Philippa (44 page)

“To what purpose?” he wondered aloud.

“They said they had compatriots in England who would steal Princess Mary away from her keepers and bring her to France. Once here her marriage to the Dauphin would be celebrated.”

“And England would be France’s,” the earl finished.

“They said not even the pope would stop it,” Philippa continued.

“Nay, he would have no grounds, the betrothal having been agreed upon by both Henry Tudor and Francois de Valois,” the earl remarked.

“And they said our great families would not oppose them,” she told him.

“Some would, and look for another English heir. Others would side with France because they had the princess. It would be civil war, Philippa.” He shook his head. “I thought we were past that when the differences between Lancaster and York were settled. The question of England’s throne has been raised before. When Duke William of Normandy overcame the last of the Saxon rulers, Harold. When Stephen and Matilda fought each other for years. The wars between the roses of Lancaster and York.” He sighed. Then he said, “What else did you overhear?”

“They mean to do it sometime when they are all together, and they said that the salamander would be the sign,” Philippa replied.

“The salamander is the French king’s personal sign, but from what you have said he is innocent of any involvement in this plot. His mother, however, is another matter altogether. The woman is fiercely ambitious, and I would put nothing past her. She would do anything for her son, but murdering a king of England, his queen, and the cardinal is quite a grand scheme. I wonder if she knows, or if these men are acting on their own? Still, I shall have to speak to the cardinal, and he may want to talk to you, Philippa. How fortunate it is that you overheard this intrigue. You are certain that these conspirators did not see you.”

“Of course they saw me when the dust died down, and they accosted me for they were afraid, but I pretended not to understand them. I spoke English to them, and was quite imperious. Make way for the countess of Witton!” She giggled. “The one called Pierre wanted to strangle me, but the one called Michel said my clothing indicated I was of some importance, and there would be questions. He thought since I didn’t speak French it would be safe to let me go, and so they did. I was frightened to death, but I never showed it. And I was quite rude, as they expected an English lady to be when dealing with mere French minions,” she finished with a grin.

“You could have been killed,” he said softly. He felt his heart ache at the thought of losing her. Not once had he ever told her he loved her, but he realized now that he did. What if she had died never knowing that he loved her?

Outside there came a great shouting, and Peter ran out to see what it was. He came back several minutes later to tell them that the French king’s huge pavilion had just blown away in the windstorm. “Their tents were flimsily affixed, my lord. There has been but slight damage among our tents.”

Taking Philippa by the shoulders, the earl looked down into her face. “Promise me that you will remain here, little one. I must go and speak with Wolsey It is up to him to decide what to do about this matter.” He kissed her forehead. “I will come for you if the cardinal wants to see you. Go with no one else. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and watched as he left her. There had been an odd look in his eye when he had spoken to her that she did not understand. Philippa stood up, and then sat down again. The realization of the danger she had been in was now beginning to sink in. She looked after Crispin, but he had quickly gone. He had been very angry when he had first found her. She had accused him of being jealous. Was he jealous? And if he was, why was he jealous? He had to know she would do nothing to bring shame upon his good name. She knew he knew that. So why was he jealous?

A tiny curl of possibility began to awaken in her brain. Was it possible, just possible, that Crispin St. Claire actually cared for his wife? Liked her? Loved her? She had no knowledge other than that he had given her, but surely a man did not make love to his wife the way her husband did if there was not something pleasing about the lady. Philippa sighed. The queen would not know such things. Royalty were different from ordinary folk. Lucy would not know. Her practical serving woman had never been in love in her life. Only her mother would have such answers. But she was in France, and Rosamund was in the north of England. Philippa sat quietly waiting. She had no other choice in the matter.

“Is there another banquet tonight?” Lucy was at her side.

Philippa nodded. “Go to one of the queen’s women, and say I ask to be excused. That the wind and the dust have given me a terrible aching in my head. That I will wait upon her highness in the morning before the mass.”

“Are you alright?” Lucy wanted to know.

“I am not certain,” Philippa responded. “Go now!”

“I’ll come right back,” Lucy promised, and hurried off.

