Mariola/dance of justice 1

I don't have a working title for this one yet.  It covers some of the same ground as in Dance of Ravens but from Mariola's POV.  Bear with me if I made a mess of any of that [though I think most of the mess was in the re-write when I extracted this one to give Mariola her story]
Mariola takes her turn to be a page with Kazimierz and is engaged in a police procedural which mops up some more loose ends. 
I'm not sure if this counts as book four of the Dance Trilogy perhaps as Dance of Justice.  It wanted to be written so I wrote it ... I relied heavily on Kitowicz so I hope I've extracted fact from irony. 

Chapter 1

“Papa,” said Mariola, nibbing one long silver-gilt plait,  “It seems to work, but are there any nice ones left? And do I really want to be a boy, and am I too clumsy for anyone to want?”

“What are you talking about, my dear?” asked Mikołaj Krasiński.

“Being a page to a live one,” said Mariola.  “Irenka got Wojciech, and Filka got our Seweryn, and Joanna has her Falcon. Ida is going to school with half of Wojciech’s wards and etceteras. It helped learning to dance with Władek, though he is scarily intense. And I have been shadowing Joanna for years doing sabre drill in secret. We worked out together too when she wanted a partner. All I’m good at is music and not if anyone is looking at me because my fingers all become left feet.”

“Let us leave it until after Christmas, hmm?” said Mikołaj. “It’s not even St. Mikołaj’s day yet.”

“Very well, Papa,” said Mariola. It was fair enough. She was not yet as old as Joanna had been when she had become Władysław’s page.

It was a glorious Mikołajki; Mariola received a violin laid by her shoes and music for it, something she had yearned for, but which only Joanna had known. How special her sister had become to her!

Shortly after this, Mariola had a letter from Joanna.

“My dear sister,

You need to know how much of a sham Milena’s marriage was. Filip was unfaithful to her, and sired children out of wedlock, and also was cruel to her. You do not need to know all the details, but the horrid creature beat her; and one reason she was mean to you was because she was terrified of what he would do to you if he found out how much you managed to break. She took the blame for many of our misdeeds, and I feel so ashamed of not knowing.

 Anyway, she is steeling herself to go and sort out Filip’s holdings and seeing how many bastards he left. Uncle Adam Brzeziński is looking into things, and will advise her, but she will need a chaperone as she is taking Joachim Jędrowski as an escort, and we wondered if you would like an outing and to be her chaperone accordingly.

Your loving sister,

Joanna.”

“Mama! Look at what Joanna has written!” said Mariola. “I had no idea that Filip was such a tick; I mean, I never liked him but I did not know he beat Milena, nor that she took the blame for some of the things I broke. I wish Świnka had not killed him so casually so that Sewek could have eviscerated him to strangle him with his own guts.”

Małgorzata laughed.

“I should just have turned all you girls over to Papa to train, shouldn’t I?” she said. “I had some idea that if you didn’t have to be martial, you would have peaceful lives. I should just have acknowledged that I rather enjoyed the unsettled nature of our courtship, Steppe winters and learning swordplay and all.”

“Mama! Can you use a sword?”

“Just because I don’t follow the sabre drills daily doesn’t mean I can’t do them,” said Małgorzata. “And goodness knows, you’re all talented enough to make it worthwhile. Do you want to go to be Milena’s chaperone?”

“Yes, Mama, I think I do; it will help to show her there are no hard feelings. And hope to forge a better relationship with Milena.  We should be back by Christmas. I’m the big one at home now so I might as well be useful; and it will be good for Barbara.”

“She’ll leave it all to Ida,” said Małgorzata.

Mariola giggled.

“Send Ida to help Joasia with her orphans,” she said.

“You know, I might,” said Małgorzata. “I want all my girls to grow up strong and happy.”

“Joanna could cut away the growths

in you, that you were talking to Papa about in you, that you were talking to Papa about,” said Mariola.

“I am afraid to take the risk while Elżbieta and Katarzyna are still small,” sighed Małgorzata not pretending to misunderstand her.

“Think about it, Mama; you’ve been hiding pain for a while now.  It could kill you before you make up your mind.”

“I had no idea you knew.”

