10 The Squire's Tale Page 9

  Balked of his anger, Robert turned sharply away, almost into Katherine brushing past him after Blaunche. Without thinking he caught her by the arm almost as roughly as he had Blaunche and turned her toward him, saying, “Katherine.”

  Only that; and she said nothing at all; but her other hand came up to cling to his and in her eyes as she looked up at him was such desperate relief and closeness to tears that he understood, hard as a blow, certain as words, that she had been very afraid, and he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close and tell her she was safe, that he’d never let her be afraid again.

  He crushed the urge as it rose because in bitter truth there was next to nothing he could do to protect her and instead loosed her and demanded as she stepped away from him, “What happened?”

  ‘Nothing.“ And then, ”Is Benedict here?“

  ‘He left the day after Lady Blaunche did,“ Robert said, and added deliberately, ”with no word of where he was going or when he’d be back.“ Watching her face, he saw that Benedict’s sudden going meant the same thing to her that it had to him, which meant that some way Blaunche must have betrayed her plan or at least given enough suspicion of it that Katherine had been riding in fear. For how long? All the hours from St. Frideswide’s?

  The thought made him want to shake Blaunche and strike Benedict, but Katherine was drawing another step away, making him a quick, slight curtsy before turning to follow Blaunche as behind him an unexpected voice said, “Master Fenner,” and he swung around to find Dame Frevisse there. Past the brief wondering at what she had understood of what she might have overheard, he was only happy to see her and said gladly, “Welcome, my lady. I hadn’t thought we’d meet again so soon.”

  Chapter 7

  Because the business he had in hand was more his duty at the moment than she was, Frevisse took no offense when Robert, barely after greeting her, gave her over to Mistress Dionisia. The waiting-woman took her on with the same evenhandedness she was giving to overseeing their baggage being unstrapped from behind saddles.

  ‘You go ahead with those,“ she told one of the two men doing as she bid. ”They go to Lady Blaunche’s chamber. That one there,“ she told the other man now carrying Frevisse’s and Dame Claire’s, ”you follow me with it.“ She looked suddenly to Frevisse. ”Where will Dame Claire want her medicines, do you think?“

  ‘With her,“ Frevisse said. She was finding, now that they were done with riding, that she was as tired as she had feared she would be and more than willing to leave thinking to anyone else so long as there was shortly somewhere she could sit quietly a time or, better, lie down until tomorrow. Not that she really thought she would have the chance, but as she followed Mistress Dionisia up the stairs and into the hall and past the clusters of men in busy talk there, she gratefully refuged in her nunhood, keeping her head bowed, her hands tucked into her sleeves, removing herself from need to see or be seen until at the hall’s far end Mistress Dionisia led her through a doorway into a large room where no one was, with a fireplace with carved stone mantle at its far end, a mullioned window looking out toward trees, a scattering of chairs and a large table, and on the near wall to the right of the door a large painted hanging bright with armored, smiling men attacking an unlikely small tower from which equally smiling ladies in blue- and carnation-and primrose-colored gowns were pelting them with flowers. Crossing toward a door standing open to a tight spiral of stone stairs, Frevisse and the baggage-burdened man following faithfully, Mistress Dionisia said without any particular look at the room, ”This is the solar where they’ll do their talking once they set to business. Above is the parlor and my lord and lady’s bedchamber. I’m not certain where you and Dame Claire are to stay, so by your leave we’ll just go up…“

  She was stopped by Katherine sweeping down the stairs and into the room. The girl had put off the veil she had worn for travelling, her hair was untidily pulling free from its braid, and she had not yet changed from her riding gown with its mud drying around the hem just as Frevisse’s was. She was flushed and a little flustered and while making quick curtsy to Frevisse said to Mistress Dionisia, “Lady Blaunche says they’re to share Nurse’s chamber. I’ll take her there and see her settled. You go see what you can do to help Mistress Avys.”

  ‘She’s being troublesome, is she?“ Mistress Dionisia said, not meaning Mistress Avys, Frevisse thought.

  ‘She is,“ Katherine agreed tersely.

  Mistress Dionisia gave a crisp nod. “You keep clear, then. I’ll see to her.”

