The Squire’s Tale (21 page)

‘Children, hush. Your mother,“ Nurse said from where she still sat with Katherine and Mistress Dionisia.

Hushed but unswerving, Tacine repeated, “No. You can’t,” at her brothers and scrambled to her feet.

‘Can,“ said John.

And from Robin, “Master Geoffrey said so.”

‘You go ask Master Geoffrey,“ Nurse said firmly, ”and mind you keep your voices down while you do.“

They came to him in a rush, Tacine still hugging her doll, Robin with a boy-sized wooden sword, John saying eagerly even before they reached the window seat, “She said Robin could kill Meggy and now she won’t let him.”

‘Not,“ Tacine said firmly.

‘You said!“

‘No!“

Before John could answer that flat refusal, Master Geoffrey looked to Robin. “Tell me the start of it.”

‘We’re sort of playing at doctors, ’cause it’s quiet. Only being just sick is nothing and I asked if we could stab her doll and then make her well.“

‘And she said we could,“ John put in.

‘No.“

‘Did!“

‘No!“

Tacine might not have many words, but she had certainty. Master Geoffrey held up a hand, looked to Tacine’s stubborn face, looked at indignant John, returned his look to Robin and asked, “Did she?”

‘Yes, but then John said stabbing wasn’t anything. He wanted to cleave her from crown to crotch.“

‘Master John,“ said Nurse sternly. ”That’s not a proper thing or even possible.“

‘It is!“ he exclaimed, supported by Robin’s, ”Master Geoffrey told us.“

Tacine nodded vigorously that he had but added, holding her doll closer, “Can’t!”

‘Didn’t you?“ Robin demanded of the clerk.

‘According to the chronicler Master Froissart, it has been done,“ Master Geoffrey said judiciously, with an eye to Nurse who gave a small nod that since he was quieting the children, he could go on.

‘Did you ever
see
someone cleave someone?“ Robin asked, leaning against the clerk’s knee.

His brother and sister, equally ready to trade quarreling for a story, sank cross-legged to the floor as Master Geoffrey said, “I’m pleased to say not. I doubt few have. It would take a mighty sword as well as a mighty man to cut through bone and armor both like that.”

‘But you saw Lord Talbot,“ John said.
”He
could have.“

‘He very likely could,“ Master Geoffrey agreed, ”but I never saw him fight.“

‘You said…“ John started in protest.

‘I said I saw him in battle, remember, Master John. But it was after he had sworn never to bear arms against the French again so I did not see him fight.“

‘And his squires and knights were all around him and never let happen any foe come near enough to strike at him,“ Robin said as if repeating a much-loved tale.

‘Never a one,“ Master Geoffrey said, and John and Ta-cine happily together chanted, ”Never a one!“

Satisfied and quarrel forgotten, the children returned to their play and Frevisse for sake of conversation that wasn’t about the weather asked, “You were in France, Master Geoffrey?”

‘In my regretted youth, yes.“ Master Geoffrey smiled. ”I started as an Oxford scholar with some thought of entering the law but was more given to street brawling than studies, I fear, to the point where my tutor told me there was no longer place for me and my hot blood there. I’d sense enough to know my hot blood would be no more welcome back home in Gloucester and joined the muster the duke of Bedford was gathering to go back to France in 1434.“

‘In time for the disaster with Burgundy,“ Frevisse said. When the duke of Burgundy had abandoned his long alliance with England in favor of allying with the king of France, and the French war had gone into the worst squall of fighting there had been in years.

‘Even so. By the time my indenture was done, I’d seen enough of fighting that I no longer tended so readily to anger before thought and all I wanted was to go back to Oxford and be the most peaceable of scholars. I did and here I—“

The bedchamber door flew open and Emelye fled into the Parlor, weeping. Frevisse stayed where she was but the other three women and Master Geoffrey all sprang to their feet, Katherine even starting toward the girl, but Mistress Avys came out the door on Emelye’s heels, said, “Emelye,” and the girl spun around and fell, weeping harder, into her arms. Patting her on the back, Mistress Avys said over her shoulder to the rest of them, “Lady Blaunche.” Not that they needed even that much explanation, especially with Dame Claire now in the bedchamber doorway, saying past the two of them with more irk than anything, “Dame Frevisse, would you come in, please?” Master Geoffrey took a questioning step forward and Dame Claire nodded at him. “Yes. You, too. Please.”

