The Shattered Rose

by Jo Beverley

  "Yes?"

  "Raymond of Lowick requests an audience, my lord bishop."

  A possible weight in the balance.

  "Send him in. And bring more wine and another goblet."

  Sir Raymond stalked into the small chamber with an excess of energy and dignity. He was not in armor, thank heaven, but his sword threatened various objects as he moved. The servant presented the goblet of wine and was thanked curtly.

  It was amazing, thought Flambard, how men of such minuscule importance thought themselves so grand.

  "My lord bishop," said Lowick, "Galeran of Heywood and his household are in London."

  "That is hardly surprising."

  Lowick stopped his restlessness and fixed a surprisingly knowing look on Ranulph. "Lord William of Brome is not with them. He was taken ill at Waltham."

  Ranulph put aside his wine. "Indeed? That is interesting. Do we know what kind of illness?"

  "No, my lord."

  Flambard considered for a moment, then said, "You must ride to Waltham and discover just how ill Lord William is."

  "But Jehanne and my child are here, only lightly protected at the house of Hugo the Vintner in Corser Street. Is this not a good time to seize them?"

  Ranulph decided he must have been mistaken about that flash of intelligence. "Not at all. I have no jurisdiction here. Knowing where they are is good enough for now. I have already mentioned your case to the king and hope that he will order that my judgment be obeyed. He is not keen to offend the Church at this time...."

  With a knock, the servant intruded once again.

  "What?"

  "Begging your pardon, my lord, but a messenger comes from the king."

  "Then send him in, man! Send him in!"

  The messenger was a neatly made young clerk of the type Henry seemed to favor. "My lord bishop, I bring greetings from the king, who sends to inform you that tomorrow at terce a case will come before him that could hold interest for you."

  "What case?" asked Ranulph, not letting a scrap of interest show, though Lowick, damn him, was flaring and sidling like a stallion scenting a mare.

  "A matter raised by Lord Galeran of Heywood to do with his wife and his wife's child. You did mention this matter to his majesty, my lord."

  If this young rapscallion was his servant, he'd whip him for impudence. Ranulph sipped his wine. "Ah, yes. I remember. A minor matter, but Lord Galeran was less than cooperative."

  "The king invites you to attend the hearing and put forward any aspects of the case as you see fit."

  "The king is most kind and just. Sir Raymond here has an interest, too, being the father of the child. Unless I hear to the contrary, I will bring him with me."

  "I will report as much." The clerk bowed himself out.

  "By Saint Michael, it has come!" declared Lowick, hand on sword hilt.

  "And may well go in moments if the king is so minded," Ranulph snapped. "He's a man with a quiver full of bastards, so he may not look upon fornication and adultery seriously."

  "You think we could lose, my lord?"

  "Just in case, I have prepared another weapon."

  "A weapon, my lord?"

  "You are Jehanne of Heywood's lawful husband."

  "No, I'm not."

  Flambard pointed to a document on a side table. Lowick picked it up, but said, "I don't read." He made it a declaration of worthiness.

  "Then put it down again," said Flambard with a sigh. "It is your betrothal document, duly signed by a number of witnesses."

  "But I was never formally betrothed to Jehanne."

  A profound desire to hit Lowick over the head with something astonished Flambard. The current tension must be rotting his brain. "It was Lord Fulk's intent, you say, and I have made that intent real. The document, Sir Raymond, changes everything. It means you can challenge Lord Galeran."

  Lowick contemplated that. "But if I issue a wrongful challenge, God will not be on my side."

  Flambard closed his eyes briefly. "You must look to the truth, not just what happened. Truly, you were promised Jehanne as your bride, weren't you?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "Does not that promise invalidate her later betrothal to Galeran?"

  "Does it?"

  "Yes," Flambard lied.

  "Oh. So if their marriage is invalid... she is mine!"

  "Quite. Now, we will not produce this document unless we need to, but it means we cannot lose. One way or another you will fight him and kill him, yes? For your lady and your child."

  Lowick stood tall. "For my lady and my child!"

