Joanna (26 page)

“I do not know,” Ela sighed. “If there is, it is too secret as yet for rumors to have begun, but it cannot be long before some men’s patience gives way.” She stared out into the garden, then turned her eyes back to Geoffrey. “And you are one that is likely to be tried high. Geoffrey, go and sit down and promise me you will not fly into a rage. No!” she cried, high and sharp, seeing his eyes flame and his body tense, “Nothing has happened. Nothing! I only wish to warn you.”

“An interesting warning it must be, if I must promise not to be angry beforehand,” Geoffrey snarled, but, after staring at his stepmother for a little longer, he did go and sit in one of the cushioned chairs.

“You had better hear it from me,” Ela said, following him. “Your late lights of love will make the matter sound worse.”

The rage faded from Geoffrey’s eyes. “Whores,” he sighed. “I knew some of them would seek to make trouble. Do you think I would believe any filth they spewed?”

“Believe it? Not on consideration, perhaps, butIt is not only the ladies. Perhaps they are whores, Geoffrey, but none of them suffered any heartache over you as you suffered none over them. Most of them would have teased Joanna a little, but no more than that.”

“She took it ill?” Geoffrey was surprised. He had seen Joanna several times after she had heard the gossip about him and she had made no reference to it nor had she seemed   angry. “I meant to explain to her, but there were more important matters; and I”

In the midst of her worry, Lady Ela had to smile. “I warned you that she was her mother’s daughter. She said she would not blame you for what was past because you were not “hers” then, but that you would mount no mistress while she was your wife.” She watched him keenly, but there was no expression on his face and his eyes were now fixed stubbornly on the tips of his shoes. “Geoffrey, do not be a fool! Do not ruin your life by setting out to spite Joanna.”

“I have no intention of doing that,” Geoffrey remarked neutrally.

“In any case, the fault is not Joanna’s, nor yours either,” Ela said hastily. “The trouble stems from Isabella.”

Although no feature of Geoffrey’s face moved, Ela could see his expression congeal as every tiny muscle beneath the skin tensed imperceptibly. Guilt lashed her. If she had done as Salisbury desired and had taken Geoffrey into her care, the hatred/fear/hatred that existed between the queen and her stepson would never have been born. Breathlessly, she told him of the rumors Isabella had spawned regarding Joanna and Braybrook and what Joanna had replied. Still there was no change in Geoffrey’s expression and he did not interrupt her.

“You must not kill him, Geoffrey. Joanna says she believes he is as much a victim of Isabella’s tongue as you or herself. You do not wish to set your father and Braybrook’s into enmity, do you? Not now! In God’s name, do you wish to be the cause of the rebellion that will destroy us all? We are poised on a knife edge.”

“If you mean will I openly challenge Braybrook for dishonoring my wifeno. That would merely acknowledge that I believed it. It will depend upon Braybrook”

Ela made a weary, defeated gesture. She could only hope that her words would have some effect. Geoffrey was not a fool and had been involved in court politics since he was a child. The danger was that he was young and very proud   and, she thought, very much in love. His good sense would have formidable odds against it.

‘‘In any case, Braybrook is naught,” she went on flatly, “because there is real danger now of oversetting the realm more directly. Isabella must have brought this tale of Joanna’s lack of virtue to John and he, being what he is, has decided to use her. It was
this
of which I wished to warn you. The Braybrook matter is nothing.”

Geoffrey had lifted his eyes to her, but they held nothing. Dull, mud-colored, they did not even seem to reflect understanding of what she said. Then he shook his head. “Not his brother’s daughter-by-marriage”

“He would use his own daughterif any had looks enough to attract him.”

“Ela,” Geoffrey said, almost smiling, his tension easing, “I do not love him, but you go too far. This must be nonsense.”

“Is it? Is it? You have not been near him since last August. You do not know! Your father does not seeor will not let himself see. Since John has subdued Scotland, Ireland, and Wales he thinks himself invincible. Nothing is beyond him. You were there and saw how he treated the pope’s envoys. When he heard the pope’s sentence he laughed at that toohe almost dared the lords to rebel. He insults them to their faces, debauches their wives and daughters without even a pretense”

“Ela, stop. You will make yourself ill,” Geoffrey soothed, hearing the high, hysterical note growing in her voice. “You will warn Joanna. She will come to you, I am sure, as soon as she arrives in London. I will guard her. You will guard her. Among us all, I am sure we will keep her safe.”

