LITMIR.BIZ

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that she stay in York and rest while he fulfilled his vow to visit the famous shrines of two northern saints, St John of Bridlington and St John of Beverley. Since the many pilgrims to such locally popular shrines greatly enriched their attendant abbeys and priories, he also took the opportunity to obtain further financial support. Religious houses were a fruitful source of campaign funds because farmland that did not have enough men to work it quickly became unproductive and shrewd abbots preferred to offer the king substantial loans rather than provide rustic recruits for the campaign army.

      In York we lodged at the house of the Dean of the Minster, and Catherine spent time praying in the beautiful cathedral-church. Meanwhile King Henry completed his pilgrimage a shaken man, having received disastrous news on the return journey from Bridlington. He maintained a calm façade in public and during the evening meal in the dean’s presence, but his outward shell cracked as soon as the door closed behind them in the bed chamber.

      He sank to his knees at the queen’s feet, burying his face in the folds of her her skirt, like a little boy seeking comfort from his mother. ‘Oh, Catherine, God has sent me a grievous trial. My beloved brother, Thomas, is dead, killed in a battle at Easter-tide.’

      With a cry of horror she sank to her knees before him, taking his face in her hands. ‘My dearest lord, this is dreadful news. How – when – did you find out?’ Her own blue eyes blurred with tears and she called in an anguished voice, ‘Mette, bring wine! My lord needs strength.’

      I hurriedly poured two cups of the strong Bordeaux wine provided by the dean’s cellarer. Catherine had persuaded King Henry back to his feet and they sat down together on a cushioned bench beside the chamber fire. Their hands shook as they took the cups.

      ‘A courier met me on the road with a dispatch,’ the king explained.

      Catherine gasped with dismay. ‘Then the duchess does not yet know? Poor lady! She loved your brother so dearly.’

      Henry nodded slowly and sorrowfully. ‘Yes, theirs was a love match like no other. It was a forbidden marriage, but our father was eventually won over. How am I going to tell her? She will be devastated. We should send for her before she learns the news from any other lips but ours. Perhaps Mette would bring her here?’

      ‘Ah yes, Mette, would you go please?’ Catherine endorsed his request, adding, ‘And bring Lady Joan also. Poor girl.’

      ‘Yes, Madame.’ I dipped my knee before hurrying to perform the unwelcome task. The Duchess of Clarence and Lady Joan were lodged with their entourage in a house nearby and had taken their evening meal there. When I relayed the king’s summons, they responded immediately, donning warm cloaks against the cold night.

      The duchess was understandably curious, but I parried her queries about the reason for the summons, struggling to hide my knowledge that she was only moments from despair. I had brought a lantern and we were able to pick our way quickly across the flagstones of the Minster court without mishap. I thought it best to admit her and her daughter to the royal chamber and then retire. Despite their high status, this was above all a family bereavement and the terrible news should surely be broken in private. After only a few moments, I heard the duchess’s long and heart-rending cry of grief and made the sign of the cross.

      I was full of admiration for Margaret of Clarence during the ensuing days as the royal progress followed the spine of England south to Windsor. It seemed it was not the custom here, as it was in France, for everyone and everything to be plunged into black mourning at the death of a prominent person; besides, no thought was given to protracted obsequies because the king was preoccupied with planning his new campaign which was now more imperative than ever. Masses were sung in the Minster for the Duke of Clarence’s soul and, when we set out from York, his duchess rode beside the queen as usual, sitting straight-backed and proud on her beautiful, high-stepping horse and Lady Joan rode close to her mother’s side, not among the other ladies-in-waiting as she had done hitherto.

      It transpired that the Duke of Clarence had not been the only death at the disastrous Battle of Beaugé. Two other royal knights had been killed and there had been prisoners taken, among them, to add to the duchess’s burden of misery, her two sons John, Earl of Somerset and Edmund Beaufort, the young squire who had acted as a special messenger between Catherine and the king during their so-called ‘siege-honeymoon’ which followed their wedding in France.

      During the second day of our long journey south, King Henry singled the duchess out for a long horseback discussion and I was surprised when, at the same time, Lady Joan sidled her horse up to mine. Long bouts of crying had left the girl’s normally smooth-skinned face rather blotched and puffy and my heart went out to her.

      ‘May I speak with you privately, Madame Lanière?’ she asked in French.

      ‘Of course, Mademoiselle,’ I replied, happy to use my own language for once. I kicked Genevieve to move out to the side of the column where we should not be overheard. ‘How are you and your lady mother? It must be hard riding out in public at such a time of great sadness.’

      She shook her head. ‘Oh no, I am glad to be on a horse and out in the air,’ she said. ‘Much better than being cooped up indoors with nothing to think of but the death of my stepfather and the captivity of my two brothers. I just wish I knew how they were, I believe they are injured.’

      ‘Surely the king will get word soon about their circumstances,’ I suggested, wondering why she had sought me out.

      ‘He and my mother are talking about raising the ransoms at this very moment. Of course, Edmund’s will not be too onerous for he is only a young squire, but John’s will be crippling, an earl’s ransom, even though he is not yet knighted. My mother will have to leave the queen and go to our estates in order to raise the necessary funds. That is why I wanted to speak to you.’ She gave me a rather watery smile. ‘I wondered if you would put in a good word for me with the queen because I really do not wish to accompany my mother on a long trek around Kent and Somerset, but nor do I want to hurt her feelings by refusing to go with her.’ She looked a little guilty as she said this, but persisted eagerly. ‘I would hate to lose my place in the queen’s household and I am sure you can persuade her grace to ask my mother to let me stay on. On the way south we are to pick up my little sister who has been staying with my aunt and Margot will keep my mother company much better than I could. They have not seen each other for nearly a year and she is much more accomplished than I am. I am afraid my boyish ways rather annoy our mother, now more so than ever.’ She opened her huge speedwell-blue eyes wide in earnest supplication. ‘Please say you will help me, Madame Lanière!’

      I have to confess that, despite the sad circumstances, it was a pleasant feeling to be at the receiving end of a plea from a member of the nobility. It would certainly not have happened in the French court, where I had been a servant of low birth. In England, where I was a courtier, few people were aware of this and Lady Joan, whether aware or not, was only interested in exploiting my influence with Catherine.

      I smiled at her, a beautiful girl, so different from the style-obsessed demoiselles of the French court. ‘I cannot guarantee success, Mademoiselle, but I will take your part with the queen on one condition,’ I said. ‘You must assure me that you do not wish to remain at court in order to pursue some unsuitable romance with a young and ill-bred squire. Your lady mother has been very kind to me and I would not like to do her a disservice by inadvertently bringing her distress, especially at this time of her profound grief.’

      Lady Joan looked crestfallen. ‘I am sorry that you would even think that of me, Madame,’ she said indignantly. ‘I am the one female among the queen’s ladies who would rather chase a deer than dawdle in a pleasure garden. Did you not hear that I gave one stupid squire a thick lip for his wandering hands during a galliard?’ She gave me a sidelong glance – a flash of bright blue filtered through thick, dark lashes. ‘I do not know who I will marry, but I do know that it will not be a booby such as that.’

      I detected a rather endearing touch of the convent schoolgirl in Lady Joan’s pugnacious prudery, very similar to the queen’s.

      ‘I have poured my heart out to my horse over the past two days. She is the most

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