The King's Mistress (32 page)

As he paused and appeared to be collecting his thoughts, I saw he had a tale to tell.

“The brief answer is that I had requested permission several days before I received your message.”

“But how did you know I would be of the company?”

“Richard Lyons had come to Oxford, arriving a few days before your party reached Abington. It was from him that I heard you were to be traveling in the funeral procession.” He looked concerned as I shifted on my seat, murmuring Lyons’s name. “I know that you have not always liked him, but he has proven to be a good friend.”

“Yes, he has proven most generous. But what did he want of
you?”

“It was I who had inquired of him whether you might be ready
to purchase another property very near your present one in Oxford. I thought it a good opportunity to invest some of Janyn’s estate. Lyons insisted on coming to Oxford to see it. I do believe he wanted to ascertain my competence in the matter.” He bowed his head for a moment, folding his hands one way, then another.

Dom Hanneye had been caring for my property in Oxford. As my local representative he’d collected rents, arranged for and inspected all maintenance, and developed and handled all monetary transactions. His itemized summary of accounts was always prompt and thorough. I was very grateful, and concerned that others would respect him as my representative. “I pray he did not insult you,” I said, seeing his discomfort.

“It was clear he thought a priest could hardly have a head for trade.” He shrugged.

“Then he does not know you.”

Dom Hanneye laughed. “He does now.”

“Good. I would like to see the property,” I said.

“You would?” Dom Hanneye looked surprised. “Do you wish to be a part of the decision?”

“I do. I wish to become more involved in my own investments.” I was far more at ease with business than with anything else in my current situation, more clearheaded about money than I ever seemed to be about men. “The rents will bring an income to support Bella and me, and add to the dowry Janyn established for her.” It was the one area in which I had some semblance of choice, some power over my life. I was frustrated that the king had not yet kept his promise regarding my seeing Bella, but I could see to her future. “I shall ask the queen if I might return to Oxford with you for a day or so.”

“Richard Lyons would escort you back to London, I am certain.”

“That would suit me.”

Unfortunately, it did not suit the queen.

“No, I cannot spare you, Alice. You know how much we have yet to do before the wedding. No, you shall return with me.”

I understood her concern about the approaching event, but could not believe that all would collapse if I were delayed by a day. Perhaps it was selfish of me to wish to go to Oxford, but the prospect had lifted me from my dullness of the past weeks. I tried to explain this to her, but she was adamant.

Help came from an unexpected quarter. The queen sent her ladies
away in the late afternoon so that she might rest for the journey. Elizabeth and I sought the quiet peace of the garden. We were walking there, talking little as we simply enjoyed the late-September sunshine and the lovely warmth that took away the chill of death, when the king’s page appeared.

Had it been the queen’s page I would have resented the summons. But the king’s … My heart pounded as I followed him to the chapel, where he opened the door and bowed me through. King Edward sat on a bench just within, leaning his back against the wall, his legs stretched out before him, a study in ease. I do not believe I had ever seen him so. For a moment he was merely a man, not a king, albeit a large, physically imposing man. Rather than feeling awe, I felt only pleasure to see him and to be seen by him.

“Come, Mistress Alice. Sit with me and tell me about this property in Oxford.” His tone was friendly, pleasant.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself as I sat beside him.

“Philippa tells me that your former confessor came from Oxford to discuss your investing in a property, and that you wish to see it for yourself. You are interested in owning land?”

“Yes, Your Grace. My late husband purchased a tenement in my name so that I might have revenue from rent if …” I was uncertain how to continue, whether it would insult him. “If I should find myself in need.” I almost whispered the last part as I kept my eyes lowered.

“Commendable. But he should have known we would not abandon you.”

“Your Grace.” I bobbed my head in a sign of respect, while thinking that he was as blind to his own inconstant behavior as was his queen and his mother before that.

“My mother, the Lady Isabella, spoke of your cleverness. That your husband consulted you regarding his business.”

He shifted a little, and his scent of spice and leather grew stronger. I found it intoxicating.

