Doubtfully, often shaken by tremblings during which she hid her face, Joanna came forth. She sat at the table upon which a supper of pasties, cheese, cold meat, and wine was ready, but she did not touch the food. All she did was plead with Braybrook to leave the castle with her at once. He remonstrated that it was already dark and, in any case, he could not go. He did not have a single man capable of sitting a horse or trustworthy not to attack his nearest companion when, suddenly, he saw an extra green eye appear on the man’s forehead or horns sprout from his head.
“My men are fit. You have given order that no bread be eaten until new grain is brought in, have you not? Then, if what you say is true, they will not fall ill. I will not stay here. I am afraid.” Joanna’s voice rose to a thin cry of terror and her hands fluttered uncontrollably. “I am afraid,” she repeated, panting in her effort to suppress another burst of untimely mirth. “I will not eat or drink anything at all tonight or tomorrow morn. Before the prime, I will go with my men. If you do not come with me, you are cruel. I am afraid.”
With that, Joanna fled again to consume (in the privacy of her chamber) cold goose, roast pork, and large slabs of delicate manchet bread washed down by copious draughts of sweet wine. When, presumably, she had been soothed to sleep, Edwina stole down to Sir Henry’s bed to gossip about the foolish timidity of her mistress and then to engage him in a far more interesting activity. Not long after this absorbing play began, the “sleeper” crept silently down the stairs and out into the bailey. Knud and Beorn, on the watch, came to her at once. She asked first how the sufferers were progressing. No one had died, she was told, nor was likely to. The visions were decreasing in intensity, but bowels were still gravely disordered.
“Good,” Joanna replied unsympathetically, although she was relieved that there had been no deaths. Let the cooks prepare the ‘medicinal’ draught I orderedbut only Sir Henry’s men are to be given that. Our people must have an infusion of chamomile and pennyroyal. It will be just as bitter but do more good. And if any think it strange that our people mend while the others do not, let the answer be that our people are better accustomed to the air and water here, which are tainted by the sea.”
“How long are they to be kept disordered?” Beorn asked.
“Tomorrow and the day after. Then they are to be given the chamomile and pennyroyal. It will take them another day or two to recover enough to ride. By then I will be well out of their reach.”
“Who goes with you, lady?”
“The fifty chosen and, I think, both you and Knud, Beorn. Sir Giles will be here tomorrow by evensong, as I guess. Until then, Cedricsson may hold the keep. He need do no more than pull up the drawbridge and keep it up, allowing no man to enter for any reason until Sir Giles comes. That will be safe enough.”
p.
When Lady Joanna left Roselynde the next morning, Brian ran beside her stirrup on one side and Braybrook rode beside her on the other and the troop that rode behind them was her own. After visiting his men, Sir Henry acknowledged they were in no condition to walk, much less to ride or guard anything. His mood was not of the best, but Lady Joanna was as sunny and good humored as could be in spite of a cold, persistent drizzle. She said again and again how happy she was to escape the keep where such a frightening sickness had come and how much she was looking forward to a gay time with the queen and her ladies.
Gradually, under the influence of Joanna’s persistent cheerfulness and pleasant conversation, Braybrook grew pacified. Even when they had a difference of opinion about the route, he did not relapse into ill humor. He had wanted to ride north to Oxford and then northeast to Whitechurch. Joanna protested that, since they were riding generally northeast, she would like to visit Lady Ela at Salisbury. Sir Henry complained that the route through Salisbury was longer and less safe, but not with much conviction and he yielded readily when Joanna said that Lady Ela was her foster mother and she had not seen her for some time.
This easy compliance convinced Joanna that either Braybrook was indeed innocent of any plot against her, if there ever had been such a plot, or that the substitution of her troop for his had made whatever plan he had unworkable. She leaned toward the former notion more and more as they progressed because of the lightness of Sir Henry’s spirit. He was, in her opinion, a silly man, but harmless. A long but uneventful ride broken by several pleasant, if damp, rest periods brought them to Salisbury to dry out and spend the night. Lady Ela was most suitably surprised by their arrival in public. She was also, when alone with Joanna in the women’s quarters, quite reassuring. It did not seem possible, Lady Ela stated, that John should wish to harm Joanna or would choose this moment. She looked thoughtful when Joanna explained her reasoning, but still shook her head.
