The Silken Rose Page 14

  Later, when Ailenor and Henry were settled in their private chambers and Edward was with his wet nurse in the nursery, she asked again, ‘Where are Nell and Earl Simon? No one will tell me. My question was met with a sour face from Joan of Flanders. Why?’

  Henry’s face darkened. ‘My sister and the Earl are no longer fitting company for you.’

  ‘She is jealous,’ Ailenor said.

  ‘Of whom. Of Nell or of you?’ Henry frowned and his left eye lid lowered.

  She dropped the tiny silver rattle she’d been holding. It clattered onto the floor tiles. ‘Have you gone mad, Henry? Explain this nonsense.’ She folded her arms and raised her head determined to remain calm. ‘I have no idea. Not fitting company?’ she repeated so quietly she could hardly hear her own voice. ‘Why?’

  Henry shook his head. His face had turned stony, his eyes darkening to the startling blue of a stormy sea, his eyelid drooping as it did when he was furious. Ailenor waited patiently.

  ‘Earl Simon put my name forward to the Pope as surety for a loan to pay for the negation of Nell’s vow and forgiveness for their wedding. I never knew. He never consulted me. Forgiveness, indeed. He claimed she was pregnant, the reason I saw them wed, the wedding to avoid scandal. He deflowered her, I believed, but, Ailenor, as we all know, no baby remains eleven months in the womb.’

  She opened her mouth to defend Nell and Simon.

  He said, ‘No, wait for the rest. Simon had to pay the Pope for Nell’s vow to be rescinded and their marriage recognised. Paying God is expensive. The Pope’s accountants sold Simon’s debt to your Uncle Thomas. They thought Thomas would have a better chance of extracting the debt money from me than from Earl Simon.’ Henry paused for breath. He pursed his mouth and spat out the amount. ‘Two thousand marks.’

  She remembered that when Nell had come to see her, Joan of Flanders had excused herself and had swept past Lady Eleanor, and out of her chambers. She had been followed by her own large entourage of ladies. Ailenor wondered at this at the time but was so pleased to see Nell she had not asked Joan of Flanders the cause. Joan of Flanders was an unpleasant and jealous woman, not worth a second royal thought.

  Henry’s face reddened, his left eyelid drooping further as he spat uncharitable words at her. He poured himself a goblet of wine. ‘Earl Simon has been living in the Bishop’s comfortable palace at my expense. Never once, not once, all summer has he mentioned I was surety for his debt.’

  ‘You gave more to pay Richard off last year,’ Ailenor reasoned. ‘Does it really matter? Has Uncle Thomas been whispering evil in your ear whilst I was in my birthing chamber? And you, Henry, you have listened to that uncharitable toad.’

  Henry reddened further. She saw his temper rising and said quickly, ‘Of course it does matter. My Uncle Thomas is right. Simon must pay the debt.’

  ‘Nell can kick her heels at Odiham. Simon will be put on trial, as your uncle and his countess demand. I’ll send guards in the morning to turn him out of the Bishop’s Palace. They dared to show up at the Abbey today. I sent them away.’ Henry threw the rest of his wine into the fireplace where it hissed on the glowing logs. ‘This Malmsey is an apology for wine.’ He bellowed at a page. ‘Bring me good Gascon wine.’ He stared at Ailenor. ‘I’ll remind you, your other uncle, William, has never supported my sister’s marriage.’

  She drew a deep breath. For Nell’s sake she must try to change Henry’s mind. She must remain calm.

  She took another breath. ‘Put Simon on trial for what? We all have debts. Earl Simon is a loyal knight. He’s devout, as fervent as yourself. He’ll be off on the crusade soon.’ She lowered her voice. ‘In time, Earl Simon will pay the debt. I’ll speak to my uncle. Of course, Simon must pay. His lands can be surety. It is not a serious enough matter to go to trial.’

  ‘His lands come from the Crown! I own all.’ Henry let out a roar that made her sit straight up. ‘Where will Simon find the means to crusade?’ He yelled, ‘I am confiscating his lands. In the morning he’ll be arrested and put in the Tower. My sister and their child can retire to Odiham. As for Simon, he won’t get as far as Chelsea.’

  ‘You’ve not thought this through,’ she said as she blinked away tears. ‘Give pause for thought.’

