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Chapter Four

What now? The immediate future was a matter for much speculation for those who knew the truth.

After the clash of wills in Philippa’s little chapel, it came as no surprise to me that Thomas made no effort to publically reclaim me as his wife. What would he do? Announce it with trumpet and drum, dragging his squire and page before the King to swear that it had all taken place? I imagined the scene; the dishonourable knight, the abandoned wife, the innocent husband, all faced by the infuriated King who had been made to look a fool by standing witness at a marriage that was legally void.

So Thomas kept his mouth firmly closed, and as the months limped past with no ruffling of the surface by errant winds, there was a general sighing of relief. My mother and uncle were in watchful agreement that Thomas should fade into the background and the disgraceful little episode be allowed to fade with him. The Earl of Salisbury, when he finally returned to our midst on a promise never to fight again in France, rejoiced at his release and his acquisition of a Plantagenet daughter-in-law. Will and I continued to pursue the life assigned to us by custom in the royal household while the King, still happily in the dark, saw no reason not to continue to take Thomas to his bosom, encouraging his reminiscences of battles and feats of arms.

An edgy acceptance in which we all settled into playing our allotted roles. There were no rumours. Not one word was whispered about that marriage in the royal mews at Ghent. As the months passed, it seemed that it had never happened.

As for the three of us most closely connected: Thomas remained aloof and silent, I kept my counsel; Will, with creditable insouciance, swept the whole event behind the tapestry, having decided that Thomas was no threat.

And I? I watched both Thomas and Will, becoming adept at hiding my true feelings. By this time I was having difficulty in deciding what exactly they were. It all had a dream-like quality, within which I sensed the black clouds of an impending storm. Of one thing I was certain. It could not go on in this tranquil fashion. Eventually the clouds would break and we would all be doused in shame and scandal.

‘I am impressed, Joan.’ My mother was becoming as complacent as Countess Catherine. ‘You have grown into this Montagu marriage. I commend you.’

‘Yes, madam.’

We were pacing side by side behind the Queen on our way to early Mass, as was our wont.

‘It is all for the best.’

‘Indeed it is, madam.’

Her eyes narrowed, as if she could not quite trust my compliance, before adding: ‘Reluctantly, I am given cause to admire Holland too.’ She inclined her head in the general direction of where he was standing in the little group of knights beside the King, who was awaiting the Queen. ‘He has the good sense to realise that to speak out now will harm no one but himself.’

And me, of course. It would do my reputation no good at all.

We did not speak of such things.

Meanwhile Thomas returned to his position as one of the household knights, with aplomb and royal approval. But he had not forgotten. And he did speak of such things.

‘I will win you back,’ he said in an short aside as we emerged from Mass, our sins duly assuaged for another day, the households of King and Queen mingling. I was not forbidden to speak with him; that would have caught too much attention. Instead we became skilled at seizing strange opportunities.

‘How can you win me back?’ I handed him my missal to carry, under pretence of inspecting a damaged link in my girdle. ‘How can we untie this legal knot? It is pulled so tight that it can never be picked loose.’

‘I’ve never retreated from a battlefield. I’ll not retreat now, with right on my side.’

‘This is no battlefield,’ I returned. ‘This is a fully fledged rout. We are all defeated.’

‘No rout. No defeat. I see my way ahead.’

Before I could ask him what it might be, I became aware of my mother bearing down on us. Thomas might be undaunted, but I was fast becoming resigned to my fate, for I could think of no ploy to escape one marriage and leap into another. In the last moments of privacy I looked up to find him watching me so that I could not look away. Indeed nor did I wish to. In those few brief seconds the intensity of longing was a shocking thing, filling all the spaces in my heart caused by Thomas’s absence. It took every effort of my willpower not to stretch out my hand to touch him, even the lightest of pressures on his sleeve. Which would have been irresponsible, damaging to the myth that we were all intent on believing. Oh, Thomas! Unsettled by the sheer power of my reaction to him, I snatched back my missal and walked away, keeping my fears and my longings to myself. Until the next time…

It was like a sore tooth, a constant annoyance. A permanent worrying that could not be put right by a simple tincture of poppy.

***

‘I will never give up hope for us, Joan.’ Standing together by some slight of foot, we both looked across at the elegant procession of dancers in the Queen’s new dancing chamber as if it took all our attention.

‘I think that I might have.’ What good in not being honest? As I slid a glance, I saw him frown. ‘Unless you are prepared to abduct me.’ In a moment of true despair, I sank into levity.

Thomas remained afloat in practicality. ‘And what would that achieve?’

‘Everything, if you want me as you wife.’

Was I serious? Elopement was not for me. I was merely irritated with my inability to see a way through the overgrown thicket of our dilemma.

‘I could abduct you, of course.’ Thomas was brutally blunt. ‘But I’ll not condemn myself to skulking around Europe, looking for a handout, with you living in a tent on the tournament field, complaining about the food, the cold and the stains on your best silk – your only silk – gown.’

