Dragon's Court

She doubted the gowns were in the very latest designs but they would not disgrace Anne either in fit or quality and Anne was delighted when dressed in them and caught glimpses of herself in her mother’s travelling Venetian glass mirror. As she had inherited her mother’s dark luxuriant locks the colours suited Anne, with the rich hues of gold brocade, crimson velvet and blue samite bringing out the vivid shade of her eyes.

One gown charmed her most with its subtle draping of the overgown to the back, which Dionysia had told her was the very latest fashion. The new dark blue velvet hood trimmed with seed pearls sat well back from her glossy locks and would complement the other colours.

The day before her departure, as her sense of mingled excitement and apprehension rose, her mother sat alone with her within the solar after sending Mary on some small errand. Margaret Jarvis frowned slightly as she observed her daughter’s flushed countenance. She bit her underlip and wondered how best to broach the matter in hand.

“Anne,” she said at last, “I hope you will not pin too much hopes on future happiness at Court. I have been there and I can tell you it can be very lonely and frightening, even surrounded as one is by a veritable press of people.”

Anne eyed her thoughtfully. “But you were happy there. You loved Queen Anne for you named me after her and—and you met my father and…”

“I did not surrender to my love for your father from the first moment we met,” Lady Jarvis said tartly. “It took some time for me to learn to trust his motives and to love him truly. I do not want you to fall for the first popinjay who offers you flattery.”

“Do you judge me so foolish?” Anne demanded hotly.

“No, but your head is turned by your longing for this venture and I worry about you. You must learn to be decorous in behaviour, to keep your opinions to yourself, to accept without complaint any demand put upon you. I must also ask you to be particularly kind and protective of Lady Philippa, who is considerably younger than you. Doubtless she will feel very lost at Westminster for she was born in Burgundy and, to my knowledge, has never been to England before. Indeed, her English may not be good and it will be for you to be patient with her.”

“Perhaps she will not like me,” Anne considered, “or she may be haughty mannered. She is the daughter of an Earl.”

“Both Lord Wroxeter and his Countess are sensible, considerate people. I shall be very surprised indeed if you find their daughter lacking in either of those qualities yet she is little more than a child and you have been chosen to be her friend for specific reasons. Do not lead her into foolishness, Anne, as I know you are prone to do on occasions.”

Anne regarded her mother gravely and read very real anxiety in her eyes.

“I promise I will behave so as never to disgrace you,” she said quietly.

Margaret Jarvis hesitated and Anne turned to her sharply as if she had thought the homily was over, but, no, her mother had something else upon her mind and Anne waited in suspense for what was to come.

“Your father and I are particularly anxious that you should also behave well while under Master Allard’s care,” Lady Jarvis said with what Anne considered unusual vehemence.

That would be it, she thought sourly. They have already noted my distaste for the idea of his escort.

“I will give him no trouble, though,” she added tartly, “to hear Mary sing his praises, he is capable of dealing with any emergency which arises, a veritable paragon, Master Allard.”

“Your father thinks a great deal of Dickon Allard,” her mother said sharply. “See that you do heed him, for…” She hesitated and Anne pounced on that slight hesitation instantly.

“For?” she questioned. “What were you about to say, Mother?”

Lady Jarvis’s troubled eyes met her daughter’s challenging ones squarely.

“You might as well be told now. We have high hopes that when he has completed his business in London town Richard Allard will offer for your hand.” There, it was out and she compressed her lips as she saw first bewilderment and then pure fury dawn in her daughter’s expression.

“Marry Richard Allard?” she echoed in a high shrill tone. “You cannot mean it, Mother.”

“Why not? Despite the fines imposed after Redmoor the Allard lands are quite extensive and it would be a fair match.”

“But he is far too old for me.”

“Nonsense. Your father was almost that age when we were wed. Richard has reached the age of experience and will know how to deal with a high-strung young woman like yourself.”

“I will never consent to marry him,” Anne said through gritted teeth. “Do you hear me, never.”

Margaret Jarvis looked perplexed, then she gave way to anger.

