The King's Mistress (19 page)

It was such an unexpected topic that I hesitated, needing to think. I felt her eyes on me, deep green eyes that held both kindness and something much more calculating. I almost stammered some foolishness, but then remembered how proud I had been just moments ago of Janyn’s ease with the queen. I took a deep breath.

“When I’ve spent hours on my knees with my hands in the soil I am reminded of the miracle of life, Your Grace, and I thank God for the gift of waking with each new day. The king’s father must have been a wise man.”

The green eyes clouded over for a moment. “In some things he was said to be surpassingly wise.”

She studied the tips of her embroidered shoes for a moment. When she raised her head, her mood had shifted and she beamed as if life delighted her. I noticed that her skin was as translucent as the pearls on her headdress and collar. I’d thought her plain, though elegant of dress and manner, but saw now that she had a beauty that shone when she smiled.

“Your husband tells me that he consults you in financial matters and that you have proven an excellent adviser. Do you enjoy such occupation?”

“I do, Your Grace, and am honored that my husband finds my advice worth considering.”

“The king chides me about my lack of interest in such matters. I could use a woman near me who might engage me in such issues, or at least suggest what I might say to the king to satisfy him.” She smiled at me, gave Janyn a teasing glance, and then turned the conversation to Milan and other favorite cities.

I was left to wonder over that last little exchange, but perked up once more when I was included in a brief discussion about children. Then the queen nodded and left. Janyn complimented me on my conversation and courtesy.

We were soon interrupted by the merchant from St. Albans, who
wished a word with Janyn. I needed a respite from the heady company and sought out Gwen, wishing for her solid, familiar presence. As we were strolling past the chapel we came face-to-face with the king and dropped at once into deep bows.

“Do rise, my ladies. I do not care to be an object of worship in my mother’s home, among her friends.” His blue eyes were teasing. “Janyn Perrers’s wife, I think?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Alice.”

“I am told you are a clever young woman, with a mind for business. So I ask you, would I do better to invest in fine furnishings to decorate my palaces or in spices?”

At that moment I wanted to be known for my beauty, not my cleverness in business. There was something in his voice, his eyes, the scent of him. I wanted him to look on me with desire. The thought made me blush. Only Janyn had ever had such an effect on me.

“Your Grace,” I murmured, bowing my head for a moment to compose myself. “I would advise you that spices would bring you more coin, but beautiful possessions would enrich your soul. It is similar to the choice between cloth of gold and escarlatte—the cloth of gold enhances your image as a mighty king, but chafes the flesh, whereas the fine wool impresses only those who know its value and recognize it by how it drapes, yet is most pleasing against the skin.…” I realized I was babbling, but even worse that my mention of flesh had invited him to look on me in a way that made me feel like his prey. A far-from-unpleasant sensation, but I prayed he did not suspect me of flirting with him. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

“For what, Dame Alice? I see that you are clever indeed. And pretty enough.” He averted his eyes from my low-cut bodice and said in a hearty tone, “Can you hunt? Can you ride? On the morrow we shall see if you possess all the graces, eh?” With a nod and a chuckle, he continued into the chapel, his man hurrying afterward, finding it difficult to match the king’s long stride.

“Pretty enough,” I whispered.

“He is magnificent, just as they said,” Gwen murmured.

I had little to say for myself the rest of the evening, stunned into silence by the encounter with King Edward. I had never experienced a presence such as his. While he spoke to me his blue eyes had held mine captive and his voice had resonated in my head, my heart, my belly, and down my bones to my extremities. I had no words for the
sensation at the time, but now I might call it enthralling. I felt as if I had actually been unfaithful to Janyn, and made it up to him with passion that night, though I caught myself fantasizing that it was the king who groaned with pleasure.

On the following morning I was uncomfortably aware of the king’s eyes on me, but as soon as I accepted a merlin from the falconer I focused only on her. She was not as large as my own, and of course she did not know me. Before I removed her hood I spoke to her for a while so that she might hear that I meant her no harm. The falconer nodded his approval; King Edward did so as well, which momentarily unsettled me. But once the merlin took flight it was no struggle to lose myself in her, to see nothing but her. We had some success, the bird and I, that morning, and I was in high spirits as we returned to the castle.