He knew me remarkably, if unflatteringly, well.

‘That’s not complimentary.’

‘It’s not intended to be. I know what will make you happy. Tournament life is not one of them.’

‘And you are not motivated by your own ambitions?’

‘Of course I am. You know I am. I will fight for King Edward, for England. To run off with you would sabotage that plan.’

‘And your ambition is more important to you than I am.’

‘At this moment, it is a matter of debate in my mind, Joan. I have not known you so argumentative before.’

‘I have never before been faced with the quandary of two husbands at one and the same time!’

As fast as a sparrowhawk’s descent on an unsuspecting sparrow, anger flared between us, fortunately masked by a lively carol being played on pipes, crumhorns and drums, accompanied by an energetic group of heavy-footed dancers.

‘I did not expect to return to England to find my wife cosily in bed with the Montagu family.’

‘Only with one of them. I did not expect you to return at all! And as far as I know you have a wench in every camp between here and the Holy Land.’

‘And why not? When I cannot trust my wife in England to remain loyal. Does he pleasure you well in bed? Better than I?’

‘As well as the camp followers give you ease at the end of a long day.’

‘I have always suspected you of a strong streak of frivolity.’

‘I have never been frivolous in my life! And you know full well I do not share Will’s bed.’

A heated argument that we abandoned when, the drums and pipes falling silent, heads were turned in our direction.

Did we kiss? We did not.

Was I dragged into a fervent embrace? Never.

Where was the passion, the emotion that had driven me into Thomas’s arms?

In winter hibernation.

Until I had had enough. And so had Thomas.

***

‘If we don’t abscond,’ he said, as we waited on a cold December morn for the hunt to assemble, ‘then we must do it legally.’

I thought about this as one of my women tucked my skirts securely between leg and saddle. And when she had completed the task and moved aside: ‘A court case. Is that what you think?’

‘Why not?’

I knew why not. ‘There’s no point in appealing to the English courts. They’ll do what Edward tells them. You’ll get no justice there.’

‘True.’ Still standing, fidgeting with his gloves, Thomas signalled for his page to tighten the girth since Edward had arrived, then mounted, pulling his horse level with mine. ‘There is another method of besieging this castle, of course.’

I looked across.

‘You are not allowed to harm Will!’

‘I did not mean a dagger in the heart! God’s Blood, Joan! Would I do that? I’ve nothing against him personally. I’m still thinking legally.’

There was only one route I could think of. ‘And what would that be? Do you foresee yourself kneeling at the feet of His Holiness the Pope in Avignon and appealing for justice?’

‘Exactly that.’

I looked at him aghast. My comment had been born out of pure cynicism. ‘Have you come into a family fortune?’

‘There is no family fortune. I make my own way in the world.’

‘Then who will speak for you? Who will loan you the money? I have none.’

‘Nor would I take it from you.’ His tone softened and almost he reached to touch my wrist, before thinking better of it, shortening his reins instead.

‘It would cost a small fortune.’

‘Which I do not have. Not until I have made a name for myself.’

‘And how will you do that?’

But I knew without asking the question. There was only one way for men like Thomas. To fight overseas. To shine on the battlefield where he might take prisoner men of consequence and ransom them for the desired fortune. My heart plummeted.

‘And how long do you presume that this planning will take? How old will we be before you ransom enough prisoners and your coffers contain enough gold? I would like to see it before my death bed claims me.’ A thought flittered across my mind, and not a pleasant one. ‘I would like to be extricated from this morass of our making before Will is considered of an age to take me in physical matrimony and gives me a handful of Montagu children who will tie me to this marriage for ever.’

It had crossed Thomas’s mind too. ‘A year or two. Three at most.’

‘Is that all?’

‘It all depends on the campaigns. There will be war again between England and France. And if not there will be others where mercenaries are welcomed.’ His expression beneath the white silk was severe as we walked our horses behind that of the King. ‘Have you no confidence in me?’

I would have replied but William was approaching on a spritely roan and I saw the necessity to retreat. Of course there would be war, there would be every opportunity. There would also be opportunity for Thomas to be cut down in battle. I had every confidence in his courage but was not the lack of an eye an impairment, whatever he might say to the contrary? I did not think that he would be the man he had once been in the tournament, despite the blind king who was led into battle, his reins tied to those of his entourage. That was no life for a man who was intent on wealth and reputation.

‘Yes, I have every confidence,’ I said. ‘Just don’t tell me about the King of Bohemia!’

What I kept tight-held within me was the fear, the dread that the whole complex situation, the whole knotty problem, could be immediately resolved by Thomas’s death by a lance through his chest or an arrow through his throat. It was not unknown. It could happen before I tasted married bliss.

And here was Will, drawing rein beside me, his thoughts not on wedded bliss.

‘What were you talking about?’