  The volume of his declaration almost made Flambard's head ache, but he smiled. "However, it would be useful to know exactly what William of Brome is up to, and it's no great distance to Waltham. Get you there and discover what you can. If Lord William is malingering, that's another pennyweight on our side."

  Once the knight had left, the bishop drained his goblet of wine, then sent Lucas to check on the house of Hugo the Vintner in Corser Street.

  When the man returned he had very interesting news.

  Chapter 16

  Galeran and Raoul collected their horses and worked their way back to Hugo's house, which took longer because they were moving against the flow of traffic. They stopped partway along at a tavern to eat and wash down the city dust.

  It was a relief to arrive back at Corser Street, until Mary ran out, wringing her hands, her veil and circlet all askew. "Lord Galeran! They have all been carried off!"

  "My wife? The babe? By whom? Lowick? Flambard?" He grabbed his horse's reins back from the man who was leading the animal away.

  "It was the king's men!" Mary gasped. "They came with full authorization. There was nothing we could do!"

  "The king!" Galeran's mind spun madly. Henry had heard Flambard's story the day before. Did this mean he was on the bishop's side? Was it time to flee?

  "Where have they taken her?" he asked, gripping his sword hilt.

  "St. Hilda's convent. It's off Aldersgate Street, not far from here." Mary gave quick instructions and Galeran's fears eased a little. A convent was a suitable place, as long as they didn't want to lock Jehanne up there forever.

  He turned to leave the house, and Raoul stopped him. "Shall I come?"

  "No. You'd better stay here."

  "Take some men, at least. Don't forget the original plan."

  Galeran turned back. "What?"

  "The last time someone tried to seize Jehanne and the baby, your murder was part of it."

  "But this time it's the king's men."

  "But the game could be complex. Flambard might still know about this convent—the king may even have told him. He could still plan an ambush."

  "In the middle of the city? I doubt it." Galeran's mind was on another track. "As soon as Henry knew I was at Westminster, he sent men to take Jehanne into custody. I don't like it. He's probably already decided what his judgment will be, God rot him."

  Raoul gripped his arm. "Cool your tongue before you go in public, Galeran, and look to your own safety. Jehanne is not in any direct harm, but she needs you alive and well to defend her."

  "She's in custody." Galeran twisted free. "What happens if Henry and the Church decide she should be punished?"

  "You could never have stopped them."

  "I'd have found a way. I might still." With that Galeran swept out into the street, judging that a man on foot would make better speed than a horse. Any escort could follow or not as they pleased.

  * * *

  St. Hilda's was a solid establishment covering many acres and surrounded by high wooden walls. An excellent prison, Galeran thought, but not impregnable. He was already considering ways to liberate his wife.

  Behind the walls, Galeran could see the tops of some thatched roofs and a stone bell tower, presumably part of the convent's chapel. Nothing about the place was militant or defensive.

  Of course, a religious house was protected by God and man, and anyone who invaded it would suffer dearly.
>
  He tugged on the bell rope that hung by the heavy oak door, and a small peep door slid back.

  "I am Galeran of Heywood, come to see my wife."

  The little door slid closed and the large one immediately opened. Galeran's fears began to subside. The thin portress said, "You must speak to our mother superior, my lord," and led the way across a pleasant cloister garden full of herbs and flowers.

  Galeran's heart eased even more. St. Hilda's was not a dungeon or a place of terror. Doubtless the king had felt it safer to have the cause of contention kept out of sight. Perhaps it had even been an attempt to protect Jehanne and the baby from the Church.

  Though she could be said to be in the hands of the Church...

  The mother superior's office was stark—plain whitewashed walls, plain benches and tables, and for ornament, just one ivory crucifix. It spoke of virtue of the more severe kind. The mother superior was equally plain, with sallow skin and a mighty nose, but like the room, her plainness gave her a kind of majesty.

  "Lord Galeran," she said, gesturing toward a bench.

  He didn't sit. "I wish to speak to my wife."

  She folded her hands neatly on her desk. "For what purpose?"

  "To ensure that she is well, and content to be here."