Now that the storm had passed, Peter led their horses back outside and tied them to the railing set up for that purpose. Returning, he shoveled up the manure and removed it. Lucy returned, and Philippa gathered the two servants to her side and told them what she had overheard, and that the earl had gone to inform the cardinal.

“You can say nothing,” she warned them. “I do not know what the cardinal will do, but I expect he will want to catch the conspirators if he can. We must give them no advantage over us,” Philippa finished.

“What a terrible thing!” Lucy said, genuinely shocked.

“I’ll keep me ears open, and me mouth shut,” Peter offered.

Philippa smiled. “It will all be resolved to the good,” she assured them.

“You might have been killed,” Lucy said. “And what would I have told your mother then? And Annie would have killed me.”

The remark made Philippa laugh. “I fear life back in England is going to be intolerably dull for us, Lucy,” she teased her serving woman.

Both Lucy and Peter chortled.

“It has surely been more interesting for me since you married my master,” Peter admitted with a small grin. “If your ladyship doesn’t mind me saying so.”

Crispin returned with the news that the cardinal wanted to see Philippa, but that he would come under cover of darkness to their pavilion, for it would seem odd if she appeared in his quarters. There were too many people around the cardinal, and that would lead to too many questions. He would come after the evening’s banquet.

“I have sent word to the queen that I am ill,” Philippa said. “I did not think I could face a large gathering tonight so soon after learning what I did this afternoon.”

The earl nodded. “I will go, and I will bring Wolsey back here myself with only one servant. No one will think it odd that we are together given my previous service.” He smiled a small smile. “Here I was supposed to be the one listening for information that might be of use to the king, and I have heard nothing that everyone else does not know, until today when my wife stumbled upon a scheme that could change the face of our world as we know it. Thank God you did overhear these men, Philippa, but I am even more grateful that you escaped them unscathed.” His previous anger over her foolish visit to King Francois seemed now to be forgotten.

“I have told Peter and Lucy,” Philippa said. Why did his eyes warm so when he looked at her?

“Aye, they should know, and they are wise enough to keep silent,” he replied. Then he put his arms about her and tipped her face up to his. “Promise me you will go nowhere alone until this matter is settled,” he said.

“I promise,” she said breathlessly, and then he kissed her tenderly, and Philippa melted against him. If only he would love her, she thought, and then wondered why such an idea had come into her head. She was his wife. It didn’t matter if he loved her or not. But it did, she suddenly realized. But why did it matter? She didn’t understand why it mattered so much to her. Yet it did. She wanted to go home to England. She wanted to see her mother, who could surely explain all these puzzlements to her.

“You must not think when I kiss you,” he gently teased her.

“I was thinking how much I like it when you kiss me,” she flattered him. “I believe that I like being married to you, my lord husband.”

His heart leapt beneath his doublet. “I am glad that you do, Philippa, for I find that I enjoy being your husband. Far more than I ever anticipated.” He kissed her again. “I miss our bedsport,” he murmured in her ear. “Do you?”

She nodded, blushing. “I was also thinking I cannot wait to get home to England, my lord. I think perhaps that I have had enough of the court for now. I want to see my family in the north. I want you to meet them, and know them. My stepfather will want to take you grouse hunting. He does love the sport muchly. I want you to see Friarsgate.”

“Have you changed your mind about it, little one?” he asked her.

“Nay, it is not for me. Your Brierewode suits me far better,” she said. “It is peaceful, and would appear to be a good place to raise children,” and she blushed again.

He drew away from her. “I must get ready for tonight’s banquet. Holding you in my arms like this is difficult, Philippa, especially when I want to take you to bed, and make love to you, and create that first of our children.”

Reaching up, Philippa caressed his face with delicate fingers. “There is time, my lord, for all of that. We will depart this Field of the Cloth of Gold, as it has come to be known, in just a few more days. England and the rest of this summer await us.”

“I want to go to Brierewode first,” he said. “Before we go north.”

“My sister is to be wed in late summer,” she reminded him. “We shall know the date when we reach Oxfordshire. We will stay at Brierewode as long as we may, but I must see Banon wed to her Neville.”

“Agreed, as long as you and I may spend the winter in our own little nest,” he replied. “I picture us by ourselves before a warm fire on a snowy winter’s night.”

