Desired (57 page)

J
oan lay silent, inert, wishing she could die. By agreeing to this unholy marriage she had placed herself at the mercy of a depraved monster. Edward must never, ever know what had taken place in this chamber today. No one must know!

She sat up and crawled from the bed. She poured scented water and bathed her body, then she dressed, choosing a spotless white underdress and a snowy white silk tunic to go over it. She felt clean again in the white garments.
She put fresh white linen on the bed and gathered the soiled sheets inside a bolster case so that the bloodstains were not visible.

Joan sat down at her mirror and carefully covered the bruise on her face with powder and a little sandalwood rouge. Her mouth was swollen, but there was little she could do about it. Time alone would reduce the swelling. When she looked at her reflection, haunted eyes stared back at her. This was the most disastrous day of her life! Her misery was almost insurmountable. But as she sat before the mirror, she knew she must rise above what had happened to her. She must push it so far away it could not touch her. Gradually her misery diminished until she felt nothing. She was completely numb. One thing was certain, she thought, after this ordeal, nothing would ever be able to hurt her again.

Joan was wrong.

The king’s face registered disbelief as he read his dispatches from Calais. As he reread the report, his face set in grim lines. He sent for John Holland immediately.

“I have terrible news,” King Edward said hoarsely, trying to control his grief. “Young Edmund of Kent was found dead in Calais.”

“How did it happen?” Holland asked quickly.

“Found in an alley, stabbed in the back!”

Holland was witness to a display of Plantagenet temper. “Not enough I brought them to their knees! I should have pulled Calais down stone by stone, then crushed it to rubble! I should have slaughtered every living, breathing thing in that cursed city. I should have decorated the walls with the enemies’ heads! I should have drowned them in their own blood. The ‘Goddamn French’ are like vermin. They don’t know the meaning of honor!”

“Sire, I hate to say this, but Edmund of Kent frequented houses of ill repute. I often warned him about carousing in seamy bordellos.”

The king gave him such a look of hauteur, Holland took a step back and swallowed any further criticism.

“Edmund of Kent was a Plantagenet! My young cousin was an honorable man, a brave warrior, and a chivalrous knight. He was obviously killed in the line of duty. He is a
casualty of war, just as if he had fallen on the field of Crécy!”

“To be sure, Your Majesty. He was my own brother-in-the-law and a dear friend. We will bring his assassin to justice, never fear. I suggest you put Sir Neville Wiggs in charge of the investigation, if I may be so bold, Sire. Perhaps the patrols should be doubled, so that not one more English life will be lost.”

“Great God in Heaven, how are we to break the news to his sister? They were orphaned as babies; her brother was all she had in this world.”

“She has me, Sire,” Holland pointed out.

“Yes, yes, of course. You must give her the tenderest loving care so she can cope with this grief.” King Edward threw down the dispatch. “I shall come with you now. We will tell her together. We must do all we can to ease her sorrow!”

When Joan heard the knock on her chamber door, she went rigid and her throat closed with fear. When the door opened and King Edward strode in with Holland, she thought wildly,
The king knows he raped me and is going to arrest him!
She heard her heartbeat thudding like a drum inside her ears, deafening her to the king’s words.

“My dear, we have some sad news for you. You must be very brave. Your brother Edmund has been killed in a skirmish in Calais.”

Joan’s hands flew to her heart as she felt it break, then she slumped down into blackness.

King Edward swept his tiny cousin up in his strong arms. “Jesu, the fall hurt her pretty face,” he said, cradling the small bundle against his wide chest. “She’s lost consciousness,” he told Holland. “Go and fetch Master John Bray. She never was strong. Where are her women?” Edward demanded. “Tell the queen to send some of her ladies,” Edward called after the departing Holland.

Edward sat down and rocked her gently until she regained consciousness. When she opened her eyes, pity filled his heart at the haunted look he saw there.

Joan clung to him and begged, “Don’t leave me alone, Sire.”

His compassion for this delicate girl knew no bounds.
“Hush, Jeanette, Edmund wouldn’t want you to fall ill with grief. You must be strong for your little daughter’s sake.”