  "And if she isn't?"

  "Then to remove her."

  The woman's bushy brows rose, pushing up her pristine veil. "Against the king's orders, my lord? I am ordered to hold the Lady Jehanne here until all matters concerning her and her child are settled."

  "Are you ordered to prevent me speaking to her?"

  The woman considered him a moment. "No," she said at last. "Wait here a moment, my lord, and I will see if she wishes to receive you."

  If she wishes...

  Galeran stared at the closed door, wondering for the first time whether Jehanne was pleased to be here, away from all the stress of their tangled situation. He put his hands to his head. Old suspicions of her feelings for Lowick still hid in his brain, waiting to ambush him at the slightest provocation.

  He couldn't think straight about any of this anymore, but he had to. Tomorrow he had to convince the king that it was right to let matters be, to leave Jehanne untouched and to leave Donata in their care.

  The mother superior returned. "She will see you. By our rule, Lord Galeran, you may not touch each other."

  "I understand." He followed her along one side of the roofed cloister-walk to a door, which she opened to let him into a tiny room. A small high window let in little light, and it took him a moment to see a narrow bed, a bench, and a prie-dieu before a wooden cross.

  This was no guest room. This was a nun's cell. Jehanne stood there alone. Where were Aline and the baby?

  "Are you all right?" he asked, silently cursing the fact that the mother superior had entered the room with him. If not for that, he would have held her, rule or not.

  "Yes, of course. It was a shock...."

  "I'm sure it was. The king is to hear our matter tomorrow morning, so this shouldn't be for long."

  "This is an excellent place to pray about it."

  "I suppose it is." Something was wrong. This wooden calm was very unlike Jehanne. "Where are Donata and Aline?"

  "In another room. They bring the baby for feeding. There's no problem, Galeran. Privacy gives me a chance to meditate and pray."

  He didn't believe her, and yet he could see no problem other than the fact that she was a prisoner, and that would only be for another day.

  Unless the king ordered her kept here for life.

  Galeran would burn the place down before he'd permit that.

  He put on a smile. "Don't worry. We can probably be on our way home tomorrow."

  And she smiled back, a smile that traveled into her eyes. "Have pity! Having come so far, perhaps we can stay a day or two and enjoy the celebrations."

  "If you wish, then we will." Galeran blew her a kiss and turned to leave, but she spoke again.

  "When is the case to be heard?"

  "At terce."

  "Will I be able to attend?"

  "What do you have to say that I cannot?"

  "There might be something...."

  Galeran knew his Jehanne. She was keeping something from him. But he also knew she couldn't easily be made to tell it, especially with the nun as witness. He feared that Jehanne's new resolution to be a good, quiet woman and let the men handle things was proving hard to hold by. That could be disastrous. Galeran hoped to convince Henry that Jehanne had sinned out of weakness, overwhelmed by her loss.

  "Jehanne," he said with heavy meaning, "leave this in my hands. I won't let harm come to you or the child. I promise it."

  She frowned, almost as if in pain. "Of course I trust you, but... Oh, I know you will do what is right."

  "Just pray, Jehanne," he said, "and wait patiently until tomorrow."

  When he left, the mother superior turned a heavy key in the lock.

  "That hardly seems necessary, Mother."

  "I am following my orders, Lord Galeran. You cannot deny that your wife has sinned. Such little pains as she is now suffering will help save her soul, perhaps help save you all."

  He wanted to protest that, but there hardly seemed much point. If he gave in to his impulses and released Jehanne by force, he'd end up either exiled or in custody himself, which wouldn't help anyone. "I would like to see the Lady Aline and the baby, to be sure that they, too, are well."

  With an audible sigh, the mother superior led him across the garden to the other side of the cloister.

  "Wouldn't it be more suitable for them to be housed nearby?" Galeran asked.

  "These were our only two empty rooms, my lord. Many people have asked for hospitality during the king's visit."

  But do you lock all your guests in? Galeran wondered as the nun again unlocked a door. It wasn't worth fighting over. Jehanne was safe, if rather tense. As long as Aline, Winifred, and Donata were also well, he'd let it be until tomorrow.

