Rivals for the Crown (4 page)

Isabel nodded again. She knew what the court was. She'd been born in the shadow of a royal palace, where her father had been a clerk of the Wardrobe. Despite its name, the entity had little to do with clothing. The Wardrobe handled all the financial dealings of the king's household. The servants, garments, and accoutrements of the king and queen, of course, but much more, for the Wardrobe equipped not only the royal household but the king's armies as well. The Wardrobe was responsible for purchasing, dispensing and storing large supplies of
armour
, bows, swords, spears, lances, and other weapons, as well as the horses and the servants to care for it all.

Her mother was head seamstress for the queen, with a staff of five, and rooms at Windsor and here at Westminster. Isabel had spent most of her young years roaming the halls of royal palaces, invisible to the royal family and the nobles who frequented those halls. She had watched them with fascination, as a child mimicking their accents and manners for her mother's and grandmother's

amusement. But all of that had changed now, for she would serve the queen.

Eleanor of Castile was wife to King Edward, a lion of a man. Once Isabel had admired him. Now she hated him. Edward was a pitiless king, one year a champion of the Jews, another year expelling them from their homes. She would never forgive him for his casual cruelty. Eleanor, on the other hand, had taken the time occasionally to talk with her seamstress's daughter. Isabel had heard stories that with others—especially the tenants on her lands —Eleanor was not so pleasant, and she certainly was not a popular queen with the people.

"What I do not understand," Isabel said, "is why I was chosen. The queen has always been kind to me, but we've not spoken a great deal, and I would not have thought she could even remember my name."

"There was a sudden opening, remember. She has known you all your life."

"Mother, Queen Eleanor certainly does not know me."

"Are you questioning your good fortune, Isabel? Most young girls would be delighted to have been offered this position. Most women in England would be delighted! You have the chance to reclaim our family's name, and perhaps to make a brilliant marriage. Why do you have to examine everything? If the queen does not know you well, time will remedy that."

"When I have become settled," Isabel said, "when the queen does know me, I will talk to her about King Edward expelling the Jews. Surely, if I explain it well, that the king was too harsh, that they did nothing wrong and have lost everything simply because a handful of Londoners complained about them, surely she will talk to King Edward. He could easily rescind his expulsion order."

Mother straightened, her eyes blazing. "You will not!"

"But I will, Mother. The king is only looking at it from one point of view. Christians are forbidden to lend money, and that's why the Jews were brought to London. A few years ago the king himself defended them, and now this!"

"The king had them put into the Tower and demanded they pay a fine to be released, Isabel! You will be silent on this."

"Rachel's family was driven out of London like cattle. You did not see it. I did. And what did they do—prosper? Is that their sin?"

"They refuse to acknowledge Christ."

"As do the Moors, but they are allowed to stay."

"There are not so many of them."

"They have not the wealth that the Jews have. Had. Do you not see this as an injustice, Mother? How can you not see this? I have lost my dearest friend—because of money!"

"It was time for that friendship to end, Isabel. It was unnatural."

"Unnatural! We were little girls together. There is nothing unnatural about that. She was my friend when others scorned us. She did not care that Grandmother was illegitimate and I did not care that she was a Jew."

"You must tell no one that you were friends with Rachel de Anjou! No one! And you will not approach the queen with any complaint, let alone this one. You risk more than a rebuke, Isabel, you risk your very life. And mine. And your grandmother's. Do you understand who you are, who the queen is? With one word she could have us all imprisoned or put to death. Your grandmother could be punished for allowing your friendship—encouraging it, even, and keeping it from me. You know I never approved of you being friends with her. I would lose my station, at the very least. You risk our lives!"

"If she is so harsh a queen that no one can talk to her, then why do I want to serve her at all? What loyalty do I have to King Edward, whose grandfather chose not to acknowledge his own child? How easy it would have been to acknowledge her!"

"You speak treason, Isabel!" Mother took a step back from her. "It is not for us to question the dealings of kings. I know you are young, and losing Rachel has wounded you, but you cannot ever speak of these things again. Ever! We have no choice in this. This is your grandmother's fault, letting you roam and mix with all sorts of people." Her expression softened. "Child, I know how steadfast you are, and that this has been difficult, being neither here nor

there. I ask you now to be loyal to me, and to your grandmother. You have been chosen to be elevated. It is a great honor, and God's plan for you. Do not question it. I pray you, child, keep your silence. Promise me that you will not confront the queen on this! You hold our very lives in your hands."

"Do you really believe that, Mother? That for merely questioning the king's expulsion of the Jews, we could all die?"

"Have you learned nothing in all your years at court? Why would you think that the queen would not agree with her husband in this? They are in accord on everything else, child. And if she were to complain to Edward of you, what think you of our chances then? Does he seem the kind of king who would enjoy being questioned? Do you think he would hesitate to have us removed from his presence? Do not question this, Isabel. Dislike it if you will, but say nothing. Promise me that you will say nothing."

"Mother—"

"Promise me!" Her mother burst into tears. "Go, then! Go. I cannot do more with this hanging between us." She wept into her hands.

Isabel sighed. Her mother never took the middle road on anything. All was perfect or it was unsalvageable. There was no other choice. She'd become accustomed to her mother's swings, the suddenness with which her moods changed. People once considered friends had been cut out of her life forever, but Isabel had never understood it. She could not imagine abandoning Rachel —who would have laughed at Isabel serving the queen. Isabel sighed, missing her friend even more and knowing she would not speak of this to the queen. Yet. She was sure there would come a day, when she and Eleanor were alone, when she could talk of all this.

