Authors: Mari Griffith
‘So it’s just as well, then, in a way. After all, Margery is still your wife –’
‘And a damned bad-tempered one at the moment.’
‘So Jenna’s husband is irrelevant.’
William, trying to control his ire, didn’t really take in Robin’s words at first. Then, in the act of raising his tankard to his lips once again, he slammed it back down in astonishment, spilling ale on the table.
‘A husband! How do you know?’
‘I made it my business to find out.’ Robin was enjoying this. He leaned closer to William, with his elbow on the table, talking quietly.
‘I happened to be working for a trader in the Newton Abbot area who’s new to the game and he didn’t have the animals ready in time. So I had to wait for a couple of days, kicking my heels in Kingskerswell until he had them all assembled in one place.’
‘Kingskerswell? Isn’t that where...’
‘Where Jenna comes from, yes. Yes, it is. She told me quite a bit about the village while she was on that drove with me a few years ago, but she never said anything much about her own background, her family and so on. So I made it my business to ask a few questions. Thought you might be interested.’
‘And was there ... is there ... a man?’
‘What do you think? Where there’s an attractive woman, there’s always a man. And she’s an attractive woman. I took quite a liking to her myself at one time. I even hoped I might get somewhere with her. But that was before she set her pretty brown eyes on you.’
‘And? What about the man? Come on, Robin, tell me.’
Robin nodded. ‘A hopeless drunkard. Well known for it, apparently. I got talking to the Parson after mass the Sunday I was there. Nice fellow. Name of Middleton. I didn’t say who I was, of course. Pretended I’d met Jenna a long time ago and I was just making casual enquiries.’
‘You lied to a parson?’
‘Not really. I just ... well, gave him to understand. You know. I don’t think I’ll rot in Hell for that.’
‘And what did he tell you?’
‘He said he remembered her very well, and it was a pity things turned out the way they did. But everyone knew her husband was a drunkard and that he hit her. They were quite used to seeing her turning up in church with a black eye or a cut lip.’
‘Bastard!’ William’s hand clenched into an involuntary fist under the table. How could any man hurt Jenna? If he ever met the bastard, he’d ... well, he’d...
Robin laid a hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Don’t, William,’ he said. ‘It won’t get you anywhere. It won’t solve anything.’
‘Just don’t tell me his name,’ muttered William. ‘I might go looking for him.’
‘What, all the way to Devon? Don’t be stupid. Wouldn’t do you any good anyway, so I might as well tell you. His name was Jake. But he’s dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Apparently he drank himself stupid most days. Everyone knew that. But last summer, come harvest time, he was drunk in charge of a scythe, newly sharpened, and all but harvested his own leg. They say he bled like a stuck pig. Didn’t stand a chance after that.’
Of all ways to go, that was a bad one. William was silent for a long, long moment, his mind reeling. His instinctive revulsion at the thought of any farm worker dying from a stupid, careless accident like that was fighting a losing battle against his initial desire to avenge Jenna’s hurt. But above all, he was trying to control his feeling of pure exultation at the knowledge that she was not tied by her vows to any other man. She was free but he wasn‘t, so there was no hope that she could be his. His mind was in turmoil. He didn‘t know what to think.
Robin had the sense to stay silent with his friend, to let him take in all he’d been told.
June 1441
––––––––
I
t was quiet now that the Duchess had finally left for the King’s Head. She had been especially pernickety this morning, deciding first on one gown then another, changing her mind at least three times about which shoes to wear. And when it came to choosing her jewellery, Jenna had almost despaired. No sooner had she written
garnet necklace
in her notebook than she had to cross it out again and amend it to
ruby necklace and earrings
. It had taken more than an hour before the Duchess Eleanor was satisfied that she was looking her best.
Jenna couldn’t imagine why she was being so fussy. After all, the Duke was away so she didn’t need to please her husband and she wasn’t going off on one of her secret expeditions with Canon Hume: besides, she always dressed circumspectly for those. This time, she had simply arranged to dine with several of her ladies and some of the more entertaining gentlemen in her social circle. They had all left the palace in a noisy, colourful procession of carriages and a blessed silence descended on Jenna’s domain. She only needed to tidy up the dressing room before removing her apron and going out.
