He coughed from the smoke and withdrew to his bed. Pulling off his leather hood and casting it toward the table, he unbuttoned his cloak, draped it over the blanket, and after removing his boots, he climbed into bed and drew the blanket and cloak over him.
He slept a few hours before the pounding on the door awakened him. Dusk had fallen. He scrubbed at his face with a cold hand, cast a glance at the still glowing hearth, and pulled himself to his feet. Head still bleary, he yanked open the door and froze. He blinked stupidly, not quite believing what he was seeing.
Lady Katherine smirked and raised a brow. ‘Has it been too long, Crispin? Do you no longer recognize me?’
TEN
Crispin swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. Clearing his throat he shook his head. ‘My lady,’ he said before clearing his throat again. ‘I am … surprised … to see you.’
‘No doubt.’ She paused for a moment more before ducking her head. ‘Will you invite me in, Master Guest?’
He grimaced and stepped aside. ‘Yes, of course, forgive me.’
She signaled to her retainer at the bottom of the stairwell before striding in. Slipping off her leather gloves, she moved toward the table, looking around.
Crispin felt the pall of humiliation drape over him that she, too, was seeing where he lived. It was bad enough that Lancaster and Henry Derby had seen it. He felt as if all of court now knew, now saw.
He looked down and noticed that he stood in his stocking feet. Hurrying to the bed, he sat and hastily stuffed his feet into his boots again.
‘I … may I offer you some wine?’ He was almost certain he had some. ‘Or … something. A chair?’
She swiveled and regarded him. ‘I don’t require anything, Crispin,’ she said softly. It was that same voice. He remembered it, after all this time. Her gentle look, her calm voice. She had been governess to Lancaster’s daughters but it was often that his sons would seek her out as well for comfort. Little they would get from their own harsh governors. And Crispin, who knew well before the children what she and Lancaster were to one another, had stood off at a distance, measuring her interactions, her intentions, looking for any slights she might offer the children or Lancaster’s wives. He had looked for anything that might have shown any disrespect that would reflect badly onto his lord. But she hadn’t. She had always been demure but firm, running the nursery like a chatelaine in a castle.
‘Very well. Er … forgive me, Lady Katherine, but, er, what exactly are you doing here?’ God’s blood! She didn’t want to hire him, did she?
‘Tactful as always, Crispin.’
He shook his head. Dammit. ‘I … I didn’t mean anything by it … I … I …’ She had always had that effect on him, making him act like a fool, like a school boy who had been caught at some mischief, even though twelve years separated the last time they had even seen each other let alone talked.
Pressing her lips together, she shook her head, desperately controlling a smile. He scowled. Nothing had changed in the last twelve years. Not for her. She was still Lancaster’s mistress, as far as he knew. He was no prude, but he had never liked the fact that she and Lancaster … well. It was unseemly.
She turned and stood before the fire, warming her hands. She did not face him as she spoke. ‘I see you still do not approve of me, Crispin.’
Crispin straightened, remembering himself. ‘It is not for me to approve or disapprove of you, Lady Katherine.’
‘And yet,’ she said with a sigh, ‘you always make it known.’
He bowed his head.
‘I am on a mission of mercy. And to bring you information … as concerns Young Jack Tucker.’
He snapped up his head and moved swiftly toward her. ‘What? What has happened?’
‘Nothing has happened, Crispin. Oh, I am saying this badly. I merely came to tell you that he is in good hands. Henry has taken over my duties in succoring him.’
He blinked, slowly processing her words. ‘Henry is … and you were …’
‘I wasn’t at the abbey when it all transpired, but I certainly heard about it. I made it my personal task to seek out Young Jack and to, well, rescue him from the cell in which he was housed. I feared for his safety there, for it is a forgotten place and other prisoners have not been kept well, I am afraid. I took him into my lodgings, but it was soon discovered what I had done. Henry intervened and took Master Tucker to his own lodgings for safekeeping.’
