The Witch of Eye (41 page)

‘Prisoner dismissed. Call Her Grace the Duchess of Gloucester!’

Bartholomew Halley stepped forward to take charge of the prisoner and Beaufort returned to sit behind the long table with the other members of the jury. There was a buzz of conversation while four guards grouped themselves around Roger Bolingbroke and escorted him from the chapel.

Now it was Archbishop Chichele’s turn to ask the questions. He watched anxiously as Eleanor stepped up to the witness stand. She looked very ill.

‘Would you like to sit, Your Grace?’ he asked.

‘If I may,’ she replied, grateful for his concern. Chichele, her husband’s friend. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad after all.

She was wrong. Archbishop Chichele’s kind gesture in offering her a seat was the only one she received throughout the entire proceedings. The Duchess was accused of no less than twenty-eight transgressions and vehemently denied them all, insisting that her only concern had ever been to be a good wife to her husband and a faithful subject of the King’s. And still the questions kept coming, accusation followed accusation, fingers were pointed and voices were raised. As the afternoon wore on, Eleanor became increasingly exhausted.

The questioning was too clever for her tired brain, too slick, too sly. The answers she tried to give were distorted by her questioners and fired back at her. Once again, Cardinal Beaufort rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of the table where the other council members were sitting. He walked towards Eleanor and she struggled to hold her head erect and look at him. He paused until he was certain he had the full attention of everyone who was present in the chapel.

‘You say you wanted nothing more than to be a loyal subject of the King’s and a devoted wife to your husband?’ he began.

‘Yes, my Lord, that is so. I wanted nothing more than that.’

‘Very well. Now let us, for the moment, make the assumption that you were, as you say, solicitous of the King’s welfare, anxious that he might not be well. How did you express those anxieties? Did you pray regularly for His Highness?’

‘I prayed every day that if His Highness was ill, he would be restored to good health. The King was always in my prayers, day and night.’

‘And your husband, did you pray for him, too?’

‘Always.’

‘You said a moment ago that you wanted nothing more than to be a good, dutiful wife to your husband. Yes? Correct?’

‘Yes, that is my dearest wish.’

Rounding on her and pointing an accusing finger, Beaufort barked his next question.

‘Then why did you not give him a child?’

‘I did!’ Eleanor was indignant: the question had thrown her entirely off balance. ‘I did! No, no, I didn’t give him a child, that is true, but I prayed with all my heart that I might conceive one. I pleaded with God, I asked holy men and nuns to intercede on my behalf.’

‘And did you take any medicines, any pills or potions to help you?’

‘I did, I did. I did everything I knew how to do.’

‘And still you were barren?’

‘Yes.’ Her anguished reply seemed to have been torn from her. ‘I was still barren.’

‘And where did you procure those pills and potions you admit to using?’

‘From ... oh, from several places, from various people.’

‘From wise women and the like?’

‘Sometimes. If I thought it would help, I would try anything.’

‘Village wise women are often known to practise witchcraft. Were you aware of that?’

‘I ... I don’t know ... I know nothing about that. I was simply doing my best. I meant no harm by anything I did. But I did, desperately, want to have a child. I admit that. My husband had no legal heir and I longed to give him a child. I longed to! It was the greatest gift I could ever offer him.’

‘But you failed him.’

Dumbly, Eleanor nodded. There was nothing she could say. She had failed. There could be no argument with that. She was close to tears and exhausted under the verbal battering. In her befuddled mind, she was aware that she had somehow been forced into the confession that she had used the services of a wise woman. And Henry Beaufort hadn’t finished with her yet.

‘And did you ask a wise woman for potions and lotions and perfumes to make you attractive to the Duke your royal husband, before you were married?’

‘Well, I ... yes, perhaps I did. But we were married many years ago. I don’t remember clearly.’

‘But you admit to having taken medicines and drinks to make him love you?’

‘Well, perhaps, as I said. But many women do that. I was certainly not the only woman at court who used the services of Mistress J ... er...’

It was a trap. She bit her tongue but too late.

‘Mistress Jourdemayne, perhaps?’

