Joanna (35 page)

The men-at-arms drove the occupants out of the house and helped to drag out what could be carried away. The alderman’s men swarmed up the walls to knock holes in the roof so that grappling hooks could be fixed into the rooftree. Many willing hands pulled the ropes attached to the hooks. The building groaned. More men came to lend their weight to the ropes, but suddenly a cry went up.

At the bottom of the garden was a row of trees that moaned and struggled in the wind. Behind them a thin line of light began to crawl through the dry grass, a little evil stream spawned out of the red inferno that lit the sky in the distance. Geoffrey shouted to the men to bring wet blankets, to wet their feet. He slid down from Orage, looping his rein over a gatepost, snatched up the first soaked cloth, and ran toward the crawling line of light, but a wind roared out of the mouth of that distant red hell sending him reeling back. Suddenly the stream widened into a river and light leapt into the trees. The branches writhed and fire danced from leaf to leaf. Geoffrey stood transfixed, unaware that the fine hair on his brow was shriveling in the heat, astonished at the weird, terrifying beauty of trees of living flame. <><><><><><><><><><><><>   For a little while after Geoffrey had left her, Joanna watched the glow in the sky across the river. Fear for him made her heart flutter and bred a sickness in her bowels. Finally, she fastened the shutters and, feeling her way, found flint and tinder and lit the night candle again. When she removed her night robe and went to lay it upon a chest, she passed the burnished metal mirror. The eyes that looked back at her out of it made her catch her breath. There was no color to them in the dim light, but they were her mother’s eyeswells of fear.

“I do not love him,” she whispered. “I do not. Any man can wake in me the same pleasure and desire.”

The thin whisper faded and Joanna tore her eyes from the telltale mirror image. Braybrook’s hands had held her breasts; his mouth had come upon hers. Her gorge had risen at his kiss, bringing the bitter bile of vomit to her throat and her flesh had seemed to shrivel under his hands. Not
any
man, she acknowledged, and then insisted, “It was because he tried to force me.” That was poor comfort. She had not really been afraid, only disgusted. Her mind turned to other young men in the court, but the first when compared to Geoffrey was a gross clod and the second a weak reed and the third a babbling fool. Joanna threw herself on her bed. Perhaps Geoffrey was the most desirable of the young men she knew. It made no difference. She
would
not love him,
would
not worry about him. She would sleep.

It was not so hard to do as Joanna expected. A hot day, an equally warm bout of unfulfilled sexual excitement, and the wrenchings of anxiety added up to fatigue in a young, healthy body. It was fortunate that the respite Joanna had was deep, for it was not long. First light had not yet pierced the heavy clouds when Edwina shook her mistress firmly.

“There is a Lady Maud here with two maidservants and two of Lord Geoffrey’s men-at-arms. They have brought her to seek shelter with you on Lord Geoffrey’s order.”

“Engelard’s mistress?” Joanna muttered crossly, but she rose nonetheless and drew on a clean night robe.

In the solar she found a fair, pretty woman, much   smirched with soot and tears. Her initial coolness was soon warmed. Lady Maud was not common dross and, although silly, she was sweet-natured, more distressed for her lover’s losses than for her own suffering. Joanna listened to her tale with growing horror and, when she was done, rushed to the bedroom to throw open the shutters and stare across the river. What she saw only increased her horror. Although there was no fire on the bank directly opposite her own house, further east the whole of Southwark seemed to be hidden in a heavy pall of smoke that was lit by a color no dawn could bring. And Geoffrey, that madman, had not taken ship with Lady Maud like any sensible being.

Even as she muttered those words to herself, Joanna knew he was right. He could not abandon his men or the horses or servants. There was nothing to fear, Joanna assured herself. Geoffrey was not really a fool. Doubtless he was leading the group around the fire. If they crossed by the bridge, he would be home very soon.

Meanwhile, there were things to do. The bed Geoffrey would have slept in was brought and set up in Joanna’s bed-chamber, a bath was prepared and clean clothing made ready to comfort Lady Maud. Joanna tried to draw the lady’s mind to other subjects, but she could talk only of the fire and how good Geoffrey had been. It was a relief to get her into bed, and Joanna was glad that morning had come and she could use that as an excuse to leave Lady Maud alone in the bedchamber. It was much harder not to worry about Geoffrey when a chattering fool continued to laud his bravery. Joanna would rather have heard his good sense praised.