‘And what … what did the king make of that?’
‘That I do not know, but my instincts tell me he won’t be best pleased.’ She pulled out the chair and sat, arranging her skirts about her. She settled her hands in her lap and merely looked at Crispin for a long time. ‘You look well, under the circumstances.’
He paused before pulling out the stool and sitting across from her. ‘And you look ever lovely. I hope all is well with you.’
She smiled and inclined her head in a bow. ‘All is well. The children are grown, but now they have children of their own. I am still busy.’
‘And … his grace, the duke? I hope … I take it he is well?’
‘Yes. He writes to me.’
Crispin scowled, though he tried not to. ‘I … do not hear of him.’ There is no one to ask, was left unsaid.
‘I know. But be assured, Crispin, he does think of you. Often.’
He would have given anything to stop the hot flush to his face. ‘He … should not.’
‘Do you presume to tell the duke what to do, Crispin? I certainly do not.’
They sat in silence for a time. He could not draw his gaze any higher than the table, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that she freely perused his lodgings. Finally her gaze settled on him again. ‘I have seen more cheerful rooms.’
He coughed. ‘Yes. So have I.’
‘Be of good cheer, Crispin. Master Tucker has great faith in you. And so do I.’
His embarrassment should have lessened but didn’t.
‘And Master Tucker wished for me to impart information to you. He thought it important that you should know about John Dunbar, earl of Moray.’
Frowning, Crispin searched for that name in his memory. ‘I do not know of a John Dunbar.’
‘I had heard that he was one of the lords instigating the uprising in the north and was there at the latest battle at Otterburn only a month ago.’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I do seem to have heard something of the kind. How does this name help our cause?’
She shrugged. ‘It was only that Young Jack deemed him important. I believe he felt that this earl might have instigated this latest outrage in Westminster.’
‘Earl of Moray, you say?’ He rose and began to pace across the room. ‘He is in Northumberland, is he not? Is it known where he is now?’
‘I do not know. Does it matter? When my lord of Gaunt wishes something accomplished, he need not even be in the country for his wishes to be carried out. It can also be so with this Scottish lord.’
‘Yes. You are right, of course.’
‘Jack wishes to do all he can to help. He has advised me to tell you that he, too, will be investigating.’
Crispin stopped and whirled to face her. ‘What? He is under no circumstances to investigate.’
‘He insists he can help—’
‘I forbid it! The fool!’ He recommenced pacing. ‘Is he not in enough peril already?’ He turned again and pointed a finger at her. ‘You tell him that he is to keep low and out of trouble.’
Lady Katherine fussed with her gown’s sleeve. ‘I am surrounded by men who cannot be commanded one way or the other,’ she muttered.
‘Tell Jack—’
She rose. ‘Master Guest, I have the distinct impression that the apprentice is just as stubborn as the master. I can relay your message, certainly, but I have no hope of it ever being obeyed.’
‘Madam—’
‘Crispin! May I offer only a small portion of advice?’
He blinke
d, breathed, and settled his shoulders. ‘Of course.’
‘Move slowly. Think. Assess. Then act. This has always been your greatest fault.’
He had forgotten that she was one of the few who watched him grow from someone of Jack’s age to manhood. And she had raised sons, her own as well as Lancaster’s. She would naturally know how men react. Yet always before, he was reluctant to take her advice. He had scoffed at her and her relationship, at the bastards she had given birth to. He grasped those old feelings for a few moments more … before letting them go. Who was he, after all, to take the high moral ground, he who had committed treason?
He could see that she was only trying to help him. And her relationship to Gaunt and Gaunt’s to her were none of his affair, and never were. And, in fact, it seemed to be an enduring love, one that had not been deterred by time or circumstances. His fusty convictions on the matter were becoming gray and worn through, like old fabric.
He shuffled uncomfortably. ‘I am doing my best, Madam.’