Joan nodded numbly and clung tighter. The king was so much like his son, Edward, she felt safe in his arms. Then suddenly the chamber was filled with women. Glynis arrived and close on her heels came Queen Philippa with half a dozen of her ladies. They put Joan to bed and Glynis mixed the sleeping potion the queen’s physician prescribed, then she dispatched a page for Brianna.

Joan fought the effects of the strong herbs as long as she could, feeling too vulnerable to lose herself in sleep. They decided she had been up and about far too soon after childbirth. The shock of her brother’s death could destroy her health unless she had complete bed rest.

Brianna was startled as Gnasher streaked across the room and climbed to her worktable. “Where on earth did you come from?” She looked up to see the freckled face of Randal Grey. “Why, Randal, I didn’t know you came to Bordeaux. You’ve grown so tall, I hardly recognized you.”

“Lord Hawksblood and Paddy are training me for squire, my lady, but they wouldn’t take me with them to Carcassonne.” The ferret ran back to Randal and sat on his shoulder.

“I should think not. The battlefield is no place for a boy.”

“Lady Brianna, I hate being a page. I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings!”

Her hand went to her throat. “What is it?”

“It’s Lady Kent, I mean Lady Holland. She’s just learned that her brother is dead.”

When Brianna arrived at her bedside, Joan clung to her hands beseechingly and begged, “Don’t leave me alone, promise me, promise me.”

“Joan, of course I won’t leave you. I want you to sleep now and I swear on my life I’ll be here when you open your eyes.”

Gradually her frantic grip on Brianna’s hands relaxed and she began to drift down into the vortex of sleep. One by one the queen and her ladies tiptoed from the chamber. After Joan had slept for two hours, Brianna told Glynis and Adele to get some rest. She would watch over her dear
friend until dawn. All that mattered to Brianna was that Joan needed her.

During the long night’s vigil, Brianna’s active mind recalled all the happy times she had spent with Joan and Edmund. All the times he’d playfully flirted with her were but poignant memories now. Why did terrible things happen to good people? Why did tragedies happen? There was nothing more cruel than a life snuffed in the flower of youth.

Why did the French and English have to fight this continual war? Why was Prince Edward off fighting when Joan needed him! How many more lives would be sacrificed over this obsession with conquering France? What if Edward was killed? Joan’s life would be over! What if Christian was killed? Brianna’s eyes flooded with tears.
Dear God, don’t let him be taken from me before we’ve had a chance for happiness
, she prayed.

When Joan awoke late the next morning, Brianna was still beside her, as she had promised. Joan was relieved to find her there and was extremely loathe to part with her. Although Brianna promised to come back later in the day, Joan became agitated. “No. I don’t want to be alone, not for five minutes!”

“You won’t be alone, Joan. Glynis is here and the nursemaids will bring Jenna if you feel well enough.”

Joan seized upon her words. “Yes, yes, I want my daughter here with me, and her nurses. I want them to stay here, I don’t want them to go back to the nursery. Brianna, you must go and make the queen understand. I cannot be alone!”

Brianna knew Joan was close to hysterics. She reasoned that it was probably apprehension that something might happen to her baby. She walked through the orchard that separated Joan’s wing from the royal palace and made her way to the nursery.

It was a noisy, happy place filled with children of all ages, playing with every toy imaginable. Queen Philippa herself was rocking the cradle of her baby daughter, while Jenna’s wet nurse sat beside her, holding Joan’s baby.

“Your Majesty, Joan begs that her baby and Jenna’s two
nursemaids be allowed to move into her chambers for a little while.”

“Oh, surely Joan needs rest until she recovers from poor Edmund’s death,” Philippa protested.

“Your Highness, Joan is in hysterics. I think if she could see the baby and hold her, it would calm her and help her get through this terrible time.”

“Why, of course. That is very discerning of you, Brianna. I remember when I lost one of my babies, they tried to keep me abed until I recovered from my loss, but my suffering didn’t begin to abate until I was back in the nursery with my other babies. We’ll set up the cradle right in her chamber and the baby’s nursemaids in the adjoining room. Who would have imagined a little hoyden like Joan of Kent becoming a devoted mother?”

Once Joan’s chambers were turned into a nursery she began to cope with the loss of her brother, Edmund. She cried a lot, but Brianna noticed that her grief was progressing to acceptance. They spoke often of Edmund and all the happy memories they had shared. However, Brianna noticed that Joan’s laughter had disappeared completely and she often caught a glimpse of a haunted look of fear in her eyes.