“You will do as your father wishes, as every girl of your age must do. I cannot for the life of me understand why you are so much against the notion. Some time ago you were complaining that no one would ask for you since you are without dowry and that you wished to settle down soon, marry, have a household of your own and children.

“Richard Allard is an honourable young man. He has not been discourteous to you, at least, not in my hearing. He is tolerably good looking and still young. Neither I nor your father have heard anything to his discredit in the matter of his dealings with women, which is saying a great deal, I can tell you. Many men neglect their wives and some are prone to treat them badly, even beating them. I cannot imagine Richard would treat you so, however you try his patience.”

Slowly Anne articulated, “I will never, not even if I were to fall in love with him, which is grossly unlikely, agree to marry a man whose loyalty to the Crown is in question. I have seen what such sympathies can do,” she said forcefully.

“You have lived with it for fourteen years, worrying constantly in case Father would involve himself in treasonable business and end up in the Tower, or worse, at Tyburn. I am aware that many men who come here do so to discuss treason. I even doubt Master Allard’s motives for travelling to London at this time. I am no fool, Mother. You cannot hope to keep secrets such as these from me now I am of age to understand.

“Even as a young child I was aware of intrigues and anxieties within this house. I will not live like this. Yes, I want to marry and have a family but I want to have a peaceful life, one in which I am not looking over my shoulder every moment in case King Henry’s men should ride into my courtyard intent on arresting my husband.”

For moments Lady Jarvis was struck quite dumb in astonishment. Anne, at almost sixteen, had seemed to her still a child who needed constant protection from the knowledge of the anxieties which continually beset her. She had believed that, between them, she and Guy had managed to keep their children unaware of the fears which shadowed their lives. She gave a great shuddering breath.

“We have no evidence that Richard is keen to work against the King’s Grace,” she said shakily. “You must never breathe such matters. Words like those could injure us as well as his family. You are talking nonsense. He goes to London simply to deal with business for his father, business concerning wool sales, I imagine. Dominick Allard keeps many sheep on his land. I have no fear that you will be endangered by Richard’s presence on your journey.”

“Of course he will embark on nothing treasonable while I am with him,” Anne said pithily, “but, nevertheless, his father’s loyalties are his, and he would never forsake his work for the Plantagenet cause, whatever the needs of his wife and children.”

“Anne…” Her mother took her gently by the shoulders “…I think I understand now your concerns but marriage is never easy. I did not think you were foolish enough to believe the troubadour tales of romantic love and unalloyed happiness which lasts for ever. I ask you to remember that finding you a suitable husband will not be easy for your father. He is doing his best to provide for you.

“You would not wish to be an unwed dependent on Ned when he brings his wife home to Rushton and, in due time, inherits, would you? This time at Court will widen your horizons. It may well make you think that what is offered is all for the best.

“Do not speak to your father of anything I’ve said. It was his wish that we wait to tell you of Master Allard’s offer but I decided it was high time you were kept informed of our plans for you. The next few months will be crucial to your future welfare. I want you to do nothing to jeopardise that.”

Firmly Anne drew away. Tears glimmered in her blue eyes and she curtsied formally and asked permission to leave the solar. Lady Jarvis sighed heavily and took up another French hood she was embroidering with silver thread and seed pearls for her daughter’s travelling chest.

Anne was not aware that she was really crying as she ran across the courtyard towards the stables when Richard Allard’s familiar deep tones demanded that she stop and explain her reason for such obvious signs of distress. Apparently he, too, had been to the stables and was now on his way back to the house. She almost cannoned into him.

“Mistress Anne, whatever can be the matter? You are not hurt?”

His tone was genuinely concerned and she stopped and turned her face from him. How could she explain? She simply could not reveal the source of her distress. Her mother had forbidden her to speak of it. She laughed a trifle shakily.

“Oh, Master Allard, I am so sorry I did not see you for a moment. The sun blinded me. I think—think that I have at last realised that I am leaving home and all those I love for the first time. It is just a little—frightening.”