Very rarely had Frevisse seen Dame Claire reach her patience’s end but there was no doubting she was somewhere near it this time and as Mistress Avys led Emelye aside, still patting and talking to her, Frevisse followed Master Geoffrey warily into the bedchamber. Dame Claire, waiting to shut the door behind her, said, low and hurried, “She’s worked herself to such a pitch that all she wants to be is upset. See what you can do. Pray with her maybe. Or for her. Or…”

With a courage that had probably served him well in France—not to mention in his Oxford street brawls—Master Geoffrey was crossing directly toward the bed, and from beyond the bedcurtains drawn across its foot, Lady Blaunche cried out to him, “They’re all useless! All they do is cluck the same things over and over at me like stupid hens. It’s not going to be all right and I’m sick of everyone saying it is!”

‘Or at her,“ Dame Claire finished grimly. ”If you can quiet her even a little while I mix a stronger potion…“

Frevisse nodded tersely. She did not want to be here but since she was and was needed, despite how little good she thought she could do, she followed Master Geoffrey toward the bed.

The room’s one window, facing probably toward the garden and orchard, was still shuttered, keeping the enclosed air stale with sickroom smells and leaving only lamplight by which to see Lady Blaunche sitting up bolt-straight among the bed-shadows, Master Geoffrey now holding her by both hands, saying to her with warm concern, “My lady, don’t do this to yourself. Whatever happens, whatever comes of it, there are your children to think on. Remember how they need you.”

‘My children.“ Lady Blaunche flung herself backward onto her pillows, returning to angry tears. ”My children! He’s ruined everything for them, too. He’s ruined it all. Why don’t any of you see that?“

‘My lady, what we see is that you’re making yourself ill to no good purpose,“ Master Geoffrey said, taking her hands again.

This time she clung to him, sobbing, “But that’s just it! There’s no good purpose left to anything!”

‘My lady…“

It did not help that he was hardly as old as Robert. An older man would have maybe had more authority with her. As it was the best he looked likely to manage was pity and Frevisse suspected that Lady Blaunche had already had pity in full measure and running over from her women to no use except to make her want more. Indeed, she now let go one hand from Master Geoffrey and reached out to Frevisse, pleading, “Dear Dame Frevisse, you understand, don’t you?”

Staying where she was, beyond reach, her own hands firmly tucked into her opposite sleeves, Frevisse said calmly, “Understand what?”

‘That I’ve lost Robert! That I’ve lost everything and there’s nothing left!“

Frevisse gave up her silent prayer for humility and patience—Lady Blaunche was trying for neither, that was certain—and instead said, “You can hardly say in truth that you’ve lost Master Fenner. You’re still married to him, you’re bearing his child. Nor have you even nearly lost everything, only one manor that wasn’t yours to have anyway.”

Dame Claire across the room, busy with mixing something into a goblet, looked sharply around at her and Master Geoffrey beside the bed turned his head to stare, while Lady Blaunche on her pillows went rigid, momentarily wordless. Taking advantage of that, Frevisse said at her, unrelenting, “Master Fenner is dealing with the Allesleys because he loves you more than he loves mere acres. He’s doing it because he doesn’t want to see you and your children in danger.”

Lady Blaunche shifted to sit violently up against her pillows. “But the lands are mine!”

‘What matters more?“ Frevisse returned sharply. ”Land or keeping your children safe?“

Lady Blaunche struck the bedclothes with her fists. “But he ought to fight the Allesleys! He ought to
make
them leave me the lands!”

Was she that far from reason, to wish that on her husband? Or was she maybe tiring of all the tears that were doing her no good and ready to be convinced out of it, if only someone would? Not much caring which it was, Frevisse said, “And risk what might happen to you and the children if he loses? He loves you all far too much for that.”