  ‘Dame Claire wants her medicines.“

  Mistress Dionisia nodded again, went to unstrap Dame Claire’s bag the man was carrying, and took out the needed box. “You go on then and don’t hurry to come back,” she said to Katherine. “You go with them,” she added at the man and went away up the stairs alone.

  ‘This way, if you will, my lady,“ Katherine said and turned toward the painted tapestry, saying to Frevisse following her, ”It seems best to put you and Dame Claire in with the children’s nurse and maid. But not with the children,“ she added.

  Frevisse was relieved to hear that. Thus far she had worked out that they must be in the tower whose top she had glimpsed at the hall’s end from the road as they came toward Brinskep. Now, close to the door back into the hall, Katherine lifted the corner of the hanging to reveal another door, set deep into the six-foot thickness of the tower’s wall and while the manservant came forward to hold the hanging aside she knocked firmly, then opened it and went through before anyone would have had time to answer, Frevisse following her, too travel-tired to care so long as there was shortly some place she could stop moving for a while.

  The room they came into was plain and not overlarge but with freshly white-plastered walls and a large, unglazed window, its shutters open to the day’s mild light and air, looking out across the manor yard toward the hall stairs. It was furnished for several people’s daily living with two beds against one wall, a small wooden chest beside each, a table in the room’s middle with a pair of joint stools at it, and rush matting on the well-scrubbed wooden floor. There were also two other doors across the room, toward which Katherine pointed and said, “One of them leads to the necessity and the other to the children’s room and the stairs to the yard. On this side of the yard the rooms are made in pairs, a shared door between the two rooms below and shared stairs from the yard to the rooms above.”

  She was talking while pointing the manservant to set the bags on the table, nodding her thanks to him when he had and saying while he bowed to her and left, “The children’s nurse and their maid share this room. The children have the next. The rooms beyond there—they aren’t reached from here but only from the yard—are Benedict’s and Master Geoffrey’s. Benedict is Lady Blaunche’s son, and Master Geoffrey the household clerk and anything else he’s needed for. He’s with Lady Blaunche now…”

  She trailed off that line of talk, her eyes busy about the room. “I’ll give order to have a towel and basin brought for your and Dame Claire’s own use, and Nurse and the maid take turns sleeping the night in the children’s room so there’s a bed for you and Dame Claire to share. I don’t even know why there are two beds in here…” She broke off again, saying with sudden worry, “Or would you rather I had a mattress brought and one of you sleep on the floor?”

  ‘I don’t mind the floor,“ Frevisse said. ”That might be best.“ After last night with Mistress Avys’ and Mistress Dionisia’s snoring, she was longing for the solitude of her bed at St. Frideswide’s; anywhere to lie down would, at this moment, be acceptable, she was so tired.

  Katherine gave a crisp nod much like Mistress Dionisia’s. “I’ll see to that, too, and—”

  ‘Katherine,“ Frevisse said quietly, stopping her in mid-sentence and would have added there was no need to worry, she and Dame Claire would do well enough, but before she could, Katherine caught a quick breath and said on a short laugh and a smile, ”I’m galloping my tongue to market, aren’t I? I’m sorry.“r />
  ‘No need for sorry. Everything has been of a sudden these three days. Will the arbiters and the Allesleys and their people all be staying here, too?“

  ‘I don’t know.“ Katherine sounded surprised at herself. ”No one has said.“

  ‘There’s hardly been time.“

  ‘There hasn’t, has there?“ Katherine sat suddenly down on a joint stool. ”Oh, my, I’m tired. And so must you be.“

  Frevisse was about to take the chance to say that, yes, she was and would not mind being left on her own for a while if Katherine had other things she should be away to see to, when a sudden rise of voices from the yard brought Katherine to her feet and both Frevisse and her to the window side by side in time to see three horsemen draw rein at the foot of the hall steps. Not strangers, Frevisse guessed. For one thing, there had been no warning shout from the gateward, and for another, aside from shifting out of their way and shouted greetings, no one seemed much stirred to see them.