He had a consoling grasp upon her arm, gentle but calming, and she was grateful for his care of her.

“It is silly,” she chided herself. “I really do want to go but now—” she gave a little gulping gasp “—my departure is so near and I am afraid I will not know how to conduct myself and Lady Philippa might not like me and—and everything could go wrong and I shall be so far from home.”

He shook his head, smilingly. “Even in so short a time I have come to know your worth, Mistress Anne. Of course you will pine for home at first, it will all seem so strange to you, but you will settle after the first nervous hours. I felt just the same and I was much younger and less self-composed than you are. You have been well trained in matters of deportment. The Queen will be delighted with you, I am sure.”

“Yes,” she said, blinking back tears. “Yes, I have been waiting for this opportunity for so long and now it is here I am frightening myself with foolish notions of failure. Thank you, Master Allard, for your encouraging words.”

For the first time she looked full at him and, in the light of her mother’s disclosure, regarded him as a possible suitor.

He was, she thought, after all, ruggedly attractive, if not handsome. He seemed to exude an excess of raw physical power and was just too big to appeal to her, but his features were regular and, what was more important, his expression good humoured and kindly. She saw no trace of cynicism or cruelty about the set of his mouth and the crinkles at the sides of his eyes told her he laughed often.

Had he not been Sir Dominick Allard’s son, could she have come to accept him willingly as a prospective husband? She put the thought firmly aside even when the touch of his strong brown fingers upon her arm sent tingles throughout her trembling body.

What would he be like in the marriage bed? Considerate, gentle, passionate? She thought he might possess all of those qualities and, she considered with a little pang of alarm, he was more than likely adventurous and brave, too much so for his own well-being and the peace of mind of any possible wife.

She moved to free herself, though gently and courteously. “I am keeping you, Master Allard, from whatever you are about to do.”

“Why so formal, Mistress Anne?” he teased. “We shall have opportunity to get to know one another better during the next few days of our journey together.” He shaded his eyes against the glare of the bright, low sun. “It appears the weather should hold good. I hope so. We do not want to be wallowing in mud on the highway.” His lips twitched as he glanced up at her slantingly from beneath his thick brown lashes. “I hope you are not fearful about our journeying together. Once or twice I have thought you are avoiding me.”

“No, no,” she amended hastily. “I—we—have been so busy preparing. I am grateful for your offer of escort. Otherwise my father would have been reluctant to let me go.”

“Then you are not afraid I will disgrace you at Westminster? I remember that when we first met you took me for some servant or wandering chapman. Am I so uncouth? I shall merely deliver you at the palace, you know, not force my attendance upon you afterwards. Only, I want you to be aware of the fact that I shall be nearby—lodging in the Chepe, probably. I will let you know where, in case you should have need of my services, just for the first few weeks.”

She drew a heavy breath. Already he was aware of his responsibilities towards her. Walls around her, cabinning, confining, were drawing in close. She would not allow that to be. What she had said to her mother was an expression of her strongest resolve. She would marry no man whose dubious behaviour would threaten her happiness and tranquillity.

“Thank you again, Master Allard. Of course I am not ashamed of your presence. I was very stupid not to recognise your worth that first day. I was, if you recall, too concerned for my own safety to be aware of much else. We should both retire early tonight so as to make an early and invigorated start in the morning.”

She bobbed a curtsy and turned back towards the hall. She must hasten up to her chamber. It would never do to encounter her father while her thoughts were in chaos.

He bowed and stepped back to allow her passage and she turned towards the hall again, all thought of escape abandoned. At the hall door she turned and found him watching her gravely, a slight frown on his normally good-humoured face. Did he guess that she had been made aware of the likelihood of their betrothal and of her reaction against the idea? Guiltily she turned from him to look straight ahead, conscious of the deep blush that was suffusing her cheeks and throat.

Chapter Three

All Anne’s good intentions regarding her attitude to Master Allard were put to naught the next day as he set her teeth on edge by his insistence that absolutely everything must be checked before departure. That included the equipment and weapons of the two men her father had deputed to escort her south, the panniers containing food and the travelling chests strapped upon the backs of the two sumpter mules; even the hoofs of the horses and mules were inspected and, last of all, her own saddle.

