day appointed for my union with the Salisbury heir was growing closer. The banns were called without a breath of rumour raising its head. No one uttered any impediment as to why it should not take place, blessed by God and witnessed by a puissant congregation, while I suffered from a despicable fear. Could I stand up before the altar and announce before the King and Queen, the Archbishop, and the whole royal court that I was not free to marry?
It seemed that I must. It was a matter of loyalty, of honour, of dedication to the man to whom I had pledged my heart and my life. And if my pride was destined to suffer from a blast of unwavering displeasure, then so be it. My marriage to Sir Thomas Holland must be made plain to all.
My path first crossed that of Thomas Holland, through no devising of mine, in Ghent, where I had accompanied Philippa, who did not wish to be parted from her royal husband longer than was necessary despite the uneasy stalemate between France and England. Edward was planning one of his famous tournaments in Brussels with much gift-giving and negotiating under cover of the clash of weapons in mock fight. Since, as we all knew, he was intent on laying claim to the crown of France through the blood of his mother, he needed all the help he could get and had a mind to sign treaties with Brabant and Flanders. He would need allies when the King of France came to hear his ringing acclamation that the French crown belonged by right of birth to the King of England.
Philippa, being pregnant and indolent, was not enthusiastic about travelling to Brussels, and so declined the promised jollity. I was more than enthusiastic, as was Isabella, nor was Edward averse to having decorative females present to grace his ceremonies. Looking round for a likely escort, he beckoned to the first passing knight of the household.
‘Sir Thomas will escort you and see you safely there.’ And to Sir Thomas: ‘Don’t let them out of your sight. They are valuable.’ And to us: ‘Mind you do what Sir Thomas says.’
Sir Thomas bowed. He looked as if he would rather not.
He had masterful features and a shock of dark hair with more than a touch of autumn where it curled against his neck. He was young too. And stalwartly built. With such an attractive prospect, I chose to ride beside him, in spite of my high status that might have pushed Edward into ordering me to make use of the Queen’s travelling chariot if he had had the time to think of it. Unused to escorts who would rather be elsewhere, I was intrigued. A man who was unmoved by my renowned beauty was out of the ordinary.
‘You don’t have to watch over us like a herding dog,’ I said, to promote some response.
‘I do. My King commands it. My lady.’ He stared straight ahead, allowing me a splendid view of his straight nose and clenched jaw.
‘Then you could smile. As if obeying the King gives you some pleasure.’
‘I could, my lady.’ The jaw remained clenched.
‘Where would you rather be?’ I asked, now with more than a passing interest.
‘Back there,’ he gestured, ‘with my horses and equipment.’
‘Do you not have a squire?’
‘I do.’
‘Then he will look after them for you. Will you fight in the tournament?’
‘Of course.’
‘Will you enjoy it?’ This was hard work, but I imagined that his voice held a pleasing tone when not so brusque.
‘I need the money, my lady.’
Of course. He would earn little as a household knight. ‘Are you a good combatant?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
His confidence was as impressive as his stark features.
‘I will give you my favour to wear if you wish,’ I offered. ‘To bring you good fortune.’
For the first time his head turned imperceptibly towards me. ‘Your cousin the King would not approve.’
‘Why would he not?’ I certainly knew that Philippa would disapprove of this conversation. Which made me smile. I so rarely had the opportunity to converse with a young knight with what might be considered impropriety.
‘I am a knight with little to recommend me. You are of royal blood.’
‘That is true,’ I admitted. ‘But are you not a valiant knight?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you will be my valiant knight in the tourney.’ I became expansive, abandoning the modesty of my upbringing. ‘You will be my Sir Galahad.’
His eyes slid fully to mine.
‘It would be my honour to fight for you.’ It was the first time, I thought, that he had looked directly at me. ‘But will you watch me fight? There will be others more worthy of your notice. Some Brabant lordling in gilded armour, I expect.’
So there was a hint of pique in my Sir Galahad. ‘Well, if there is a gilded lordling, I will watch him, but I will promise to watch you too.’ How cheerfully I set out to destroy his grave displeasure. ‘I wager that you will be beaten by some Flemish knight in the first bout.’
Sir Thomas Holland’s brows flattened. ‘What will you wager?’
‘This.’ Stripping off my glove, I waved my fingers so that the deep red of a ruby glowed.
‘You cannot wager that against my skill.’ How uncompromising he was.
‘Why not?’
‘It is more valuable than all my Holland inheritance put together.’
‘It was a gift to me and so is mine to wager.’ I smiled at him. ‘You must make sure that you win.’
Sir Thomas slowly returned the smile. ‘I always win.’
‘Is she annoying you?’ Following rapidly in our wake, Edward drew alongside.
Sir Thomas rearranged his features into the stern visage of a royal escort. ‘No, my lord.’
‘Hurry up then. We haven’t all day.’
And since Isabella joined us our conversation was at an end. But it was a conversation that remained with me, embedded in my mind, trivial as it was. I had flirted. I had been artful. I had enjoyed it. And so, I decided, had Sir Thomas Holland.
Sir Thomas Holland won his bouts against any number of Brabant and Flemish lordlings, gilded or otherwise. Against English ones too, impressing me with his fighting skills, whether with sword or lance. His lack of wealth and status stood for nought when he beat his opponent to the floor, then with a strikingly gracious elegance offered his hand to pull him to his feet.
In the end I kept the ring.
Miraculously, I lost my heart.
I knew not how it could happen, or when, for I had no experience of such emotion that compromised my breathing and disturbed the beat of my blood at wrist and throat. Somewhere between his kissing my fingers when I pinned a scarf to his sleeve