Dropping her head into her hands, Ela began to weep. Automatically, Geoffrey rose and went to comfort her, but he was thinking of his frantic efforts these past months to keep men loyal to John. Of course, the likelihood of those men coming to court and suffering the effects of the behavior Ela was describing was small, but they would not   lack for news of it. Vesci would be quick enough to bear the ill tidings. Then it would be all to do over again. Geoffrey could have wept for weariness.

“There-is no one else,” he sighed softly, reminding himself. Then, patting Ela’s shoulder, he said, “This trouble will soon be past. Papa wrote that the army John intends to take to France will be gathered as soon as the ceremonies of knighting are over. The king will be too busy then to be offensive, and after that”

Ela’s sobs had stopped and she was staring at Geoffrey with pale, angry eyes. “Do you offer that as comfort?” she asked in a strangled voice. “Do you promise me war to ease my heart?”

I have done it
again,
Geoffrey thought, exasperated with himself for forgetting Joanna’s fury when he spoke well of the coming war with France. Never, never will I learn that whatever men love women hateexcept one thing only. “Now Ela,” he murmured, “you know it will be long before it comes to fighting, and it may never do so. I only meant that marshaling of the army and the business of its transportation will keep John too occupied to allow him time to think of petty slights.”

Anger and fear gave way, reluctantly, to amusement in Lady Ela’s face. She sighed but could not help smiling. “You meant no such thing. You are just like your father. No matter how little your looks accord, inside you are a mirror of him. For all these years that I have wept and pleaded and died with fear, he still comes to me anew each time, smiling, to tell me of battle.” Ela’s smile faded. “It is all you love, both of you, to kill and maim and burn.”

“I do not love that,” Geoffrey protested. “No man, unless he be mad, loves to hurt another, and certainly not my father who, if he has a fault, is too tenderhearted. I love the conflict, Ela, the striking at me that I must ward away and the skill of striking back and striking home.” He shrugged. “I do not think of the blood and pain, neither of my opponent’s nor of mine.’’

“That comes later, for wives to think of,” Ela said drily, but in a moment she smiled again.   It was a useless discussion. Neither would ever convince the other. Perhaps it was for fear of the logic of women succeeding that boy children were removed from their mothers’ influence so early. And Geoffrey had not had even those few years; his mother had died in bearing. There had been only his grandfather and Salisbury and then Ian who was, if anything, a worse fire-eater than the others. Yet there was no lack of softness in Geoffrey. She thought of how gentle his hard hands were when they stroked her shoulder, the tenderness of the way he bent his head over her. Once again she sighed. Men were men. Doubtless one of the reasons that women had been placed upon the earth was to keep them from all killing each other in a spirit of fun.

“What will you do now, love?” Ela asked in her normal voice. “Will you present yourself to the king?”

Geoffrey went back to his chair. “I was sent away and not recalled and, as for my own desire, I would not. I came because I could not understand why Joanna was summoned.” His mouth twisted as over a foul taste. “If you are right about the reason for that, I must show myself. Even if John thinks he can frighten Joanna into silence, he must know he could not silence me.”

“Oh yes,” Ela said bitterly, “he knows that!”

There was the key to divide her husband and his brother. If John attacked Geoffrey openly, William would stand by his son. But the cost was too high. She listened with half an ear as Geoffrey said he would wait for Joanna to arrive and accompany her when she presented herself. Since this seemed as good an arrangement as any other, Ela turned the talk to that gossip which was necessary for Geoffrey to know to prevent him from making any faux pas.

Salisbury came in the late afternoon. He had dined with the king but was glad to have the excuse of Ela’s frail health to escape the dancing, drinking, and wenching that formed the after-dinner entertainment of the court. He was, as Ela predicted, surprised and not too pleased to see his son, but, when he heard of the summons to Joanna, his eyes went blank with shock. He stared at Geoffrey and then at Ela, but neither said anything. There was nothing to be said. As disgusting as Ela’s suggestion to Geoffrey had been, there was no need for her to repeat it to her husband. It came immediately to Salisbury’s mind of itself. There did not seem to be any other explanation of the summons. UnlessSalisbury dropped his eyes. Was it better to believe that his sixteen-year-old daughter-by-marriage was so vicious and corrupt that she would pretend to have been summoned so that she could be with her lover?