Anne’s pretended anxiety and welling apprehension about the coming leave-taking which had formed her excuse for weeping yesterday when she had encountered Richard Allard in the courtyard, was now, in fact, making itself felt. She dared not look at her parents and Ned lest she burst into a storm of weeping and she was in all haste to ride off quickly, but Richard Allard’s stupid and needless precautions were delaying her so that she thought she would scream at him.

He lifted her into the saddle of her palfrey and tightened her saddle straps and checked her girth himself.

He straightened up, smiling. “We cannot have you falling from the saddle before we are a mile or so from Rushton,” he commented.

“I assure you, Master Allard, I am a perfectly competent horsewoman,” she retorted irritably.

“I’m sure you are, Mistress Anne, but let us not leave anything to chance. You want to arrive at Westminster in good fettle,” he replied cheerfully. “You would be little use to attend Her Grace the Queen if you had injured yourself en route and, besides, I am responsible to your father for your well-being.”

Anne gritted her teeth in irritation and forced a smile as her mother and father came to her side to kiss her farewell.

Her mother reminded her softly, “Remember what I told you. Keep your sharp tongue in check and mind Master Allard on the journey.”

Her father said little. His fine mouth was held in a hard line and she knew he was deliberately holding back further doubts about this journey and its eventual conclusion. He hugged her tightly and nodded at last to Richard Allard to give the order to ride from the courtyard. Anne turned in the saddle and, through a blur of emotional tears, saw her parents and Ned waving her off. Even Ned’s dog was barking furiously with excitement. She took a final glimpse at the dear, familiar shape of the manor house and then they were off, riding through the gatehouse.

Mary Scroggins was riding pillion behind the younger of the two men at escort who took the rear of the little company. The other, an older archer who had ridden with her father to Redmoor, near Bosworth—and possibly to East Stoke also—rode slightly ahead while Richard Allard rode close to Anne in the centre. Each of the men led one of the mules.

It was a fine, bright day as Richard had predicted, the sun watery and rather low, lacking in warmth but still gilding the remaining leaves upon the trees and sheening the water on the manor fishpond as they passed.

Once upon the road Anne’s spirits lifted and she rode joyfully, gazing around with eager interest at the road ahead and the now-fallow fields stretching out to either side of them. Richard Allard was whistling softly between his teeth and she glanced at him sharply. He was interfering with her pleasure in the peace of their surroundings, for, so far, they had encountered no one else upon the road. He caught her glance and grinned mockingly.

“I am sorry, Mistress Anne, it is a habit of mine.”

“I wish it were not,” she said huffily. “It is irritating, to say the least.”

He shrugged lightly but desisted. She felt unaccountably ashamed of her churlish mood and said, hesitantly, “I suppose you have travelled this way many times before.”

“Not so many. Normally I pass along the Great North Road from Yorkshire, but I detoured this time to see your father. It was well I did so for I have the privilege of escorting a lovely lady to her destiny.”

“I wish you would not tease me, sir,” she said uneasily.

His twinkling grey eyes softened. “I think you are already suffering the onset of homesickness pangs.”

“I’m not a baby, but,” she admitted wryly, “I hadn’t realised quite how hard it would be to leave Rushton for an unspecified period and to part from all my loved ones.”

“I doubt it will be for long,” he consoled her.

“You think I shall not please the Queen?”

“No, no, I am sure you will. It is just that you will soon be formally betrothed and the Queen will not keep you in attendance then, when your proper place will be by your future husband’s side.”

Her blue eyes widened and a scarlet flush dyed her cheeks. “My father has said that it is for this reason that he has sent me to Court?”

His teasing manner had deserted him as he said, quietly, “Your father did indicate to me that he hoped soon to see you settled. Enjoy your last months of freedom.”

“Did you ever meet the Queen when you were at Court?” she enquired, anxious to change a subject which was becoming increasingly embarrassing to her.

