Chapter 34
Jeanette warmly embraced Katherine Swynford who was wearing a serviceable travelling cloak and stout shoes.
With the coronation over, John was leaving to deal with affairs further north but had promised to return to London by September for the next gathering of Parliament.
Katherine was accompanying him and going to her manor at Kettlethorpe with the children for a while.
‘I hope you will visit me when you come to Stamford for your first husband’s anniversary,’ Katherine said.
‘Of course I shall.’
Jeanette had grown fond of Katherine, despite her ambiguous position as John’s mistress.
A pity they were not husband and wife, but the great game of politics was not mapped with a lover’s heart at its centre.
Katherine was the daughter and wife of a knight, which was not the same as being Queen of Castile in terms of land and prestige.
Constanza continued to dwell at Hertford, or one of John’s other castles, with every comfort while she waited for the right moment to return to her homeland from exile, and in the meantime she was raising their daughter Catalina to be a queen also.
Their second child, a little boy, had died soon after birth, and by mutual indifference they had not cohabited since.
Her exchanges with John were mostly via letters and messengers with only occasional visits and formal moments lacking intimacy.
Jeanette watched Katherine climb into the covered long carriage for the several days of journeying that lay ahead and then turned to bid farewell to John, who was preparing to mount his dark bay palfrey.
‘God protect you,’ she said. ‘I shall await your return when the swallows have flown.’
He had lost weight, and new lines carved his brow, but his dark-blue eyes were keen as they met hers.
He took her hands in his. ‘I shall be back soon,’ he said, ‘and I am no more than a messenger away. We still have much to accomplish. We have a young lad to turn into a king, and that is no easy task. Who knows what the stars have in store for us.’ He kissed her cheeks.
‘Whatever it is, I am glad for your company.’
‘You did not always think that,’ she said.
‘Neither did you.’
They shared rueful smiles. He gave her hands a final squeeze and turned to his horse. From the back he so resembled Edward in his prime that a sharp and wistful pang clutched her heart. She did not fool herself that the way ahead was smooth, but she could live in the day, and she was prepared.
‘Madam, you have a visitor,’ Hannekyn announced, bowing to Jeanette. ‘Mistress Perrers is here, requesting an audience.’
Jeanette looked up from reading the documents her scribe had recently written and removed her new spectacles from her nose.
It was a warm afternoon three days after she had bidden farewell to John and Katherine, and she was busy.
Her first instinct was to send the woman away, but she had learned over the decades that while trusting one’s instinct was a good thing, being hasty was not.
‘Bring her to me in the garden,’ she said. ‘Come!’ She summoned Amber and Damask from their cushions at the side of the bench and the two sleek gazehounds immediately sprang to their feet.
Jeanette made her way through the garden to her favourite spot and sat on the bench beneath the cherry tree where she and Edward had so often spent time during his final months of decline. What did Alice want? What was there to say?
Alice arrived, escorted by Hannekyn and Lewis Clifford.
Despite her uncertain circumstances following King Edward’s death his former concubine was still magnificently attired, today wearing robes of midnight-blue silk adorned with gold sleeve buttons.
She had not been seen in public since her lover’s demise, but had not been far away, dwelling mostly in her London town house on Thames Street – with William de Wyndsore.
Although she had remained secluded, it did not mean she had been inactive, Jeanette was certain of that.
Alice curtseyed deeply and bent her head. A plain gold wedding ring glinted on her heart finger.
‘Mistress Perrers,’ Jeanette said. ‘I am surprised, even astonished, by your visit. I was unaware we had anything to say to each other.’ She gestured for her to rise and be seated on the turf bench opposite. ‘I assume you are here to beg a favour.’
Alice lifted her chin. ‘I do not come on my own behalf,’ she replied. ‘I have always fended for myself, and we know each other well enough that I would expect no favours, and you would not expect me to beg, but I would ask your mercy.’
