This was fortunate because as they came nearer to Oostende there were many people and villages. True, they looked aside as if they saw nothing, but Sir Guy was aware that the port city must be full of French and that, if they did not actually guard the gates, they would have spies there. They would not be looking specifically for Geoffrey; their purpose would be to watch what goods came in and to whom those goods went so that the taxes would be paid. Nonetheless, it was unlikely that a man in Geoffrey’s condition would not arouse curiosity. He would be snapped up as a bonus.
Sir Guy could get little help from Geoffrey or Joanna. Geoffrey was not rational, and Joanna thought her husband was dying and did not care in the least what happened to her or anyone else. Then they had a piece of luck. In a mean village where Sir Guy stopped to buy somethinganythingto eat, the woman he had dealt with, taking him for French, cursed him in English as he paid. Stumblingly, Sir Guy replied in the few words he had of that tongue, rode back in haste to bring Knud, who explained in his native tongue their case and their need. The woman agreed to hide her compatriots.
A place to rest, filthy and odorous as it was but at least warm and dry, sparked a little hope in Joanna. She remembered the name of a merchant from Oostende who had done business with Roselynde and might take a chance and help them in hopes of future favors. In the city, the good luck held. Sir Guy found the merchant cursing the French who had confiscated his merchandise and were generally making business impossible and his life miserable. He was very willing to transport the party to Roselynde. Sir Guy was sure he could trust the merchant. Wars with France might come and go, but trade with Roselynde was not a sometime thing. That would go on for many years and yield a rich profitbut not if the merchant betrayed the daughter of the house.
The trust was well placed. The merchant went himself with a horse litter to fetch Geoffreya sick friend for whom he vouched at the gatesand he did not wait for cargo but sent off his ship with the first outgoing tide. He did not ask for payment either or even for surety; he knew the lady of Roselynde of old. He trusted, he said, to God to reward his good deed; one must cast bread upon the waters sometimes.
His faith was fully rewarded, as he doubtless expected it to be, and the bread he had cast out returned to him, after Geoffrey had been tenderly carried into Roselynde, in silver and gold and jeweled armlets and necklets. Three full cargoes could not have brought an equal profit and the goodwill he gained would increase his future profit through favors and reduced excises for many years.
It was as if the place itself, the great stone walls, the murmur of the sea, the smell of spice and roses in the sheets, was curative for Geoffrey. Within hours of being bathed and laid in his own bed, his fever began to drop. For Joanna, the weight of mountains seemed to fall from her when her mother’s arms closed around her. For a little while, as long as she needed it, Joanna could be a child again, all responsibility shifted to other shoulders, with no need to think and plan through a maze of fatigue and fear.
The one thing she would not yield was her watch over Geoffrey, and Alinor did not try to draw her away. She offered instead a comforting assurance that everything Joanna had done for him was right, and in every case where a decision had to be made Alinor made it so that her daughter’s tired mind was relieved of all fear of mistake or blame.
They did not come away completely scatheless. By the end of October, Geoffrey was free of fever and gaining strength again, but too much sloughing of torn, dead tissue on his hip had taken place. The wide scarred area would never be as flexible as whole flesh. Geoffrey would be lame. Joanna told him as soon as she was sure herself. He said nothing much about it while he was very weak, but one day when he was stronger and alive enough to be thinking about fighting again, he asked if Ian would come and look at the hurt. For Geoffrey, Ian was the fount of all wisdom where fighting was concerned.
“How will it hamper me?” he asked, when Ian was finished with his examination.
“You will be less eagerly sought as a dancing partner,” Ian replied.
Geoffrey looked blank and then began to laugh. “Is that true, my lord?”
“Of course it is true. Do you think I hate you so much that I would lie about what might cost your life, not telling you of a weakness of which you must beware? That is a stupid, dangerous thing about which to lie.” Then he shrugged. “You will not run or walk evenly or as fastbut you know that already from what Joanna has told you, and an armed man does not run well in any case. It might a little affect your jousting. I will need to try you before I can speak as to thatbut for a jouster such as you,” he added with loving contempt, “who could tell the difference?”
