I knew almost nothing of Lady Margaret but Jasper had once told me about when he first met her at court and his account had disturbed me because he had given the impression, intentionally or not, that he thought the sun beamed from her noble backside. In my perverse way I had concluded that such a paragon of virtue was quite likely to be a pain in that part of the anatomy, the sort of pain I was now literally suffering due to prolonged and unfamiliar contact with the saddle. As my fingers also froze to the reins in the icy wind, I began to wonder if the big wide world was where I wanted to be and if a blue-blooded countess who was also a spoiled brat was someone I wanted to serve. Nor did I hold out much hope that the present Jasper Tudor would be the same smiling and likeable person I had found so appealing on his first appearance at Tŷ Cerrig five years ago. Would he still be so charming and easy now that he was installed in his earldom and lord of all he surveyed? The nearer we got to Pembroke the greater my misgivings grew.
Having at last turned away from the coast, we wended our way for several days through mountain passes and green valleys, staying at inns and hospices and finally finding hospitality at Carew Castle, despite the absence of its lord, who was one of Gruffydd ap Nicholas’s sons. I had found Carew daunting with its soaring turrets and high walls but that was before I set eyes on Pembroke the following day. During our journey some of the churches and abbeys we rode past had amazed me, but I had never laid eyes on anything to compare with the huge and fearsome edifice that was Pembroke Castle.
Viewed across an expanse of rippling water, it crouched like some gigantic monster on a steep rocky promontory, its mighty lime-washed towers and battlements appearing to grow out of the pale rock beneath, as if it was rooted in the earth itself. It looked like a man-made white mountain, indestructible, impregnable.
I had to clear my throat to find my voice and ask Maredudd weakly, ‘Is that the entrance?’ pointing to a huge arch in the base of the cliff that appeared to be the maw of the monster. A cluster of boats and people on the mud flats in front of it might have been its prey.
My brother laughed. ‘No, that is the great cavern. A natural cave connected to the castle by an inside stair and used for landing and storing supplies and armaments. The main gatehouse is around the other side and leads from the town straight into the outer ward. First we must cross the bridge.’ He indicated a stone structure arching over the narrows where the River Pembroke flowed into its estuary.
I took a deep breath to steady my beating heart. ‘If I were Lady Margaret arriving here I think I would be terrified.’
‘Yes but you are a farm-girl and she is a countess; she has lived in castles and palaces all her life.’
I had thought that gaining admittance to the castle would be a slow process but as squire to the earl Maredudd’s face was familiar to the guards and our business easily stated. We trotted on past the high barbican wall, through the echoing tunnel under the gatehouse with its two open gates and raised portcullises, and into the vast Outer Ward. My brother had told me the castle was presently very quiet but the noise and bustle we found inside was greater than any I had ever experienced and the maze of buildings ranged against the enclosing walls of the ward beyond made me think how quickly I would become lost if I were left alone here. Later I discovered that each structure gave out clues to its identity, a wheeze of bellows and clang of hammer, the barking of dogs and the whinny of horses, the tantalizing smell of bread and the warm whiff of malted grain. On the far side of the ward I could see vegetable and herb gardens laid out in the shelter of a large, square tower. Turning left from the gatehouse we skirted a substantial, newly erected stone house, roofed in slate and partly encased in wooden scaffolding. Intricate decorative carving around its imposing entrance and some elaborate gargoyle gutter-spouts indicated a dwelling of some distinction.
‘What is it?’ I asked Maredudd.
‘Lord Jasper’s new mansion,’ he replied. ‘He says the Solar Tower has too many echoes and draughts. This house even has a special room with a stone tub for bathing. He wanted to be living in it by Christmas but that is not going to happen now.’
Beyond this new building lay a long range of stables where we finally dismounted and handed our tired horses to a groom. Then Maredudd led the way to a lofty battlemented dividing wall and through another huge gatehouse as if we were entering a castle within a castle.
‘This is the original stronghold,’ Maredudd explained, ‘constructed by the Normans to keep the troublesome Welsh out of their lives. They are still trying to do that but we are testament to the fact that they have not succeeded.’ He shot me a triumphant grin. ‘Because here we are!’