“Filka pointed it out; I’ve been watching you,” said Mariola.  “I remember that you took a growth out of our farrier’s wife, and made notes in your commonplace book about it.  I filched it and had a look at the watercolour. I wish  you would talk to Joasia. She has the fortitude few people have.”

“I ... will consider it. I do not want her left with guilt if I die of it.”

“Joasia’s too sensible to carry guilt for something she can’t help. She’d feel guilty if she didn’t do it though, if she knew. I’ve kept it from her.”

“After Christmas then; I’ll talk to her then.”

Mariola said no more, but she planned to say a lot more to Joanna. She went in search of Ida.

“Hey, Ida, how’d you like to help Magdalena look after the eyasses at the Mews?”

Ida considered.

“Eyass is the word used for a falcon fledgling taken from its nest to train, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yes,” said Mariola.

“How very appropriate for acquired Zabiełłowie chicks,” said Ida.

“Papa,” said Mariola, “I want Joasia to cut out the growths in Mama, and I have a sense of urgency about it.”

Mikołaj blinked.

“You are one of our more sensitive girls; if you have a sense of urgency, I won’t argue,” he said. “Should I send her to France or England where they have the most advanced surgery?”

“I think it might kill her,” said Mariola. “I am going to talk Joasia into coming to do it the day after Mama sends Ida and me to collect Milena.”

“I tend to forget that my quiet girl has a will of steel,” said Mikołaj.  “I ... will make sure your mother is ready. I ... I will be there for you all.”

“I know, Papa; and I’m scared too,” said Mariola.

***

Joanna gave a boyish yell of delight when Mariola and Ida turned up.

“What, both of you to chaperone Milena?” she asked.

“No, I’m here to help with the little ones,” said Ida.

“And I want to talk to you seriously, Joasia,” said Mariola.

Joanna took one look at her sister’s face and yelled for Mestek.

“Show my sister Ida around and introduce her to people.,” she said. “Mariola, walk with me.”

Mariola was nothing loath.

“It’s Mama,” she said. “She’s sicker than she’s been letting  on.”

Joanna went white.

“And I put her through so much worry ...”

“Never mind that; she enjoyed rising to the occasion. Only have you got the fortitude to cut into her and excise growths? I heard her talking to Papa about how it feels as though she is pregnant with something growing, but she knows it is not, I’m not sure how she knows that.”

“Hellfire, damnation and steel!” said Joanna. “I ... yes, I can do it. It won’t be easy. Will ... can you help?  Basia can’t help from her wheeled chair; Milena probably will.  Władysław is steady. The difficult thing is not damaging the bladder and ureter on one side or the bowel on the other. Is it ... yes, it’s necessary or you wouldn’t ask.”

“Mama does a good job of hiding that she is in pain and that she is so tired,” said Mariola. “But I’ve been watching her.” She pulled a face. “She wanted to wait until after Christmas so as not to spoil it for everyone.”

“Mikołajki is over. In this blessed tide of Advent I feel I would have more support from the Mother of Poland, who knew the discomfort of pregnancy and birth. We’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll send back word.”

“I thought you’d feel like that so I spoke to Papa about it.  He’s expecting us. You ... are you going to tell Ida?”

“I’d have wanted to be told.”

They set off early, and with the aid of Małgorzata’s own maid, Ala, who helped her with surgery, they swabbed down every surface of Małgorzata’s hospital with rosemary oil.  The big, heavy table for surgery was set, and the skylight uncovered for maximum natural light. Sharp knives had been boiled and sat in rosemary solution. Pure gold thread to use inside also lay in dishes with rosemary oil. Mariola helped lay things out. She would be there for Joasia and would learn from her.

Mikołaj carried Małgorzata to the operating room. He was saying,

“I have rarely given you orders as your lord, Gosia, my love. I take full responsibility for this. I don’t trust anyone more than I trust Joasia if you can’t do it yourself; and as you’re going to be off your head on wódka and haszysz tea you won’t be much good at surgery.”

“Mikołaj... I don’t want to leave you and the children ...”

“Gosia, I’ve watched you wasting away and over the last few months it’s been more profound.”

“Kiss me, my hussar, and hold my hand.”