  The Gascon wine arrived. Henry was about to drink himself senseless. He threw back the first full goblet at once and demanded his cup be recharged. Gulping down the next cup, he sank into his huge carved chair. She might as well not be present. She could not reason with him when he was like this.

  Her eyes brimming with tears, she said, ‘My lord, I must rest.’

  He never glanced up as she left the chamber calling for Domina Willelma to attend her at once. She would warn them before it was too late and Simon was carried off in chains. Shuddering at the thought, she wiped away her tears and contrived a plan.

  When Willelma followed her into her chamber she sent all her other ladies to their rest, closed the door and bolted it. ‘Willelma, I have a task for you. I must write something which you will deliver.’

  Willelma shook her head. ‘I heard the King. Others will have heard him too. I suspect your intention is to save the Earl; it’s unwise.’

  ‘Just think of their baby without a father. Think of Nell. Henry will regret it if he puts Earl Simon on trial. He, himself, is in debt to his earls and barons. I think they might side with Earl Simon. Just think if Chester, Ferrers, Hereford, Warwick, and Warenne side with Simon. Remember the nobility’s Great Charter. The barons are dangerous if roused.’

  Willelma nodded. ‘You are right. I shall take your letter to him, but it’s a dangerous thing to warn them. No one must know you did this.’

  ‘Not as dangerous as what might happen if I don’t.’

  Ailenor frowned and chewed at the top of her quill. What would happen if Henry discovered what she had done? Her ship was sailing from Queenshythe to Calais in the morning. Nell and Simon and little Hal must be on it. She wrote the message, folded the paper, and sealed it with her rose seal which she used for private communications. As she waited for the soft wax to set, she called for a page she could trust. He was a quiet, pleasant French lad who was devoted to her, listened to her requests with a grave face and soft puppy eyes.

  She said, ‘Accompany my lady Willelma to the Bishop of Winchester’s palace. She has a message for Lady Eleanor. Deliver my lady safely there and back. Tell no one, absolutely no one where you went tonight.’ She pressed a purse into his hand. ‘For the wherry. The rest is for sending you out into the night.’

  ‘I’ll guard Lady Willelma with my life. We won’t be seen.’ He bowed low.

  ‘Good. I am trusting you.’ Ailenor said.

  He seemed to glow in the candlelight, having been entrusted with Queen’s business. Turning to the waiting Willelma, Ailenor said, ‘Take the garden path. Tell Nell to destroy this. No reply.’ She pressed the little folded letter into Willelma’s hand.

  After the page and lady slid through the side door into her garden, Ailenor fell to her knees. Clutching her beaded rosary, she begged God to keep Nell and Simon safe.

  13

  Nell

  Nell paced the floor, her footsteps echoing as the soles of her shoes clicked on the floor tiles. How could Henry be of so changeable a nature? How could he send them away from the Queen’s churching? They were Edward’s godparents. Her heart pounded with fear. Henry had shamed her in front of the court that morning, saying she and Simon had deceived him and he should never have agreed to their marriage. He’d called Simon debtor, liar, and a cheat. She remembered with pain how Joan of Flanders looked down at them disdainfully; how her husband, Thomas of Savoy, had been contemptuous towards them.

  ‘You owe me, Earl Simon,’ he had shouted as they stood outside the Abbey waiting for the Queen’s party to arrive. Thomas of Flanders turned his back on them.

  ‘I owe you nothing. My debt is to the Pope,’ Simon said.

  Thomas turned back, glared and said in a loud voice, ‘His Holiness has
sold me that debt. You said the King would back the debt. He didn’t even know of it.’

  Henry stepped forward, waved his hand at Simon. ‘Get out, Simon. Leave.’

  Although she knew nothing of this debt, she had tried to intervene. ‘Henry, I shall pay any debt we owe with my dower money.’

  ‘What dower? You have none, Nell. The Marshals have set your dower lands against your first husband’s debts. Seems you have a habit of marrying expensive and defaulting husbands, sister.’

  ‘I had no choice whom I married when at nine years old I was sent to Pembroke.’

  Henry glared at her. She had never seen him so furious. ‘You are not welcome here.’

  Count Thomas said, ‘Earl Simon should forfeit his lands.’

  There was no choice. They left. Their sumpter carts were packed for the return to Kenilworth Castle with all haste. All plans to travel to Odiham were delayed. A letter had arrived from the Palace that afternoon confirming they were no longer welcome.