Suspicion was not entirely dead then.

‘About Sir Thomas’s need to make a living from fighting.’

‘So he will be leaving soon.’

‘I expect so. When he can find a war to suit his purposes.’

‘Good.’

‘Why? Do you not like him?’

I regarded him beneath lowered lashes, interested to hear what he would say.

‘I do,’ Will admitted as if it surprised him. ‘My father says he is a good man to have at your side.’

‘So you would happily send him off to his death.’

‘It would solve my problems!’

I was afraid that it would.

His brows snapping together as he continued the line of thought, Will added: ‘And I would no longer feel that I had to consider your loyalty to me, every minute of the day when I was not at your side.’

‘You dishonour me, my lord,’ I replied with a false smile of great sweetness. ‘I know exactly where my loyalty is due.’

‘And what does that mean?’

Applying my heel to my mare, I left him to his uneasy deliberations.

The hiatus between myself and Thomas came to a hasty end as the court began to hum with a bustle of preparation. Thomas’s hopes were about to be fulfilled, for Edward was collecting an army and preparing to take it into Brittany. Sir Thomas Holland acquired a spring in his step that had nothing to do with me.

‘So you are going to Brittany.’

‘As soon as I can. Don’t expect letters. I am no writer.’

‘How will I know if you are well?’ Then added: ‘If you are alive?’

‘You won’t. Until I return as victor or on a bier.’

He snatched a kiss, as brief as the one on our wedding day. I sighed. I would find no use for ointment of lily, so well recommended by those who knew, to repair painful fissures of lips, product of too many heated kisses. My lips were destined to suffer only from the cold winds of winter.

Thomas did not return with a victor’s wreath or on a bier. He did not return at all but, with the truce, went on to Bayonne with Sir John Hardeshull. Followed by Granada with the Earl of Derby where there was a crusade against the Moors. It was to be more than a year before I saw him again, by which time all my hopes had been dashed.

January 1344: Windsor Castle

The final tournament of the day was well underway, the quintessential skills of a knight on show for us all, à plaisir rather than à outrance with King Edward’s knights making a fine showing in the lists.

The war was in abeyance. Edward was home, summoning all the armed youth of England to Windsor, as well as as many earls, knights and barons as he could lay his hands on. This was the second of his great winter tournaments. Queen Philippa was present with a clutch of royal children.

Thomas was home too. He was not dead. Neither was he rich. His expression was bleak.

‘I have not made my fortune,’ he announced in passing.

And that was that.

Now we watched, admired. We watched as Edward dislodged his opponents with extravagant ease. We watched as Thomas, white silk a-glimmer in the frosty light, fighting with bold strokes irrespective of his impediment, won the prize. We watched as the Earl of Salisbury, Will’s famous father returned to us, full of good humour and authority as Earl Marshall, rode at his opponent. The thunder of hooves, the cries of the supporters, the groans of those who lost their bets on which knight would prevail. We watched and the day was glorious indeed. Then, in a strange little silence, herald of disaster, the attention of the crowd centred on one occurrence.

The Earl of Salisbury was unhorsed.

The Earl lay on the ground while his horse cantered off, to be caught by his page.

The Earl lay pinned like a beetle in its carapace, his face still masked by his tilting helm.

Surely he would rise? Surely he would get to his feet, remount his horse and ride back to receive the commiserations from friends and the women in the royal gallery?

The Earl lay motionless on the ground.

Then his squire, kneeling beside him, struggling to remove his helm, was signalling for help. Signalling with increasing concern.

Edward was the first to be at his side, pushing aside the squire, fast followed by Will who bounded from the ranks of the Montagu retinue where he had been acting as squire. At my side Countess Catherine sat unmoving, chin raised.

‘He will be unharmed. He has been unhorsed before.’

But her hands were tight-clasped in her lap, and I felt the beginning of a little fear that unfurled in my chest as the King looked up, scrubbing his palms down his cheeks.

The Earl did not rise.

Heavily unconscious, he did not speak, not even when he was carried inside. And later in the day, with one of the King’s doctors frowning over him, a litter was harnessed to six of the King’s horses to carry him to the family home at Bisham, the Earl’s new manor that he loved so much, because it seemed to the Countess that it was the right thing to do.

Will and I went with them, a dour cavalcade.

The King watched us go, grief and fear engraved on his face.

We were at his bedside when the Earl died at Bisham Manor on the thirtieth day of January, never regaining his senses. We stood by his bed as his laboured breathing faltered and stopped. The priest made the sign of the cross on his brow. We bent our heads in prayer, the whole household in mourning. How tragic that the Earl, restored to family, home and pre-eminence, his reputation as soldier and royal counsellor still glorious, should be struck down by a cheap death on the jousting field.

‘There will never be another like him. So great a man, so noble a soldier.’ The Countess’s eyes were proudly dry but stark with loss. ‘The King has lost his truest friend. He can never be replaced. The first and greatest of the Montagu Earls of Salisbury.’

