that is my greatest weapon against them. It was when I believed him a friend, and Dorothy a faithful wife, that I nearly lost my life.’
‘Tell me,’ Louise asked quietly. ‘I would try and understand.’ There was a silence and she sensed his reluctance. ‘You do not trust me?’ she murmured.
‘It is not that. It’s just that we are here at my cousin’s house and I can see him. Later! I will tell you later.’ He urged his horse into a canter.
With that she knew that she had to be satisfied, as she followed him up the winding path past a small green swathe of lawn with flower-beds. She reined beside him outside a stone house. It had glazed windows and stood foursquare against the weather, its upper storey jutting out over the lower. The door was open and a man of perhaps some thirty years came slowly down a couple of steps towards them.
‘Jack?’ His deep voice contained a note of enquiry. ‘Or could it possibly be Harry?’
‘You had it right the first time, coz.’ John grinned and held out his hand to the fair giant standing at his horse’s head. ‘Is all well with you and your good wife and brood?’
‘I could wish them less noisy but it’s to be expected with the festive season approaching. Where have you come from?’
John dismounted. ‘France. Come from Dover today. Let me introduce you to Master Saulnier. We seek his sister — a French maid of some twelve years, named Marguerite. Harry sent her to Wat Fuller, but I presume you know what happened to him.’
Adam, frowned. ‘It’s a pity he couldn’t keep his opinions to himself and he could have saved his hide. He was a good worker. But that’s the trouble with some Lollards — they like to shoot off their mouths.’ He nodded in Louise’s direction. ‘Frenchie, is he?’
‘Naturally,’ said John politely, ‘if his sister is French. I just wondered if you’d heard anything about the wench?’
Adam rasped a hand across his large square chin. ‘You say Harry sent her?’ John nodded. His cousin sighed. ‘That was made plain, I hazard. You’d best come in, both of you. You’ll be ready for a drink and a bite to eat. You’re just in time for supper and I don’t doubt you’ll be needing a bed. It’ll be dark within the hour. I’ll get one of the men to take your horses round to the stables.’ And without another word he turned on his heels and went inside the house.
‘He knows something about Marguerite,’ said John to Louise, holding a hand up and helping her dismount so that she came down close to him. ‘Just what we’ll find out when he’s ready.’ His voice was low as his fingers brushed her cheek. ‘You can’t rush my cousin Adam.’ She looked up into his intense blue eyes and felt a moment’s breathlessness. ‘But at least you’re certain he can tell us of Marguerite’s whereabouts?’ she murmured, experiencing a desire to press against him and have his arms around her which caused her to instantly back away.
He shrugged and began to unfasten the baggage from behind her saddle. ‘As certain as I can be.’ He took her arm and led her up the steps and into the hall.
It was filled with activity. The trestles had been put up and platters and bowls were being placed on the table by several serving-maids. A couple of boys were kicking a ball at the far end of the hall, and a girl was playing with a doll sitting near the fire on a stool, close to an elderly woman. A larger boy was grooming a hound, and Adam was talking to a plump woman wearing a surcote of pale blue. She glanced towards them and, after patting Adam’s arm, she hurried over to Louise and John.
‘You are welcome, Jack.’ Her smile warmed her large brown eyes as she stretched up and kissed him. Then she turned her attention to Louise.
‘Mistress Ann, this is Master Louis Saulnier.’ John made the introductions again.
‘Ay! So Adam said,’ murmured the mistress of the house, scrutinising Louise’s face. ‘He’s a pretty lad. And there’s that man of mine speaking of him as if he were one of the devil’s minions. But now that’s because there’s been warring over one thing and other between our countries for heaven only knows how long.’ She smiled. ‘Come, lad, and warm yourself by the fire for a few moments before supper. We won’t expect you to change your raiment.’
John took Louise’s arm, translating swiftly what Ann had said. She smiled and thanked her in English, and went gladly with him to warm herself by the flames that burnt vigorously on the hearth. She eased off her gloves and folded them into her belt before pushing back her cloak over her shoulders to allow’ the heat to penetrate the better her chilled, stiff body. They were both silent as they stared into the fire. It had occurred to Louise that if the family considered her a youth then it was likely that they would expect her to share a room with either their boys or John. But before she could give much thought to the situation they were called to the table.
A bowl of water was brought to them by one of the sons of the house. They rinsed their hands and dried them on the towel presented to them by another son. Grace was said by the priest sitting a few places up from Louise and next to the old woman, whom John informed her was Ann’s mother. They were served a soup, rich with peas, barley and chunks of rabbit meat, in treen bowls. It was followed by slices of heron in a vinegar and ginger sauce on thick trenchers of wheatmeal bread. There was also sliced brawn in a wine and honey syrup. Little talk spread along the table as they all ate their fill. Only when warm spiced wine and sweetmeats were set before them did the children begin to chatter and the grown-ups to talk.