She smiled kindly and something shivered in Crispin’s heart. He opened his mouth to say – he knew not what – when the door burst open.
John Rykener, still in his woman’s clothing, spilled into the room and rolled across the floor until he hit the table, legs flailing from his skirts.
‘Dammit!’ he cried, rubbing his head. ‘Damnable table.’ He looked up with a sheepish smile for Crispin until he noticed Lady Katherine. Rykener scrambled to his feet and straightened out his clothes. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. His voice was suddenly gentle and light, more like a woman’s than a man’s.
Crispin shot a look toward Lady Katherine. By the astonished expression upon her face he could tell she had not been fooled. Crispin dropped his face into his hand. ‘Lady Katherine, may I present my friend … John Rykener. John, Lady Katherine Swynford.’
‘Oh bollocks,’ John whispered before curtseying.
Lady Katherine drew herself up with all the aplomb she had garnered from years at court. ‘It is a great pleasure to meet one of Crispin’s friends … Master, er, Rykener.’
‘The honor is mine, Lady Swynford. Please … forgive me my uncouth words and … well, my appearance. It is a long tale …’
‘Of that I have no doubt.’ She turned to Crispin and grasped his arm. ‘I must go. Be at peace. Jack is in good hands. And please, Crispin, take care, but do so in all haste.’
‘Festina lente,’ he murmured.
‘Precisely. Fare well. God keep you. And you as well, Master Rykener.’
‘My lady.’ Rykener bowed and quickly moved to open the door for her.
She gave Crispin one last glance over her shoulder before she was gone.
Red-faced, Crispin turned on Rykener. ‘Thanks much for that, John!’
ELEVEN
Jack saw very little of Lord Derby, but he saw far too much of his servants. There was no idleness in Henry Bolingbroke’s apartments. The servants set Jack to work for his keep immediately, and he was happy to finally feel useful. But as dusk settled over Westminster, the steward left him alone at last, and Jack was once more on his own.
He walked the lonely rooms like a shadow. He had been told by the servants through their mistrustful glares, that the young lord’s family resided elsewhere on their lands far from Westminster. That was where Lady Katherine was supposed to be as well, but Jack got the impression that Lady Katherine did very much what she liked. Despite her being Lancaster’s mistress – something that seemed to displease the pious king – she appeared to be well-liked and roamed freely throughout court, even in Lancaster’s absence.
A fact that Jack was mightily grateful for.
He cast about, peering into cupboards, prowling into coffers, and dragging out the beautiful fabrics of Damascene and embroidered velvets, holding them up to the golden light from the windows. He whistled in appreciation, knowing he held in his hands bags full of marks. Carefully, he replaced them, closing the lids again. Them coffers should be locked, he mused, ticking his head at thoughts of the steward who had earlier pushed him about most rudely.
Wandering farther, he found another parlor and a door. Looking around, he tried the latch and was surprised to find that it, too, opened. ‘If Master Crispin were in charge,’ he muttered, ‘all them doors would be locked.’ He shoved it open and walked out into a walled garden.
He took in the little pathways, the small, trimmed shrubs, the flowers nearly at the end of their blooming, and the trees, their leaves shimmering from the breeze off the Thames just over the wall.
He breathed deep. Master Crispin always said that Jack would become ‘squirrelly’ if he remained indoors too long, and it was true. Winter was the hardest, for it was bitterly cold outside and yet Jack found himself stealing down the deserted alleys and haunting archways. He needed the air. And there was plenty of it in the garden as the day slowly faded in that secluded place.
But amid the chirping birds and the scramble of a mouse into the underbrush, he heard a faint sound of someone weeping. Stealthily, he searched within the garden, but his ears led him to the wall between this and the next apartments. He gauged the wall and reached up, finding a handhold. Pulling himself higher, he carefully placed each foot into crevices in the stone, and in that way, like a spider, he scaled the wall and gingerly peered over the top to the next garden.