Geoffrey had not participated in the hunt, but as I took my seat beside him in the hall for the day’s feast he congratulated me on my prowess and on attracting the interest of the king.

I glanced at Janyn, fearing he had heard, but he was engrossed in conversation with a friar. Turning back to Geoffrey I found him grinning, but his eyes were more searching than amused.

“What think you of the most admirable of kings?” he asked.

“He is my king. I hold him in great respect and pray that God blesses him and keeps him safe from all harm.”

Geoffrey waved all that aside. “But as a man?”

I considered. If I refused to play his game, Geoffrey would guess that I was delighted by the king’s attention. If I played the game, he would guess I simply enjoyed being admired. I did particularly enjoy the latter, having spent so much of my life in my mother’s shadow.

“I have never felt such a presence as his, nor have I ever seen such blue eyes. Why did you not hawk with us?”

He raised his brows in comic surprise. “Me? Have you seen me astride? I am the clumsiest of riders, and all birds dislike me. I swear it is true! They chide and criticize me until I want to pluck them.” He laughed with me. “You would have disclaimed me had you seen me among the others this morning. But animals have always found you calming and worthy of their trust. I am glad for you that the Lady Isabella saw to it that you have a hunter and a merlin.”

I turned the conversation to questions about Geoffrey’s travels with Lionel, Earl of Ulster.

Janyn eventually joined us, and Geoffrey told him tales of how as a
child I’d collected kittens that my mother refused to allow me to keep and then worked hard at finding them good homes, coaxing and cajoling neighbors to adopt the sweet creatures. Janyn enjoyed the tales.

Lady Isabella saw us briefly before we departed for home.

“My daughter-in-law finds you most pleasant,” she remarked.

“The queen is most kind.”

“My son admires the way you leave your body and soar with your hawk.”

I blushed under Isabella’s keen regard.

“His Grace is most perceptive,” said Janyn.

We returned to London in a merry mood.

I
N NOVEMBER
I found myself again with child, a cause of celebration for Janyn and me. I thought it would be a perfect time to encourage my siblings Mary and Will to participate more in Bella’s life, assisting me with her care both before the baby was born and afterward. But Mother managed one more cruelty, suddenly forbidding Nan to bring Mary and Will to my home, and forbidding me to see them in their home either.

I went to Dame Agnes, hoping to learn how Mary and Will were faring.

“Dame Margery has no gift for mothering,” said Grandmother, “and no room in her small heart to love anyone other than herself. I wish it were otherwise, for your children and for my son.” She embraced me. “Do not worry about Mary and Will. I will arrange for them to meet you here. Margery will not dare defy me. Bring my great-granddaughter next time you come, I pray you. She brightens my day.”

She asked about our time at Hertford Castle, making an effort I much appreciated to be curious and neutral about the dowager queen. I returned home in much better spirits.

It was a more difficult pregnancy than my last. When I grew restless with enforced rest, missing the release I found in riding, Janyn encouraged me to apply myself to the studies he had set me. I did enjoy them, particularly languages and composition. I appreciated the way they brightened my thoughts and set me puzzling over ideas far removed from my unhappy parents.

And there was always Bella to amaze and delight me.

• • •

B
UT CLOUDS
gathered on the horizon. In February we heard that the queen mother was very ill at Hertford. Dame Tommasa and I spent many hours praying for her. I was alarmed by my mother-in-law’s obsessive piety. But it seemed our prayers were heard, for in a few weeks Isabella recovered and resumed her usual activities. But Janyn remained convinced that the dowager queen would be dead within the year, and the prospect seemed to suck the life from him. I could not understand. Of course she had been most generous to us, and his journeys on her behalf had been most lucrative, but the accounts that I reviewed with him were all in excellent health, his trade encompassing much more than what he did on her behalf. His reputation in London was growing, and his guild master referred to him as a future mayor. Yet Janyn grew fearful, overly protective, cautious to a degree that frightened me.