I heard Will inhale sharply, then he turned on his heel and walked out. Sensing his resentment of both the death and his mother’s assumption that Will would never be his father’s equal, I stretched out a hand.

‘Let him go,’ the Countess said, demeanour pinched and cold with the waiting. ‘My son is old enough to shoulder his responsibilities. He must step into his father’s shoes, however unlikely it seems.’

Will’s brother and four sisters stood irresolute.

I did not think that I could forgive her. I had seen death approaching, but Will had not expected this. Nor had he expected the immediate reproof from his mother, that he would always live in his father’s shadow. I curtsied to the Countess.

‘I think that he should not be alone, my lady. There is no need to quite step into those magnificent shoes today. Tomorrow will be soon enough.’

And before she could deny it, I went to find him, discovering him where I knew he would be. Will was not one for prayer, seeking out solace in the chapel. Instead he was in the stables, running his hand down the neck of his father’s favourite horse, murmuring some affectionate words I could not hear.

‘Will…’

He hesitated, then resumed the stroking of the massive gleaming neck.

‘I won’t talk about it.’

Instead of arguing the case I went and touched his shoulder. Even when he shrugged me off, I persisted and rubbed the back of his neck gently. When I rested my forehead against his back, at last he turned to me and let me fold him into my arms, the first true embrace born out of affection and compassion in all the years of our marriage. He did not weep, but his body was taut with emotions I could not name. And then he relaxed against me a little as I stroked his hair.

‘I am so very sorry, Will.’

It was not unknown for knights to meet death or serious injury in jousts à plaisir, but that was no comfort to Will who had worshipped the great soldier that his father had been. The shock held him silent.

‘It was a better end than many,’ I tried. Better than execution. Better than the head being severed from the body by an incompetent felon. ‘He had his dignity to the end.’

‘He was a good father.’

‘He was caring and affectionate.’

And then, as if it were an entirely new thought, Will raised his head. ‘I am Earl now.’

‘So you are.’

‘I did not expect it.’

‘Of course you did.’

‘I didn’t mean… But not yet.’

‘You will be an exceptional Earl. As good as your father.’

‘I will not be the King’s great friend.’

‘No. There are too many years between you. But you will be one of his most loyal counsellors and soldiers.’

‘You have great faith in me. More than my mother has.’

‘I have known you all my life.’

‘So has my mother.’

We laughed a little at the foolishness of his remark.

‘Do you realise, Joan? Today we have both grown into our fate,’ Will said, defending his furred collar from the teeth of the huge friendly creature now being ignored, and I looked at him, a query in my gaze. ‘Because now you are Countess of Salisbury.’

That was it. Earl and Countess in a stable, nuzzled by a curious animal. I wiped the remnants of tears from Will’s cheek.

‘You do not weep,’ he said, an observation rather than censure.

‘He was not my father. I am sure that I have wept for my father too, even though I did not know him.’ I could not remember.

Will’s hand closed hard round mine. ‘I cannot be my father.’

‘No. You are yourself. Why should you not be a man of similar renown? And why should Edward not take you as his friend? Friendship is not always a matter of age.’

‘So what do I do? To become a King’s friend.’

‘Talk to him.’ I recalled talking to Edward about maps and King Arthur.

‘Talk…?’ I saw a momentary panic invade Will’s expression. ‘What do I talk about?’

‘About war and… and maps and clocks…’

‘Clocks?’

The panic deepened.

‘Perhaps not, although Edward has a liking for such things. He finds them intriguing. Go hunting with him. Hawking. You can do that. The King will always have an affection for you because of your father that will stand you in good stead. Now is the time to make it your own.’

It seemed good sense to me. All Will needed was some years under is belt.

‘It’s easy for you. He is your cousin.’

‘Believe me, Will, it will be much easier for you. You are a man, not a mere girl. And you are now Earl of Salisbury.’

Will blinked as if, at last, it had just struck home. ‘Thank you for your comfort, my lady. Earl and Countess of Salisbury.’ He huffed another little laugh which caught in his throat. ‘And so we have much to do. My father made it clear. Let us go and tell my mother what she needs to know about my father’s funeral.’

We were Earl and Countess of Salisbury.

William was sixteen years old. So was I.

We interred the Earl with suitable solemnities at Bisham Priory, which he had established and where he had expressed a wish to end his days on earth, after which Will and I returned to the court, leaving behind a lachrymose Dowager Countess who had yet to come to terms with my superseding her, in name if not in actual authority, within the Salisbury household.

The subtle changes within the royal household from that day of deadly celebration in January were immediately apparent but took a little time to absorb in their entirety.

