XIII
Four days later Eleyne presented herself before the king wearing one of her new gowns. When Robert had seen it, he had gone white with anger.
‘Where did you get the money for that? Sweet Christ’s bones, do you think you still live in the style of your former life? You will bankrupt me, madam.’
Eleyne refrained from mentioning that her husband’s mantle was also new, the third she had seen since they had arrived in London, and that the money for it came from her coffers.
‘It was a gift, sir,’ she said with a cold smile, ‘from the Queen of Scots.’
‘Indeed. In that case I suppose we must be thankful for her generosity.’ He scowled with bad grace and was still scowling when they arrived at the Palace of Westminster.
This time he could not speak to the king alone, and she was acutely conscious of Robert at her shoulder when she asked her question. ‘The matter we spoke of last week, your grace. Do you have it for me?’
Henry looked at her, his expression puzzled. ‘What matter, niece?’
‘The pardon, sire.’
‘The pardon?’ He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Ah, yes, the pardon. I have had no chance to think about it, ask me again next week.’
‘But your grace – ’
‘Next week!’ He squinted up at her. ‘I have not decided yet whether I am going to grant the woman a pardon at all. I have to make enquiries…’
Eleyne was speechless for a few seconds. ‘But you promised – ’
‘I did not promise anything, Lady Chester.’ He emphasised the formal address. ‘I shall think about it. Next week.’
Out of the corner of her eye Eleyne saw that Robert was frowning, his mouth tight with anger. ‘But, my lord king, uncle, please listen – ’
‘Leave us!’ Henry snapped so loudly that men and women below the dais fell silent and stared up at the group of figures around the king’s high seat. He turned to a messenger who had just come in. ‘Well, what is it, man?’
Eleyne was dismissed. She drew breath, stunned by his betrayal, but the gasped message of the man who had dropped to his knees in front of the king stopped her short as she turned away.
‘It is the Queen of Scots, sire. She is dying!’
Henry rose. ‘What did you say?’
‘Your sister is dying, sire! She was to have left for Scotland today, but she was taken ill in the night. This morning she went into a convulsion and now she lies near to death.’
‘No.’ Eleyne’s whispered protest went unheard.
The king looked at the messenger as if he could not understand what the man was saying. ‘My sister?’ he repeated under his breath, ‘Near to death? But how? She was well. She came to bid me farewell only two days ago. She was to take messages from me to the King of Scots. I gave her gifts -’ He shook his head, trying to absorb what the man had said. ‘Are there physicians with her?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘And don’t they know what is wrong? Can’t they help her, for Sweet Christ’s sake!’
‘They say she is beyond help, your grace. Only divine intervention can save her now.’ The messenger crossed himself, and the king and those around him followed suit.
‘I must go to her.’ Eleyne was one of the first to recover from the shock. ‘Please, uncle, let me go to her now.’
He nodded vaguely. ‘And I. The queen and I shall go to her bedside. Poor Joanna – ’
At a run Eleyne threaded her way down through the crowded hall to the door, leaving Robert standing at the king’s side.
The huge courtyard was milling with people and there was no sign of the de Quincy horses. She saw two knights riding in through the main gateway, both mounted on high-stepping horses, fresh from their stables. Gathering her new scarlet skirts above the mud, she ran towards them.
‘Please, sirs, will one of you lend me your horse and the other ride with me to the Tower? It is a matter of life and death.’ Her hand was already on the bridle of the horse nearest to her.
The man gaped at her, then his face broke into a grin. He didn’t know this vision in scarlet, but the huge green eyes and beautiful face were enough. ‘Of course, my lady. For you, anything!’ He slid from the horse and handed her up into the high saddle. ‘Escort the lady wherever she wants to go, Edmund,’ he called to his companion. ‘If she wants to ride to furthest Cathay itself, take her there with my blessing!’ He swept a low bow.
Eleyne touched her hand to her lips, automatically reacting to his handsome good humour, but already she was kicking the horse out past the king’s guard towards the bridge over the Tyburn away from Westminster, towards the City of London. Edmund cantered at her side. ‘Sir Edmund de Merton, at your service, my lady,’ he called. ‘May I ask what quest we ride on so frantically?’
‘The Queen of Scots is dying,’ Eleyne cried. ‘She is my aunt and I love her.’
Sir Edmund kicked his horse to keep up with her, but she had drawn away from him, urging her mount through the traffic of wagons and carts which thronged the road. He found it hard to keep up, but when at last they reached the Tower he was still at her side. Eleyne threw herself from the horse. ‘Thank you.’ The smile she turned on Edmund as she flung the reins of the borrowed animal at him was so full of sadness that he stood still, stunned. Then she was gone.
Joanna lay in the darkened room, surrounded by her servants. She was completely still, seeming barely able to breathe beneath the velvet bedcoverings. The men and women around her stood back as Eleyne approached the bed on tiptoe and took Joanna’s hand. It was cold.
‘She cannot hear you, my lady,’ Auda whispered through her tears as Eleyne breathed Joanna’s name. ‘She is sinking fast.’
‘But how? Why? How can she be dying?’
An old man in the black robe and carrying the staff of a physician stepped forward.
‘The queen has been ill often, my lady. She has a fever in her womb. It was that condition that deprived her of children and it was to cure it that she made her pilgrimage to Canterbury. It seems,’ he crossed himself, ‘that it was too late even for St Thomas’s intervention.’
‘But she was better, she told me she was better.’
‘She told you what she hoped, my lady. She could not accept the truth.’
Joanna died as the early dusk fell across the city beyond the high walls of the great castle. The king, her brother, Queen Eleanor and Eleyne were at her bedside, with her entire household ranged behind them. Most were crying softly, but Joanna knew nothing of it. Her life slipped away so gently that for a while no one realised she had gone.
On the table beside the bed stood a small empty box. The length of green silk which had tied it lay beside it, in a dust of sugared crumbs.
XIV
‘You deceived me!’ Robert lifted his hand again and struck her across the face. He had come to her room soon after their return from Joanna’s deathbed. ‘Running to the king and begging for a pardon for that woman! How dare you defy me! Do you wish to make me a laughing stock?’ He raised his hand again.
Eleyne faced him, her eyes blazing. ‘Rhonwen is my servant. My nurse. If I chose to speak to the king about her it is none of your business.’