With some precious time to herself, she knew exactly where she was going because she still hadn’t managed to see Kitty since she’d found out she was working for Margery Jourdemayne. The new arrangement could be perfectly innocent, of course, indeed it could be to Kitty’s benefit if she was learning to read and write and reckon. In fact, there had been moments when Jenna had felt rather embarrassed at the memory of her outburst in the dairy in front of Hawys and the other dairymaids; but there was still a worm of worry gnawing at her heart.
Rather than take her favourite leisurely route along the banks of the Thames, she took the shortcut through the fields, keeping a sharp eye open. While on the one hand she ached to see William, on the other hand she dreaded seeing him. Nothing had changed and though she still felt exactly the same about him, he was still the husband of another woman and she could never trust herself not to blurt out something she might regret.
In the hour before the midday dinner, the kitchen was a hotbed of clattering activity. Pottage simmered in a cauldron over the open fire and one young woman was cleaning and chopping vegetables while another removed a batch of loaves from the bread oven. At the big table in the centre of the room, two kitchen maids were filling jugs with small beer and assembling trays of bread and cheese to be taken out to the workers in the fields. They barely looked up as Jenna entered the room. There was no sign of Kitty.
‘Has anyone seen Kitty?’ Jenna shouted above the din. ‘Is she down in the dairy?’ She was answered with blank looks and shrugs. No one seemed to have seen her.
‘She might be in there,’ one of the women said casually, nodding towards Mistress Jourdemayne’s room. ‘She works in there quite a lot these days.’
‘Thank you, Janet.’
Jenna approached the door and knocked cautiously, quietly, using only the knuckle of her index finger, her ear almost against the door. Having no reply, she knocked again, louder this time.
She didn’t quite know what she’d been expecting but the door opened a crack and Kitty’s face, pale and drawn, peered round it.
‘Kitty!’
‘Oh, hello, Jenna.’
Kitty opened the door as far as she needed to in order to admit Jenna then closed it immediately. She was entirely alone. Jenna, used to having Kitty throw herself at her and hug her in great excitement, felt uneasy.
‘What’s wrong, Kitty? What’s the matter?’
Kitty shook her head and avoided Jenna’s gaze.
‘Nothing’s the matter,’ she said in a small voice.
‘Yes there is, Kitty, I know it! Tell me. Tell me why you’re not in the dairy any more. Are you helping Mistress Jourdemayne? What are you doing? Tell me, Kitty, please, for God’s sake tell me!’
Jenna’s voice was rising and anxiety threatened to get the better of her when Kitty gave a gulping sob. Immediately, she wrapped her arms about the girl.
‘Hush, hush, my dove. It’s all right. It’s all right, sweetheart.’ She rocked the little bundle of misery that was Kitty from side to side, crooning comforting words, stroking her head. ‘It’s all right, my dove. Come on, just tell me what’s the matter. I’m here now. You mustn’t worry about it, whatever it is. I’m here now, I’ll look after you.’
Kitty raised a tear-stained face to look at Jenna. ‘M ... Mistress Jourdemayne has been ... doing ... making ... making me do ... ex ... exmeripents.’
‘Exmeri ... do you mean experiments, Kitty?’
‘Yes,’ Kitty sniffed. ‘Exmeripents. She said it was a big secret. I mustn’t tell anyone.’
‘What sort of experiments? No, wait. Dry your eyes. Tell me first of all – where is Mistress Jourdemayne?’
‘She’s just gone out to the physic garden. She doesn’t trust me to cut herbs. She says I bring the wrong ones.’
‘All right. Is that water in the bowl over there?’ Kitty nodded, sniffing. ‘Right, then, go and bathe your eyes and blow your nose.’
Kitty drew back. ‘No, Jenna, I’ll ... I’ll just blow my nose.’
‘All right, Kitty, but try to stop crying, my dove. We may not have much time before the mistress comes back and we mustn’t let her know that I know anything at all. So if she sees me, we’ll have to pretend I’ve called to collect something for the Duchess. I’ll try and think of something she needs.’
Inwardly, Jenna was seething, but she must be very wary about not upsetting Kitty any more. She would have to be very gentle if she was to get at the truth of what had been happening without causing her more distress than she was clearly feeling already. She didn’t even chide the child for wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
‘Come and sit down, Kitty,’ Jenna said, patting a place on the bench beside her. ‘And tell me as calmly as you can what Mistress Jourdemayne has been asking you to do.’