The Queen, despite carrying yet another child, was gravely quiet, acknowledging the King’s loss of the friendship he had held most dear. As for Edward, there was no Earl of Salisbury to advise and cajole and laugh with him. Ned, also unnaturally solemn, was too young to take the Earl’s place, nor did he try. The King walked and talked and ate with a little space of dark loss around him. More startling, it was as if he had lost heart for his plans to install a body of chivalric and glamorous knights, now that his most famous knight had gone from this life, the man who had ridden at his side the night he took back his throne from Earl Mortimer at Nottingham Castle.

It was hard to believe that before the fatal tournament, flanked by the Earl of Salisbury and the Earl of Derby, Edward, a Bible gripped in his hands, had vowed to begin a new Round Table in the spirit of King Arthur, creating a great round structure to house the three hundred knights who would be invited to join. The building, which he had begun with such hope and joy, was left half-finished, collecting cobwebs.

A bleak sorrow pervaded all.

‘Talk to him,’ I urged Will when, greeted as the new Earl, yet another shimmer of panic settled over him, ‘but don’t be too cheerful. Tell him about your new tapestries for Bisham. It won’t be difficult.’

‘Come with me…’

‘How would that help? Go and be a man amongst men.’

I could help him no more. Wishing him well, I went to supervise our occupation of the chambers set aside for the Earl and Countess. No, it was not difficult. As the biting cold was touched with a hint of spring, the King’s spirits lifted and the court began to gleam again. By the time we settled into the austerity of Lent, it was much as I had known it and Will was blossoming with a new confidence.

‘Good fortune, Joan.’

Sir Thomas Holland, with the gloom of January still about him, bowed.

‘Sir Thomas.’ I curtsied stiffly, already sensing an uncomfortable exchange. ‘My greetings to you too.’

There was no one to cast more than a glance in our direction at his formal assembly. The past was the past, over and done with, and with it all the doubts and debates. My mother had left the court for one of her own properties of Castle Donington, under the conviction that the tragic death had stitched me even more tightly into the garments of this marriage.

‘Countess of Salisbury.’ Thomas bowed again. ‘I commend you, my lady.’

I stared at him, not enjoying the baleful light in his eye as he continued:

‘I imagine it colours your view of our marriage, to my detriment. I can expect no resurgence of loyalty from you now. It is the way of the world.’ And when I raised my brows: ‘Why would you give this up,’ he gestured with a sharply raised chin to the robe and fur and the livery collar and to my regal coronet as consort of an Earl, ‘to be wife of a household knight?’

I was dressed to give honour to some foreign dignitary, come to make an alliance with King Edward. I was clad in Montagu magnificence all red and white lozenges and ermine fur, from my head to my feet.

I continued to regard Thomas, oblivious to the casual glamour of his own appearance, the silver lion rampant on the chest of his tunic, as I felt anger begin to beat in my head. Did he consider my loyalty so worthlessly ephemeral that the unexpected acquisition of a noble title would shackle me to Will’s side? Clearly, he thought exactly that. Living with the Dowager Countess’s resistance and Will’s grief had reduced me to a low ebb. Now resentful of such a slur on my integrity, I was in no mood to either deny it or make excuses.

I stoked my hand down the extravagance of the fur, luxuriating in it.

‘Why indeed?’ I said. ‘Yes, Sir Thomas, I have always wanted ownership of ermine and a strawberry-leaved coronet. I have decided that I will cleave to this Salisbury marriage after all. I might even find a true affection for William and rejoice to carry his heirs.’

‘Of course you might very well do so.’

Thomas’s teeth were all but clenched. My spine was as rigid as a halberd.

‘Being a princess in my own right bears absolutely no comparison to being a Countess through marriage,’ I added. ‘It is what I have always sought. I am surprised that you have not already accepted it. We have no future together, Sir Thomas.’

‘With which I concur. Security and rank is not to be sneezed at.’ He was as cross as I. ‘It’s better than anything I can offer you, by God! It is merely that I did not think that you would be so capricious, or quite so brazen, in where and when you offered your affections. The speed with which you have changed horses mid-battle is formidable. I should take lessons from you.’

‘But you do not know me at all well.’

‘As I am beginning to learn.’ He bowed his head curtly. ‘You have assuredly made the most prudent decision.’

By now my anger had achieved a heat all if its own. How dare he denounce me as capricious in the giving of my affections. As for brazen…

I forgot to be regally controlled to match my gilded strawberry leaves.

‘Am I capricious? I was under the strongest impression that I was married to you. I thought that our hearts were engaged. I have had no indication of your heart being engaged by anything but the good health of your livestock for the next tournament.’

I was in no mood to be soothing. I knew exactly the road along which my acknowledged love’s thoughts were travelling. How presumptuous of him, to believe that my sudden change in rank would seduce me. How humiliating. And yet how troubling that I had found myself thinking the same unsettling thoughts. Living as Countess of Salisbury would be far more comfortable than as Lady Holland.

Thomas was scathing.