‘‘I am quite sure he does
not
want Ian here, and nothing would bring Ian home faster than hearing you were missing.” Ela smiled at Joanna’s indignant expression. “John will never acknowledge Ian’s abilities, but he does understand his care for his men. He thinks he will be able to use them as he likes because Geoffrey is leading. He underestimates Geoffrey.”
“I hope so,” Joanna said with sudden sharpness, her eyes clear and very bright. “That had not occurred to me,” she murmured. “How fortunate that Isabella invited me.”
Ela looked horrified. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked uneasily. “Surely you do not intend to interfere with the war plans. You do not intend to go to the camp! I am sure it would not be permitted.”
“Who will stop me?” Joanna flashed, looking for that one instant so much like her mother despite the difference in coloring and feature that Ela gasped. In a moment, however, she had recovered the mask of a sweet maid. “No, I will not go to the fieldnot unless it becomes necessarybut I will pay close attention to the gentlemen who come from there and to what they say. Moreover, it will be fitting that I send Beorn to see and speak to his old companions.”
“Do you not trust Geoffrey?” Ela asked a little stiffly.
Joanna’s eyes flicked up at her once and were demurely lowered again. “As much as my mother trusts Ian,” she replied.
With that, Lady Ela was at first content, but somewhere within her was a small core of uneasiness that grew and grew. After Joanna and her escort had left the next day, that sentence returned again and again to Ela’s mind. Alinor trusted Ianyes. If he told her to jump off a cliff or that he wished to open her veins with a knife and drink her blood, Alinor would jump at his word or docilely extend her arm to be cut. Her confidence that he would do nothing to hurt her personally was immeasurable and absolute. However, in the matter of the management of the estateshow much
did
Alinor trust Ian? She sat justice in all her own honors, and if she could not goas when she was too near her time of deliveryshe sent Joanna with Ian. She said it was so that the people would come to know her daughter, but was that all?
In war, Alinor was less self-assertive, but that depended upon circumstances. When Ian was leading the vassals in a private quarrel, Alinor paid no attention to what he did. She became alert only when Ian was part of a larger force, and she made no bones about saying to Ela that “his accursed lunatic honor would ruin them all some day.” Ela sighed heavily. There could be no doubt that
that
was what Joanna meant. She was afraid that Geoffrey would be maneuvered by appeals to his honor into some situation that would hold more danger than was reasonable.
“But what can she do?” Ela asked herself pettishly. Then she sighed again. Only God knew what any of those Roselynde women would do when a stick or a stitch of theirs was threatened. Had not Alinor gathered an army to assault a castle when Ian was held prisoner in it some years ago? In the end she had not led the assault, but Ela did not doubt she would have done so if necessary. And Joanna, although no one would believe her when she warned them, was even worse. Joanna was much quieter, but much, much stubborner.
Ela sighed yet again and languidly lifted a hand to summon a maid. She did not want to go to Whitechurch. She never could bear to be near where William was fighting. That turned her mind to Alinor and Joanna again. Ela remembered how Alinor had sat, apparently unmoved, through two days of a tourney in which her husband had nearly been killed. Doubtless Joanna would do the same. Ela had never seen Salisbury fight. That was true even though she had once attended a tourney in which he had participated. She had fainted before his first joust and then become so hystericalthe one and only real attack of hysteria she had ever hadthat it was necessary to carry her from the field.
They will not really be fighting near, she comforted herself. Wales, specially Gwenydd, was many miles west of Whitechurch. And I am older now and not so silly, she murmured to herself. The assurances did little to ease her fear and distaste, but she could not allow a conflict to arise between Geoffrey and Joanna that would ruin their lives and, in spite of being convinced that nothing like abduction or imprisonment threatened Joanna, Ela did not understand the queen’s invitation. Usually Isabella was harmless, but she could be spiteful. For everyone but herself, Ela knew, it was best that she be in Whitechurch. Resignedly, she gave instruction to the maid she had summoned.