He kissed her.

“I’ll be with you, always, even if there comes a time we are briefly separated in this life,” he said. “You’ll come through this; you are too strong not to do so.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Away with you, woman; you’re not meek and mild. I recall it was you who proposed to me. We’d known each other about six hours.”

“You said yes, though.”

He laid her on the table.

“Damn this table is cold,” said Małgorzata. “I haven’t had enough sympathy for my own victims.”

Seweryn was there, looking haggard. Phyllis held his hand tightly.

“Mama Raven, you are not going to give up,” said Phyllis.  “Think of all those grandchildren you are waiting to meet.”

Małgorzata smiled at her daughter-in-law.

“Quite right, dear daughter,” she said. “But take Seweryn away. He’ll be underfoot.”

“And likely to pass out. I know,” said Phyllis. “Kiss Mama, Sewek and come away to organise the little ones for the day.”

“How long?” said Seweryn.

“If I haven’t done it by midday it won’t get done,” said Joanna, who was white. “Go away, Sewek. This is the job of Mama’s big girls. Unless you want me to operate on you to make you one.”

“I’m going,” said Seweryn, hastily, kissing his mother.  Phyllis also kissed her, and murmured something in her ear.

Małgorzata spat out a laugh which ended on a dirty chuckle.

“Thank you, my English daughter,” she said. “I needed that.” Mariola wondered what she had said, and decided she did not want to know.

She handed her mother the cup of haszysz tea well-laced with poppy draught.  Małgorzata made a face but drank it down.

 Małgorzata was as close to unconscious as could be.

“Aren’t there things which can numb the skin too?” said Mariola.

“You’re thinking of wolfsbane and that’s not a good idea,” said Joanna. “The smallest amount on the inside is deadly. So it’s a bad idea.  I am going to need lengths of gold wire when I say ‘ligature’ to tie off blood vessels.  It’s going to be messy and horrible, and if you are going to pass out, please go away now.”

“I’ll manage,” said Mariola.

“Strap in Mama’s mouth, Papa,” said Joanna. “Władysław, Milena, ready to draw back skin and hold things out of the way.”

“It’s times like this I wish I had both arms,” said Władysław.

“You manage more with one hand’s sensitive fingers than most with two,” said Joanna.  “Besides you are my talisman and you keep me calm.”

Mariola had read all she could on the subject, and there were records from the fourteenth century of successful caesarean births in which mother and baby had both lived. This would be not unlike that, surely. 

 “Mother of Poland be with a daughter and mother this day,” said Joanna, and made the incision. Mariola echoed the prayer in her heart.

It was hard not to feel nauseous at the amount of blood and at the revolting things which were inside the human body.  The obscene looking purple and pink mass though was not like anything in any of the drawings in the books on anatomy which their mother had made and variously acquired, some of which Małgorzata was a little cagey about.

Mariola did not interrupt Joanna, but she noticed her sister crossing herself at the sight. She was barking out commands about holding this, passing that, and Mariola made herself forget the horror, and become an instrument of Joanna’s clever hands. She realised in some shock that Joanna planned to cut out the whole womb and the growths with it as the safest way of removing the growths.

 “Ligature,” Joanna snapped. Mariola handed her the gold thread.

Tying off, cutting away, carefully, methodically Joanna worked, and Władysław mopped sweat from her  brow with a clean towel. The obscene  growth did not seem to be attached anywhere else. Mariola and Milena were Joanna’s hands for her, pinching on arteries, holding away the ureter for her to reach underneath it.  And then Joanna was lifting the misshapen womb out, and washing  out the body cavity with rosemary-infused wódka.

Mariola held the skin for Joanna to close up their mother’s belly, and was in time to ease her sister to the ground as Joanna passed out.

Mama must be lifted onto a narrow hospital bed, and Joanna onto another.

“Papa, Władek, you must just do the best you can to cuddle them when they come to,” said Mariola.

“Yes, my lord,” said Mikołaj, his eyes twinkling at her.

“Oh, Papa!” said Mariola.

Mama was not out of the woods.

“Milena, shall we go to the chapel when we have cleaned up?” said Mariola.

“A good idea,” agreed Milena. “And we will take that ... thing ... to the furnace to be burned.”