"Promise me at least that you will not risk our lives, Isabel."

"No, Mother. I will not risk your and grandmother's lives."

"Or yours. Promise me!"

"I promise to be cautious."

Mother wiped her tears away. "Good. When the Court is at Westminster, you will live with the queen's ladies and I will see you every day. Where the queen goes, you will go, of course. When she travels, you will travel. You will take an escort with you when you visit your grandmother. Remember to ask for it and don't go dashing off by yourself."

"I don't need an escort. I've been walking London's streets all my life."

"Not alone at night you haven't. Promise that if it is late and there is no one to escort you, you will stay in the Tower."

Isabel nodded. That would be no hardship; she liked the Tower, with its two hundred years of history. She wondered what it would have been like to have lived then, when William of Normandy,

Conqueror of the Saxons, had built the magnificent structure and surrounding walls to protect his men and court from the hostile local population. Her mother hated the Tower, and although she'd never said why, Isabel thought she knew. Her father's office had been there. The very buildings must be a painful reminder of her loss.

She watched her mother sew and thought of all the years her mother had served the queen, all the years she had been invisible at court, all the years she had cared for Isabel alone. And now, by a twist of fortune, Isabel had been given this golden chance. Somehow, she told herself, she would find a way to reconcile the two, to talk with the queen and still not endanger her family. She was sure she could. Somehow, strange as it seemed to her, she had caught the eye and the
favour
of the queen. She would be a fool not to make use of that.

"Name the queen's ladies," Mother said.

Isabel did, their faces coming to her mind with their names. Important women from important families, wives and daughters of important men. And Isabel, of no importance at all. But every one of them would know why Isabel had been included, and once again her great-grandmother's one sin would be recognized, but never discussed.

"Lady Dickleburough," her mother said. "You forgot her."

"Oh, yes," Isabel said, nodding, thinking of the aging courtier with distaste. Lady Dickleburough behaved as though she were

young and desirable, but those days, and years, were long past, although she gave no sign of recognizing that.

She wore clothing appropriate to a much younger woman, her very low necklines revealing deep wrinkles on her neck and decolletage, her sunken breasts no longer able to hold the bodice in the correct position. During the day sunlight cast shadows in the deep wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, and made the kohl she used to hide the
grey
in her hair all too visible. Isabel's mother often said that Lady Dickleburough pulled the coils of her hair tightly to the top of her head to draw her skin up to hide some of her wrinkles, but the attempt failed. Her skin, surrounded as it was by the white silk wimple she wore, was pasty. Her small brown eyes looked beady behind the folds of skins that threatened to hide them altogether. Her husband, a baron of little note from East Anglia, was neither influential nor wealthy, and his family was certainly not noteworthy. Isabel thought her repulsive.

"Why is she still at court? Does she have some importance I don't know?"

Mother laughed. "In her youth she was attractive enough, in a sly and furtive sort of way. She was a.. .very willing companion."

"Is it true that she was mistress to several important men? Several!"

"It is. And some were willing to pay to have her stay at court rather than risk her talking of all she knew. They gave her rooms in which to live, bought her clothing and jewels to keep her quiet."

"What does her husband think of all that? Did he know?"

"Do the waves on the shore recede and return? Of course he knew. He prospered because of it, was content to look aside and take other men's leavings. There may be no one willing to pay for her
favour
s now, but there are those who are willing to pay for her silence. She can smell a secret miles away. Never trust her with anything you do not want all of London to know. She can be an interesting ally, for she knows everything about everyone. Now, you will need to be alert when you travel with the queen. The roads are not safe, and even with the king's men guarding you, you must be careful."

Isabel nodded, thinking of Rachel and her family. No word since they'd left. Isabel had not truly expected to hear from her friend, but it was so hard not to know what had happened to them. She sighed.

"I wonder where Rachel-—"

"Yes, yes," Mother said. "I know you still worry. But we may never know what happened to them. Her father will have thought of somewhere to go. It's been but three months. Rachel and her family have no doubt found a haven somewhere."

"But where would they go? They had to leave England!"

"There is a world outside England. There are many places where a man like Jacob de Anjou could find a position."

"I should ask Lady Dickleburough," Isabel said with a laugh. "If, as you say, she knows everything, she'll know where they are. Or know who knows."

Mother did not answer but looked at her with a strange expression. Then she put her needle down and stared at Isabel's skirts. Isabel watched her uneasily.

"It was a jest, Mother. I will not ask her about Rachel."

"Isabel," Mother said, an odd note in her voice.

"And I promise to stop talking about Rachel. I know it's not wise even to acknowledge that we were friends. I do love her, but I will stop talking of her."

"Isabel." Mother did not look up from the hem. "There is something you need to know." She stood now and put a hand on Isabel's cheek, then sighed and walked across the room. "I would rather you never knew, but you need to know the truth, and I would have you hear it from me rather than from Lady Dickleburough, or someone else at court. They would never mention it in front of me, but now that you will be among them, someone is sure to tell you." She sighed again.

"Mother, I know all about great-grandmother's.. .folly. I know that Grandmother is illegitimate. I've known that for years."

Her mother shook her head. "It is not that, Isabel. I know you've known about that. But.. .there is more that you need to

know. And I do not know how to tell you." She turned to the window, tracing a finger along the leaded glass.

Isabel waited, her heart beginning to pound. What could it be? Was Grandmother ill? Was that why Mother wanted her to visit her more often? Another possibility occurred to her.