Extract from THE CROWNLESS QUEEN
Chapter 1
Royal Palace of Woodstock, Oxfordshire January 1361
Extract from THE CROWNLESS QUEENAlive in the pure joy of the moment, Jeanette laughed, as Prince Edward, the King’s eldest son, grasped her hand and swept her into the dance. The circles of revellers, rotated in opposite directions like cogs in a mill. Edward’s sanguine velvet sleeve brushed hers of pearl-encrusted silk, and the folds of their clothing kissed and parted as they moved.
A pendant gleamed in the hollow of Jeanette’s throat, depicting her device of a kneeling white doe collared with a crown, and on a gold chain below it, a second pendant bore the blue and gold lion device of her husband, Thomas Holland, Earl of Kent, currently on duty in Normandy. She was missing him desperately. Edward was her dear friend and a fine dancer, but even while she took pleasure in the moment, her steps were in honour of her absent lord.
Edward clasped her waist as the circles reversed direction. Hop and kick and sway and pivot. At thirty-four years old and mother to four children, Jeanette was no longer the lissom girl who had danced in latticed red shoes at court in Flanders more than twenty years ago; yet, through and between the storms of life, her essence remained true to that image. Her shoes tonight were crimson-red as she made the steps with light, creative precision.
The dance ended on a clap and a flourish. The men escorted their partners from the floor to make way for a troupe of acrobats clad in motley costumes of scarlet and yellow, adorned with jingling silver bells. Pleasantly breathless, Jeanette allowed Edward to lead her to his own bench and make an intimate space for her at his side.
‘You still dance well,’ he said with a playful grin.
‘So do you.’ He was her second cousin; she had known him since childhood. Mostly she regarded him as platonic kin, but sometimes a flirtatious moment would dazzle between them – over in an instant but gleaming along the edge of their relationship like a blade. Her husband Thomas encompassed her world and always would. Edward was the future king and would make a dynastic union at his father’s dictate. They both realised the danger and were careful of the boundaries, but she was unafraid and certain of her own heart.
Vigorously applauding as an acrobat’s fluffy white dog leaped through a garland of ivy and evergreen, she glanced across the room to the group of children watching the entertainment, supervised by their nurses and a couple of squires. Her sons, Tom, and Johan, aged ten and eight sat on the floor at the front, legs crossed, with their sister, four-year old Maud. The youngest, Joannie, almost two, had been left in the family chamber with her nurse. Maud leaned against Tom’s shoulder, sucking her thumb, and twiddling a lock of her bright brown hair. Jeanette decided that once the performance ended, it would be time for her to retire too. Tom had made room at his other side for Alys FitzAlan, one of the daughters of the earl of Arundel, to give her a better view of the entertainment.
‘I have been thinking,’ Edward said, following Jeanette’s glance, ‘if your husband agrees, it may be time for my eldest godson to join my household as a squire – later this year perhaps. It would be my pleasure to train him.’
Jeanette regarded Tom with proud and tender affection. He was as quick as a deer, long-limbed, and handsome. His hair, darker than hers, lighter than his father’s was a rich tawny-gold, his eyes the same, and the effect was leonine and striking.
The time was indeed coming for him to leave home to train in the household of a great lord and who better than his godfather, Edward Prince of Wales, whose enclave was a by-word for chivalry, and whose military prowess was sung everywhere? He would receive an exemplary education, but oh, she would miss him. It was not as though they had never been apart – sometimes she had followed her husband overseas on tours of duty where bringing the children had been impractical. But they had been infants then, and this was an irrevocable step into manhood that would change everything.
‘You must speak to Thomas when he returns from Rouen,’ she said. ‘I am sure he will be keen to agree and honoured that you ask. I know Tom will be well-trained and you will keep him safe.’
‘That goes without saying.’ Edward looked fondly amused at her concern. ‘You know he is as a son to me – Indeed I regard your children as mine in all but name and siring. Tell both your boys I will take them with me on the hunt tomorrow.’ He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it, before they both returned their attention to the acrobats, who had increased the stakes and were now juggling with knives and flaming torches.
Before retiring to her chamber, Jeanette visited Queen Philippa who had retired early from the banquet. When Jeanette arrived at the royal apartments, the queen was in bed, propped up against a riot of colourful silk pillows. A loose robe of purple velvet edged with ermine enfolded her body, and her hair lay over her ample breasts in two iron-grey plaits. A fall from a horse while hunting several years ago had resulted in a broken shoulder and the injury had healed badly, leaving her in constant pain, especially if she had to stand for prolonged periods bearing the weight of the heavily decorated robes expected of her rank. She kept to her chamber more often these days, although her sharp eye still pierced the doings of the court, assisted by reports from trusted attendants.
Her oldest daughter, Isabelle, sat at her bedside, reading to her from a book of chivalric romances, but the moment she saw Jeanette, set the book aside, and hurried to embrace her and indicated she should take her vacated chair.
‘Madam, I have come to see how you are faring,’ Jeanette said when she had risen from her curtsey.
Philippa’s face was taut with strain, but she smiled, and a muted sparkle shone in her dark eyes. ‘I am well enough, my dear. I shall not complain, for it will make no difference except to dull my mood. I am sorry your husband is not here to celebrate The festive season with us, but he will be home before long.’