A couple of hours later, the Sokołowscy joined Milena and Mariola in the chapel.

“Thank you!” said Mariola.

“The Queen of Poland guided my hands,” said Joanna. “And Mama’s recovery is in her hands.”

“And so we all pray,” said Mariola. “Milena and I can leave tomorrow now without worrying, because either Mama will get better, or God needs her more than we do.”

“Or I made a mistake, but I don’t think I did,” said Joanna. “I am not sure I remember much of it though.”

Mariola slipped an arm through her sister’s arm.

As Małgorzata was a better colour by the next day, Milena and Mariola left with Joachim, who drove over to collect them, without any qualms.

Updated family trees

... because I wager you were wanting them

...the diagram in case it is needed

Felicia and Robin 17: Buried in the past chapter 1

In which Felicia and Robin are awarded wards, go to look at the heiress's property and discover there is some mystery over the girls' mother
 Do I need to split these longer chapters or not?
 I thought I'd post this concurrently with Dance of Ravens; this one is with my editor at the moment.

Chapter 1 Corpus Christi, tenth day of June 1512

                Huelin Carpenter and his volunteers had produced a most spirited Corpus Christi play for us with his excellent puppets; and we had feasted the village for the celebration.  We were at our meal when we had a visitor, eating without that all the village might feast together, with an awning made of sails to keep the sun from us as we ate.

“Why, ‘tis Piers Alcocke, popping up like the devil incarnate again!” I said cheerfully.

Piers grinned.  He was used to my sometimes strange brand of humour.

“Is that snipe I see at your table?” he asked hungrily.

He was a Suffolk lad by birth and grew up on –probably poached – water fowl.

“Do you sit yourself down, lad, and make yourself at home,” said Robin expansively. “Pernel, pass Master Alcocke a good bread trencher and a good helping of snipe.”

When feasting the village ‘tis by far easier to use bread trenchers; then there is less to void from the table after.  And what our people do not eat of their platters, the dogs may.

Piers grinned and settled himself on the bench where Vivian shifted up for him.  Only Robin and I had chairs for this feast, rush seated affairs that Huelin Carpenter had made using his pole lathe; and a sight more comfortable they were than the expensive and ornate chairs that we had within.  We should be ordering such in quantity from him, and stools to the same design.  Piers cared not, being more interested in satisfying his insides than in the comfort of his backside.

“I may not be so very welcome shortly,” he said “For I carry a letter from the queen.”

Robin held out hand for it, and broke seal when Piers passed it over.  It was a bad habit to read at the table, even though we used our good Italian forks in preference to fingers; and I found occasion at times to take an iron to correspondence to lift a stray grease spot from it, for be he never so careful, mine husband was wont at times to forget himself and gesture with whatever he might have in his hand; and right now that was a fork full of fat roast hog.  I said nothing, however, for it was but a minor fault.

Besides, Robin was scowling in deep thought as he read this letter through.

“What does that rascal Tom Wolsey want you to do now?” I asked.

“’Tis not Tom, but that clever little Spanish baggage wed to the king,” said Robin. “Danforth, art quite right.  Women ought never to be educated.”

Most of our summer guests had departed, but we appeared to have kept Walter Danforth.

We had also kept Mistress Isabelle of Lavenham and her son Matthew; but that was only until the banns had been called enough times for her to wed Henry Costyn.  He had been captivated by her from the first; and her cousin Godwin delighted to see her established and with a mercer to whom he might sell small dyed goods.  Henry’s elder natural son Kistur was much pleased with his stepmother – and had taken to Matthew straight away.  And it was good that little Edward and Marcia would have a mother now.

My grandsire too had found excuse to stay on and play with his new great grandchildren and his step great grandson and adopted great granddaughter.  And now he was accepting Sebastian and Cecily as his own kindred the distinctions disappeared.

Sir Godfrey did raise a quizzical eyebrow at Robin’s comments about the queen; but Walter gave a rueful grin.

He was learning to smile; one day we might even rid him of his harsh lines of cynicism that a man so young should not have to wear.

“But Sir Robert, I was just coming round to your view that some education for women be quite beneficial,” he said, his eyes straying half unwillingly to Maud Caston.