“He did. And before him my father likewise. Father would have me sit with him in the undercroft while he explained the accounts books, and often permitted me to listen to trade discussions.” I stopped myself, realizing I had said more than required. His alchemy was working on me as it did with everyone, drawing me out, and I felt myself trying to please him. And more. It seemed I could not be in his presence and not want more. A kiss, a touch.

“I see that your skill in hawking and grace in dancing are but hints of your talents, Mistress Alice. Beauty and a mind for trade, hunting and dancing—what else should I know of you?”

I felt myself blushing under his regard and was glad that the light was dim and we were side by side, so that he could see little of me.

“Your Grace, I do not know what else I might tell you. I am little but what others wish me to be.” I regretted my words as soon as I’d uttered them.

The king drew in his legs and shifted on the bench so that he was facing me. He took my right hand, turned it over, looked at my palm, and with one beringed finger traced the line that ran from between my thumb and forefinger to my wrist.

“So easily I touch you,” he murmured as he did so, “so recklessly I summon you, then tease you and take your hand. How thoughtlessly I pluck your strings, as if you are but a lute.”

The intimacy of his touch and his voice, the suggestion of playing me like a lute excited me far too much for safety.

He let go of my hand, touched my chin, gently, oh, so gently, while looking into my eyes. I had not intended to look up, but could not prevent myself.

“Forgive me if I have made you feel so used, Alice.”

I did not trust myself to speak; my flesh burned at his mere touch.

“Do you forgive me?” he whispered.

“Your Grace,” was all I managed.

“Edward. My name is Edward.” He spoke in an intimate whisper.

I shook my head, an embarrassingly jerky motion.

He straightened up, the mood between us suddenly changed, the tension discharged. “You must of course return to Oxford with Dom Hanneye. But we depart tomorrow. Had you any plan for an escort back to London?”

I could not so easily shift. How did he? Was I just a game to him? “Richard Lyons is returning to London in a few days, Your Grace,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded.

He tilted his head as if considering, then nodded. “He is a trustworthy man. I shall send him a message that his life will be forfeit if anything happens to you.” He took my hand and kissed it, looking me in the eyes while still holding it. “That is no jest.”

I shivered and withdrew my hand. “I am grateful for your permission, Your Grace.”

“Edward.” He smiled.

“Edward,” I whispered, and I fled the chapel before I did something foolish like kiss him in gratitude. For I understood, at least on my part, that no kiss between us could ever be innocent.

Once again, as when the king had sent an escort for William and me from London, the queen expressed no irritation about my plan to leave her company briefly.

“I am trusting you to return a mere day behind us,” she said. “A day and a half at the most.” And then she smiled and sent me off to assist with the packing.

D
OM HANNEYE
and I made the trip to Oxford without mishap, and in the late afternoon joined Richard Lyons to tour both the property I already owned, which I’d never seen, and the one on the same street that I might purchase. The houses and outbuildings were leased out to craftsmen and students at the university, a mixture that commended them to me for I would not be dependent on one class of people for tenants. The buildings were in satisfactory condition, certainly nothing grand.

“You will continue to oversee both of them for me?” I asked Dom Hanneye.

“As long as I am here in the city, I am pleased to be of service to you, Dame Alice.”

I noticed that he called me mistress only when others might overhear. This secret sign of respect deeply moved me.

We supped with Richard Lyons that evening, in a private room at an inn near the convent where Gwen and I would lodge for the night. We discussed the properties at length.

“The purchase would triple your income from Oxford,” said Dom Hanneye.

“With the addition of a few shops and workrooms to both, they might do more than that,” I said.

We discussed what such additions and a few improvements might cost. Richard and Dom Hanneye expressed their satisfaction and looked to me for the decision.

“We are agreed. Arrange the purchase,” I declared, “and the additions.”

It was with a renewed sense of confidence in my knowledge and skill in trade that I lay down to rest in a small but comfortable bed, my faithful servant and friend Gwen by my side.