The same cold sea-breeze that had plagued the first part of our journey from Abermaw now struck again, swirling about a vast, round tower-keep and howling through a tunnel where a curved stone staircase led upwards.
‘This is the old keep,’ my brotherly guide revealed. ‘It was built by the famous knight Sir William Marshall when he was Earl of Pembroke. The base is twenty feet thick.’
I craned my neck to peer up at its many narrow arrow-slit windows. ‘It looks truly sinister,’ I said with conviction.
‘No need for you to worry, females are not allowed in the keep.’
‘Good. Where will I be living then?’
‘I have no idea. Wherever Lady Margaret is lodged I suppose. Lord Jasper had a big new window added to the Solar Tower so perhaps she is quartered there.’ We had rounded the keep into a more sheltered courtyard, where he pointed to another outside stair set against a plastered building. ‘That is the entrance.’
‘Good, for I am so cold now that I cannot feel my toes.’
‘I believe you are getting soft, sis,’ chided my brother. ‘I was told we will find Lord Jasper here.’
‘Did your informant happen to tell you if Lady Margaret was also here?’ I enquired sharply, sensing he was keeping something back.
Maredudd smiled slyly. ‘Yes, he did and she is.’
I could have strangled him. I was frozen, filthy from the road and saddle-sore, in no fit state to meet a countess on whom I wished to make a good impression. ‘I will need to visit a latrine before I meet her,’ I insisted.
‘Well I am sure Lord Jasper can supply one of those.’
I clenched my teeth and sighed. Lord Jasper might be able to supply one but would I have the nerve to ask him?
13
Jane
Pembroke Castle
A CHAMBERLAIN TOLD US to wait in the anteroom and entered the solar to announce our arrival. I only had time to remove my gloves before Jasper came out to meet us. I was shocked by his appearance. There were deep shadows under his eyes, his hair was unkempt and his jaw stippled with several days’ stubble. He looked as if he had not slept for weeks.
‘Jane! Thank God you are here.’ I thought he might be about to embrace me but then he checked himself and took my hands instead as I dropped him a curtsy. ‘It is so good to see you.’
He did not release my hands immediately when I rose and I was conscious that mine were rough from work but his felt just as worn and his doublet looked as if it had been slept in. He was far from the grandiose nobleman I feared he might have become. ‘I am very sorry about Lord Edmund’s death, my lord. It must have come as such a shock to you. I have been praying for his soul as you asked.’
‘Thank you, Jane. From what the priests tell us of purgatory I believe the dead need all the prayers the living can offer.’ He turned his attention to my brother. ‘And thank you for bringing her to Pembroke, Maredudd. Did your father need much persuading?’
‘No more than your gold was able to supply, my lord,’ my brother said dryly. ‘Gold speaks louder than words when times are hard and they are hard at present.’
Jasper nodded and his next words were music to my ears. ‘You must want to refresh yourself, Jane.’ He beckoned to the girl who had entered the room with him. She was about my age and dressed very similarly, her hair covered by a plain linen coif. �
��This is Lady Margaret’s maid, Alice. She will show you the way.’
‘How is Lady Margaret, my lord?’ I asked.
A haunted look swept his face and he shook his head, sighing. ‘Not good. She needs you, but you will see for yourself. Go with Alice now and I will speak with Maredudd. When you return I will take you in to meet her.’
In a connecting tower Alice stood sentinel while I made use of one seat of an intriguing double latrine. A wicked image of past earls and countesses seated sociably together inspired an inappropriate giggle, which I hastily smothered. But to confirm its use by the rich and privileged, next door in the garderobe I found a water-jug, bowl and soap with a brush and hand mirror nearby – luxuries of which I took full advantage, removing my coif, washing my face and hands and brushing my hair before replacing it. When I followed the maid back to the anteroom I felt considerably more presentable.
Maredudd was gone when I got there. ‘He will be back for supper in the hall in an hour.’ Jasper told me. ‘There are refreshments in the solar if you are hungry and thirsty in the meantime. Come now and meet Lady Margaret.’