  ‘We must be gone from here by dawn. I must protect Kenilworth and I must repay the debt.’ Simon’s head was in his hands. ‘Henry will recall us,’ he said, though doubt was creeping into his voice. ‘I’ll sell off lands and repay the debt.’

  ‘You should have told me, Simon.’ Nell stopped pacing and came to stand by Simon’s chair. ‘It will not be enough. Henry feels you take advantage. He thinks we are ungrateful. Joan of Flanders has her husband in leading reins. She is behind this.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nell. I just did not want to upset you.’

  Nell hated to see Simon defeated. She threw her arms around him. ‘We have each other and we have Hal.’

  Simon looked up. ‘Nell, I was arrogant. The money must be paid. . . a written apology made. Henry cannot remain angry.’

  She heard the clang of the knocker on the entrance door. ‘What now?’ she sighed. ‘Is he planning to turn us out in the middle of the night?’

  The knocking persisted. Their whole household knew that they were disgraced and no one moved towards the door. That rankled Nell.

  ‘Go, Thomas. Open the door,’ she said to Simon’s squire. ‘I shall be behind you.’

  Thomas drew open the door and stood aside. He turned and looked at Nell. ‘It’s Lady Willelma, the Queen’s domina.’

  ‘Willelma!’ Nell said on seeing who slipped inside the opened door. ‘Why you?’

  ‘Ailenor sent me. Here.’ She thrust the Queen’s letter into Nell’s hand. ‘No reply is needed. It’s a warning and you must heed it. . . do so by daybreak. Burn the letter when you’ve read its contents. Let me see you destroy it before I leave this Hall. My servant waits outside.’

  Nell broke Ailenor’s seal, read the note, and passed it to Simon. She could feel blood drain from her face. ‘We must heed it,’ she whispered. ‘The Queen says we are in grave danger. She has a ship that can take us to France.’

  After he had read it Simon said, ‘Thank you, Lady Willelma. Tell the Queen it shall be done at once. Do you need escort back to Westminster?’ His usually ruddy complexion was ashen.

  Willelma said, her voice urgent, ‘The wherry is waiting and I have an escort. Ailenor has thought of everything. She says to give you this purse for immediate needs.’ She placed a leather purse into Simon’s hand. ‘Godspeed, Earl Simon. My mistress loves you well to put herself in danger like this. She will work hard for your return.’

  Simon inclined his head. ‘Thank her and for the purse. We are in her debt.’

  Simon left instructions for their sumpter carts to leave for Odiham Castle rather than Kenilworth. Nell assented, saying, ‘Henry will be more interested in Kenilworth and its lands than any of my manors. He’ll assume we’re travelling towards Warwickshire.’

  She hurried to rouse Hal’s nurse.

  They were able to take a craft belonging to the Bishop along the river, fortunately escaping the rapids that surged under the bridge before the tide turned. As dawn broke, they were being rowed towards Queenshythe and Ailenor’s ship. As well as Ailenor’s purse, Simon carried a bag of gold and smaller coins. ‘We shall be safe at Montfort-Amaury,’ he reassured Nell. ‘We’ve enough coin here to keep us for a time. Soon enough, Henry will relent. You’ll see.’

  ‘I pray it’s so. At least it’s safer than Kenilworth. I can’t understand why Henry is so angry. It’s as if he was looking for an opportunity to punish us.’ She looked back at the City which was bathed in a rosy light. When would she see it again? ‘I don’t know if I can ever forgive my brother his ill-will.’

  ‘I am not sure either.’ Simon’s face was stony.

  Nell held Hal close in her arms the whole way along the river, darkness creeping around them; the splashes of oars in water echoed louder than they normally should. They were accompanied by only a maid, Hal’s wet nurse, and Thomas, Simon’s squire. The Queen’s ship was to sail to Calais. From there they would purchase horses from a dealer known to Simon and a sumpter cart for their few possessions, the baby, his nurse, and their maid.

  Thomas agreed to drive the cart disguised as a peasant. Although their destination would be Montfort-Amaury, near Paris, Amaury, Simon’s elder brother was in the Holy Land. Simon said his brother’s wife, Beatrix, would welcome them cordially

  ‘My family will protect us. It’s what families are for,’ Simon reassured Nell. ‘Linen and horses can be replaced. Heads cannot.’