I
WAS JOLTED
awake by a sound, and then the horror of an oily rag being pressed to my face. I could not catch my breath, I was so terrified. I opened my mouth, gasping for air so that I might scream. Before I managed a sound, my assailant shoved the rag into my mouth. He did so with such force I felt a jolt of pain in the right side of my jaw. Panicked and gagging, I kicked at him, thrashed my arms, and clawed at whatever I could reach, but another came to his aid and they quickly tied my ankles, tossed me onto my stomach, wrenched my arms behind my back, and bound my hands. Suddenly all was darkness as a smelly cloth became my shroud. Gwen whimpered somewhere nearby. I made a muffled complaint when I was heaved over a man’s shoulder and carried away like a trussed lamb. It was, I think, a doorway unskillfully maneuvered that hit my head. I felt a sharp pain, and then nothing for a long while.

When I came round I found myself lying against soft cushions, much softer than those on which I’d fallen asleep. I moved my foot and pain ran up my leg. My head pounded above my right ear.

“Where am I?” My voice was weak and my jaw hurt so that I mumbled the words. But someone heard.

“She wakes.” It was a woman’s voice. “I’ll tend to her now.”

“Let me see to her, I beg you. My mistress will be afraid with a stranger after what she has suffered.”

My heart leaped. Gwen was here. She was alive. Her beloved face appeared over me.

“What happened? Who …?”

“Mistress Alice, you are safe. Richard Lyons has proved a good friend, and the king is sending an escort for us.” She lifted my head and helped me drink something that tasted of honey but warmed me like brandywine. “Are you in much pain?”

I wondered the same about her—her left wrist was bandaged and one eye was swollen and bruised. I gingerly touched the right side of my head. My hair was undressed but there was no bandage. I felt a tender lump.

“You have a bruise, but there was no blood.”

Only then did I notice that both my wrists were lightly bandaged.

“The ropes were old, rough, and bound too tightly,” said Gwen. The strength and steadiness of her voice reassured me that we were safe more than any number of words could have done.

A stranger had joined us, hovering behind Gwen. She was a tall woman with dark, expressive eyes. At the moment she seemed eager to observe me. Her hair was tucked into a crisp white scarf, her clothing simple, but she was not a nun.

Gwen noticed me looking behind her and turned.

“This is Dame Juliana, a healer. Dom Hanneye sent for her. She has been very kind.”

“God bless you,” I said. So few words, but they caused a sharp pain in my jaw. I covered it with my cool hand, which felt most welcome.

Juliana nodded to me. “You will quickly heal, God be praised,” she said. “Did they injure your jaw?”

I nodded.

“They shoved a stinking rag into your mouth.” Juliana’s frown was so fierce it might have been comical in any other circumstance. “I am glad they are dead.”

Dead? I looked up at Gwen, knowing she would read the question in my eyes.

“Master Richard’s men, Dom Hanneye, and a bailiff caught two men carrying us from the convent and set upon them. Several more rushed out from the darkness,” she said. “It was a frightening battle, made all the worse because you lay so still beside me, Mistress Alice, and I could not lean down to hear if your heart was beating.”

“You?” I asked.

“My wrist and eye are sore, but quickly healing with Dame Juliana’s care. They stuffed my mouth with a much cleaner rag than they did yours.”

I was glad. “The others?”

“Master Richard has a deep wound on his left upper arm and Dom Hanneye a broken nose. Four of the men who tried to take us are dead. The fifth is being questioned.”

I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears, and once begun could not stop. My heart had been breaking for a long while over the deaths of so many who were dear to me, and this terrifying night had been the final blow. The two women fussed over me for a while, and then all grew quiet except for my sobs. Finally spent, I slept. I woke a few times to darkness, the curtains closed round my bed, Gwen sleeping beside me.

In the morning Richard Lyons and Dom Hanneye came to see for themselves how I was recovering. Dom Hanneye approached first, blessing me and assuring me that although his nose and eyes made him look as if he were in great pain, he felt better with each day.

“I believe I shall have a more interesting face, more trustworthy in its imperfection, when I have completely healed.” Though his smile was oddly contorted by the swelling, he did seem to be himself.