Often now he turned his back to me once we were abed, denying even this comfort to both of us.

“Do you no longer love me?” I finally summoned the courage to ask when he turned away once again.

He turned back. “My sweet Alice, I love you more than words can say.” He pulled me close and held me for a moment. “I pray you, forgive me if I have caused you pain. My mind and heart are overburdened. I am searching for a way to protect you and our daughter.”

“Protect us from what?”

“The uncertain future.”

“You and God will protect us, Janyn, my beloved.”

“You are so young and innocent, Alice. So loving and trusting.” He looked away as his voice filled with tears.

I sensed more and more that he was weaning me from him, from my need of him. I faltered in my resolve to be strong and to trust in God’s guidance. I spent hours in church, praying and pouring out my heart to Dom Hanneye. Neither God nor my confessor offered any comfort beyond reminding me that Janyn loved me, and I loved him.

I felt almost relieved when Janyn departed in late March on “one last trip” to Milan for the queen mother, for then I might at least regain some calm.

“If anyone should inquire, I am in France,” he instructed me. “You must not mention Milan or Lombardy.”

“Why must we lie about this journey?” I asked.

“For our safety.”

“Do your parents know where you will be?”

He nodded. There were shadows beneath his eyes and his breath smelled sour. He had not been eating well, but had been drinking far more than was his custom, late into the night.

I
N APRIL
there was much talk in the city of an extravagant St. George’s Day celebration at Windsor. It was said that our king and queen, the queen mother, King Jean of France, and his son Phillip were all in attendance, and that knights from all over Christendom were taking part in the tournament. I looked forward to reassuring Janyn on his return that all was well with Isabella.

It was at that time, on a day like any other, when a sudden pain in my stomach brought me to my knees in the hall. Within moments I was kneeling in a pool of blood. I am told that my screams were so loud that neighbors came running with weapons drawn, certain that I was being attacked. Dame Tommasa and Gwen were at my side at once, but I wept for Janyn; I wanted only Janyn. Unfortunately he was at sea, headed for Milan, believing that when he returned I would be big and fat with child.

But it was not to be. And with the change in him I feared it might be some time before I conceived again. I mourned that child as I had never mourned for anything in my life. I so wanted a sibling for my little Bella, a brother or sister she might love and with whom she would share secrets and treasures.

“You shall have many more children, Alice,” Tommasa assured me.

Felice the midwife agreed. “What happened is as common as a cough in winter, and has no influence on your next pregnancy.”

Dame Agnes arrived with gifts of food, new bed curtains, a tisane she said had helped her after she lost a child. She sat by me, talking of happy things or sitting quietly fingering her paternoster beads. Yet I drew no comfort from her or anyone else for many a day. Janyn’s drawing away from me, his dread of the future, and now this loss—it all seemed more than I could bear.

Until one morning I heard my sweet Bella shrieking and calling for me. My daughter’s fear lifted me from my bed and into life once more. When I knelt to her where she sat in the hall, kicking her heels and refusing to be comforted by her nurse or her grandmother Dame Tommasa, her tears dried up and a smile lit her swollen face. She reached out for me and in a heartbeat I’d gathered her in my arms. She rested
her hot little head on my chest and gave a great, trembling sigh. I had never held anything more precious.

For weeks I kept her near me, whether I was gardening, reviewing the accounts, studying, or doing needlework.

I had hoped to find some calm in Janyn’s absence, but my sense of underlying disquiet was hardly dispelled. Our acquaintances did not include me in gatherings as often as they had the previous year, nor did they seem as friendly when I was among them. I noticed uneasy pauses in conversations when I approached, and I stood as godmother to none of the newborns—I thought this might have been because of my own loss, but would later learn that was in truth only a very small part of it.

The culmination of this dread took human shape one day in mid-May. I was at market with Gwen and a manservant when a stranger approached us, asking after Janyn. He was elegantly dressed and had a soldierly bearing. This was no merchant asking after a peer.