“No, I did not. The Lady Bessy, as she was then, was living at Sheriff Hutton in Yorkshire with the young Earl of Warwick.”

Anne’s blue eyes grew moist with pity. “The poor young Earl! My father has often spoken of him. All his life seems to have been passed in a state of imprisonment. How he must long for freedom, confined in the Tower.”

“He was not imprisoned at Sheriff Hutton during his uncle’s reign,” Richard Allard enlightened her. “He was living quite happily with others of the royal household and was being educated and prepared for his military training. It has only been since the accession of King Henry that he has been kept under close guard.”

“Do you think it is true what they say of him, that he is slow witted?”

“I can well imagine that perpetual imprisonment will have left his mind blunted against the general experiences and slight blows and disappointments that beset the rest of us.”

She was silent for a while, contemplating the sad truth that it was a misfortune to be born the son or nephew of a King. Uneasily she remembered that it was her own deep desire to sample the excitement of court life which had brought her to this journey; at the end of it, she would come into contact with those lordly beings who intrigued and fought for high places, even to the detriment of their own kinfolk. Her mother had warned her that life there would not be easy.

“Master Allard?” she asked and he turned from his watchful survey of the trees and hedges that bordered the road, mindful that such vegetation could harbour footpads, to face her again, one eyebrow lifted quizzically.

“Mistress Anne, do you wish to stop and rest already?”

“Certainly not,” she snorted. “I told you I am an experienced horsewoman. No, I just…wanted to know—did you find it difficult at Court? Was the work strenuous or unpleasant and the King hard to please?”

“King Richard could be.” He grinned. “Usually he was fair and courteous in his demands, but he could be very demanding on occasion and his Plantagenet rage showed itself then.” He smiled down at her. “Life at Court is tiring. You will find yourself constantly on your feet and at the whim of the monarch at all hours of the day or night but, of course, you are strong and healthy and will expect that.”

“Were you—beaten?” she enquired anxiously.

“Not often—” his grin broadened “—but I, too, can display a temper sometimes and was punished for it. I was very young,” he said dismissively.

“But you liked the King?”

“I loved him,” he said quietly, “as did my father and your father.”

He looked ahead as they were coming to a crossroad and excused himself to take the lead for a while.

Anne watched his back thoughtfully. How well he rode, not showily but competently and easily, as her father had showed her, so as to be sparing of his own body and easy on his mount. Many women would find him attractive, she thought, as she had many times since her mother had revealed to her her father’s wish concerning a future betrothal.

Richard Allard would doubtless make some woman a tolerably reasonable husband, she conceded, capable in running his small demesne, probably patient and undemanding, but he would be seldom home and—how dull it would be on that desmesne for a wife left to her own devices much of the year, caring for her children and the household. It was a lot her own mother appeared to find satisfactory but, Anne decided grimly, it was not a fate to which she would submit herself willingly.

She looked about her complacently as they were now on the main road south heading towards Northampton. This was the excitement she craved, the thrill of seeing new places and observing people. Here there were many travellers; all life, it seemed, stretched out before her. Carts rumbled by, loaded with farm produce; a company of liveried retainers passed them at one juncture and Richard Allard ordered his small procession to draw in close to the roadside to allow them passage.

A hedge priest trudged patiently by, his coarse black robe girdled high, smeared with the dust and mud of many journeys, his sandals worn and flapping, offering little protection to dirty and calloused feet. A fat pardoner, attended by a servant, stared curiously at their group but Richard made a small but commanding gesture of his hand, as if ordering the man not to attempt to delay them by offering his wares.

As they passed Anne noted that the man’s cloak was ornamented by the shell brooch of St James of Compostela, so the man had made pilgrimages. She had heard tell of adventures on such expeditions. Her father possessed a printed copy of Master Chaucer’s tales of the famous pilgrimage to Canterbury and her own mother had visited the shrine at Walsingham. She had longed to go there too and considered that, when she was wed, she would most probably go to the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham also to pray for a child.