ASilverMirror (3 page)

Because she had been thinking about Guy’s clumsy attempts on
her, Barbara recalled Joanna’s last words and her blush. She realized that
something had happened between her aunt and uncle. When she had been part of
their household, Joanna and Hugh had been comfortable together but more like
polite acquaintances than devoted husband and wife. Though both had done their
marital duty and produced children, nothing in their relationship, even three
years ago, could have called a blush to Joanna’s cheek.

Add to that blush Joanna’s urging a second marriage on her
and Barbara decided that whatever had happened was very good. It was also none
of her business, Barbara thought, so all she said was “It just came to me that
young Simon was not really trying to seduce me at all and Guy, that idiot, was
only after me to imitate his brother.”

“I do not believe it,” Joanna said with a smile. “You have
never come to see that you are now a very attractive woman, no longer a scrawny
child with features too big for her face. Why do you say Simon was not
interested in you?”

“Because he was only ardent when Aliva le Despenser was
there to see him,” Barbara replied, her brows going up in challenge.

“And Guy?” Joanna asked. Then before Barbara answered she
went on, “Do not be a fool, my dear. Make a chance to speak to Leicester at the
first opportunity. Even if Simon was trying to make Aliva jealous, Guy is the
kind who is enraged by refusal. If you leapt at his offer, he would soon be
bored and forget you, but if you deny him, he will desire to break your will.
Now a word from his father hinting that you have taken his advances too
seriously will let Guy turn away from you with contempt. He will enjoy the
notion that he is scorning you and depressing your pretensions, so no ill-will
will linger in him.”

“But I would like to arouse ill-will in that nasty, vicious—
Oh, I cannot even think of a creature I would soil with comparison,” Barbara
protested. “I was about to call him a toad, but I rather like toads. They have
such beautiful eyes.”

“You like all animals,” Joanna chuckled. “I have seen you
avoid stepping on an ant or a slimy worm.”

“You would not see me avoid stepping on Guy,” Barbara
remarked tartly. “Slimy or not, worms are very interesting. Guy is not.” Then
she caught the anxious expression on Joanna’s face and sighed. “I suppose you
are right, but I do not need to think about it while I am with you. Guy will
not come here.”

“No.”

The sudden flatness of Joanna’s voice made Barbara wish she
had stopped after admitting that Joanna was right about telling Leicester as
soon as possible that she believed his son was growing too enamored. She had
meant only that Guy was not interested enough in her to pursue her all the way
to Yorkshire, but it was clear that Joanna had taken the remark to mean that
Guy would not come to a manor of his father’s enemy. And before Barbara could
think of how to explain, Joanna spoke again.

“But I do not think you should be here with me.” Her voice
trembled just a little. “I have done very wrong to allow you to stay so long. I
thought it could not matter for a few days. Hugh was only just gone and you
were such a comfort to me. But I have been a coward to cling to you for three
weeks. You must go back to your father. It would look very bad for him if—”

Her voice stuck on the next word and Barbara rushed
desperately into speech. “There is no reason at all to drive me out, Joanna.
You are just trying to punish me by exposing me to Guy because I will not take
your advice and rush off to France to choose a husband.”

Barbara expected a denial and a heated defense, but her aunt
did not respond other than by an urgent pressure on Barbara’s hand and a sharp
gesture for silence. Joanna’s head tilted and her whole body stiffened in an
attitude of listening. Barbara’s breath caught. She heard it too, now that the sound
of her own voice did not fill her ears. Very faintly from beyond the palisade
and moat she heard the thud of horses’ hooves and a thin ringing of metal
harness. Armed men were passing outside of the manor’s defenses.

Chapter Two

Barbara snatched up her work basket as she leapt to her feet
and then felt a fool, for there was nothing in it that could protect her. The
thought made her feel even more foolish. The troop that had passed was small
and could not be dangerous even to the lightly defended manor house.
Nonetheless, for a moment she was rigid with fear, staring blankly at the wall
until all hint of sound faded. In another moment her panic eased. Barbara
became aware that she was standing beside Joanna still clasping the basket to
her. She put it down on the bench, picked up the sleeve cuff she had been
embroidering, folded it, and tucked it in with the thread, the comb, and the
silver mirror.