‘He doesn’t love me,“ Lady Blaunche said with despairing bitterness, sinking down again into pity. ”Not anymore.“

‘My lady,“ Master Geoffrey began, ”you can’t…“

Lady Blaunche pushed him a little aside, reaching past him with both hands toward Frevisse, who this time gave way and moved into her reach, putting out her own hands for Lady Blaunche to grasp with strength surprising in so “ailing” a woman. Master Geoffrey, flushing an uncomfortable red, shifted farther aside while Lady Blaunche, her mouth trembling, drew Frevisse close and half-whispered in her ear, “It’s that I’m older than he is. That makes it harder for him to love me.”

Firmly, praying she was right, Frevisse said, “He loves you.”

‘But not as much as I love him,“ Lady Blaunche moaned, ”and I’m so afraid of losing him. Look at me. I’m old!“ She fell back and rolled over to bury her face in a pillow.
”Old!“

‘My lady.“ Master Geoffrey dared to reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder. ”You’re bearing his child and are beautiful with it, as you’re always beautiful when you’re with child. Have no fears there.“

Setting her own doubts aside, Frevisse said, “And he understands how it is with you this while. He knows all isn’t well with you but that it’s because you’re childing and it will pass.”

Lady Blaunche hiccuped on a sob, rolled over and asked, tear-eyed but willing to be hopeful, “You think so?” She sat up and reached out for each of them to give her a hand to hold. “He knows it’s not my fault, doesn’t he? That I can’t help being this way when I’m childing?”

‘Of course he knows,“ Master Geoffrey said. ”He knows and we pray he understands.“

Lady Blaunche let go of Master Geoffrey’s hand to take hold of both of Frevisse’s again. “It’s that I’ve always loved him so much more than he loves me, you see. I wanted him from when I first laid eyes on him.” With a heavy tug she pulled Frevisse closer and said, her voice dropped to almost a whisper and strained with distress, “But Dame Claire says there mustn’t be any more children between us, that I have to keep from him…” She broke off, fighting new tears, then choked out, “Have you ever loved someone like that? Loved him so much you thought you’d die without him? Is it because you lost him that you became a nun?”

‘I became a nun,“ Frevisse answered, more from impatience than because she cared if Lady Blaunche knew, ”because God was my first and best choice. Not,“ she added tartly, ”because he was all I had left.“

Even as she said it, she saw that what had been a simple choice for her was one Lady Blaunche could come nowhere near to understanding. Instead, self-pitying tears swelled in Lady Blaunche’s eyes again and she pressed her hands to her face, moaning, “I wish I’d become a nun. Dear God and St. Anne, I wish I had!”

‘I once thought of becoming a monk,“ Master Geoffrey put in.

It was an expert effort to divert Lady Blaunche, Frevisse saw at once, because Lady Blaunche immediately uncovered her face and turned her head toward him. “You did, didn’t you? I remember you saying so once but not why. Was it for a lost love?”

‘I’ve never been fortunate enough to have a love, let be unfortunate enough to lose her. No, it was near the end of my time at Oxford—my second time at Oxford,“ he said with a smile that Lady Blaunche damply matched, showing that his Oxford time was something of a jest between them, ”but happily by then I’d grown wits enough to know that taking up the cloistered life is no little matter and that I was thinking of it more because I was a-feared over what would come to me in the world than because I desired to give myself up to God. So for God’s sake and my own, I took courage instead of vows and here I am, most content in your service, my lady.“

He took her near hand, raised and kissed it, and Frevisse saw that there was what Lady Blaunche wanted—to be flattered and made much of, even if only by someone whose place here depended on how well he pleased her. But even more than that, what she wanted was to have her own way, and Robert for maybe the first time in their marriage was not giving it to her.
That,
more than childing and unbalanced humours, was what presently drove her and Frevisse was grateful Dame Claire came then with what she had been mixing and that Lady Blaunche was now sufficiently calmed to do as she was told and drank at Dame Claire’s bidding.

She was handing the goblet back when a burst of children’s laughter from the parlor made her start. “I’ll quiet them,” Master Geoffrey said, making start for the door.