Kitty took a deep, juddering breath before speaking. ‘I don’t rightly know where to start.’
‘Try starting at the beginning,’ Jenna suggested gently.
‘Well, she came and got me from the dairy,’ Kitty began and, as she told her story, Jenna heard a repetition of exactly what her own duties had been, helping around the work room, washing up, labelling bottles, packing orders. But what followed astounded her.
‘She asked me if I was a virgin,’ said Kitty.
‘Why on earth did she want to know that?’
‘Because she said it was important for her exmeripents. I had to be a virgin before I could do the exmeripents in the church. With the looking-glass,’ she added, ‘and the water.’
As Kitty warmed to her tale, Jenna gradually built up a picture of a nervous, reluctant child being dragged to several of London’s churches to take part in curious ceremonies which involved her having to stare into various reflective surfaces, mirrors or, occasionally, bowls of water, until she was able to see images.
‘What sort of images, Kitty?’
‘I don’t rightly know,’ said Kitty. ‘I think they wanted me to see the face of the King, or at least, to see a picture of a throne and see who was sitting on it.’ ‘And did you ever see anything, Kitty?’
‘No, never,’ said Kitty bleakly. ‘I could only see myself in the looking glass and I couldn’t see anything in the water except the bottom of the bowl, even though I really wanted to see something, so I could say I had.’
No wonder Kitty had been reluctant to bathe her eyes, thought Jenna. She’d probably be terrified of seeing images in the bowl of water.
‘And who was there in the church with you and Mistress Jourdemayne?’
‘Oh, some gentlemen. I never knew their names. One was short and fat and another was very tall but he was bent.’
Immediately Jenna’s suspicions were aroused.
‘Did you notice anything unusual about the tall one, Kitty? Because I think I know who it might be.’
‘No, not really. He seemed quite nice, though. Oh, but wait ... yes, he had those things people put on their noses to look at things.’
‘Spectacles, d’you mean?’
‘Yes, those. Not many people have those.’
‘No indeed, not many can afford to buy them.’
Roger Bolingbroke couldn’t have afforded to buy them either, not unless he’d been employed by the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. Jenna had no need of mirrors or spectacles. She was beginning to see exactly what had been happening.
Mirror magic. She’d heard of it and knew that it was frowned on by the church. Apart from that she knew little except that it was a method of divination, a ritual in which a virgin was required to look deeply into a reflective surface until an image appeared, foretelling the future.
So, that was it. But she needed to know more before deciding what to do. For now, the most important thing was to reassure this bewildered girl.
She put her finger on Kitty’s lips. ‘I must go now, Kitty, and I don’t want you to tell Mistress Jourdemayne I’ve been here and that you’ve talked to me. D’you hear? I think I know who those two gentlemen are, but I don’t know what to do about it. Not yet, anyway. I need to think.’
Kitty put her arms around Jenna’s neck. ‘Don’t leave me, Jenna. Please. I’m frightened.’
‘Kittymouse, you’re going to have to be very brave. Listen carefully. You must forget I’ve been here, but always – always – remember I’ll be doing everything I can to help you. I just have to work out what’s best. But whatever happens, you mustn’t be frightened. I promise I’ll look after you. And you can always talk to Master Jourdemayne if I’m not here. He’ll look after you, too. Now, give me a kiss and let me go.’
Kitty loosened the grip of her arms around Jenna’s neck and offered up her cheek to be kissed.
‘Be brave, my Kittymouse,’ Jenna said, ‘and remember I love you.’
***
M
agister Bolingbroke, in his role as secretary to the Duchess Eleanor, was housed in a small office in a corridor behind the palace kitchens. Here, working at an ink-stained table, he made fair copies of the letters she dictated. It was an extraordinarily untidy little room. Crumpled-up scraps of parchment littered the floor and generations of candles had been allowed to drip their melted wax unchecked, to build up into small greasy hillocks around the dirty candlesticks. By contrast, the Magister’s books were neatly stacked on a shelf.
William Woodham had spent most of the morning in running an errand to Paternoster Row for Canon Hume. Now he stood in Bolingbroke’s room, arms akimbo, surveying the scene and trying to decide how best to create order out of chaos. There was no sign of Roger Bolingbroke himself except for a quilted jerkin on the floor, a powdering of dandruff still on the shoulders. It appeared to have fallen off the overturned chair.