“Don’t be cross with me, Rob, I’m just the messenger,” said Piers.  “I don’t even know what’s in that letter, save that the queen had a managing look in her eye that put me powerfully in mind of Felicia.”

I stuck my tongue out at him; Piers I had adopted as the nearest thing I have known to a brother and we bickered cheerfully.

“Boh,” said Robin in the Tuscan way “The clever jade hath me entrapped on all sides and neatly.  Felicia, I swear she’s worse than you.”

“And if any outraged Lancastrians be listening that be by nature of a compliment,” I said dryly.  “What, I prithee, doth our fair and puissant queen require of thy gentle self that doth so infuse thee with choler, good my Lord, or art so suffused on choleric wrath and naughty temper that it eateth thy tongue of fair logic and sweet reason?”

“Shrew,” said Robin, amicably, teased back to good humour by mine overblown linguistic excesses.  “It be about that damned plotter Hamo Dimmond – fellow you killed, remember?”

“I’m not likely to forget,” I said, recalling clearly how I threw my little knife into his throat before he could discharge his pistol at me. I had the devil’s own job mending the tapestry his ball discharged into. “He and his wicked tool Sir Edgar are not like to be forgot by any of us here for a long time,” I added grimly “For the latter’s actions cost these lands two younglings and much trouble.  And I’d not like to guess that Dimmond would not have been tarred with the same brush had he not tried threatening me first.”

We all glanced down the table at the Aldous family, who had lost little Dorothy to deliberate murder; and at Oliver, wounded near unto death on the same encounter, bereft of his friend Fidel who was killed when they tried to ride out to get us help.

Oliver was listening intently as he took his turn as page to wait upon the high table end of our feasting tables, for we had just arranged a line of trestles for this gay outdoor meal.

I am not certain how the boys worked out whose turn it was to serve, but I am certain that they no longer let Adam work it by drawing lots.

Our boy was a rogue and outrageous enough to let the other lads know it.

It was no very onerous duty we called our pages to perform; there seems to us little need to have someone hovering ever at the shoulder, so we expect whichever was on duty to leap up from the table an there be something to be fetched, rather than stand ever behind Robin’s chair getting hungry.  My grandsire tuts at such unorthodox usage, but it did us well enough; for one might always ask another to pass the salt, or a flagon of water.  ‘Twas only the filling of a trencher with another serving from the great platters that was difficult, as one could scarcely pass the platters down the table for their great weight.

Robin went on with his explanation of what the missive contained.

“As we had so much trouble, the queen writes that for our pains we shall have the doucer of taking Hamo Dimmond’s daughter or daughters – she is unsure if there be one or two – as wards; with that wardship our reward for loyal action.  And she is most sure – clever minx – that I myself will wish to inspect the lands and do survey and audit and be sure to clear it of any traitors.”

“Boh, he dressed well enough with brocade woven to his own family design and expensive fur trim; the profit from his estate would pay to build us a goodly few mills and drains and mayhap enlarge the school too,” I said.  “Can it really be worse than when we took over here? And look what a difference the last year has made!”

“Lord, I don’t know,” said Robin. “Here the land was in bad heart for neglect, but more for the despondency of the people and one or two villains dragging them down.  Once those who despaired knew we cared, it became easy enough; for we all work together.”

“You’ve forgotten foiling a mutiny by climbing through the jakes have you, Master Robin?” put in Connie Cattermole tartly.

She had been the one to escape through the jakes to alert us after all; and Con even more obsessive about cleanliness than I!

Robin chuckled.

“No, Con, not in the least.  But that was, really, just part of the one or two villains.  What concerns me about Dimmond’s demesnes is that all may act the mutineers to one they perceive as the enemy for having been responsible for their Lord’s death.  And thus they may feel justified in attempting to murder any of us that go.”

“Zur Robert,” Pascoe Archer rose to his feet down at the low end of the table.

“Pascoe?” Robin nodded him leave to speak.

“Zur Robert, Heraud and me, we be taken from Squire Hamo’s lands, what Sir Edgar did know.  We be ordinary folk same as folk here, not murderous, just at mercy o’ powerful folk.”

