A Tapestry of Treason. Anne O'Brien
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side. This was the news she had not wanted. ‘Bagot named Surrey and Exeter too, as well as Salisbury.’
Thomas was not finished. ‘He also named me.’ He glanced at Edward, prepared now to concede a point. ‘I was not directly involved in Woodstock’s death, but I was one of the Counter-Appellants and reaped the rewards. The Earldom of Gloucester as well as Arundel and Beauchamp estates and castles. It will not be easily forgiven by those who thought Arundel died a martyr’s death. I foresee no pardon for Surrey or Exeter. Or for me. As for the rest of you,’ – his gaze swept us all – ‘the King might decide to rid himself of the whole hornets’ nest of potential traitors.’
‘I thought—’ I began.
‘If you think we had persuaded him that we could be of value to him as supporters of the new reign, then you are wrong. We were all wrong.’
It is exactly what I had thought. But here was violent death lurking on our threshold. Joan looked as if the dread angel sat on her shoulder. My father was stricken to silence, a hand, shaking, covering his eyes.
‘What do we do?’ Joan asked helplessly.
It was as if no one cared to answer her. Perhaps they thought her question fatuous, as I did.
‘This is what we do,’ I said, for there was only one choice to make. What could we possibly do to pre-empt the next step by the King? ‘We do nothing. We keep our temper. We preserve a good humour. We challenge no one. We answer all accusations, or not, as required. We admit nothing. We discuss it with no one. We do not allow temper to cloud our judgement.’
I had their eyes and their ears. I did not hold back. In this black void of fear they would listen to me.
‘We do not beg for mercy from the King until we need it, if we need it. And we wait. Nothing to be gained by doing anything else. We will conduct ourselves as if we were innocent. Any accusation against us must be proven. Will the King listen to Bagot before his own blood?’
‘He might not.’ Edward’s fury had subsided somewhat into a mere rumble of falling rocks. ‘But the Lords would gladly do so.’
‘Then we trust that the King sees sense and dismisses the Lords. He cannot afford to lose you, Edward.’ I glanced at my husband. ‘He can’t afford to lose any of us. Meanwhile, we’ll add nothing more to the danger we are already in.’ Then to my father: ‘Have you been threatened to any degree, my lord?’
He shook his head.
‘Surely Henry dare not,’ Edward said, equanimity restored at last as some degree of clear thought came into play. ‘Our father played kingmaker at Berkeley, by negotiating rather than directing his army to fight. Without that, Henry’s struggle against Richard would have been twice as difficult. He owes our father an incalculable debt of gratitude.’
‘Then let us hope that he realises it,’ I agreed. ‘And that to reward the Duke of York for past services, he must pardon the Duke of York’s family.’
But Edward was frowning down into the empty cup. ‘Bagot said that John Hall should be questioned,’ he admitted.
‘And who is John Hall?’
Edward’s eyes met mine, and there was deep concern still alive and well.
‘John Hall was one of the valets involved in the death of Thomas of Woodstock in Calais. Bagot says he should be questioned because he knows who was involved. Who sent the order and who carried it out. Hall is in prison in Newgate. I expect he’ll be in the Lords’ clutches by tomorrow morning.’
‘Will he incriminate you?’ I asked, knowing the answer before I asked the question.
‘Yes. This could all be much worse than we think.’
It had to be Thomas who pointed out the obvious: ‘Worse?’ He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘How can it be worse? I can see death writ large for all of us.’
Doom kept us all company through the hours of night and into the morning, when Joan and I converged on what had become the women’s chamber, our embattled menfolk already on their way to attend the meeting of parliament. This was no day for any one of them to be absent, not even my father, still in pain but determined. Only a ministration to his limbs of the roots and leaves of hound’s tongue and marjoram, steeped in warm oil, to dull the pain, together with the strong arm of his body servant, got him through the door; his discomfort could not be disguised but he would stand beside his family. The Dukes of Surrey and Exeter joined them to put on a brave face. The fate of all would hang together.
Which left the womenfolk, as ever, to await the outcome while the royal greyhound fretted outside the door. For some reason beyond my guessing, it had returned to Edward’s care, which seemed absurd when the King had rejoiced at its change of loyalty. I refused to allow it entry. It was enough to tolerate the sickly sweetness of the marjoram which hung in the air, strangely at odds with the stench of alarm.
‘It is one of the few times when I wish for a squint, to spy upon what parliament might be doing.’ I pressed my cheek against the almost opaque glass, to peer through the window in the direction of the Great Hall, considering the value of the narrow aperture in a church to allow the host in the side chapel to be elevated at the same moment as the miracle occurred at the high altar. I wanted to know what was being said, what challenges were being issued and by whom. Ignorance was a cruel word and most pertinent. Infuriatingly it was my lot, and that of every woman, never to know of pertinent events within parliament until informed at some later date, if at all. ‘I fear this day will prove interminable.’ I paused, considering the worst scenario, in spite of my brave words on the previous night. ‘And of course, they may not return.’
‘Better not to know,’ Joan observed, her head bent over her stitches. She had recovered her composure since hearing that her brother and uncle too would face the Lords’ vengeance, but that probably her husband would not. A treasonous husband could mean any number of difficulties for his wife, however innocent she might be, not least confiscation of all the family estates, including her dower. Joan was unlikely to suffer. I would not be so fortunate. The promise of hours of uncertainty scratched at my temper.
‘Better not to know? Until they are condemned to death?’
Her head snapped up. ‘I cannot believe that of Henry. He owes my lord the Duke a debt of honour.’
‘I am not so hopeful. I would like to know that my family is to be sent to join Richard in the Tower before it actually happens.’
‘But you can do nothing to prevent it. As I can do nothing to safeguard my brother and uncle.’
I could not answer that, for it was true. I paced. Joan continued to sit and stitch at some linen garment, until I could bear the silence no longer. I watched her needle flash in and out of the fine material. I resented her stillness, her acceptance. Did she not care? Finally I stopped in front of her. The linen was particularly fine.
‘Are you breeding?’
‘No.’ She did not even look up. ‘This is an altar cloth. Not that it is any of your affair if I was carrying a child. And what’s more, I despise stitching. I would that I were a man and could wield a sword rather than a needle.’
Which confounded me. She and my father had been married for seven years now but I had made no attempt to become acquainted with her, nor even questioned why my father should choose to marry a girl so much younger than himself. It was nothing more than an alliance between two powerful and interrelated families, the Hollands and Plantagenets. Could he not have done better if he had wanted a wife for companionship in his last years? I had thought her insipid, self-effacing. Whereas I was incapable of remaining aloof from the events that would impinge so keenly on our future, my stepmother was weakly accepting of her