“At least there were few men who could unseat me before this,” Geoffrey protested. “Will I be less firm in the saddle?”
“No, not that,” Ian assured him. “It is in the forward thrust that you might be limited, but, of a truth, I do not think so.”
Geoffrey’s mind was relieved; he was not really a vain young man. So long as it did not impede his ability as a fighter, he would not have cared much if he walked like a crab. Now that his personal anxiety was over, however, there were other matters he wantad to talk about.
“I am almost glad of it,” he said, “because it gave me occasion to ask to see you alone. Joanna will tell me nothing of what is happening in the world. Or, if I demand an answer, tells me what I greatly fear are falsehoods.”
“So?” Ian said, “She is not unwise in that. What purpose can there be in fretting you over what you cannot help?”
“Then there is trouble,” Geoffrey said tensely.
Ian could have kicked himself. He knew his wife and stepdaughter would be fit to flay him alive for his awkward answer. Only now he realized that Geoffrey’s opening gambit about being kept in ignorance was a trap for his unwary tongue, and a trap he should have recognized. Geoffrey was too clever by half. Ian knew Joanna would not be so crude as to refuse to answer or to tell obvious falsehoodsnot Alinor’s daughter. Probably what she had said to Geoffrey was very convincing; Geoffrey had almost been deluded into believing all was well. Stilltoo clever by halfthere had been a doubt in his mind raised by the memory of the disastrous defeats. If only, Ian thought, I had said all was well now because John had given up the idea of more expeditions to France, he would have believed me. Now I have overset the fat into the fire.
“My father?” Geoffrey urged anxiously.
Ian’s brow cleared. On that subject he had good news. “Safe and soon home. He would have been released sooner but that he himself did not like the conditions.”
“What conditions? What more can be asked of him than ransom?”
“Curse my loose tongue,” Ian exclaimed. “Geoffrey, I had better leave you. If you are in a fever again when Joanna returns, I will not be allowed near you for a sennight.”
“It is more like to put me into a fever to be left hanging than to know a bad thing.”
That was true. “The conditions had nothing to do with your father,” Ian said. “It is only that Philip will not accept ransom for Dammartin or Ferrand. To do John credit, he offered to pay and swore he would not haggle. Philip will have none of it. He was willing to exchange your father for Robert of Dreuxno ransom being taken for eitherbut he said Dammartin and Ferrand were
his
vassals and traitors to him and that he would make example of them.” Then forgetting himself in his anger, “It is said they are held like beasts in filthy stys, loaded with chains, even that Dammartin is allowed no freedom and is kept chained to a huge log.’’
“God pity them. Mary have mercy. They were good brave men both.” Geoffrey’s eyes filled with the easy tears of convalescence.
“For God’s sake, do not weep,” Ian begged. “My loving daughter Joanna will rip out my arm and beat me to a pulp with it, and Alinor will spit on what remains if you make yourself ill over this.”
Geoffrey laughed and sobbed at the same time, then wiped his face impatiently. There was much good sense in Ian’s jest. It would do no one good and him great harm to grieve over the fate of his battle companions. He must thank God for his own and his father’s escape and try to forget the rest.
“What does the king?” he asked next.
Ian looked uneasily toward the door, but no one came to rescue him. Suddenly, it occurred to him that this long interval of privacy must be deliberate. Alinor would certainly know, even if Joanna did not, how long it would take him to look at Geoffrey’s wound and give his judgment upon it. One or another of the women would have been in the room very soon after that if they were opposed to his talking freely with Geoffrey. He had visited him often before, and either Joanna or Alinor stood at his elbow to be sure he spoke little and that little in the right words.
That meant that they wanted him to give Geoffrey the news, that they would have told it to him themselves, except for fearing he would think the truth even more horrible than what they related. Ian looked at Geoffrey and bowed to the judgment of his womenfolk. Geoffrey was excited by the opening of his prison of sickness, but even after the effort of taking off and replacing part of his clothing, it was clear it was doing him no harm. His eyes were bright, his color good, and his gestures easy, displaying none of the slow, leaden character of fatigue. He was too sensitive still, too easily moved to tears, but that would wear off. Ian dragged a chair nearer the one Geoffrey was sitting in, sat down, and stretched his long legs.