  The mother superior ushered him into another small room very like Jehanne's, but this time crowded with two narrow beds and a cradle. Aline leaped to her feet with fretful energy. "Galeran! Thank heavens."

  She would have flung herself into his arms, but the mother superior stepped firmly between them. "Conduct yourself properly, young woman!"

  Aline pulled a face, but settled down. "A troop of men brought us here. They had the king's seal and—"

  "Yes, I know," said Galeran. "Don't worry. It will all be settled tomorrow. How's Donata?"

  Aline looked toward the cradle in which the baby slept. "Well. But I don't know why they've split us up. We're to call when she needs feeding, then one of the sisters will take her over to Jehanne."

  Galeran looked at the mother superior. "Well?"

  "I was told to keep the Lady Jehanne alone so that she could contemplate her sins in peace, my lord. Children are not peaceful. She has stated that she appreciates every aspect of the arrangement. The child will be taken to her whenever necessary."

  It was all stupid, but no more so than a hundred other incidents in which government had become embroiled. What worried Galeran was that such matters could get out of hand. He didn't want to worry the women, however, so he smiled at Aline and Winifred. "Probably Jehanne will be the better of some tranquility. She's had little enough of it the last year."

  With that he left, and allowed himself to be herded out of the convent with only one backward look at Jehanne's locked door.

  * * *

  Aline sat back down on the hard bed, thinking. She wished she'd been able to talk to Galeran in private, for she didn't like this situation at all. She needed to talk to Jehanne as well and make plans. What if some silly judgment were made to give Donata to Lowick? They had to be ready to act!

  In the short journey from Corser Street to the convent, Jehanne had ordered Aline to keep Donata safe at all costs. But how could such a young baby be safe away from her mother?

  No, if the worst happened, th
ey had to be ready to escape together. It shouldn't be impossible. The convent wasn't guarded. All that held them was locked doors.

  She went to inspect the door, and discovered locked doors could be quite formidable. This one was thick, iron-strapped oak, and the lock was heavy iron too. It seemed strange that a convent have such secure rooms, but perhaps they were often called upon to hold prisoners.

  Winifred just sat looking quietly miserable, but Aline paced. Perhaps it would be better to wait patiently for the morrow. Any attempt to escape could be seen as rebellion against the king's orders.

  She didn't know enough about such things.

  She desperately needed to confer with Jehanne.

  Donata began to stir, and Winifred picked her up, obviously pleased of something to do. The baby looked around, chewing on her knuckles.

  "She'll want feeding in a moment or two," said Winifred. "I'll change her."

  Then Aline had an idea. She picked up her embroidery materials and the babe's blanket. With quick stitches she worked along the edge the message, What do you want to do? adding some ornamental stitches to disguise the words. Surely Jehanne would notice that the work was new and decipher the message.

  When Donata was ready, Aline wrapped her in the blanket, making sure the stitchery was visible but not too clear, then went to the door and called out. In moments a smiling nun took the baby, cooing to her, and carried her away.

  Aline was reassured by the nun's friendly manner, but it made this imprisoned separation even more peculiar. What was behind it, and did it have any implication for the crucial hearing before the king?

  It would be a while before Donata returned, for Jehanne would surely keep her as long as possible, so Aline sat and took up her more normal embroidery. She kept making mis-stitches, though, for her mind wasn't on it. In addition, the light from the small, high window wasn't really adequate for fine work. She wished she had her distaff. She could spin thread in the dark.

  One problem suddenly occurred to her. She didn't think Jehanne had any needlework materials with which to reply.

  Winifred lay on her bed and went to sleep. Aline envied such placidity.

  * * *

  Jehanne saw the embroidery immediately, but she settled to feeding Donata, in part because the middle-aged sister was hovering, gazing besottedly at the baby. Another nun who perhaps was not suited to her life? Jehanne decided Raoul was right, no matter what his motives were. If Aline wanted a husband and children, she should find that out before committing herself to the veil.