Louise had to be content to listen to the hubbub of noise, only understanding few words here and there. She hoped that later John, who was in deep conversation with his cousin, would give her the information that she wanted.
It was to be much later it seemed as the two men sat on, talking, while the women rose and took the children to their beds. Louise got up too, went to the privy and came back. The women, returning also, sat with their sewing, close to the fire. The priest left the table, and only Louise remained, dozing over her wine, weary with the day’s travelling. Then a frowning John hoisted her up.
‘The servants want to clear away the trestles,’ she heard him say, as his arm went round her s
houlders and he led her to a door in the right-hand corner of the room. ‘And if we want to have an early start then it’s bed for us.’
‘Where are we going?’ she muttered, as a cold wind whipping along a narrow passage set her cloak swirling. They began to mount a wooden staircase.
‘We are guests — we have a bedchamber to ourselves. The girl and her grandmother are sharing a room with Adam and Ann.’
Louise paused and blinked at him. ‘I knew this would happen. Are you sure you know what we’re doing?’ The words were slurred. ‘What about Marguerite?’
‘I’ll tell you everything once we’re alone,’ he said soothingly.
‘Alone. It’s not right for us to be alone. Is it good news or bad?’
‘Both.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will.’ His voice sounded grim. They had come to a door to the left at the top of the stairs. ‘Now quiet. We don’t want to disturb the boys when we pass through their room to ours.’
‘Won’t say a word,’ she muttered, gathering her cloak around her.
John smiled slightly, put his hand over her mouth, and, placing his arm around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and carried her past the slumbering boys to a door at the far end of the room. He put her down and dragged her through the doorway, closing the door quietly behind them.
A small lamp, burning rancid mutton fat, cast a tiny circle of yellow light on the bed that took up most of the space. Louise’s nose wrinkled with distaste. ‘Where are we?’ The fingers of one hand curled about his wrist.
‘I’ve told you, and it doesn’t matter,’ whispered John. ‘Get into bed.’
‘Pardon?’ She sought to pull herself together.
‘It’s all right,’ he muttered. ‘You can trust me. I’ll sleep on the floor.’ He trod softly over to the bed and took off the top blanket.
She nodded, flung back the covers, scrambled on to the bed and into it fully clothed.
‘Your boots, woman,’ he hissed.
Louise scowled at him and stretched out her legs in his direction. The corner of his mouth lifted and he tossed the blanket over his shoulder and pulled off her boots, before covering her. He wrapped his blanket round him and sat sideways on the bed. ‘Your sister was here,’ he said quietly.
She gazed at him from bleary eyes. ‘Was?’
‘At Cobtree. Dykemore ordered the lad to take her to Burford.’
Louise attempted to sit up. ‘Why? And where is this Burford?’
‘Oxfordshire. And the “why — ” is because Dorothy has a fever, and so apparently have several of the serving-maids. Your sister’s been sent to help in the house, according to Adam’s information, which he had from Dykemore’s steward.’
There was a silence and Louise forced her eyelids wider. ‘The bad news is that you don’t want your wife to see me, I suppose?’
‘No,’ he said shortly, frowning. ‘Haven’t you been listening? They all believe you to be a pretty lad. It wouldn’t occur to them that I would deceive them in such a manner. The bad news is that the fever is particularly nasty and virulent.’ He hesitated.
‘What are you saying?’ She leaned forward and seized his arm. ‘Are people dying of it?’
‘I have not heard so,’ he lied. ‘But I thought you’d best be prepared. Your sister could go down with it and it will take us at least four days to get to Burford. You might have to stay in England longer than you thought till she has recovered.’
Louise freed a sigh of relief. ‘Is that the bad news? I thought you were going to say that you would not take me.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve given you my word, haven’t I?’
‘Ay.’ She returned his smile, and loosened her hold on his arm. He caught her hand and, lifting it to his mouth, pressed a kiss on her palm. His eyes met hers over their joined hands and sweetness trickled like warm honey through her veins. ‘Perhaps,’ she whispered, ‘you could sleep on the bed. It would be more comfortable.’
‘Do you consider that wise?’ A smile deepened the creases about his nose and mouth.
‘No. But it’ll be a lot warmer,’ she muttered sleepily, lying down, her hand still holding on to his. He stretched out beside her, his chin resting on her hair. Despite the layers of covering between them, she could not help thinking of how it had been in the four-poster in Caen. In the morning, she would have to be mindful of his having a wife.
CHAPTER NINE
DAYLIGHT was already streaming into the room when Louise woke, and the place beside her was empty. She heard the door latch being lifted, and, groaning, turned over.
‘I thought you’d be full of aches today,’ John said, smiling cheerfully as he placed a bowl on the floor. Over his arm he had a towel and some clothing. He closed the door behind him. ‘Also that you might want to wash and change your raiment.’
