The Clerk’s Tale (18 page)

Letice came in then with Emme, to set out the table with a clean white cloth embroidered in red and yellow spirals around the hem and well-polished pewter dishes and cups, and both Lady Agnes and Frevisse held silent while they did, finishing just as the other maid and Lucas brought in two cloth-covered trays and a pitcher of warm, spiced wine that Frevisse welcomed for its warmth’s sake as much as she welcomed the food.

The meal was a pleasingly simple one of rabbit cooked in a sauce of spices and raisins, followed by risshewes of figs mixed with spices fried in a fine pastry crust; and Lady Agnes kept the talk pleasingly simple, too, first with a little mild speculation on who and how many might come to Montfort’s funeral—“The curious and the required for the most part, I’d guess. Real mourners will likely be few,” was her judgment—and, her good humour restored, went on from there to talk about St. Mary’s.

‘Though there’s woefully little to say about it,“ Lady Agnes complained, only half in jest, Frevisse thought. ”Last year Bishop Lumley made one of his visitations to learn of all the wrongs and whatever there might be. That’s when scandals and complaints come out, everybody tattling on everybody else. But there was nothing. Not a thing. Not even one nun tattling on another. No backbiting, no scandals, no reports of any sinful doings or complaints of poor managing. Nothing.“

‘Whatever are they thinking of?“ Frevisse said dryly.

‘Their prayers, I suppose. More’s the pity. How goes it in your nunnery? Is it is as dull as this one?“

Frevisse suspected that was the question Lady Agnes had been aiming at all along, undoubtedly with the hope that, with Domina Elisabeth not there, Frevisse would turn to tale-telling. But rather than giving any sign she had understood the chance she was being offered, she took her time over a last small bite of a risshewe before saying so mildly butter would have barely melted in her mouth, “Oh, it’s much the same, I’d say.”

Lady Agnes let her doubt of that show. “All honey and warmth, is it?”

‘Well…“ Frevisse paused as if for thought. ”Dame Perpetua
was
upset lately over a batch of ink that didn’t turn out well. And Dame Claire was maybe a little too persevering at Domina Elisabeth about something she wanted brought from Oxford when we returned. You know how infirmarians are.“

Lady Agnes gave a sharp laugh. “I see how
you
are anyway, Dame. Have it your own way. Tell no tales and no tales will be told about you, you think? Well, will you read to me awhile, before Letice begins to remind me I should lie down for a time?”

Frevisse would have preferred to leave Lady Agnes to her rest but the warmth near the fire and lethargy after the meal kept her, as much as for courtesy’s sake, brought her to say, “I’d be pleased to. What would you like?”

Lady Agnes waved a hand at Letice, waiting to clear their dishes now they were done with eating. “Bring the
Lais.
It’s wherever you put it in the chest last time.”

‘I mind where it is,“ Letice answered, already moving to fetch it.

Clear in the cold air, the nunnery bell began to call to Nones. All three women crossed themselves but that was all the heed either Lady Agnes or Letice gave it and Frevisse took the book when Letice brought it to her without comment, merely asking, “Which would you like?”

‘Where the marker is,“ Lady Agnes directed, settling herself against her cushions with eyes shut and hands folded over her stomach. She did not nap, though, but listened well, with occasionally a laugh and sometimes a soft snort at something more unlikely than the rest; and when there was a light scratching at the door she opened her eyes on the instant to demand at Letice, ”Go and see who it is.“

Unbothered at being ordered to do what she was already doing—but if she was going to be bothered by Lady Agnes’s ways, she would have left her years ago, Frevisse supposed—Letice crossed the room and opened the door, said with pleasure, “Mistress Nichola,” and stood aside to let the girl enter as Lady Agnes wiggled up straighter in her chair and called, “Ah! Good! Come here, sweetling.”

Her cheeks prettily bright from the cold, Nichola obeyed, smiling, asking as she unfastened her dark green cloak and gave it to Letice, “Is it all right I’m here? You’re done with dinner, aren’t you?”