“Have some wine,” he said, smiling and filling two goblets.
He then did a swift look and look-again at the goblets and flagon, which Geoffrey did not notice because he was now looking nervously toward the door. Ian chuckled. The women were right. Geoffrey was eager to start living again. He was looking at that door like a prisoner, fearing the arrival of a keeper who would put to an end a deeply desired visit.
“Be easy and have some wine,” Ian said, grinning more broadly.
Geoffrey’s eyes went to the flagon and goblets at which Ian was pointing. He looked puzzled, then as their meaning came to him, his color suddenly rose and his eyes brightened dangerously.
“No, no,” Ian warned, laughing even harder. “Do not demean yourself by losing your temper. Is it not a tactful way to give us permission to talka little sign, a flagon of wine and two cups? You would like it even less if Joanna said in words you had her leave to hear the news. Now, now, Geoffrey, do not turn that color. It is useless and ruins the digestion.” Suddenly his laughter cut off and his face grew older. “Besides, I have that to say to you that can sour your stomach for a worthier reason.”
“I feared it. I feared it. All the honeyed words, all the sober tales of how the king was chastened and all was now smooth as silktold soso surely! So easily!”
“Geoffrey,” Ian said softly and soberly, “you believed because you needed to believe, and Joanna lied because you needed those lies. Yet I dare swear they were not really lies. Our women do not lie to us; they leave things but or place the emphasis on the wrong word so that the thought is bent. You were very sick, Geoffrey. Your body needed peace to mend itself. You were given that peace. Now you are strong enough to carry it, a part of your burden is handed back to you. Do not mistake how hard it is for Joanna to yield you up to the struggle of full life againso near to death as she has seen you, and after believing you dead already.”
There was a silence while Geoffrey digested that. His eyes rested all the while on the two goblets and, finally, the frown smoothed off his face and he reached out and took one and chuckled. “Perhaps, but it goes against the grain to think that I have got my own way for once, and then discover that it is her way after all.”
“You will grow accustomed,” Ian retorted drily, and sighed. “As for your question about the kingJoanna did not lie, at least not by John’s seeming behavior. It is quiet and modest. He, does no ill, butcurse him and rot him, what a fool! He comes home a whipped curalthough it is true enough that was no fault of his. He bore himself right manly and planned the battles full well. We would have swallowed all of western France but for those treacherous Poitevins. Nonetheless, no matter whose fault, we came home worse than empty-handedbeatenand he scarce sets a foot upon the land before he demands scutage.”
“Well,” Geoffrey said doubtfully, “it is his fight. The lords owe him knight-service, and if”
“I do not deny it is his right,” Ian snarled. “It is your right and mine to beat our wives silly for amusement. What would that get us?”
“Likely a knife in the ribs,” Geoffrey answered, grinning, although he knew the question was both rhetorical and made a most unfunny point.
“And likely that is what John will receive. Think of it! Who was it who did not answer his summons? The faithful came; even the doubtful came, thinking to have some loot and some sport where it would do no harm to their own lands. Who remained sulking behind? Only the rebels and those who adhere to them. And of them John demands scutage of
three
marks.”
Geoffrey rubbed his hand across his face, rasping along the fair beard that had been shaved only yesterday but was already a stubble. “Have they flown to arms already?” he asked.
“No, and I do not think to see that yet, not this year. They are growing cautious and clever. To speak the truth, I detect a steadying hand carefully hidden. You remember what Langton was preaching last year? He does not appear in this, not openly after the reprimand he had from Innocent, but instead of a call to arms by that hothead Vesci and that greedy boar Fitz Walter, there is a call to a meeting. It will be held at Bury Saint Edmunds the third week of next month to consider the matter of the scutage and other things.”
“A meeting, eh? Do they seek to draw you in? Will you go? The scutage is nothing to you, and when John hears of this”
“Draw me in, they cannot, but these ‘other matters’ that are to be considered interest me greatly,” Ian said. It is not to be named in the invitation, but there is a strong purpose to bind the king to sign a charter. Langton believes, and I also, that this can save the realm. In any case, John cannot love me less” Ian shrugged.