‘Yes, my Lord, Mistress Jourdemayne.’ Eleanor nodded, then looked up at her tormentor. ‘But she supplied many ladies of the court with such things.’

‘No doubt,’ said Beaufort. ‘No doubt. Very well, that is all for now.’

Archbishop Chichele held up his hand. ‘My Lords, gentlemen, Her Grace the Duchess has endured several hours of questioning this afternoon and still admits to only five of the twenty-eight charges made against her. I am going to suggest that this court should now adjourn so that we may decide how best to proceed with this very vexing case. It has been decided that, in due course, there will be another hearing, which will be conducted under secular conditions so that certain aspects of the case will be better judged. I must tell you that I have already discussed some of the issues raised with His Highness the King and he is anxious that things be brought to a swift conclusion for the common good, with just and proper punishment meted out in due course. But for the moment, Her Grace the Duchess may return to her sanctuary in Westminster Abbey. This court is now dismissed.’

‘Court is dismissed! Be upstanding!’

Rising to her feet, the Duchess staggered a little and Jenna, sitting close behind her, moved quickly to put her hand under her elbow, fearing she might faint.

There was a scraping of chairs being pushed back as the distinguished members of the council stood up from the table, stretching their cramped legs and collecting their belongings. Making his way out of the room with everyone else, Cardinal Beaufort manoeuvred himself closer to Archbishop Kemp.

‘A word before we leave,’ he said quietly, falling into step beside his friend. ‘I thought it interesting that she was prepared to implicate the witch, didn’t you?’ he asked. ‘And therefore herself, of course, by association. Do you think she realised what she’d said?’

Archbishop Kemp raised his eyebrows and gave a slight shrug. ‘Whether she did or didn’t is immaterial,’ he said. ‘Because we have a confession that she used the woman’s services. And that’s all we need. The Duchess has all but admitted to using sorcery and the black arts to get Gloucester to marry her.’

Cardinal Beaufort smiled. ‘Then we shall have to have Mistress Jourdemayne called to defend herself,’ he said, ‘but the case against her is water-tight. According to a fellow I met at St Paul’s Cross a week or so ago, she is well known around Westminster and there are those who still openly call her the Witch of Eye, ever since a case was brought against her several years ago in which he himself had been mistakenly implicated.’

‘Might that not be sour grapes on his part?’

‘No, not at all because he told me that he also saw her quite recently at St Sepulchre’s where she was meeting Bolingbroke. He recognised him. So it’s high time she was dealt with, once and for all. You remember what the Book of Exodus says about women like her, don’t you?’

‘Chapter twenty-two,’ said Kemp with a knowing smile.

‘Indeed. God gave the Laws to Moses and those laws are laid down in Exodus, so there can be no argument. The instruction in chapter twenty-two, verse twenty-seven is very clear.
Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.’

‘And who are we to disagree with the Bible?’ said Kemp with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

***

A
bbot Kyrton was waiting to meet the Duchess when she returned. Whereas he had been led to believe that she was little but a shallow personality with insufferable pride in her clothes, her jewels and her possessions, he had seen her earlier in the afternoon for the vulnerable woman she was. And he had pitied her. Realising that she was exhausted and deeply upset, he resolved to show her a little human kindness this evening. After Vespers, he would offer her a modest supper in his own rooms, he decided. She might appreciate a gesture of friendship.

‘Why, Father Abbot!’ she exclaimed, ‘how very kind of you. But really, you must not trouble yourself. Besides, I’m weary. I would like to retire early to my bed.’

‘You must, of course, if you so wish, Your Grace, but I thought perhaps you might enjoy a civet of hare with me this evening. I eat only modestly at supper time, but I imagine this would be better fare than you have been accustomed to in the last few days. It might take your mind off your troubles for a few hours. You might sleep the better for it.’

The Duchess glanced at Jenna, almost as if she was incapable of making a decision for herself and needed someone to do that for her. Of course, a servant would never be invited to sit down with her at the Abbot’s table but she would feel quite nervous without her. Jenna smiled encouragingly.