  Two of the riders, by their plain doublets and plain horses, were attendant on the third, a young man in dark riding doublet and tall leather boots, his horse a long-legged, well-bred bay. Horse and boots were well-muddied, as if from hard, fast riding, and so were the other men and horses; but while they looked merely tired, the young man was plainly something much more like angry if his tense seat in his saddle and the abrupt jerk of his head sideways as he answered a question from someone in the yard was anything to judge by.

  ‘Who…“ Frevisse began to ask.

  ‘Benedict,“ Katherine said curtly. ”Lady Blaunche’s son by her second husband.“

  Katherine said the words so near to spitting that Frevisse looked at her, startled. Hands clutched together and between her breasts, the girl was standing tautly, her eyes rigid on the man as he jerked his horse to a stop at the foot of the hall stairs. Frevisse looked back to him in time to see him fling himself from his saddle and his reins at one of the men standing there. Young, fair-haired, a little long of leg perhaps, like a colt still growing, he was not, except for the anger, uncomely. Nor was he much older than Katherine. With a sideways look toward her, Frevisse said carefully, “I wonder what he’s angry at.”

  Staring at him as he went up the hall stairs, Katherine said sharply back, “He’s angry at having failed to cut off my coming home. At having failed to seize me and make me marry him.”

  Openly startled, Frevisse turned toward her. “What?”

  Katherine faced her in return, now as openly angry as Benedict. “Do you really think Lady Blaunche had forgotten her cousin had a manor along that road we were forced to take yesterday because of the gone bridge?”

  ‘She might have…“ Frevisse began, ignoring her own doubt about it.

  ‘There was never Fenner yet forgot where any Fenner land is. What she was protesting was having to go a different way than she had purposed. She—“ Katherine stopped her words short, said instead with a quick curtsy and only a little strangled on the effort to shove her anger down, ”Pray, pardon me. I must needs tell Nurse that you’re here and Lady Blaunche will want to know how the children are. By your leave.“

  She was backing away even as she said it, turned without waiting for Frevisse’s answer and left, going by way of the door toward the nursery.

  Frevisse let her, not having right to bid her stop and in doubt that Katherine would have anyway, angry as she was; but unless Katherine chose to go down the stairs and across the yard, she would have to come back through here and Frevisse spent the while until she did by unpacking her bag and Dame Claire’s, shaking out their spare habits and laying them flat across the foot of one of the beds for the travel’s wrinkles to fall out as best they might. The clean wimples and veils, tightly rolled, had not much rumpled, would do, she thought and laid them beside the habits. Then, with nothing else she could do, she sat herself down on one of the joint stools.

  Prayer should have been a possibility then but instead her thoughts were an unhappy mingling of uncertainty over what to do with herself now she was here, an uncomfortable wondering about how much pleasure she could manage to show when inevitably confronted by Nurse eager to show off Robert’s—three, had he said?—children to her, and— though she tried not to—an even more uncomfortable wondering over what Katherine had said. Because if the girl was right and Lady Blaunche had been plotting with her son to thwart Robert both over Katherine’s marriage and this arbitration that was underway—and if Robert found out— matters here were going to be more difficult than ever she had thought.

  She heard a door snick quietly shut across the landing and stood up, ready when Katherine came back into the room, thankfully alone and composed, pausing to say with a smile, “I told Nurse that you’re tired from travel and wouldn’t want to see the children today. I’ll see to sending someone with warm water and a towel now.”

  She was going for the tower door before she finished speaking but Frevisse said, “Mistress Katherine, a moment please.”

  Already past her, Katherine stopped short, visibly drew a deep, steadying breath, and turned, not bothering to feign any smile now, to face her again.

  Not smiling either, Frevisse asked, “How do you know a forced marriage is what Lady Blaunche and her son intended against you?”

  Katherine’s eyes darkened with anger as she answered, her voice edged, “Because of yesterday. Beginning with how more angry than upset she was when we first found out the bridge was gone. And then she lied.”

  ‘About being afraid of nowhere to stay, you mean.“

  ‘She never forgot that manor was there. And then I overheard her trying to send Jack somewhere.“

  ‘You followed her deliberately to overhear her, didn’t you?“

  ‘If she’d wanted Jack for something usual, she’d have sent one of us after him, not gone herself. By then I was beginning to be afraid. I didn’t know of what. Just afraid. And then I heard her trying to order him to go somewhere.“

  ‘You think to Benedict. To tell him where we were,“ Frevisse said.