“Shall we go in?” she asked, turning to her aunt.

Having recovered from panic herself, Barbara was shocked to
see how pale Joanna had become. She put a hand under her aunt’s arm to support
her, but Joanna’s voice was quite steady when she said, “No, I left word that I
would be in the garden. The guard at the gate will send any messenger here.”

Messenger? Barbara did not repeat the word aloud. A
messenger did not come with an armed troop, and Joanna knew that. But perhaps
the men were only passing the manor. A distant shout—the hail of the guard at
the gate, Barbara was sure, although she could not make out the words—ended
that brief hope and the faint flicker of expectation that it might be her uncle
coming home. The guard would not have questioned him.

“Perhaps you should go in,” Joanna said. “No one need know
you are here.”

“I will not.” Barbara’s response was immediate. “We are
witness for each other if any abuse is offered.”

Joanna did not reply, and Barbara guessed she had not
listened. She was not afraid for herself or for Barbara. Neither moved or spoke
again until Hugh Bigod’s old master-at-arms came through the open gate in the
inner garden wall and hurried toward them. Barbara could feel Joanna’s arm
stiffen in her hand as she braced herself, and her own heart sank again, for
she thought the old man looked frightened.

As soon as he was close enough not to need to shout, he
said, “My lady, the Earl of Norfolk begs admittance.”

“Father?” Barbara exclaimed, feeling an instant of joy and
relief. But then she had to tighten her grip on Joanna, who wavered on her
feet, and both joy and relief fled.

“Yes,” Joanna whispered, clutching at Barbara and as the man
came forward, his head cocked to show he had not heard her, she nodded.

“Yes,” Barbara repeated as she steadied Joanna. “Bid him
enter and come to us here as quickly as he can.”

She helped her aunt to sit down and stood beside her, one
arm around her shoulders. She could think of nothing to say, no comfort to
offer. Tears stood in her eyes and then began slowly to trickle down her
cheeks. If her father had come, the news must be very bad, worse than confiscated
estates. Uncle Hugh must be in prison or hurt or…or dead.

“Hugh is safe, whole and safe.”

Norfolk’s rough bellow, the words shouted from the entrance
gate in his eagerness to give good news, was like heavenly music. Barbara ran
forward to embrace her father. Joanna, who had bounded to her feet, was barely
a step behind.

“It is not all good news,” the earl warned, sliding his left
arm around Barbara’s waist and taking Joanna’s hand in his right.

“He is not wounded?” Joanna asked, and when Norfolk shook his
head, she smiled with clear-eyed joy. “Then I do not care for any other bad
news. If he is taken prisoner, I will find ransom for him. I have my jewels and
my own lands to draw upon—”

“You will need no ransom. Hugh is fled to France.”

“To France—” Joanna looked around as if surprised at finding
herself still in the garden instead of packing. “Then I will go—”

“You will not!” Norfolk exclaimed, dropping Joanna’s hand.
“Fool of a woman! I thought better of you, Joanna. There are more important
considerations than your desire for your husband’s company.”

Color flooded into Joanna’s face. “What would you, of all
men, know of that consideration?” she asked in a voice Barbara had never heard
her use before.

“I know there has been a major battle at Lewes,” Norfolk
roared, “and that any hope the king will ever again rule by his own sweet will,
throwing plums to his favorites, is over for good.”

Pure shock at the cruelty of Joanna’s remark, for her
father’s long unhappiness in his marriage and his attempt to free himself from
it was public knowledge, had held Barbara silent. It was totally
uncharacteristic behavior. Joanna was never cruel. Nor was she ever
sharp-tongued, but now Barbara saw her draw breath, clearly to answer as
angrily as her father had spoken. Before even more unforgivable words were
said, Barbara pushed Joanna back and stepped between her and Norfolk.