“Agreed,” she responded with a small smile. “But you must let me sit in your lap, husband, and you must promise to caress my breasts so I may have pleasure of you.”

He groaned. “Madame, the picture you paint makes me want to wish away the months until we may be together in so intimate a conjunction.”

“Peter,” Philippa called. “Come and help your master prepare for the banquet this evening. Lucy, go to the cook tents, and fetch me some supper.” She slipped from his embrace easily with a small smile. I love him, she thought to herself, surprised.

The earl washed himself in a basin, and then with his serving man’s aid dressed for the banquet being held this evening, given by the French admiral for the two royal couples. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he told her before he left. “You know how these things can go, and each side has been striving to outdo the other.” He kissed her lips lingeringly, and then with a sigh drew away.

“If I fall asleep, Lucy will awaken me when you return,” she said. “I want to be helpful to the cardinal. It cannot hurt to have him in our debt.”

“Thomas Wolsey only takes, little one,” her husband said. “And he will not remain in power forever. He has made many enemies over the years. No matter his value to the king, there will come a day when he makes one mistake too many, offends the absolute wrong person one time too many, and poof! The king will dismiss him without a thought, and even take revenge on him for disappointing him.”

“King Henry would never be unkind,” Philippa said innocently.

“May you never see that side of him, little one,” the earl told her, and then, turning on his heel, he went off to the banquet being held this night.

Lucy was returning with food for them as he left. She was practically bowed down by the weight of the tray she carried. Mistress and servants sat down at the table to eat. There was a fat capon roasted to a golden brown, three meat pastries, fresh bread, butter, a soft French cheese, and some fresh peaches. To her surprise Philippa found, despite all that had happened today, she had a large appetite. She ate heartily, and drank two cups of a sweet rich wine. But having eaten, she found that she grew quickly sleepy.

“I can’t sleep,” she said.

“You can’t remain awake either, my lady,” Lucy said. “Come along. When the earl returns I will awaken you.” She escorted Philippa into the smaller half of the tent, helped her to undress, leaving her mistress in her chemise, brushed her long hair, and put her to bed. Philippa was instantly asleep. “Poor lady,” Lucy said to Peter when she had returned into the other room, “she was so brave today, but surely she must have been very frightened. I know I should have been.”

“Aye,” Peter agreed. “I’ve seen those before who have taken a fright. Afterwards they sleep, and it helps to heal them. She was a brave young woman standing up to those French ruffians, pretending she didn’t understand their garbled tongue.”

The earl returned close to midnight, bringing Cardinal Wolsey and his servant with him. He instructed Lucy to awaken Philippa, and then the three servants waited outside beneath the awning while their masters met in secret. Philippa came from the makeshift bedchamber in her long silk chemise. It was tied at the neck with white silk ribbons, and had long sleeves. Her garb was as modest as it could be under the circumstances. Her unbound long hair gave her a particularly young and innocent look.

“Your grace,” she said, curtseying, and kissing the outstretched hand. The cardinal, she noted, had a large hand with well-shaped, graceful fingers and neatly pared, clean fingernails.

The cardinal was seated, but he did not invite his host and hostess to sit. “Your husband has told me, madame, of your adventure this afternoon. Now I would have you tell me. Begin where you left the French king’s tent.”

Philippa blushed, but then she began. “My husband’s cousin had departed, and left me to find my own way. And the tent, your grace, was where the king changed after the jousts. It was not that great thing that blew away this afternoon. As you may know, the tents in that area are small, and lined up one after the other. It was like being in the midst of a garden maze. I had no idea where I was, or how to proceed. Then I recalled that our encampment was to the west. I looked to see if I might ascertain the position of the sun, and once I had I went in that direction, turning twice. I finally saw the jousting field ahead of me, but there was also a party of rather rough-looking knights near the exit, and so I moved one row over in order to avoid them. Frankly I did not wish to be seen. At that point another of those nasty little dust storms came up, and I could see nothing ahead of me. I was afraid to proceed lest I be lost again, and so I stopped, waiting for the storm to subside. It was then I overhead two men talking.”