‘Long since,“ Lady Agnes said. ”Nor would it matter if we weren’t. I’m always glad to have you here. You know that. Letice, has the wine kept warm? The child is chilled, surely. You didn’t walk, did you?“

Shaking out the skirts of her simple, dark rexl gown before curtsying to Lady Agnes and Frevisse together, Nichola said with a small, breathless laugh, “No. I rode. See.”

She had kept her gloves when she gave up her cloak and now held them out. Lady Agnes gave a sharp, approving nod. “Good. Show them to Dame Frevisse.”

Nichola obediently did and Frevisse duly looked at them. They were lovely, made of pale, soft doeskin, with long cuffs meant to protect a rider’s forearms, the back of each hand intricately patterned with embroidery and beads in greens and blues.

‘Father said I wasn’t to wear them except when I ride,“ Nichola offered shyly. ”That’s why he gave them to me. So I’d ride.“

‘Nichola is afraid of horses,“ Lady Agnes grumbled.

‘I’m not,“ Nichola protested. ”I like horses. I just don’t like to
ride
them.“

‘You’ll make no miles by looking at them,“ Lady Agnes pointed out crisply.

Apparently used to being scoffed at for it, Nichola said easily, “But I don’t need to make miles to visit you,” and added, smiling, to Frevisse, “We only live a little beyond the top of High Street. No long way to walk at all.”

‘Or to ride,“ Lady Agnes said. ”You’ll come to no harm over that short stretch of road. Letice…“

But Letice had already brought a stool, was setting it down behind Nichola and offering to take her gloves. Nichola gave them to her and sat, while Lady Agnes left off jibing at her and said, smiling, too, “Now, child, what brings you here besides simply the pleasure of my company? Our company,” she amended with a slight bend of her head to Frevisse. “Are they fretting at home and you decided to escape for a time?”

‘Oh, Godmother.“ An unwilling smile tugged at Nichola’s mouth. ”They’re always fretting, you know that. Mother…“

She stopped, to take the cup of wine Letice had poured for her, and Lady Agnes asked, “How is your mother?”

‘Fretting.“ But Nichola smiled as she said it. ”You know how she is.“

‘Is she done with that rheum she had at Twelfth Night yet?“

‘Nearly.“

‘You tell her from me to drink a strong brew of peppermint with honey thick in it. That will clear it.“ Lady Agnes turned to Frevisse. ”She’s a narrow-chested woman so these things always take her hard. The sweetest of women but not strong. Bearing four sons and two daughters was too much for her, I think. But they all lived and so did she and that’s more blessing than God sometimes gives…“

She seemed likely to go on that way, but Nichola, having probably heard it too often to more than be half-listening now, asked, “Godmother, was Stephen here today?”

Without change of countenance or pace, Lady Agnes turned from procreation to husbands, answering easily, “He was indeed. For a pleasant while I had both him and Dame Frevisse for company.”

Nichola glanced at Frevisse who, wary of where this might be going, nodded very slight agreement that she had been here. Looking back to Lady Agnes, Nichola said with obviously forced boldness, “It’s being said you quarreled.”

‘Fools say a great many things. Whether you heed them or not is your choice.“ Lady Agnes dismissed them all with a wave of one hand, then leaned forward to tap Nichola firmly on the shoulder. ”And on the whole you’ll find that any word that runs as fast as that one did is usually false.“

‘You didn’t quarrel, then?“ Nichola persisted.

Lady Agnes sat back in her chair. “Of course we quarreled. We always quarrel. It’s what we do for sport. You know that by now and that there’s never harm in it.”

Nichola smiled, again as if unwillingly. “That’s what Stephen said, too.”

‘You asked Stephen?“ Lady Agnes sounded both surprised and pleased.

‘Just before I came. Mother said I shouldn’t, but who else should I ask first if not him?“

‘Quite right,“ Lady Agnes approved. ”Sensible girl. Keep him that bit off balance.“

‘Oh, no…“

‘Oh, yes, my child. If you let husbands keep their balance all the time, they become impossible to govern, and Stephen will be worse than most if you let him. What did he answer?“

‘He said I shouldn’t be a ninny.“

‘There then. You listen to him. He’s your husband after all. Just don’t always heed him, mind you. But do listen.“

Nichola laughed.

‘Now drink your wine while it’s still warm and will do you some good,“ Lady Agnes ordered.