Jeanette arched her brows. ‘God’s mercy is what you should be asking, not mine.’
‘I know what will happen when Parliament meets in the autumn and the Duke of Lancaster returns. I shall be tried, and my defeat is a foregone conclusion.’
‘Yes, you will be tried,’ Jeanette said. ‘And I shall not speak for you, for the things you have done are reprehensible.’
Alice gave a smile, wry and bitter. ‘So you say, but the King still asked for me when he was dying. You may claim I manipulated him, that I took advantage of an old and senile man, but he wanted me and only I could give him peace. I was never going to be his wife in name. I was always and still am vilified and called a whore – a woman selling herself for what she could get – but I gave a great deal in exchange, and I gave of myself to him for his comfort. I will stand proud before anyone who says otherwise.’
‘But you took more,’ Jeanette said curtly. ‘You even stripped the rings from his body before you abandoned him.’
Alice drew herself up. ‘They were rings I gave to him out of love.’
Jeanette snorted. ‘Out of your desire to control him.’
‘He wore them because they were my gifts – you will never understand what they meant to him. He told me to take them from his body once he was dead, for he knew otherwise they would go into other coffers. I did not steal them, I only took what was mine to give in the first place.’
Jeanette raised her brows.
‘I loved him,’ Alice replied, and sudden tears brightened her eyes. ‘Think as you will, but I truly did. It counts for nothing now he is dead, and I have lost my influence and my shield. No one will believe me. Why should they?’
‘What of the spells you laid upon those rings?’ Jeanette demanded.
‘They were never spells; they were prayers for my lord’s well-being!’ Alice said indignantly. ‘As anyone would use a healing charm. There was no evil in them, and I would gladly swear that before God at the altar.’
‘Then do so.’ Curiosity and irritation warred within Jeanette.
She had said herself to Edward that healing charms were a common device and not necessarily indications of necromancy.
‘But while you are there on your knees, you should beg pardon for all the money you embezzled and the property you falsely exhorted out of others.’
Alice shrugged. ‘That was business; it had nothing to do with love.’
Jeanette regarded her with distaste. ‘What do you want of me? As I have said, I can do nothing for you.’
Alice lifted her chin. ‘I have a son and two daughters fathered by the late King. I swear under oath that these children are his. They brought him much joy in his last years as he watched them grow from babies. He loved them dearly and he did what he could for them. They are kin to you and the new King. You have welcomed the Prince’s son Roger of Clarendon into your household, and he is a close friend of your other sons.
All I ask is that you do not vilify my children.
Leave them at least enough to make their way in the world, for they are blameless.
My son is to enter the house of the Bishop of Exeter to continue his education, and I know he will one day serve England well as a soldier if he is allowed.
I ask you, as one mother to another, not to come after them, even if I must fall. ’
‘And that is your sole request?’ Jeanette asked. ‘That I will not persecute your offspring?’
‘Asking for myself is pointless. All I request is that you allow my boy to come to court like any other squire and young knight.’
Jeanette suspected that Alice was attempting to salvage her influence and seek access to the brokers of power through her son and daughters, who were the children of a king even if their mother was a spent force.
Her influence would melt away and she would be at the mercy of men who were not susceptible to her wiles and who would strip her of her acquisitions now that King Edward was dead.
She would be tried in court for her scheming and underhand fiscal dealings, for her vast accumulations of wealth and property at the expense of others, and for her manipulation of the enfeebled King.
It remained to be seen how much of her fortune she managed to retain, but there was no denying her acumen and cunning.
Her courage too. As a mother trying to protect her own children, Jeanette experienced a reluctant flutter of empathy.
‘I will not shun him,’ she said neutrally.
‘Insofar as I can arrange matters, he shall be treated as any other squire at court and either stand or fall on his merits.’ She gave Alice a hard stare.