‘Of course I am concerned for the well-being of my horses. What did you expect? Declarations of my love for you at every opportunity?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘My life depends on the soundness of my horseflesh.’

‘Ha! Thus your priorities.’

‘Hear me, Joan.’ Suddenly he had a fistful of my ermine crushed hard. ‘I feel honour-bound not to address you or touch you until our marriage is recognised. I may not be an Earl but I know what honour is. Just at this moment it’s like being confined in a…’ Thomas was not poetic. ‘… in a dungeon where all is black and formless and there is no way out. Until I can raise enough coin, you are destined to remain chained there as Countess of Salisbury. You might as well enjoy it.’

It was like trying to follow a cat through a maze.

‘I thought you had just agreed that it would be a good thing for me to keep my ermine – for both of us.’

‘I did not agree. I stated what I thought might be in your mind.’

‘You have no idea what is in my mind.’

‘As I know.’ The air shivered between us. ‘I need another war.’

‘Well at least it might relieve me of one husband. Which would be better than having two. And an incomplete relationship with either of them!’

He was preoccupied, and did not respond as I hoped he might, studying his hands where they were now clasped on his sword belt. I smoothed my mistreated fur.

‘I need employment of some kind, Joan.’

Fury drove me, unfortunately, to sneer. ‘What can you do? Other than fight?’

Here we were trapped, in a complex spider’s web of our own making. It might be better if I resigned myself to life with William which would not be unpleasant, but it would not have that spark of exhilaration that had brought me from my bed this morning in anticipation of seeing Thomas, even for a handful of minutes. Life with Will would not have this bright conflict that awoke my senses, even when I was angry with him. Crossing swords with Thomas was heady with possibilities. Arguments with Will were no better than a buffeting with a soft cushion.

I knew which I preferred.

‘Is there nothing else you can turn your hand to?’ I asked.

‘I am a knight. A soldier. A fighting man.’

‘I did not presume you would turn to labouring like a peasant.’

He frowned into the middle distance, as if I had sowed some small seed of an idea.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing that need concern you.’

‘An answer that I dislike.’

‘You’ll get no explanation from me.’ Then he gave a shrug of one shoulder. ‘I’ll say this. That campaigning gives a man many arrows for his bow.’

Which was no more enlightening.

‘I’ve never seen you use a bow.’

‘I am excellent with a bow. I think I see my way to establishing myself.’

‘Until the next battle.’

‘Of course.’ His gaze, suddenly on mine, sharpened. Without warning he pulled me into a corner where there was no discreet shelter whatsoever, looked over his shoulder, then kissed me, full on the mouth. ‘I don’t like being furtive. It goes against the grain, but how long is it since I have done that?’ He kissed me again so that my skin was far too hot within my figured damask. ‘What value honour, Joan? I have just destroyed every tenet of chivalrous behaviour I placed before you.’

Before I could answer that it was far too long, and I did not mind at all, even though it was dishonourable, he was striding away, leaving me none the wiser. What was he planning? I had the feeling that I would not like it.

But I had liked his kiss. It had reawakened all I had forgotten.

So what had I been thinking?

Everything of which Thomas had accused me, because the death of the Earl had stirred up the whole order of my life, dropping it into a completely different formation of shapes and patterns, like a child’s mosaic. Now I was Countess of Salisbury with the future prospect of vast estates and wealth, an enviable position at court, in the close clique around the King and Queen. Not a position to be cast lightly aside if my mind was set on an influential future.

But then I had always been accepted within the King and Queen’s own family. There was no advantage for me in the Salisbury marriage. I did not need it. It would give me nothing that I did not already have as the daughter of the Earl of Kent. Except perhaps a permanence through Will’s foremost rank.

But why would I rank the position of Countess above marriage to the man I loved enough to marry in the face of so much opposition?

There was one supreme advantage, of course. I sighed a little.

‘I am Countess of Salisbury,’ I spoke the words aloud. ‘I am immune from all scandal.’

It made good sense. Take the husband that fate has given you, I advised myself. Cut your garments to suit your cloth. To do otherwise risks untold grief and damage.

All well and good.

Why had I been so angry with Thomas? Because the title and the garments and the coronet did indeed tie me even more securely into this marriage. Escape became unimaginable. And so, being thwarted, my own wishes being overturned, I had aimed my ill humour at my bold knight. Now, in the aftermath, I was full of regret for my selfish attack, forced as I was by that kiss to accept that Thomas still had the power to make me forget myself. To want what I should not.

And what was it that he was planning?

I suspected, recalling his cold plotting, that I might not find it acceptable at all.

‘Joan. Joan!’

I yawned and continued to read. I was alone, and enjoying the solitude, losing myself as I rarely did in the romantic exploits of the inestimable Sir Galahad in his search for the Holy Grail when, from Will’s chamber there was the unmistakeable sound of his boots being removed, of coffers being opened and slammed shut. My peace would not last long.