“Joanna!” she cried. “Look at my father’s clothes and his
eyes. He has been riding night and day—have you not, Papa? He has come to
protect you and to protect Uncle Hugh as well as he can. You must listen to the
whole story before you decide anything. Let us all go in so Father can sit down
and have some wine.”

“Joanna,” Norfolk said, moderating his tone, “King Henry and
Prince Edward are now Leicester’s prisoners. In fact, nearly every important
supporter of Henry has been taken prisoner. If you go to Hugh in France, your
lands will be swallowed up by Leicester’s followers. I intend to lay claim to
Hugh’s property. After all, it was my mother’s first but I could offer no
reason for taking yours.”

“My son Baldwin will be released from prison now,” Joanna
said angrily. “Will he not be favored with my lands if I go to France? Surely
he deserves at least that since he suffered imprisonment in Leicester’s great
cause. Or is the high and pure Earl of Leicester so little different from the
king he blames? Are you telling me that Leicester too will only gift his own
sons and his powerful supporters with the prizes he wrests from those who
fought honestly for what they believed right?”

“At least his sons have roots in this land,” Norfolk began
hotly, but stopped when Barbara took his arm, turned him about, and gave him a
sharp push.

“Go in, I beg you,” she cried. “I will be on your heels.”
And then, turning to Joanna, “What ails you? Can you not see that you are the
only one who can safely try to win permission for Hugh to return? If my father
or even Baldwin interceded in Hugh’s behalf, his loyalty would come into
question at once. You are no threat, and Leicester will think it right and
proper for a wife to try to arrange for her husband’s pardon. Come, Joanna,
gather up our sewing, then go and lie down for a little time and recover from
your fright. I will see to my father’s care. His temper will also be better for
a rest, a clean gown, and a cup of wine.”

Joanna raised her hands to her face for a moment and uttered
a stifled sob, but she dropped them and turned back toward the bench where they
had been sitting. As soon as she was sure Joanna would do as she had asked,
Barbara ran quickly after her father. She caught up with him outside of the
garden. He was staring at the handsome stone manor house from which a
thatch-roofed walk extended to the kitchen building. Voices and laughter
drifted from the latter, mingling with the occasional bark of a dog from the
kennel attached to the near side of the barn and stable across the courtyard
and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer from his shed just beyond the
pens for animals fattening for slaughter.

“Hugh has done well with this place,” he said when she took
his arm.

“It is a great favorite with all of us.” Barbara tugged at
him gently, and he walked with her toward the house. “One can see out across
the hills from the windows of the hall. Come, you will feel better when you
have shed that mail and filled your belly.”

“Will I?”

“Of course you will.” She hugged his arm affectionately to
her side. “You know you are always cross when you miss a meal, and I am sure
you have missed more than one, coming in haste from Norfolk.”

He raised a hand to pull at a thick curl that had snaked its
way through the net of gold silk that, as usual, was losing the battle of
controlling her hair. “I have not missed any meals, but I admit they were not
such as I cared to linger over.”

“Well, that is the same,” Barbara said, releasing his arm so
he could climb the narrow stair to the open door. “Go up, Papa, do. As soon as
you have eaten, you will see that matters could be worse.”

He laughed harshly at that, but climbed the stair without any
other reply. Normally Barbara would have taken him into Joanna’s solar, but her
father and her aunt would be better apart for a while and Joanna’s bed was in
the solar. Thus, Barbara gestured to one of the dozen or so menservants, who
were busy about various duties in the hall. The man hurried to her and began to
help the earl remove his mail while Barbara ran across the hall into the solar.
There she opened a clothes chest from which she drew a surcoat and tunic, a
fine linen shirt, and thin, footed woolen chausses.

Norfolk was stripped to shirt and hose when she came back
and was standing at a window with its shutters open to the sweet spring air and
sun. He shook his head when she asked if he wanted a bath, and continued to
stare out toward the hills, bright green with spring growth beyond the plowed
fields, until the manservant brought a basin of water for washing and a towel.