‘I am not cruel – unlike many. He shall make his way according to his own conduct. When Parliament convenes, you have much to answer for, but I do not doubt you will survive. Tell me, did the King know before he died about your closeness to William de Wyndsore?’
Surprise flickered in Alice’s eyes before she dropped her gaze.
‘You think no one noticed?’ Jeanette asked scornfully.
Alice rubbed the plain shiny gold ring, the only one on any finger in contrast to her former displays of multiple jewels. The gesture was not lost on Jeanette.
‘How long have you and he been married?’
‘Since the King died,’ Alice answered, and looked up again. ‘It is an act of protection. Who else is going to speak for a widow unless she helps herself? Some would say your marriage to Prince Edward was precisely such a move on your behalf.’
Jeanette narrowed her eyes. ‘Be very careful what you voice to me.’
Alice jutted her chin. ‘Yes, of course the King knew my intent and accepted it as a way of defending myself when he was gone. He knew the truth in my heart: William de Wyndsore is as convenient to me as I am to him. He protects me by marital law from the vultures who would strip me bare, and he reaps some benefit to himself. The Duke of Lancaster and the rest of them will throw me to the wolves, but my marriage means it will not be so easy to take my estates – and I know how to govern a husband.’ Her mouth twisted with a wry and bitter smile.
‘I have always known how to deal with men, and I am not the only woman with that ability.’ She sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap.
‘You are a mother, and you would brave all for your children, as would I, and for that reason I beg your mercy on their behalf, not mine.’
Jeanette looked at her, and while there was no thawing of her dislike and suspicion, she did experience a grudging respect, even a smidgen of sympathy, for Alice.
‘As you say, and as you have proved on many occasions, you can fend for yourself, but you have my word your children shall not be persecuted unless they cross boundaries. What is between us is finished, even if you must still face judgement elsewhere. You have my leave to go.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ Alice said without emotion. She rose, curtseyed again, and departed, her silk skirts swishing over the grass.
Jeanette let out a long shuddering breath of release.
It had been like fencing with a serpent.
Alice would indeed survive somehow, Jeanette had no doubt of that.
Let her son make his way at court. He was a raw youth, and from what she had seen an ordinary lad of moderate talent, lacking either of his parents’ acumen and charisma.
His union with Mary Percy would be dissolved, of course, as his mother was brought to trial and stripped of her influence and power, but he would attain knighthood and spend his days in service with his sword.
The daughters would make marriages and go their way, she cared not where.
Calling the dogs, she rose to her feet and went to walk in the park, alone, without her ladies. Richard was at his lessons, and she wanted time to herself, to reflect and to cleanse her mind of the recent encounter.
The sun was dipping towards late afternoon, and the river was sapphire and gold like a jewelled necklace.
She remembered walking along the banks of the River Trent as a girl at Donington, her body young and supple, her life unknown, but her imagination creating a vista as bright as an illumination in a priceless manuscript.
The reality had been beyond anything she could have envisioned in its wonder, its vibrance, in its glowing force of unconditional love .
. . and in its utter darkness of loss and despair that at times had swamped all hope.
Fortune’s wheel had spun her from the greatest heights to the lowest ditch.
But she had clung on and would continue to rise and fall from stars to mud for as long as her heartbeat and her strength endured.
The motion never stopped, and neither would she.
She paused to watch a pair of swans and their half-grown cygnets sailing near the reeds, royal birds dipping their necks to feed, the adults keeping a protective eye on their young.
Their reflections rippled and re-formed on the changing surface of the water.
An eddy of breeze shivered the reeds. Barges and boats arrowed past in the deeper, wide channels, and her soul became calm.
Whatever tribulations lay ahead as Richard grew to manhood, she would pray for the grace to deal with them.
When the layers were stripped away – the princess, the wife twice-widowed, the mother and grandmother, the stateswoman in her quiet power behind the throne – she was still that girl in the red shoes from long ago who danced and survived.
The royal rebel, and the crownless queen.