She sat beside a blazing fire wearing a black veil and enveloped in dark furs, her head bowed over her clasped hands as if in prayer. She looked tiny, almost shrunken, lost in the high-backed armchair, and when she raised her eyes I noticed they were swollen and bloodshot and her cheekbones were blade-sharp. Jasper introduced me, whereupon Lady Margaret struggled to her feet and her fur mantle fell back to reveal a swollen belly that seemed grotesque on her childish frame. I judged that she was at least seven months pregnant.
I was quick to disguise the horror I felt with a smile as I slowly approached, took her right hand gently in mine and placed my left on her elbow. The action was instinctive because she looked as if she was about to fall over. I tried to keep my voice level. ‘I hope I can be of service to you, Lady Margaret. First of all, I think you should sit down again.’
‘Yes, I do feel a little dizzy,’ she confessed, allowing me to lower her back into the chair. ‘I am enceinte you know.’ I found her use of the French word quaint and rather touching.
‘Yes, I can see that. If you are dizzy perhaps you should eat something. In your condition a little and often is the best way.’ The bony feel of her arm had shocked me.
Curiosity flickered in her inflamed grey eyes. ‘How do you know that? Are you a midwife?’
‘No but in recent years I have helped my stepmother through three pregnancies so I do know something about it.’ I caught sight of a tray of wafers and sweetmeats on a table nearby and picked it up. ‘Why do you not nibble at one of these? I am sure you would feel better.’
She looked at the titbits as if she thought they might poison her. ‘Oh, do you think so? I am not very hungry.’
‘Perhaps not but I expect your baby is.’ I smiled again and pushed the tray nearer. ‘You must eat to nourish him.’
She frowned and a look of irritation crossed her face. ‘How do you know it is a boy? I am sorry, I have forgotten your name.’
‘Jane,’ I said, deferentially providing the English version. ‘It is Jane. And I do not know that your baby is a boy, my lady. I just do not like to refer to a human soul as “it”.’
Almost without appearing to realize she had done so Lady Margaret took a wafer and nibbled at it, nodding. ‘I agree with you. It does not seem right. But the priests say that a child is not a Christian until after baptism. If not a Christian how can it have a soul?’
I hesitated. Arguing Christian doctrine was not something I cared to do. Although only a girl, this highly educated aristocrat probably knew much more about it than I did. I glanced at Jasper for help but he too appeared nonplussed. ‘I think that is a question you should ask your confessor, Margaret,’ he suggested at last.
‘But I do not have a confessor,’ she said sadly. ‘Lord Edmund said he was applying to the pope for permission to appoint one but I do not know if permission came because he …’ Fresh tears rushed from her eyes and she covered her face with her hands. ‘I am sorry, I do not mean to weep.’ Her words were muffled and her shoulders shook. Alice hurriedly supplied her with a kerchief.
To give Lady Margaret time to recover I took the opportunity to scan the room. It was spacious and elegantly furnished, hung with colourful tapestries and scattered with bright silk cushions that caught the rays of the setting sun shining through the oriel window. A large tester bed stood at one end, heaped with quilts and pillows. Jasper was hovering behind Margaret’s chair, regarding me helplessly. Judging by his distraught expression he was close to tears himself.
‘I think it might be better if Lady Margaret were in bed,’ I suggested when her sobs eased a little. ‘She is obviously exhausted.’
Jasper made a hopeless gesture with his hands. ‘She says she cannot sleep.’
‘Nevertheless she needs to rest. I think that if you leave us, my lord, together Alice and I will be able make her comfortable. Perhaps some gruel could be ordered for her, made with beef bones preferably.’
Lady Margaret raised her head. ‘No beef. It is Advent. I am fasting.’ A shuddering breath punctuated each burst of speech.
I rolled my eyes at Jasper who shrugged again. He clearly had no idea how to tackle such female resolve.
‘The Church does not require pregnant women to fast, my lady,’ I said, crossing my fingers. I had no idea if it was true but my mother had told me this once and she had a convent education. ‘If you wish we can call a priest to confirm it.’