Brianna didn’t expect her fear to disappear until Prince Edward returned to her safely. The Black Prince was not only a bastion of strength to the English army, he was Joan’s invincible knight in shining armor.

The king received a dispatch from his marshal Warrick that they had sacked Carcassonne and the army was returning to Bordeaux. Warrick assured him there would be no more trouble from the south. The king and queen celebrated with the formal betrothal of Princess Isabel to Lord Bernard Ezi. The feast was lavish and Queen Philippa personally thanked Sir John Holland. He was the best Steward they had ever had, arranging for the royal kitchens to overflow with produce from all the exotic ports of Europe and the East, as well as importing good old English lamb, venison, and game birds by the thousand, to say nothing of the trout, salmon, and shellfish that were the finest quality in the known world.

The very next day, Princess Isabel set the Court on its ear by calling off her wedding. The king and queen both did their best to force her to change her mind, but since they had indulged her every whim since the day she was born, their pleas had no effect whatsoever upon the willful princess.

Isabel was not only jilting her betrothed, she was deriving the greatest pleasure in the world from doing so! When Bernard was devastated, Isabel laughed. When his family protested, she gloried in the scandal. When Bernard was so heartbroken he threatened to go into a monastery, she heartlessly told him to pray for her! At last Isabel was happy. She had inflicted pain and shame on the opposite sex in equal measure to that which the Count of Flanders had inflicted upon her. Her honor was vindicated, her insufferable pride restored. The king and queen consoled themselves with plans for Princess Joanna’s marriage. At least she was a biddable child who would do her duty without causing a scandal.

The Black Prince’s army returned to Bordeaux bringing disquieting talk of an outbreak of black death, which was rumored to have started in Constantinople and was said to be scourging the ports on the Black Sea.

A soldier under Warrick’s command died a terrible death, moaning in agony, vomiting blood, and finally turning black in the face. The prince and Warrick squashed the gossip immediately. There was no possible way something from the Far East could touch them. The soldier had obviously eaten or drunk something that poisoned him, and they threatened to punish any man who spoke about a plague.

Christian Hawksblood and Ali spoke quietly together. They had their own ideas about the man’s death, but kept a wise silence for fear of causing wholesale panic.

Brianna and Adele sat sewing in the garden. As summer approached, more and more flowers had come into bloom. Pink and red bougainvillea trailed against the white walls, white jasmine and yellow roses wafted their intoxicating perfume upon the warm breeze, attracting vivid butterflies and birds never dreamed of in England.

Brianna had come to love this garden. It was an oasis of calm, beauty, and tranquillity where she could escape from the demands of the Royal Court. She had learned to enjoy the pool also and looked forward to its soothing, cooling delights each afternoon while almost everyone else in Bordeaux observed the traditional siesta. After her dip, she liked to sit in the sun and sew while her hair dried. The sun was bleaching it and she thought the effect quite pretty. Pale golden tendrils fell about her temples and shoulders, interspersed with the long silken mass of brighter gold. Brianna was sewing a short white tunic to wear in the pool, while Adele stitched upon a baby’s nightgown.

“Is that for Jenna?”

Adele’s face lit up with pleasure. “Well, no, actually it’s for another baby … my baby!”

“Adele! Oh, heavens, I don’t know what to say!”

“At my age! Can you imagine? It’s a miracle!”

Brianna could see how happy it made Adele, and in truth she envied her. “Does Paddy know?”

“Not yet. Mary and Joseph, can’t you just see him strutting about, lording it over poor Ali?”

Brianna hesitated, then plunged in, “You don’t think he’ll shy away from marriage?”

Adele smiled complacently, sure of her man. “I’ll bludgeon him into it, never fear! Well, that sun’s too hot for me,” she declared, touching her belly with loving hands. “I’m going to have a rest while you have your dip.”

Brianna slipped off her clothes, donned the short white tunic she had just made and slid down into the turquoise water of the inviting pool. She was pleased with herself because she could now lift her feet off the bottom and actually swim a few strokes. One end of the pool was shaded, so she made her way down to the water that was in full sunshine. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. Her long hair floated out behind her in a shimmer of gold.