After breaking her fast with apparent calm to soothe the servants, Joanna went down to the bottom of the garden. She could see less from there than from her bedchamber window and she returned to the house where in her well-run household there was nothing for her to do but work on her embroidery. Soon it seemed to Joanna that hours and hours had passed, although judging from the tasks upon which the servants were engaged it was still morning. There was little   satisfaction in that knowledge, only a vista of tense, endless waiting.

A notion crept into Joanna’s head, a wild, foolish notion far more fitting for Alinor, who was incapable of waiting for good or evil, than for Joanna the sensible. Geoffrey will kill me if he ever finds out, she thought, more especially after what I said to him about the childishness of going to watch things burn. Joanna erased the idea from the surface of her mind, but it continued to work busily from below until, at last, what seemed like a good reason for activity took fast hold upon her. Salisbury’s house was much nearer the pall of smoke than hers, and there were only servants there. Surely it was her duty to make certain all was safe there, if not from the fire then from the thieves and looters any disaster let loose from their normal haunts.

She did not get her way completely without argument. Beorn expostulated that it would be sufficient to send some men to Salisbury’s house, but Joanna was able to counter that because Salisbury’s servants would have no reason to trust a band of men-at-arms who arrived from nowhere and began to give orders. If Joanna was present, there could be no doubt as to the legitimacy of her authority in a crisis. Next Beorn objected that she would thus leave her own house unprotected. That provided Joanna with just the opening she wanted. Beorn with fifteen men should stay. Knud and the remainder of the men, the older, more experienced ones, would go with her.

In the long run, whatever objections Beorn had would need to give way before Joanna’s orders, but he did not even argue very hard. Unless caught up in a jest, the young mistress usually had more sense than her mother. She was most unlikely to run into danger in a fit of temper or just to amuse herself.

Before very long, clothed in her oldest and darkest garments, Joanna set off. She did not take Brian. Something was making the dog very uneasy and hard to manage. It seemed safer to leave him tied in the stable. At first there was little to mark the trouble except the dearth of wagons   drawing produce into the Chepeside. The wind had nearly died away just after dawn. Now and again there was a fitful gust, but this still blew from the southwest, as it had since it rose the night before. In the slack periods, it seemed to Joanna that a scent of burning tinged the air, but the westerlies soon replaced that with the odor of dry, dusty earth mingled with the common odor of the river.

At Salisbury’s house all was quiet. There was no sign of fire and they had heard nothing since Geoffrey’s man woke them in the night. She had been foolish, Joanna acknowledged to herself. Doubtless now that the wind was down, there would be little more danger. It would be wise for her to return home before Geoffrey arrived there. Likely he would be tired and want attention. Nonetheless, since she had come, Joanna took the time to go up and inspect Lady Ela’s quarters. Salisbury and his wife were so often in London that Lady Ela might have left some clothing and some small pieces of furniture. Joanna’s memory had not played her false. There were, indeed, chests of clothing, chairs and tables, and a store of expensive, scented wax candles. After a moment’s thought, Joanna gave orders that everything should be packed and moved downstairs ready to be carted away if the need arose.

Once, while she was giving detailed instructions, there was a terrible odor of burning. With one accord, Joanna and the caretaker rushed to the window to fling open the shutters. There was nothing new to see. The wind was still and no fire or smoke showed anywhere nearer than before. Glancing at the sky, Joanna wondered if the pall of smoke had drifted closer, but it was certainly not close enough to indicate any danger. The shutters were drawn closed. Joanna finished what she was saying and assured the caretaker that she would send a cart and horses to move the goods if there should be any real threat. She was on her way to her horse when a small party at the gate demanded admittance. Joanna nodded permission and Knud opened up, calling to his men to be alert.

There was no danger from the entering group, however,   which was led by a harassed alderman who was seeking Geoffrey. He had been told, he said, that Lord Geoffrey had been seen in Southwark with the men who were trying unsuccessfully to keep the fire from the bridge.