Will had found a need to return to Bisham, a brief visit that, so it seemed, had lasted no longer than a week before he was back with me here at Westminster. I would give him five minutes before the door between the two rooms was thrust back.

There. Barely five. He had exchanged his travelling garb for hunting leathers. I thought there was a furtive look about him as he loped across the room, took my hand and kissed my cheek.

‘There you are, Joan.’

‘How are things at Bisham?’ I asked.

‘Difficult. My mother thinks I should remain there to become familiar with the running of the estates, even though I do not have full power over them until I am twenty-one. My mother thinks that I should become accustomed. So does my grandmother.’

I watched him as he shuffled from stool to window and back again. His thoughts were entirely suspect.

‘And what do you think, Will?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Then he grinned. ‘I feel shackles tightening round my ankles whenever my mother issues instructions to speak with the steward or my father’s council or even the cook about what my grandmother can and cannot eat.’

‘I know what you think.’ Standing, I tucked my hand into his arm. ‘You’d far rather take up your sword and join the King in his next campaign.’ I knew Will well by now. I knew how he reacted, and I knew how to get him to tell me the worst. ‘Come and walk with me. The King is still talking with Philippa.’

Leaving our rooms we strolled slowly towards the royal apartments.

‘It is what my father would have done.’ For a moment Will grimaced. ‘And so would I. But it’s not as easy as…’

‘Of course it is.’ Not that I wanted Will to hotfoot to France to engage in battle, but it was time that he threw off his mother’s yoke. ‘Who ran the estates when your father was elsewhere? When he was imprisoned in France? I’m sure that the Countess didn’t.’ My own mother might have her fingers in every estate pie, but not every wife or widow was as driven to oversee every insignificant detail from bedchamber to cellar.

‘Our steward,’ he said. ‘And my father’s council of knights and clerics to oversee all matters. My mother has no interest. Or application. Or ambition, even. I suspect she lacks the knowledge for checking ledgers. Not that she doesn’t keep an eye on everything that goes on, and if she does not, my grandmother certainly does. Despite appearances to the contrary, my grandmother is an uncomfortably percipient old woman, even if she does refuse to eat roast meats.’

‘So why can this not continue?’

‘Our steward is old. I think he was appointed by my grandfather. His sight is failing.’

‘So appoint another.’

I sensed him looking at me, and returned it. There was a thought in his mind that continued to disturb me. As he blinked, I saw what it was.

‘Oh, no,’ I said.

‘You could do it.’

Of course I could do it. I had the ability. I had the application. I had the education, and could learn soon enough where I was lacking. But like the Dowager Countess I lacked the interest, the ambition to become my own steward. I could overlook the ledgers at regular intervals under the guidance of the steward but I had no intention of spending every day with the minutiae of detail of the Salisbury possessions. The life I saw for myself was at court, in the whirl of government and intrigue and political gossip, not tied up in ordering and supervising every meal the family ate.

‘No,’ I repeated with some force. ‘Employ a steward. You have the money.’

‘No, I do not. Nothing like all of it. Not until I reach my majority.’

‘Then apply to the King. He will be understanding. He’ll not let you live in penury.’

But Will showed more resistance than I expected.

‘I can’t employ just anyone. I need a man of loyalty and skill, of experience in handling finance and people.’ The more he talked the more I saw him persuade himself that this would be the best option. Will had no wish to do it himself. Then, as he remembered his financial state, his eye fell once more on me. ‘But why can you not do it while I am away fighting?’

So we had our first real argument. I would not be tied to ink and lists and tally sticks. I would become as morbid as the Dowager Countess.

‘And if you think that your mother and grandmother would allow me to take precedence over their wishes at Bisham, then you are a fool!’

‘They would if I ordered it.’

Sometimes Will was astonishingly naive, unwilling to let the matter lie, believing that I was the perfect answer to his problems, and selfish not to concur.

‘I prefer dancing to accounting.’

By this time we were standing together in the Great Hall.

‘Can you not do both? If you would only…’

‘If I do that I will be supervising your ageing steward for the rest of my life. Employ another. Someone with life and ambition and foresight in him.’

‘But you have the time on your hands. Whereas I have to go and hunt.’

‘Hunt? Now there’s a valuable occupation! You hunt while I bloody my fingers with quills and tally sticks and endless rent rolls.’

Will looked hurt. ‘It was you who told me to find time to be with the King.’

‘But not at the expense of the running of your estates. They cannot be neglected.’

‘Please Joan… ‘ he wheedled, his smile a thing of great charm.

‘No.’

‘My lord – ’

We both turned. There, also clad for hunting, a hawk on his gloved wrist, a brace of hounds at his heels together with a couple of enthusiastic pages, stood Sir Thomas Holland.

Will, still preoccupied with my refusal, acknowledged him with a curt nod of his head. I simply stood.

Thomas was solemn, worryingly formal. ‘My lord. I would request a word with you before the King arrives.’