  Henry had sorely disappointed them.

  Nell said, hope creeping into her voice, ‘I have long wanted to meet your family. I am sure Beatrix will be kind.’

  ‘You will be introduced to many kind people in France. You’ll meet Queen Marguerite of France and King Louis too. My family are high in their esteem. Amaury was Constable of France before he went crusading.’

  ‘What if Henry takes my castle of Odiham?’

  ‘It’s protected by law. The debt is mine. Those who were my enemies last year will be my friends again. Once the excitement of a new prince is over, the barons will question Henry’s extravagance, his building plans, his relic-collecting, all at great cost - their own. The Pope’s men are out and about in England gathering money from England’s abbeys for the Vatican, never mind the Crusade. Henry is funding the Queen’s relatives and this makes him vulnerable. He will want me back in time.’

  Simon was more often right than wrong. She drew her furred mantle around her sleeping child because the dawn was chill. Nell’s body felt as if it were made of heavier bones than she possessed. Withdrawing into her thoughts, she wondered how the Queen’s sister, the Queen of France, would greet them when they visited Paris. In time, she would remember this night as an adventure and not a disaster.

  The Lion of Provence was easy to locate. It bore a queen’s crown on its figurehead. Royal flags flew from the masts. For several years, Queen Ailenor had commissioned the vessel to carry fashionable gowns and expensive fabrics from France, as well as the variety of delicacies she had enjoyed during her pregnancy such as frogs’ legs in aspic, French walnuts, almonds, and bags of lavender from Provence to refresh the royal linens and to sweeten her garderobes.

  The ship would sail to Calais with English wool from Queen Ailenor’s own estates. Simon was to pose as a wool merchant, Master Harcourt, travelling to Paris with his wife, child, and servants, on account of a death in the family.

  The plank was lowered. Simon, wearing a nondescript tunic, his squire equally plain, and the three wimpled women, one carrying a sleeping child, boarded the ship without incident. The little group had made it just in time. The weather was calm but Nell remembered nothing of the crossing because once the captain gave the women his small cabin, she lay down on a pallet and fell into a deep sleep.

  14

  Ailenor

  December 1239

  ‘Your Grace, the embroideress is waiting below. She’s upset.’ Lady Mary burst into Edward’s nursery chamber.

  ‘Why is she upset?’ Ailenor sighed. There had been no repercussions following her part in Earl Simon’s
departure for France. Even so, summer and autumn passed uncomfortably. Henry took possession of Kenilworth and refused to discuss his sister or her husband.

  The week that began December had been particularly demanding. Henry, who always enjoyed extravagant feasts, had complained there had not been enough dishes provided for the November Feast of Saint Edward. He had run out of money that summer because of his building projects and, in addition, to pay off Thomas of Flanders he had had to borrow from the Jews. Ailenor was growing tired of appeasing her difficult husband.

  She handed Edward back to his cradle-rocker and swept down the twisting staircase that led from the baby’s nursery to her ante-chamber. Ailenor liked Rosalind so much, she had recently wondered about granting her a minor position in her retinue of ladies.

  Rosalind stood by the door to the antechamber. She was in a state. Her eyes were swollen and her whole demeanour showed pain. Even though she was distressed, she made a deep curtsey to Ailenor. Ailenor wondered if the grocer’s son had been plaguing her. She had heard he accompanied his father to the embroidery workshop.

  ‘Bring us honeyed wine and cakes,’ Ailenor said to Lady Mary as she ushered Rosalind inside the chamber. Lady Mary rushed off to fetch a jug of hippocras and cakes from the kitchens. Ailenor drew the embroideress to the warmth of the fireplace. ‘Rosalind, take a deep breath. Sit on the stool. We shall make ourselves comfortable and you shall explain.’

  When Rosalind sat on a stool opposite, Ailenor took her chair and leaned forward.

  ‘Tell me all. What has happened?’

  ‘Madam, it’s a break in,’ the girl said, gulping tears. Drawing breath, she continued, ‘Our silks are ruined. Threads are dirtied. Embroidery frames broken. The Nativity hanging for Windsor, so nearly completed, and to be ready by Christmas, has been cut into pieces.’

  ‘You have a gown of mine to embroider. Is it ruined too?’