  ‘I think so, yes. But Jack wouldn’t go. He’s more Master Fenner’s man than Lady Blaunche’s, and Master Fenner had given orders the men weren’t to leave us for any reason. So Jack wouldn’t.“ In the relief of saying it all aloud to someone, Katherine was talking rapidly now. ”Then she was willing to dine with the bailiff and his wife in the hall. That wasn’t like her, either. Tired as I know she had to be and little as she likes to spend time on ’lesser‘ folk, she should have been more than willing to have her supper in bed.“

  ‘She was maybe merely being well-mannered.“

  ‘No, she wasn’t,“ Katherine said flatly. ”She was seeking a chance to talk alone with the man, to set him to send someone, or go himself, to Benedict.“

  ‘And you kept her from it.“

  ‘Yes.“ Katherine shivered. ”I had to.“

  ‘Would it be so bad to marry Benedict?“ Frevisse asked gently. ”At least he’s someone you know.“ Or was that the trouble?

  Katherine drew a deep breath, gazing past Frevisse as if into her own thoughts before she said carefully, “I know him and there’s nothing amiss with him. But…” She looked at Frevisse, pleading for her to understand. “We don’t suit. We simply… don’t.”

  ‘It may be the same with the Allesley marriage if it goes through.“

  ‘I know. But Master Fenner needs that marriage. Lady Blaunche hates that he’s willing to have anything to do with the Allesleys, has fought him at every step, but it has to be done, and if my marriage is what…“ Her voice broke. She had to stop to steady it, and went on, ”My marrying Benedict would serve no purpose but Lady Blaunche’s greed.“

  Frevisse hesitated but, having gone so far into what was no business of hers, went further. “Will you tell Master Fenner?”

  Katherine paused in her turn, before saying carefully, “From how angry he was at Lady Blaunche in the yard just now, I’d guess he knows already.”

  Frevisse had not noticed Robert was angry in th
e yard just now but that was maybe because she had been too busy being grateful to be done with riding to heed much else. “How would he know?” she asked.

  ‘He could guess easily enough. He knows Lady Blaunche’s mind as well as anyone does. It was partly their quarreling over the Allesley marriage and Benedict that set him to take me to St. Frideswide’s in the first place. Then if Benedict disappeared from here while Lady Blaunche was gone for me—and surely Benedict did and without any word to anyone because he doesn’t lie well…“ Katherine’s voice rose, fear and anger twisted together in it. ”That’s all Master Fenner would need to guess the rest and by then there was nothing he could do about it!“

  ‘He should have foreseen the treachery,“ Frevisse said.

  ‘He trusts,“ Katherine said, as if made angry by it. ”He believes in the good until the bad is forced on him.“

  ‘Couldn’t he have sent men after Benedict?“

  ‘To where? He couldn’t know Lady Blaunche purposed to come back from the nunnery the same way she’d gone. I wouldn’t have, if I’d been planning it. And how long was Benedict gone before Robert knew about it? If Benedict had too great a lead…“

  Katherine broke off, hands pressed over her mouth, eyes shut, until she had steadied. Then she dropped her hands and said, subdued, her eyes toward the floor, “Your pardon, my lady. This isn’t anything I should be troubling you with.”

  ‘I asked.“

  ‘And have kindly listened. But it’s done. They failed and we’re safely here.“ Katherine swept down in a low curtsy and came out of it moving toward the tower door, saying over her shoulder as she went, ”I pray you pardon me, I’ve other things I should see to,“ and was gone.

  Chapter 8

  Not much ere sunset, while Ned was gathering Masters Durant and Hotoft and their men to ride with him to his manor for the night, word came that the Allesleys were indeed arrived at the bishop of Coventry’s grange where they were to stay the nights, hardly farther off than Ned’s manor though in a somewhat different direction and bespoke for them by the duke of Buckingham, both he and the bishop being often together on the royal council, making double point by this favor to Sir Lewis that he had strong backers to be reckoned with.