I looked from one to the other as Thomas sketched a somewhat dismissive bow in my direction as if he thought I should retreat and leave this discussion to men. Will looked as surprised as I. I returned a suitably bland expression. I was going nowhere.

‘I have a proposition, my lord.’

‘What sort of proposition?’

I had no thought whatsoever of the thunderbolt Thomas was about to hurl into our midst.

‘It is in my mind that my proposition would be of mutual benefit.’

Will now managed to look wary. He might have persuaded himself that Thomas had abandoned his pursuit of me, but the underlying suspicion would take a long time to die completely.

‘Of mutual benefit?’

‘So I think. Now that you are Earl of Salisbury. We both have soldiering in our sights, but there is none on offer.’

‘Well that’s true. I’m hoping the King sees a need for a new campaign in France…’

And they were suddenly brothers in arms, discussing warfare. I would leave them to it, and drifted away to where Isabella, clad in a sumptuous array of verdant satin, had come to ride with her father. I had not stepped twenty paces when, behind me, my quick hearing picked up the fact that the merits of this sword against that one, this helm or that one, had been abandoned.

‘… my services,’ I heard Thomas say. ‘It is my understanding that you have need.’

I could not believe what I was hearing. Ignoring Isabella, I marched back again, to hear Will admit: ‘Yes I do. I’ve only just been speaking of it with Joan…’

‘I could remedy the problem.’

I saw Will’s face brighten. ‘Do I understand, Sir Thomas, that you will offer me the use of your wide experience?’

‘Yes. I know you’ll see the value of it, for both of us.’

Will was looking as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders. Within seconds I was standing beside him.

‘As I am aware, you have no talents in this field, Sir Thomas,’ I said.

Which Thomas acknowledged, and promptly rejected, his reply addressed uncompromisingly to Will.

‘If I can organise a campaign and lead men into battle, my lord, I can supervise the running of the Salisbury estates. I can negotiate with your council. I am in need of an income. You need a steward. I would see it as an honour to serve you, and your family.’

It was quite a declaration, and all of it probably true, but it filled me with a cold dread, even as I admired his gall in seizing the opportunity. And no one looking at Thomas would ever believe that this was anything but a genuine offer; I had not known he was so skilled at dissembling. But was he dissembling? Nothing would persuade me that this would be good policy. Nor did Will seem to think so, regarding me as if I were guilty in inviting Thomas to make the offer. I lifted my shoulder in a little shrug. I had no wish to live in such a household, maintaining a semblance of seemly co-existence. But first I would wait to see what Will would say.

‘As my wife says, you have no experience of stewardship.’

A smile curved Thomas’s mouth. ‘Campaigning gives a man many arrows for his bow.’

A statement I recognised. So this was what he had been planning. I fixed Thomas with a stare that would leave him in no doubt of my displeasure.

‘It might work.’ Will rubbed his thumb along the edge of his jaw, an action I recognised when his decision making was compromised, as he avoided my gaze. No, it certainly would not work. I took a breath to suggest that Will should take time to think about this, and consider other alternatives – any alternative – when a hand came down heavily on Will’s shoulder and a fourth voice entered the fray.

‘An excellent choice, I would say.’

None of us, intent on this negotiation, had heard the King approach. Edward was positively jovial.

‘It will give you a helping hand, lad. And you, Thomas, some experience for when your ambitions lead you into land ownership, when you have sufficient prize-money at your disposal. You’ll need something to leave to your heirs other than a worn suit of armour and a bundle of weapons.’

By the Virgin! Edward did not know what he was doing.

‘We have not considered other stewards yet, sir,’ I said.

‘Why bother? This can be done in a handshake – and then we can all blow the cobwebs away with a good run after the hounds. If it’s a matter of money, Will, I’ll arrange a grant until your own resources become free for your own use. There!’ He clapped his hand down once again on Will’s shoulder. ‘All signed and sealed, and you have your new steward.’

The King beamed and moved away, the hounds following in a wave of brindled flesh, leaving Thomas and Will to shake hands, well pleased with the deal.

As the King had said, we had a new steward.

Will was light with relief. ‘We must talk further about this, Sir Thomas. Are you going, Joan?’

Why would I stay? To listen to these two men set up a household containing the three of us? I would if I thought for one moment that either would listen to a word I said. Will would see the offer as manna from heaven as long as Thomas did not demand too much in payment. As for Thomas’s motives – I could not discern them. And the King, all unwittingly, had put his blessing on the whole procedure.

I smiled with an air of sweet acceptance that challenged my control, and left them to the discussion of terms.

I had no intention of allowing a ménage à trois of this strange nature to develop without my hand on the reins, my pride balking at such an outrageous situation. The fact that there were no adverse comments regarding our new household was an irrelevance. If anyone should discover the truth of our marital difficulties, we would all be cast into the mire. I would fight tooth and nail to prevent it.