‘I hope so, Madam. I do miss him when he is away.’ Indeed, the lack of Thomas’s presence was a dull ache inside her.
‘Of course you do, and I know he would have enlivened the company. I remember the time he rode that big black warhorse of his into the hall and made it bow before the King.’
Both women smiled at the memory. One of the queen’s damsels presented Jeanette with a cup of hot spiced wine.
‘My little Namesake, Pippa,’ said the queen fondly. ‘You remember Paon Roet from my chamber? This is his youngest daughter and what a boon she is to me.’
‘I do indeed, Madam,’ Jeanette inclined her head and Pippa blushed and curtseyed.
‘Her sister, Katherine serves in John and Blanche’s household,’ Philippa added, referring to her third son and his wife. ‘They are both such good, attentive girls, as I would expect of Paon’s daughters.’
‘Better behaved than I was I warrant,’ Jeanette said with a smile.
Isabelle laughed, as did Philippa, albeit wryly. ‘That would not be difficult at times. Certainly, you got into some scrapes, and you were so irresponsible – but I never doubted what was in your heart.’
‘You married for love,’ Isabelle said with admiration. ‘And you fought to hold on to that love – you taught me to be truthful to myself.’
Pippa regarded the three women, wide-eyed with avid curiosity and the queen’s smile developed a fixed quality.
Jeanette hesitated, wondering how to reply. She had married Thomas in secret when she was barely a woman, but then he had gone to war, and her mother had led her to believe he had died in battle and forced her into a bigamous marriage with William Montagu, now Earl of Salisbury but back then, a boy of thirteen. Soon afterwards, Thomas had returned, wounded, but very much alive. The Montagu family had refused to recognise the validity of the first marriage and had locked her up. She and Thomas had fought their way through nine years of legal wrangling before the pope had eventually declared in their favour. Queen Philippa had belatedly chosen to support their cause because it suited her purpose at the time, but the King had been ambivalent at best and coldly opposed at worst. Prince Edward, however, had been a staunch ally throughout, and later, had strengthened his support by standing godfather to their sons. Isabelle, a witness to that long struggle, had staged her own defiance. When her parents arranged a marriage for her, she repudiated the groom and refused to consent, until finally her exasperated mother and father had conceded defeat. Now thirty, she remained unwed and was the senior lady of her mother’s chamber.
‘Yes, I did marry for love,’ Jeanette said at last, ‘But I was fortunate.’
‘More than fortunate.’ Philippa eased herself on her pillows, looking wistful. ‘You and Thomas have grown together, not apart as so often happens. God decides our fates and who knows what will follow each day from the next. So much can change in a heartbeat,’ She winced. ‘I need to rest now, but you must visit again tomorrow and bring the children. I would like to see them.’
‘Of course, Madam.’ Jeanette rose and curtseyed and young Pippa Roet escorted her to the door. Isabelle followed to see her out and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s good to have you at court,’ she said.
‘And I am glad to be here among so many friends.’
Returning to her lodging, escorted by one of Philippa’s squires, Jeanette pondered the queen’s words. In ten years of marriage to Thomas, they had gone from struggling on his soldier’s wage, to a life of power and magnificence. Her beloved brother John had died childless of the pestilence, and they had inherited vast swathes of land and entitlements. Where Thomas had once had to borrow money and rely on the king for handouts, he was now the one to whom men came for loans, cap in hand, even the king. Never had they been so influential or prosperous. They had four beautiful children and their love for each other had remained as strong and as fiery as fortified burgundy wine. Thomas had lost his beloved brother Otto a year ago during a battle campaign and Thomas had still been mourning that loss when he departed for Rouen and it had been a grim reminder that Fortune’s Wheel was a fickle, terrifying thing. Everything, nothing, and everything.
Arriving at her chamber, she thanked her escort, and once her chamber lady, Hawise had taken her cloak and helped her undress to her shift, she went to look at her sleeping children, illuminated by the soft glow of the night lantern. Joannie was flat on her tummy in her crib, her little cheek flushed in slumber. Jeanette leaned over to gently tuck the fur coverlet around her shoulders, then moved on to Maud, curled up in Jeanette’s bed with the family terrier, Hal, and Thomas’s black gazehound, Nimble.
Her sons shared a bed beyond hers. Johan was sound asleep, sprawled on his back, limbs in abandonment, but the lantern light reflected a glint from Tom’s eyes, watching her.
‘Have you said your prayers?’ she asked softly.
‘Yes, mama.’
‘Your Godfather wishes you and your brother to join the hunt with him tomorrow. I think you will like that.’
Even in the grainy light she saw his face brighten with pleasure. He was so ready to try his wings beyond the nest and these days at court were a good introduction. The final say could wait on his father’s return. Leaning over, she kissed his brow and stroked his hair. Of all the things Thomas had given her and she to him, this firstborn child was one of the most precious. ‘My handsome son,’ she said, and he smiled at her sleepily.
A few moments later, Jeanette climbed into bed beside her daughter and the dogs, blew out the light and pulled the fur cover over her shoulder against the chill. She missed her husband’s warm, strong body beside her. Setting one hand over her womb, she hoped when he returned, they might, in the joy of reunion, make another child between them; there was room in the nest, and she would never tire of seeing his essence in the faces of their offspring.