he says,’ he jerked his head at the Englishman who was supposedly supervising the work, ‘what he says is that they’re taking them to Lannion. And they’re long enough for that big wall, ain’t they?’
‘Lannion?’
‘He likes his ale, he does,’ Jacques said, explaining the Englishman’s indiscretion.
‘Hey! Handsome!’ the supervisor shouted at Jacques. ‘Get to work!’ Jacques, with a grin to Jeanette, picked up his tools.
‘Make the rungs loose!’ Jeanette advised Jacques in Breton, then turned because her name had been called from the house. Sir Simon Jekyll, looking heavy-eyed and sleepy, was standing in the doorway and Jeanette’s heart sank at the sight of him.
‘My lady,’ Sir Simon offered Jeanette a bow, ‘you should not be waiting with common folk.’
‘Tell that to the clerk,’ Jeanette said coldly.
The clerk tallying the arrow sheaves squealed when Sir Simon caught him by the ear. ‘This clerk?’ he asked.
‘He told me to wait out here.’
Sir Simon cuffed the man across the face. ‘She’s a lady, you bastard! You treat her like a lady.’ He kicked the man away, then pulled the door fully open. ‘Come, my lady,’ he invited her.
Jeanette went to the door and was relieved to see four more clerks busy at tables inside the house. ‘The army,’ Sir Simon said as she brushed past him, ‘has almost as many clerks as archers. Clerks, farriers, masons, cooks, herdsmen, butchers, anything else on two legs that can take the King’s coin.’ He smiled at her, then brushed a hand down his threadbare wool robe that was trimmed with fur. ‘If I had known you were gracing us with a visit, my lady, I would have dressed.’
Sir Simon, Jeanette noted gladly, was in a puppy mood this morning. He was always either boorish or clumsily polite and she hated him in either mood, but at least he was easier to deal with when he tried to impress her with his manners. ‘I came,’ she told him, ‘to request a pass from Monsieur Totesham.’ The clerks watched her surreptitiously, their quills scratching and spluttering on the scraped parchment.
‘I can give you a pass,’ Sir Simon said gallantly, ‘though I trust you are not leaving La Roche-Derrien permanently?’
‘I just wish to visit Louannec,’ Jeanette said.
‘And where, dear lady, is Louannec?’
‘It is on the coast,’ Jeanette said, ‘north of Lannion.’
‘Lannion, eh?’ He perched on a table’s edge, his bare leg swinging. ‘Can’t have you wandering near Lannion. Not this week. Next, maybe, but only if you can persuade me that you have good reason to travel.’ He smoothed his fair moustache. ‘And I can be very persuadable.’
‘I wish to pray at the shrine there,’ Jeanette said.
‘I would not keep you from your prayers,’ Sir Simon said. He was thinking that he should have invited her through into the parlour, but in truth he had small appetite for love’s games this morning. He had consoled himself for his failure to boil Thomas of Hookton’s backside by drinking deep into the darkness, and his belly felt liquid, his throat was dry and his head was banging like a kettledrum. ‘Which saint will have the pleasure of hearing your voice?’ he asked.
‘The shrine is dedicated to Yves who protects the sick. My son has a fever.’
‘Poor boy,’ Sir Simon said in mock sympathy, then peremptorily ordered a clerk to write the pass for her ladyship. ‘You will not travel alone, madame?’ he asked.
‘I shall take servants.’
‘You would be better with soldiers. There are bandits everywhere.’
‘I do not fear my own countrymen, Sir Simon.’
‘Then you should,’ he said tartly. ‘How many servants?’
‘Two.’
Sir Simon told the clerk to note two companions on the pass, then looked back to Jeanette. ‘You really would be much safer with soldiers as escort.’
‘God will preserve me,’ Jeanette said.
Sir Simon watched as the ink on the pass was sanded dry and a blob of hot wax was dropped onto the parchment. He pressed a seal into the wax, then held the document to Jeanette. ‘Maybe I should come with you, madame?’
‘I would rather not travel at all,’ Jeanette said, refusing to take the pass.
‘Then I shall relinquish my duties to God,’ Sir Simon said.
Jeanette took the pass, forced herself to thank him, then fled. She half expected that Sir Simon would follow her, but he let her go unmolested. She felt dirty, but also triumphant because the trap was baited now. Well and truly baited.
She did not go straight home, but went instead to the house of the lawyer, Belas, who was still eating a breakfast of blood sausage and bread. The aroma of the sausage put an edge to Jeanette’s hunger, but she refused his offer of a plate. She was a countess and he was a mere lawyer and she would not demean herself by eating with him.
Belas straightened his robe, apologized that the parlour was cold, and asked whether she had at last decided to sell the house. ‘It is the sensible thing to do, madame. Your debts mount.’
‘I shall let you know my decision,’ she said, ‘but I have come on other business.’
Belas opened the parlour shutters. ‘Business costs money, madame, and your debts, forgive me, are mounting.’
‘It is Duke Charles’s business,’ Jeanette said. ‘Do you still write to his men of business?’
‘From time to time,’ Belas said guardedly.
‘How do you reach them?’ Jeanette demanded.
Belas was suspicious of the question, but finally saw no harm in giving an answer. ‘The messages go by boat to Paimpol,’ he said, ‘then overland to Guingamp.’
‘How long does it take?’
‘Two days? Three? It depends if the English are riding the country between Paimpol and Guingamp.’
‘Then write to the Duke,’ Jeanette said, ‘and tell him from me that the English will attack Lannion at the end of this week. They are making ladders to scale the wall.’ She had decided to send the message through Belas, for her own couriers were two fishermen who only came to sell their wares in La Roche-Derrien on a Thursday, and any message sent through them must arrive too late. Belas’s couriers, on the other hand, could reach Guingamp in good time to thwart the English plans.
Belas dabbed egg from his thin beard. ‘You are sure, madame?’
‘Of course I’m sure!’ She told him about Jacques and the ladders and about the indiscreet English supervisor, and how Sir Simon had forced her to wait a week before venturing near Lannion on her expedition to the shrine at Louannec.
‘The
