A Queen's Spy by - (black authors fiction .TXT) 📖

than the lady you so kindly, if a little hurriedly,” her tone was acid, “left with us.”

Jack, who had been settling down for some general conversation, which he could use to steer round to the subject he was interested in, was a little taken back by her bluntness.

“You’d be right,” he replied, unable to think of anything else to say at the moment. “Richard wishes me to take her back to Assingham.”

The Abbess paused while he took a drink and pretended not to notice the grimace on his face produced by the crude beverage. “Ah yes, your brother. We had no chance to talk when you were here last. Tell me about him. Believe me, goings on here are mundane, to say the least. You left in such a hurry last time that I was left only with questions.” Wriggling her shoulders, she settled back into the chair.

“You were left with only with questions! I think it’s me who has the questions,” Jack said. “My mother came here in…”

The Abbess interrupted. “I knew Marie extremely well. We were friends, she and I, close friends. I was saddened when she died last year.”

“Last year!” was all Jack said.

“Yes. Why? Did you want to see her? Left it a bit late didn’t you?” the Abbess said with deliberate cruelty.

“It looks like I did,” Jack sighed.

“Why? What did you want to know? Perhaps I can help,” the woman prompted, almost eagerly. “Don’t be so worried. What have you to fear from me? Nothing you say can be heard outside these walls. Satisfy my curiosity.” Jack still did not look like he wanted to share his thoughts. Sighing she continued, “She remembered your brother, Richard. Of course, he was a babe then.”

“That was when Marie was Eleanor’s waiting lady before I was born.” He was a little curious, but his voice still bore an edge of resentment.

The Abbess ignored it. “No, no, it was after you were born. She kept Marie with her until she was brought to bed of Richard.”

Jack sat forward.

“I thought he was older than me?” Jack said a bit shocked by this revelation.

“Where did you get that from? You’re the elder by a year and a half.”

Jack sat back in the chair; it was of no matter really, he supposed.

“So, how do you find Richard, then?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed at her direct question. “Why do you want to know?” he snapped back.

“Idle curiosity, I told you. I suppose there could be nothing but discord between you. Richard has reasons to resent you, and you have plenty yourself against that family,” she sighed, shaking her head. “He told me that you were not easy company, and I can see why.”

Jack’s confusion stopped him speaking. The Abbess took it as acceptance of her words and continued, “What will you do now?”

“What do you mean? You’ve seen Richard? When? Where?” Jack was now bolt upright in the chair.

“He came to see Marie, a month or so ago, I suppose. I find it hard to keep track of time,” she replied, smiling a little toothlessly at her guest.

“Why did he want to see you?” Jack asked quickly.

“Family secrets,” she said, and then added, “he knew you’d be back here again, and he’d asked me to keep the past to myself.”

“Tell me? What is it I don’t know?” Jack leant forward.

“Just one simple fact, that’s all,” the Abbess replied.

“Why will no-one tell me?” His words were edged with pain and resignation.

“Your brother told me that he’d tell you in his own time, but it seems he’s yet to do that,” she said, her voice calm and patient.

“I’ve asked him time and again. He won’t tell me. It is a secret he jealously guards.” Jack dropped back in the chair, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Does he now? I can see why that might be the case,” The abbess said.

Jack looked up from the floor, his shoulders slumped, his voice heavy with regret, “I believe he does not trust me enough to share it with me.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason. If anyone should be questioning trust, then it should be you. Do you trust your brother?” she asked, her brow furrowed, watching him carefully.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but her raised hand stilled his words. “Search your soul, don’t offer me hasty words.”

Jack’s eyes wandered to the fire, the dancing orange flames the only movement in the room. Unseeing he stared at the burning logs.

Did he trust his brother?

The fires white hot centre lit his eyes with an incandescent glow.

Could he trust his brother?

One of the logs shifted in the hearth sending a shower of orange sparks to dance and die on the stone flags.

Looking up he met her steady gaze still observing him closely, the heat from the fire still set in the depths of his eyes. “Yes, yes I do.”

A thoughtful expression settled on her face, and the ringed fingers on her right hand drummed on the arm of the chair. “I believe you do.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Jack’s mouth. “I’ll just have to persuade him that he can trust me.”

“That might be difficult,” she observed.

“I have little choice, do I? How else am I going to find out,” Jack said wearily.

“Did I say I’d not tell you?” The Abbess replied quickly.

“You said Richard asked you not to,” Jack replied.

“He did, and as I recall I don’t actually remember agreeing. I’m bound by higher orders than those your brother can command.” The Abbess’s voice was edged with the authority of her office.

