“I think I have a better name than mine, dearest Tom,” she told him. “I think we should call our ship
He nodded. “Aye, I like it.
The following morning they took Philippa to court, leaving her with Lucy to find Cecily FitzHugh. They then went on to Goldsmiths’ Row, where the banking of the day was conducted. Lord Cambridge introduced his cousin to Master Jacobs, his goldsmith. Rosamund put her signature upon a piece of parchment several times so the goldsmith would have it to compare with any message purporting to come from her. Lord Cambridge had brought Master Jacobs a copy of his last will and testament for safekeeping and so that the goldsmith would know that Rosamund and her daughters were his heirs. He brought the agreement they had both signed for their enterprise, giving the goldsmith a copy of it, too.
“My cousin and I will both be depositing funds and withdrawing them, Master Jacobs,” he told the goldsmith. “Lady Rosamund is a large landowner in Cumbria, where I now make my home.”
“What will you use the ship for, my lord?” the goldsmith asked.
“We will export my cousin’s woolen cloth to Europe. There is none finer, and the Friarsgate Blue will be the most sought after,” Tom explained.
“What will your ship return with in exchange?” the goldsmith inquired.
“Tom!” Rosamund said. “We have not considered another kind of cargo. We cannot have our vessel returning with an empty hole. There is but half-profit in that.”
“I have relations in both Holland and the Baltic, my lord, my lady. For a small percentage of your profits, they could fill your ship for its return journey,” Master Jacobs said.
“It can be nothing that stinks,” Rosamund said. “We would never get the smell out of the wood of the hole. The next shipment of cloth would pick up the aroma. No hides or cheeses. Wine. Wood. Pottery. Gold. But nothing that would leave a noxious fragrance. My captain will have such orders, Master Jacobs. He will take no cargo that smells.”
“Of course, my lady. Now I comprehend your need for a new vessel. The fee I suggest is fifteen percent,” he told her, smiling. “It is a modest fee.”
Rosamund shook her head. “Nay,” she said in a hard voice. “It is too much.”
“Twelve,” he countered, and seeing the look in her eye quickly said, “Ten is the lowest I can go, my lady.” His mouth puckered nervously.
“Eight percent and not a penny more, Master Jacobs. I am being generous with you for the sake of your long- standing arrangement with my cousin. We have built the ship, grown the wool, and woven the cloth. The risk is all ours. Eight percent for bringing in return cargo is more than fair.”
The goldsmith’s pursed lips turned up into a smile. “Agreed, my lady!” he said. Then he turned to Lord Cambridge. “She both bargains and reasons well, old friend.”
“Indeed she does,” Tom said proudly.
“What are we to do about a factor?” Rosamund asked him when they were once more in their barge on the river.
“I think there is time for that,” Lord Cambridge said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we need not find someone on this visit to London. My instincts tell me to wait.”
“Your instincts have always proven reliable before,” Rosamund said. “We will wait.”
The following day the court decamped Westminster Palace and London for Windsor, where the king was looking forward to a summer of hunting in his green park. They rode with the royal progress, Lucy, Tom’s man, and the cart with their belongings mixed in with the baggage train and their own men-at-arms. Philippa rode with her friend Cecily FitzHugh and Rosamund and Tom with the Earl and Countess of Renfrew.
The earl was a large man with gray eyes and sandy-colored hair. His wife was petite and dark-haired with fine blue eyes.
“I remember your late husband, Sir Owein,” Ned told Rosamund as they traveled. “He was an honorable man and a devoted servant to the House of Tudor. I, too, have Welsh blood.”
“Owein barely remembered the place of his birth, my lord. He went into service as Jasper Tudor’s page when he was but six,” Rosamund told her companion.
“My wife and I spend more time at court now than in the marches,” the earl admitted. “Our son and his wife need to learn how to manage the family estates. It will be theirs one day. Tom tells me you have a large holding in the north.”
“Friarsgate,” Rosamund said. “My parents and brother perished when I was three. I became the heiress to Friarsgate. Philippa is my heiress. I have land, cattle, and many sheep, my lord. Now Tom and I have begun a new venture, exporting my fine woolen cloth. We are building our own ship, for the cloth must be transported carefully.”
“And your daughter will inherit all of it one day,” the earl said.
“Aye,” Rosamund replied. “Her second sister, Banon, will inherit Otterly from Tom. As for my youngest daughter, Elizabeth, she will be given a very large dower portion. I seek a title for her.”
The Earl of Renfrew nodded, understanding completely. Family connections were very important. “My second son, Giles-” he began.
Rosamund interrupted him. “Philippa is too young, my lord, for me even to consider it yet, but I thank you. When she is old enough, in another three years, perhaps your son will still be available, and we may speak.”
“You are a good mother,” the earl told Rosamund.
They reached Windsor, where Tom had provided them with an entire floor of a fashionable inn. He had even arranged housing for the men-at-arms, telling them if they wished to earn extra coin they might hire themselves out. They must, however, be prepared to depart Windsor in late July, when Rosamund wished to return home. They hardly saw Philippa, for she and her new friend were part of a group of young girls of good families following the progress. They rode to the hunt during the day and spent part of the evening dancing and playing games. Philippa had never known such a life existed, but she liked the court far better than her mother ever had and said so.
“It will be so dull to return to Friarsgate,” she said one morning as she prepared to depart for the day’s hunt.
“Nonetheless, it is where you belong for now, my daughter,” Rosamund replied.
“Oh, mama! You treat me like a child, and I am no longer a child!” Philippa cried.
“You are ten years of age,” Rosamund said stiffly, “and a long way from being grown, whatever you may believe.”
Philippa rolled her eyes at her mother and emitted a deep sigh.
“We cannot go home too soon,” she told Tom after she had repeated the conversation to him. “I see Philippa has a stubborn streak in her that must be controlled.”
“I wonder where she has gotten that,” he murmured, casting his eyes heavenwards.
“Tom! I always did my duty when I was her age,” Rosamund protested.
“I cannot say, dear girl, for we were not acquainted then,” he told her with a grin.
“Edmund will tell you it is so,” Rosamund said heatedly.
“We are departing in another few days, cousin,” he soothed. “Let her have her fun. Soon enough she will be back in the hall studying with her sisters and Father Mata.”
“And the sooner, the better,” Rosamund muttered. Philippa was suddenly making her feel very old.
Windsor Castle was a most impressive castle. It sat upon a hilltop overlooking green meadows and lush woodlands, the Thames River below it. The castle had been begun by the Normans in the year 1080. It was one in a nexus of nine castles being built to encircle and protect London. In the beginning it was no more than a wooden keep used as a hunting lodge by its Norman kings. The first of the Plantagenet kings, Henry II, rebuilt the castle in stone. Runnymede Meadow, where King John had signed the Magna Carta, was nearby. In the year 1216 Windsor had withstood a great siege. Henry III, John’s son, had the damage repaired and enlarged the royal apartments as well. A fire in 1296 destroyed much of Henry’s rebuilding.
Edward III, born at Windsor, loved the castle and did much to add to its beauty and its use. Silver-gray stone from a nearby quarry at Bagshot was used in the new walls and buildings. Edward IV began building a magnificent chapel he dedicated to St. George, but it was not finished in his reign. His grandson, Henry VIII, was now in the