Turning at Barbara’s touch, he pulled off his shirt and
scrubbed his broad, hairy torso with the washing cloth, then let Barbara dry
him and slip the clean shirt over his head. When she had tied the sleeves, he
pushed off his undergarments under the shirt and sat down in the short window
seat. The manor house was a substantial building, but its walls were nowhere
near the ten- or twelve-foot thickness of a keep’s. There was room in the inlet
bays that held the arched windows for only a single wooden seat on either side.

As Barbara knelt to pull off her father’s chausses and fit
the feet of the fresh pair on, he turned his head sharply. Barbara looked up
also and saw Joanna pass among the workers and idlers—who sought suddenly to
look busy—through the hall and into the solar.

“What the devil has got into her?” Norfolk asked his
daughter.

“I am not sure, Papa.” Barbara pulled the fresh chausses up
to her father’s knees, letting go when he took the garment from her and got up
to draw it up to his waist. “But…”

He looked down. “But?” he echoed, making clear that he
wanted to hear any idea Barbara had, which was not always the case.

“I think she has fallen in love with Hugh.”

“Fallen—”

The word came out in a roar, and Barbara jumped to her feet
and put her hand over her father’s mouth.

“You silly filly,” he went on, but much more softly. “She
has been Hugh’s wife for twenty years. Is it not a little late for ‘love’? You
have been reading those stupid tales again and are growing addle-witted.”

“Papa!”

“
Merde
!” He turned away toward the window again. “If
I had known that Queen Marguerite would take it into her head to have you
taught to read, I would never have left you with her in France. You are
spoiled. And I am at fault too. I should have married you properly as soon as I
brought you home, instead of allowing you to—”

Barbara put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Now, Papa,
you are not at fault. We have talked before of the complications of getting me
married because my lands are in France and I am in King Louis’s gift. Forget
about it. I have been content, and I am not dreaming of love. I know it seems
strange to say that Joanna has fallen in love with the husband she has had for
twenty years, but I have good reason to think so. In any case, she is different
from when I lived with her and Uncle Hugh. She never really cared then whether
he was with her or not. Now she cannot bear to be parted from him. Papa, would
it really matter so much if she went to France?”

Norfolk turned around, but he did not answer his daughter’s
question at once, remaining silent as Barbara pulled on and laced his tunic,
slipped the tabard-style surcoat over it, and fastened that with a supple
leather belt. He glanced at his sword belt, which lay across the opposite
window seat, then around at the hall, but there were only unarmed servants
about. His men at the gate and in the courtyard would make sure now that no armed
men came in to attack him, and he let his sword lie where it was.

“Now you listen to me, chick,” he said at last. “I came here
for a double purpose, only partly for Hugh’s good. The other part is for the
good of the realm—as
I
see it. I swear to you that I love Hugh and do
not wish to see his property despoiled. I intend to have it whole and safe for
him on the day he can win a pardon for his misguided support of Henry. But I
also intend to make a pardon his only way back to England.”

“But what has that to do with Joanna?” Barbara asked. “She…
Oh, dear sweet Mary, will you hold Aunt Joanna hostage for Uncle Hugh’s
behavior?”

“Yes,” Norfolk said, then laughed suddenly at the stricken
expression on his daughter’s face. “But I promise you I do not intend to hang
Joanna if Hugh works for an invasion or even leads one. In fact, I will take an
oath to keep Joanna safe, protect her and the younger children and her lands—by
force of arms, if necessary—if she should be declared a traitor for her
husband’s crimes, and—”

“Oh, thank you, Father,” Barbara burst out before she
thought. An instant later she drew in an appalled gasp and cried, “Papa! You
are a monster!”

“So?”

“You know that will tie Uncle Hugh’s hands even tighter
because then whatever he does will get you in trouble too.”

“Not whatever he does. If he strives for the settlement that
Leicester has proposed, which will include pardons for all those who will
accept the Provisions of Oxford, no one will be in trouble.”