Nonsense. Salisbury knew it was nonsense. If so, surely she would not have written to Geoffrey to come in haste. He knew his brother and he knew Joanna. Salisbury refilled the goblet he had just emptied and raised the flask suggestively toward his son. Geoffrey shook his head. There was still wine in his cup. Partly to avoid a topic that was obviously causing Salisbury pain, he reverted to his father’s ill-concealed displeasure at his arrival and asked whether John was still angry at him. Salisbury’s face lightened a little.

“No, of course not. He was never angry. The trouble is, Geoffrey, that you have acted so much the man that he forgets you are young andand not always able to separate your heart from your politics. No,” Salisbury held up a restraining hand and smiled. “Do not begin the argument again. It is too late. Most of the fortifications are already built and manned and no ill has come of it.”

“The snows have not yet melted in the high places,” Geoffrey said bleakly. But it was purposeless to argue over a fait accompli. What would happen, would happen. “Then if the king is not angry, why was I not summoned? Surely Ian’s deputy should do honor to Prince Alexander. Ian and he will be not-so-distant neighbors some day and not too far in the future if what I hear of King William’s health is true.”

To Geoffrey’s surprise, Salisbury looked over his head and then down into his wine. Ela laughed high and sharp. “Your father did not want you to hear the tales told of Joanna. He knows she is guiltless, but he does not trust you to keep your temper. Well, I agreed with him.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Geoffrey grated.   “Shall I smile and thank the man who calls my wife a whore?”

“No man will say aught to youand you know it,” Salisbury muttered, his color high. “Do you think
I
would have endured such talk? It is the women.”

“It is the queen!” Geoffrey exclaimed.

“I did not desire that you go about challenging husbands, sons, and brothers to silence tongues over which they have no control,” Salisbury said, ignoring his son’s passionate remark.

“But what am I to do?” Geoffrey cried.

Ela laughed again, a more natural giggle this time. “Nothing. Your father is quite right. The men will not say a word nor, for that matter, look a look. As for the women, I would leave them to Joanna.”

Geoffrey sat silent, his nostrils pinched with fury and his mobile mouth set hard. Salisbury lifted and dropped his hands resignedly. If one’s son were a spiritless clod, that would bring no joy. If he had spirit, it was natural that he would not accept an affront tamely. One must take the bitter with the better. There was one thing, however, that Salisbury had to make clear.

“It was not the king who objected to your summoning,” Salisbury said. “I knew you would feel this way so I struck your name from the list of those to be called. I told the king I did so because I did not want you to take part in the tourney that will celebrate Alexander’s knighting.”

“What?” Geoffrey gasped. “Are you implying you think I cannot hold my own in a court tourney?”

“Do not be such a fool,” Salisbury groaned, passing his hand over his face. “Your reputation is well enough established in war as well as in tourney. Besides, it is nothing to do with you. If anyone looked a coward, I did, acting like a hen with one chick.”

“Do you expect me to refuse to fight?” Geoffrey asked coldly.

“Will you get down off that high horse,” Salisbury snapped irritably. “Of course you will fight now that   you are here. I will take part in it myself”

“William!” Ela shrieked.

Geoffrey bit his lip and cast an apologetic glance at his father. In his effort to pacify his son, Salisbury had said what would make his home life hideous until the tourney was over. It was not that Lady Ela would deliberately whine and nag at her husband, as many thought she didas she did do in public. After an initial outburst and after she realized that Salisbury’s decision was irrevocable, Ela would seem to forget the matter and be very pleasant and cheerful. OnlySalisbury loved her. He would know her misery; he would see the marks of tears shed in his absence and carefully hidden; for her sake, he would be unhappy.

“Now, Ela,” Salisbury soothed, “it will not even be a real tourney. A one-day affair. More a formal exercise than any real fighting.”

“Then surely one of us will be enough,” Geoffrey suggested. “Let me supply your place, papa. You owe it me,” he added smiling, “for trying to deprive me of my sport.”