Henry de Braybrook had never had so pleasant a journey in his life. He had been dreading it ever since the queen had sent for him and given him the task of escorting Lady Joanna. He had envisioned the multiple horrors of dealing with a frightened, uncertain girl who would constantly be too hot or too cold or too wet, a long train of baggage wains, which would constantly be mired on the muddy roads, and total boredom. Then, although it seemed at first as if even greater, unexpected horrors would afflict him, everything began to work out right. Edwina had been the first pleasant surprise. Then the sickness in the castle had convinced Lady Joanna to leave without the slightest protest or delay. Best of all, he had never met a hardier lady nor one more accustomed to travel. Although it rained every day, she never uttered a complaint. And she was a lively and interesting companion once she had gotten over her first timidity.
It was too bad, he thought, his eyes running over her once again, that she was already betrothed and he married. She was an exquisite piece and would be as rich as Croesus. Had he known her before, he would have Well, that was useless to think of; the property was certainly beyond his reach, but the girl might not be. Just now no romance would advance very far. She was not yet bold enough or experienced enough to think of abandoning her virginity before marriage. Afterwards, however, it might be another matter entirely. Some of the seemingly shrinking violets at court had more than one lover on a string. Sir Henry sighed with pleasure. It was the best of all possible situations. He wooed the lady during the day and worked off his frustrations on the maid at night. And the maid was clearly a light-skirts. Edwina cared only for the futtering itself, not for him. Soon her attention would wander and they would part on excellent terms; then she might be a key to the mistress.
Joanna was as delighted with the journey as Sir Henry. Although she retained a seed of suspicion, she was no longer frightened. Lady Ela’s reassurances and her own reasonings indicated that there could be no overt threat. Like Lady Ela, she did not understand the purpose of the queen’s invitation, unlesscould Geoffrey have asked for her? That was a delightful notion, but not to be dwelt upon. Caution, great caution, was to be observed in dealing with Isabella. Meanwhile, however, surrounded by her own men and guarded by Brian, Joanna was enjoying herself. Braybrook was a most pleasant companion and, best of all, not a very astute one. Without realizing it, he was telling her a great deal about the court and, equally without realizing it, he was being hurried toward Whitechurch at a rate that few armed troops could match.
Joanna’s messenger had found the earl of Salisbury at the abbey in Whitechurch and had delivered the message. From there he had been sent out of the town, several miles away to where the army was encamped. Geoffrey had chosen to stay at the camp. This served a double purpose. It permitted him to become better acquainted with his men and it kept him clear of the king and queen. Salisbury approved the first purpose heartily; he recognized the unspoken second and, although he regretted the necessity, he acknowledged its wisdom.
Geoffrey, however, was not at the camp. The messenger missed him by only a few hours. He had ridden out with some of the vassals and a small troop to examine the terrain. The party was out four days and three nights and, altogether, it was a very successful trip. Geoffrey learned which men were flexible and intelligent, which stubborn with fixed ideas; he learned which men spoke glibly but did not see a problem, which grasped the significance of what they observed. As he listened and spoke to the men, Geoffrey vowed again and again that when Ian came back from Ireland, he would kneel down and kiss his mentor’s feet. He remembered how often he had been impatient with his lord when Ian had lectured him on the meaning of this or that. Now, more and more often, Ian’s voice would echo in his mind while a man spoke or after he spoke, and Geoffrey would see something significant behind the spoken words.
The men learned a great deal, too. The older vassals gained confidence in the foresight and earnest application to duty of their young leader. They were pleased by the attentiveness with which he listened to their advice and the politeness with which he reasoned against it when he did not accept it. The older men were less concerned with Geoffrey’s absolute fighting skills than with his ability to see and avoid positions or assignments that were impossible. No one doubted Geoffrey’s personal courage and, as for the rest, Sir Alfred of Ealand, Sir Walter of the Forstal, Sir Henry of Kingsclere were confident that they could support their battle leader so that, even if he were no Achilles or Ajax, he would do well enough.
The younger vassals were less interested in Geoffrey’s administrative virtues. They knew him, until this meeting, exclusively as Lord Ian’s squire. In battle they knew he supported his master bravely, although in battle Lord Ian did not need much in the way of support. Socially, they knew him not at all. The occasions when the vassals and castellans were called together were formal and Geoffrey had had rigid duties which kept him essentially apart from the knights. And, although they had all met on a more equal footing at Geoffrey’s betrothal, he had spent most of his time closeted with Lord Ian and his father.