A young woman, face in her hands, was weeping softly. She sat on a carved bench under a beech tree. Her gown was of fine samite and silks with an embroidered cloak covering her shoulders and flowing down to her feet. She was young, and of what Jack could see, beautiful.
Jack secured himself to the wall and hissed, ‘Demoiselle!’
She instantly stopped crying and raised her head, searching for the voice.
‘Pssst! Up here!’
She turned wide, moist eyes on him, blinking. Jack’s heart leaped at the tender sight of her.
‘Lovely Demoiselle, why do you weep?’
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffed. ‘You would not understand.’
He liked the way she cocked her head and her odd little accent. He could not tell from where she hailed. ‘Oh, I might understand more than you think.’
She looked steadily at Jack. ‘Who are you, boy?’
‘I’m just a man what sees a lady in distress. And as a proper and genteel man, I offer you my services. How can I help?’
A smile flickered at her mouth. ‘You are kind. But my troubles are great. I doubt the likes of you – despite your, what was it you called it? Ah, your “proper and genteel” ways – could possibly help me.’
‘But, my lady! What is a man if he cannot help his fellow man, and the weakest of them? For Woman is to be succored and cared for. So my master says.’
‘Your master sounds like a kind and sensible man.’
‘He is, my lady. Ever so. And he has taught me his ways. So come now. What can I fix for you? Surely it cannot be such a trial as you make it.’
A deep sigh raised her shoulders. ‘There is much you do not know.’
He grasped the edge of the wall and settled himself. ‘Help me to know.’
She sniffed again and turned her head, staring distantly into a small grouping of white-barked trees. ‘Something … has been stolen.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Something of great value. And I very much fear that I shall be in grave circumstances because of it. Because …’ She paused and then whispered, ‘Because of my husband.’
‘Oh, my lady. This grieves me greatly. And a great knave it is that has stolen this thing from you. Are you certain that it isn’t merely mislaid?’
She nodded, the tears coming again and streaking down her face. ‘I fear the worst,’ she rasped. ‘That they did not merely steal it but wish to do me further harm by extorting me for its return.’
Jack was suddenly enraged. That such a lovely and innocent woman should be so abused! He longed to pull his dagger and show the knave a thing or two about courtesy to a lady. But
he calmed himself and straightened his shoulders – as much as he could while clinging to the top of a wall.
‘And so you see,’ she said softly, ‘I am quite alone in this. I have not even told my maids. In truth, I do not even know why I am telling you.’ She gazed at him, searching his face. ‘You seem like a dream, like an angel come to save me.’
‘No angel I, my lady. And no dream either.’
‘I do not know why I find it easy to speak these things to you. But you have a kind and open face. Has anyone ever told you that before?’
Jack flushed and lowered his eyes a moment. ‘Ah, no, my lady. I have never been called such.’ He smiled with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. ‘But you have seen the truth of it. God must be shining down on both of us to reveal it to you.’
‘Maybe you can help,’ she muttered. ‘Maybe … there is a chance …’
‘My lady, you do not know how lucky this encounter is. For my master is a man who has years of training in finding such lost objects. And as his only apprentice, I have learned these fine skills m’self.’
She looked up again. ‘You have? Praise God!’
‘Oh, aye! We have recovered many a lost item, big or small. The great and the lowly. My master is well known for these skills throughout London.’
‘Oh? Such a fine thing and a skilled master. What is your name, sir?’
He tried to bow but nearly lost his footing. She made a squeak and rose partway before he recovered himself and chuckled. ‘Never fear, my lady. I am as sure-footed as any goat.’
‘Then should I call you that? My Goat?’
He laughed. ‘Ah, my lady. Is that any name for your savior?’
She sobered quickly. ‘You are right, sir. I should not jest.’
He did not like that solemn look to her face. It was much more beautiful when a smile lit her eyes.
The Silence of Stones Page 10