Jack looked at her, apprehension plain on his face.

Did he really want to know?

“I’ll tell you. And for no other reason than someone else won’t. Just still yourself, Jack, and shush, it’s not a time for you to talk.” She stopped, considering carefully how to continue. “A painful truth is often better than a hidden lie.”

“Please, tell me,” Jack’s voice was hoarse.

“You are not only Richard’s older brother, you are William’s son, and the child of his wife.” The Abbess delivered the truth swiftly.

“What!” Jack exclaimed. “I can’t be.”

“Your mother was pregnant with you, William took one of her serving women to his bed, and she gave birth to his bastard a month after you were born,” She continued.

“I don’t understand. Why would I end up in his brother’s household?” Jack’s face was clouded with confusion.

“Eleanor didn’t want his bastard in her house. So to teach his scolding wife a lesson, William switched the babes. There was little difference, you were a month older, but Eleanor had left you with a wet nurse, so she was easily deceived. You, my dear, are Eleanor’s son,” The Abbess explained.

“Who knows?” Jack managed to ask, his eyes wide with shock.

“Very few. I thought only Marie and William knew of it . How your brother found how he didn’t tell me,” she answered.

If he was Eleanor’s son, then this meant…

Jack stood so suddenly that the chair behind him tipped and banged back loudly against the wooden floor.

“If I’m older than Richard then…” Jack paced across the room.

“You are William’s heir,” she finished for him, pity on her face, “Marie’s bastard son who, by all accounts I have heard, is marred by Marie’s sin, is accepted as William’s heir. And you, Eleanor’s lost child, are equally coloured by William’s sin.”

“And Richard knows this?” Jack managed at last.

“Of course.” Her words were a little sharp. “Why else would he come to see me? He wanted the same as you will want now. Proof. And I have none. There is only my own word, which is worth little, and as I told him, I will not speak outside these walls. So, knowing the truth is of little help.”

“How did he find out?” Jack’s face was ashen, he returned to the chair and dropped heavily into it.

“I don’t know, but such family deeds as William committed have a habit of returning to haunt the living.” She looked closely at him, but his eyes were unfocused and he did not see her.

“I don’t know whether to believe you,” he said at last, his face still pale.

“Why not? Why should I lie? If I were you I should be asking myself what your brother is likely to do,” she said quietly.

“Hah,” Jack choked. “Which one would that be? I seem to have a few to choose from.”

“One that is heir, one that would be, and one that can never be,” she said quietly.

Jack turned his eyes sharply on her. “Are you saying that is why Richard was here? Does he intend to make himself heir over Robert?”

“That is not what I said.” She was smiling again.

Jack stood, his temper risen too far for him to sit still. “Tell me, is that why my brother keeps me at his side—so he can remove Robert and make himself Fitzwarren’s heir?”

She did not recoil from the outburst, but her face hardened. “Don’t walk back into the world with that conviction. It doesn’t seem likely, does it? Otherwise, he would not have bid me tell you the truth. I don’t know what is in your brother’s mind any more than you do, so don’t judge him on your own presumptions.”

Jack dropped back into his chair, head in his hands, “How can all this be?”

“Quite simply, she said. “Unfortunately.” The sight of him saddened her; all this trouble wrought on him by deeds long since past. “I knew your mother and I can tell you something which may cheer you. For a start, she didn’t name you Robert—no, that was William who insisted on naming the child after his father. No, she named you John for her brother. Smile John Fitzwarren, for that is your name. And if any of that family ever saw you who remembered Eleanor, they would know you for a son of hers. All the others were coloured for William, but not you,” she said, her eyes on the bowed blond head.

Jack was the only man to have got thoroughly drunk at St Agnes’s since the masons had finished laying the stones. She supplied him with the means and left him to take what solace he could in it.

Catherine was forgotten. Told swiftly by the Abbess that she was to be escorted back to Assingham, she was left all night unable to sleep, in her room, denied the chance to ask questions.

 

†

 

The ride to Assingham was one that Jack could never remember. There was too much going on his head, he had so many questions and his thoughts were utterly confused. He paid little attention to the route they travelled and even less to the girl who rode next to him. He was eager only for one thing: to deposit his charge at Assingham and return to find his brother. Jack needed, more than anything else, to confront Richard.

Why had he not told him?

Why had he kept this to himself?

And where was the proof of the deed that had denied Jack his rightful place in the world?

He made the pace cruel. Arrival at Assingham, though, was not the end of his problems. There they found four men who were guarding the manor, awaiting the arrival of Peter de Bernay’s brother’s steward.