Margaret’s hands dropped from her face and she stared at me, as if testing my honesty. Then she nodded and, wiping her eyes, said in a small voice, ‘Very well. I will go to bed and I will try to swallow some gruel.’
An hour later, when she had been installed in fresh linen sheets, propped on soft pillows and had consumed a bowl of delicious-smelling gruel, her inflamed eyelids drooped shut and she slept. I sent Alice to find Lord Jasper.
‘You are right, my lord,’ I told him, having left the maid in my place beside the bed of our mistress and sat down with him in the anteroom. ‘Lady Margaret is very distraught. She should not be left alone.’
‘She should not be pregnant,’ he said angrily. ‘God knows I greatly mourn my brother’s death but were he still alive I could kill him. He should not have consummated his marriage so soon. It was tantamount to murdering her. I fear she will not survive.’ On a smothered sob he sank his head in his hands.
Only the distance between our chairs prevented me taking his hand to comfort him. It was clear to me that he cared deeply for the girl. He had looked at her as if he would like to throw himself at her feet, offer her anything her heart desired, bring her the moon on a platter if only it would relieve her pain, if only it would make her smile. I did not know what obsession looked like but I instinctively knew that Jasper was obsessed, and the great change in his appearance was due to this. I was to learn that the nobility called this courtly love. I considered it senseless folly.
I summoned my rallying tone, the one I used for Bethan when she was in labour. ‘Take heart, my lord; I do not believe she will die. We still have time to calm her distress, feed her up and teach her how to bear a child. It will not be the first time a girl of thirteen has given birth and it will not be the last. But she has obviously been mourning alone for too long. Before you brought her here she must have felt abandoned and terrified. Does she have no family of her own to support her?’
‘She has a large family but they are scattered all over England. Her mother, Lady Welles, is apparently unwell and unable to travel and her sister Edith is about to give birth to her own first child. At court we only heard of my brother’s capture a month ago, then a ransom was raised and we expected him to be released imminently. News of his death came as a terrible shock. Margaret needs someone practical and kind like you to befriend her, Jane. You were the first person I thought of …’ He leaned forward beseechingly. ‘Just tell me what you need and I will provide it.’
* * *
Slowly Lady Margaret regained her appetite and recovered some of the energy and vitality I remembered having at her age, although of course I had not been pregnant nor had to contemplate the fearsome prospect of giving birth. I believed it was this fear that drew her so frequently to the castle chapel. She heard Mass every morning and only missed a second Mass in the evening if she was feeling particularly tired. Her faith seemed to sustain her and she derived great solace from ordering her days according to the Church calendar. When she was not in the chapel she read books or sewed tiny chemises and embroidered a beautiful baptism gown and coif for the baby in fine silk thread. Her needlework was immaculate and she designed her own patterns. Jasper was right; she was a gifted girl but she was also a proud one. I was not used to being treated like a servant and frequently I found being in her company like treading on hot coals.
‘You should come to Mass with me, Jane,’ she said one morning as I helped her into her fur-lined boots in order to cross the Inner Court to the chapel. ‘You neglect your duty to God.’
Because I was kneeling at her feet I managed to hide my irritation. It was only when she was in chapel that I had time to attend to the other tasks I had assumed in the household. Jasper had no wife or chatelaine to oversee the domestic arrangements. In general the castle was a male enclave; sentries patrolled the battlements, guards manned the gates, male cooks and scullions sweated in the kitchens, grooms and huntsmen staffed the stables and kennels and archers and men at arms practised their skills incessantly in the outer court. Only in the brewery and the laundry were any women employed and they did not have the manners or the training to be of any use in a lady’s solar. I had quickly realized that more female staff were needed as cleaners and tire-women if I was not to become exhausted and Lady Margaret was to be attended in the way to which she was accustomed and on which Jasper insisted. So he had asked the steward to seek out some suitable candidates from among the women of the town and for the first week I was busy interviewing them and inducting those chosen. This had been done while Lady Margaret attended Mass, along with the routine tasks of changing bed linen, ordering meals and obtaining potions and salves from the Pembroke apothecary.
First of the Tudors Page 13