She eased herself into a sitting position, her legs over the side of the bed. ‘But I have only women’s wear! What have you there?’ She leaned forward curiously and he placed the clothes on her lap.
‘I have exchanged what you have on for these clothes of Adam’s eldest boy and a pair of riding boots. You said the ones you’ve been wearing are too big.’
Gratitude flooded her as she fingered the garments. The woollen shirt, padded jupon, and the russet houppelande felt soft and warm, and — she lifted them to her nose — fresh. Her eyes met his, and they were moist. ‘I have felt dirty and smelly for so long that you can’t begin to imagine how grateful I am for your consideration in fetching these for me,’ she said in almost passionate tones.
‘Don’t you think I’ve felt the same?’ he said ruefully.
She gazed at him appraisingly. His hair was damp and curled on his forehead and he had shaved. The houppelande he wore was green, fur-trimmed, and split up the sides for easier movement while riding. Beneath it showed a doublet of saffron. It was a pleasure looking at him and perhaps her feelings showed in her face, because his eyes twinkled as he said, ‘I’ve also brought some salve for your chapped lips and cheeks — and for any other places on your anatomy that you would like to anoint.’ He took a small jar from his pocket. ‘Ann said it’s goose grease and yarrow.’
She grimaced. ‘I think I would need a larger jar to cover them all, but I am very grateful.’
John smiled. ‘I’ll wait outside. The older boys are at their lessons with the priest. But the younger children just might come in for curiosity’s sake to look at the “Frenchy lad”.’ He lifted the latch and left her.
Louise had not expected such thoughtfulness and courtesy. During the night he had made no advances towards her, and, to her dismay, as she stripped off her soiled clothes her thoughts strayed to how pleasant it would have been if he had. She chided herself — she must not think in such a way! Kneeling on the floor, she washed her hair with the tablet of Castile soap provided, before washing her body. Yet as she dried her breasts her remembrance was of how he had touched and kissed her. Shaking her head, she tried to rid it of the pictures there. He had surely bewitched her if such sinfulness was still in her mind. Consider his wife, she ordered herself, towelling the rest of her dry. His sick wife! A wife who had betrayed him! said another little voice in her head. ‘Still a wife,’ she said it aloud. ‘Remember that, Louise!’
The door opened and she covered herself with the towel hurriedly. ‘Did you ask for something?’ John’s gaze slid over her throat and bare shoulders — her legs. And came back to her face.
‘I was talking — to myself.’ Her voice was husky, as she struggled to free her eyes from his gaze. ‘I will not delay you much longer.’
‘We don’t have to wait to break our fast,’ He moved slowly towards her. ‘Ann has prepared us some food to take with us so that we can eat on our way.’
‘I’d best make haste, then,’ she whispered, her hand searching for the woollen shirt on the bed. He picked it up and placed it about her shoulders, before lifting her free arm and easing it into the sleeve. Not daring to look at hi
m, she changed hands on the towel and slipped her other arm into the other sleeve, before submitting to his buttoning the shirt with fingers that quivered.
He picked up the woollen hose and linen slops and held them out to her. The towel slipped from her fingers as she took them, and he bent and picked it up, with his eyes still on her face, only to drop it on the bed.
Somehow she was in his arms, his hands clasped behind her back, her fingers laced behind his. She lifted her face, and his mouth brushed her sore lips, nuzzled her throat, before hugging her to him, and nestling her head against his shoulder. For several minutes they stayed in that position and she waited, her pulses racing, for him to make the next move. His hands strayed beneath the shirt to her buttocks, and he pressed her against him. She knew that he wanted her just as she wanted him, could feel him trembling.
He released her abruptly so that she fell on the bed. There was an expression in his face that caused her heart to leap into her throat. ‘I’ll go downstairs and bring the horses round,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t be long.’
Louise picked up the clothes from the floor with shaking hands, and sank on to the bed. Now she truly knew what temptation was! The only answer was for them not to be alone and to keep their distance. And that was going to be impossible! Sooner or later he would take her again, and to her shame she knew that she would not be unwilling. She was damned unless she confessed and paid penance and resisted.
With fingers that still shook she took the tiny jar of salve and rubbed it on her lips and cheeks, on the chafed places on her inner thighs and inside her knees. Then she finished dressing hurriedly, gave her hair a final rub, pulled on her fur hat, and, carrying the towel and the bowl, she quit the bedchamber.
Louise’s thanks to Ann and Adam were perhaps a little effusive, due to her overwhelming sense of guilt for deceiving them, and for what might have happened under their roof. She was glad when she and John had left their manor, and Cobtree, behind, retracing their journey of yesterday. John was silent and withdrawn and, although she was extremely hungry by the time that they reached the London road, she kept quiet, and tried to stir up some interest in the landscape through which they were passing. It undulated gently and there were more fruit trees and sheep.