‘‘Unsuccessfully?” Joanna asked tensely. “Has it come across the river then?”

“I fear so, my lady, but there is no present danger to you here. Since the wind has died we have the fire well under control.”

Joanna had a flash of memory of that odor of burning, but there was something far more important to her. “You expected to find Lord Geoffrey here? You are sure he came across before the bridge took fire?”

“Not sure, no, my lady, but I hoped to find him here. Our trouble now that the fire is less is that many merchants fled their shops when they saw the bridge aflame. Now that danger is past, the looters are out. Most of the lord mayor’s men are on the eastern edge of the fire, watching lest it begin anew. I hoped Lord Geoffrey would keep the peace in the Chepeside.”

“You have no idea where else Lord Geoffrey might be? Are you sure he was in Southwark before the bridge took fire?”

“Of the latter, yes. One of the aldermen from Southwark begged the help of his men to make a firebreak, but they were too late and near overtaken by the flames.”

“Since the alderman came safe away, I assume Lord Geoffrey did also?”

“II believe so. That is why I sought him here”

“He did not come away
with
the Southwark alderman?” The day was not cool, but Joanna suddenly shivered. Her hands felt like ice.

“No, my lady. It was still thought the houses on the bridge and the watchtowers might be saved. Lord Geoffrey and his men remained.”

Madman! Joanna thought, and briefly closed her eyes.

“Do you know whether any other noblemen are in residence, my lady?” the alderman asked anxiously, too taken   up with his own problems to absorb Joanna’s blanched complexion and frightened eyes.

“I know only of some gentlemen of the Exchequer,” she replied vaguely, and then, “Oh, no, they are churchmen, of course I do not knowperhaps you can send a man to the Knights Templars. Usually there are a few men at the Temple. They will help.” The need to seem calm and to think of something real steadied her a little. “I have a troop here,” she said more firmly. “We can do something until you find more suitable help.”

Relief brightened the alderman’s eyes. “My thanks, my lady, my thanks. You will save us God knows how much loss. If you will tell the men to make ready”

There was a short, sharp gust of wind that tore at Joanna’s wimple and fluttered her skirt. With it came the smell of fire. The alderman’s voice faltered and his head snapped around to the east. Before he or Joanna could speak, the wind had died away. The scent of burning lingered on the air for a few moments, but there was neither smoke nor smuts. A long rumble of thunder followed.

“Pray God it will rain,” the alderman whispered, his voice shaking. “Pray God it will rain.”

There was silence for a few tense moments, but neither the wind nor the thunder returned. Joanna faced around and gave Knud brisk orders.

“Lady” he protested.

“There is no danger,” Joanna assured him firmly. “We will not go near the fire. It is only to be sure that looters do not break into the merchants’ quarter.”

At that point Beorn would have presumed upon his long service with the mother and carried the daughter away to safety by force. Knud was a young man, however, and, because Alinor traveled with her husband much of the time, was accustomed to obeying Joanna. He lifted her to her horse, therefore, with only faint misgivings and went away to order one man to ride back and send a cart for Salisbury’s goods. After the alderman had dispatched two men to the Temple to seek more help, the troop moved out eastward   toward the Chepe. Had Knud heard the horror with which the alderman received Joanna’s statement that she would accompany them, he might have been more cautious. By the time Knud drew his horse up behind his mistress, however, the question was settled. The alderman understood that he could have Joanna with her men or not have the men.

When they arrived, it seemed the fears had been unnecessary. Although the odor of burning was much stronger, that was to be expected since they were almost directly across from Southwark now. Nothing could be seen of the ruins of that place because the Chepe was well inland from the river bank. The lord mayor’s plan, which the alderman was trying to implement, was to scour the lanes and houses throughout the commercial district and confine everyone discovered, who was not a resident of the area, in the great open square of the Chepe. Then, at leisure, each person could be interrogated and, if he had a good character and a purpose for being where he was, he would be permitted to go his way. This work was already well under way, some fifty or sixty ragged, grimy, disgruntled men and women squatting or standing under the watchful eyes of the lord mayor’s men. More were being herded into the Chepeside continuously as groups of armed men scoured the lanes.