‘I’m sure you’d enjoy that, Your Grace,’ she said. ‘It would be a change for you and perhaps it would help you to relax a little. And, as it happens, I would very much like to have a few hours off this evening, if I may. I haven’t seen Kitty for some weeks. You remember? She’s the little girl I mentioned to you.’

‘Oh, yes ... well in that case,’ said the Duchess. ‘But ... but I would still like to retire to bed at a reasonable hour.’

‘I will be back here at the Abbey before sundown, Your Grace, to help you prepare for bed.’

‘Very well, then.’ Eleanor nodded, turning away towards the main door of the monastery, with Abbot Kyrton attentively at her elbow. Hardly had the great door swung shut behind them than Jenna began to walk as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention to herself, through the village and into the demesne of the Manor of Eye-next-Westminster. Then she broke into a run. For once, she didn’t care whether she saw Kitty or not, but she had to see William.

***

A
t first glance the Abbot’s private rooms at the Abbey appeared austere, there were no tapestries on the walls and the floors were covered only with strewing herbs but the furniture was of an excellent quality, the chairs comfortably upholstered. A beautiful oak table in the centre of the room was set for two diners though there would have been room for at least another ten on the long benches to either side of it.

Eleanor was glad of the warmth from a small pile of logs burning in the hearth because although the incessant rain of recent weeks had finally stopped, the air was unseasonably cool. She gave an involuntary shiver.

‘Are you quite comfortable, Your Grace?’ Abbot Kyrton inquired. ‘Are you warm enough? I can always call for more logs for the fire.’

‘No. No, thank you,’ Eleanor replied. ‘I’m not really cold, just upset by the events of this afternoon.’

‘I imagine it was a very distressing experience for you, Your Grace, to have been accused of crimes of this nature.’

‘It was, very distressing. But what troubles me, perhaps more than anything at the moment, is ... is the fear that I have unintentionally implicated someone else.’

‘Really? And might I enquire who that is? Only if you wish to tell me, of course,’ he added hurriedly. Then he smiled at her. ‘I assure you, Your Grace, I will respect your confidences equally as much in my dining room as I would in the confessional!’

Eleanor waited until her porringer had been filled with a helping of civet of hare from a large tureen. The tantalising aroma of onions in the stew made her realise how very hungry she was. While the Abbot was being served, she took a slice of bread and buttered it generously.

He looked enquiringly at her. ‘Would you like to tell me who it is?’

Eleanor waited until she was sure that the young novice who was serving at table was safely out of earshot. ‘She is the wife of one of your tenants on the manor farm, a man by the name of William Jourdemayne.’

‘Ah, yes. I know him, of course. A most conscientious tenant. He seems to run the place very well. I know of his wife by reputation, but I haven’t met her since I inherited responsibility for the manor farm from Abbot Harweden. She has not been much in evidence on those occasions when I have visited La Neyte.’

‘Her name is Margery. She is a clever woman, skilled at making cures for all manner of ills. Her tinctures and decoctions are most effective and the ladies of the court very often buy her creams and lotions, too. And not only the ladies: she often sells small items to the gentlemen.’

‘So she’s by way of being what you would call a business woman, then, rather than discharging her duties as a good wife to her husband?’

‘Well, yes, in a way. Yes, I suppose she is.’

‘And how is she involved in this case?’ he asked.

With a sigh, Eleanor answered. ‘I have made the mistake of buying some of her wares in the past and now the King’s Council is trying to prove she’s some sort of wise woman and that I am in league with her.’

Abbot Kyrton looked enquiringly at her over the rim of his spoon. ‘And is she?’

‘Is she what? A wise woman? Well, perhaps.’

‘And are you, Your Grace? In league with her, that is?’

Eleanor thought very hard before replying. ‘As I said, I have purchased some of her lotions and so on in the past. Oh, and a little tooth tincture. It’s not such a dreadful thing to have done. And I have admitted it.’

Thoughtfully, the Abbot chewed on a mouthful of bread. He needed to choose his words with care. The Duchess was upset enough already. He had no desire to make things worse.

‘The problem as I see it, Your Grace, is that wise women are very often accused of being witches. And if the Council can lay that accusation at Mistress Jourdemayne’s door, then not much can be done to help her.’

‘But they’d have to prove it!’