Nichola obeyed, raising the cup with both hands like a child, but to Frevisse the look in her eyes looking at Lady Agnes over the cup’s rim said she was not yet altogether reassured, and when she had lowered the cup to her lap and was gazing down at it, Nichola asked, “You had other company this morning, too.” She hesitated. “Mistress Champyon’s daughter?”

‘Ah. Lady Juliana.“ Lady Agnes took a long sip of her own wine. ”Yes. She came to pay her respect because I was her late husband’s godmother. She said. What she really wanted was to see if I was as witless with age as her mother hopes I am and, if I was, to judge how much to her mother’s advantage it would be.“

‘She didn’t!“ Nichola protested.

‘She did indeed. I was a disappointment to her, I fear.“

It was a neat bit of lying, Frevisse granted, and all the better for not being quite altogether a lie, but Nichola asked with a lightness not quite light enough, “Was she here when Stephen was?”

‘She was going out as he was coming in, I think.“ Lady Agnes’s lightness was much better done. ”They probably passed each other in the yard. Letice.“ She held up her cup to be refilled and, while Letice fetched the pitcher, asked in her turn, ”What do you hear about your brothers, Nichola?“ as if moving on to something more interesting.

Left with the choice of answering or being rude, Nichola settled to telling they’d heard that both her two older brothers and their wives were well, that Robin at Westminster was complaining of his law studies being too long, and that Ned had written from Oxford just after Twelfth Night to say he was short of money.

‘Young Ned would be short of money if he were the archbishop of Canterbury,“ Lady Agnes said. ”He’s no sense that way. Wherever he becomes priest, they’d best look to their altar plate, that’s all I can say, or they’ll find it pawned.“

‘Oh, Grandmother!“ Nichola laughed. She had given over being the worried wife, was again simply the cheerful girl she had been at dinner yesterday.

‘And your sister?“ Lady Agnes asked.

‘The baby is expected to come about Ladymass day. Mother and I mean to be there for it, if the weather holds good for riding.“

Lady Agnes nodded approvingly. “Very good. And you?” She leaned to pat Nichola’s stomach. “What about you?”

A duskier red than what the cold had brought to her cheeks flooded Nichola’s face. She looked quickly down into her lap, her hands suddenly tight around her wine cup as she murmured, “Nothing yet. You know that.”

‘I just wanted to be certain Stephen is still behaving himself. Put your head up, child. You’re not a servant.“

Nichola raised her head, face still flamed. “If he… if I… he might not need then—”

Lady Agnes cut her off with another tap on her shoulder, saying firmly, “You put those thoughts right out of your head, child. Stephen loves you best of anyone and that’s all you need to think on. Now, we’ve left Dame Frevisse out of our talk too long. Tell her about your plans for your manor when you and Stephen finally move there.”

Obedient, Nichola swallowed down whatever she was hurting to say but stood up and said instead of Lady Agnes’s bidding, “Another time, please you. Mother will be wanting me and I’d best go.”

‘Off you go then. Give me a kiss.“

Lady Agnes tilted her head and Nichola affectionately kissed her cheek, then turned to make curtsy to Frevisse with, like the well-bred child she was, “It was good to see you again, my lady.”

‘And you, Mistress Lengley,“ Frevisse answered with a bow of her head.

‘Mind you come again to see me soon,“ Lady Agnes said. ”Mind, too, that you ride the long way around to home. Up Mill Street, if nothing more. The more you ride, the easier you’ll feel at it.“

‘Yes, Grandmother,“ Nichola agreed but whether to the longer ride or not wasn’t clear.

‘Letice,“ Lady Agnes said, and with Nichola’s cloak over her arm and gloves in hand, Letice went to open the door, letting Nichola pass through ahead of her, then following after, shutting the door as she went, probably to see the girl all the way across the hall to the yard, and with them safely gone, Lady Agnes slumped back in her chair with a deep sigh of relief and, ”There. That’s trouble done.“

Or at least fended aside for a while, Frevisse thought, because to her mind Nichola had been turned aside from worry rather than talked out of it; and despite she knew she should leave it lying, she said, “She knows about Juliana. Or suspects.”