“Thank you, Pascoe.  Would you and Heraud be willing to come with me as voices to testify that I be no ogre of wickedness and set the fears of Squire Hamo’s people to rest?”

Pascoe and Heraud both nodded.

“That’s a relief,” said Robin. Of course, one casts one’s bread upon the waters, as the Bible tells us; and his mercy to the two men, swept into a rebellion they knew little and cared less about, would rebound when we got to this traitors’ nest, that they be able to still most unrest for none there knowing that Robin hated unnecessary violence.  Mine husband went on, “I confess it would be nice to have some extra monies to plough into mine own people, once the needs of the people of this Chesilfleet have been seen to….I don’t like to be mercenary….”

“I do,” I said. “I’m part Bigod and pure de Curtney.  I don’t approve of doing something that will cost time, effort and inconvenience for no more than a kiss-your-hand and a sweet thank-you.  The queen pays fairly enough, I trow.  Especially an Dimmond had mustered ready money to buy more mercenary soldiers.  You will do it then?”

Robin shrugged helplessly.

“I could scarce refuse, even an she offered no reward, could I?  She’s my queen!”

I sighed.

My grandfather roared with laughter.

“What?” I asked waspishly.

“Hah!” he said “I love to hear Robin’s loud plaints that he utters yet his essential loyalty within!”

“What, wouldst rather have as thine heir a paltry creature that utter fair and douce words with a rotten heart?” said Robin. “Thinkst me such?”

“Thou stubborn lad that misunderstandeth wilfully!” roared Sir Godfrey.

There followed an interlude while my grandsire and mine husband traded insults at the top of their lungs; and I ate on unconcernedly.

Let good roast duck get cold? I think not.

Piers glanced nervously between the two; he found my grandfather intimidating.

Walter too looked less than happy; but he shrugged and fell back to his viands when he saw the unconcern of me and the rest of the family, as we ate placidly ignoring the tirade.

One or other of us picks a quarrel with the old man from time to time purely for his entertainment.  And it allowed Robin to relieve his feelings about having been used; for he might shout with impunity at one who loved him well and enjoyed the exchange.

They ran out of insults presently, largely because Sir Godfrey paused to take a drink that Oliver silently handed him; and discovered the quality of our mead.

That took up the next few minutes of discussion, all quarrel forgotten; and my grandsire was busy determining to pay a visit to Old Walter the beekeeper ere he returned to Bungay.

“Ah well, at least all our guests have gone that I not need to be rude and get rid of them ere we might go to this Chesilfleet,” said Robin.  “Walter, lad, wilt stay on here, or come with me as a good man in a scrap?  ‘Twill do your fortunes no harm, methinks, to be advanced as mine squire and companion.  Shalt act my secretary too, an you will, while we are gone, for I’ll not ask either Vivian or Crispin to come.”

Vivian was still coming to terms with the death of his wife in childbed; and Crispin – besides being a poor sailor, and ship being the most practical way to travel so far as Dorset – had his concerns as any man might about Fanny’s pregnancy, for she was now showing quite apparently though it lacked two or three months to when the baby be due. Poor Crispin, one would quite think it was he who was pregnant, not Fan; but it were unkind to drag him away when finally the both of them were happy and settled.

It took enough trouble getting them together after all.

Walter looked surprised at Robin’s request; then nodded.

“’Fore God, I think I will!” he said.

“Me too then,” said Maud. Naturally, she wanted to keep an eye on her investment.

“And us,” said Pernel ungrammatically. “Adam, Jerid, Emma and me all be good intelligencers.  Sebastian better stay at home; he’s big enough to get into trouble and not big enough to know how to avoid it.”

“I tan get into twouble too!” said Sebastian firmly.  His English improved all the time.

“That’s what we’re afraid of,” I said. “Another time, dearling, when you are as old as when Emma first helped.”

He frowned his baby frown; but there was nothing he could complain about in the fairness of that.

I would NOT leave the babes, not my twins, nor adopted Cecily that was Pernel’s full sister.

Rosa must go with us for the babes; and I would need to take a maid, so I would take Libbe and her infant son, Robkin, whom Rosa could watch too.  She might act as maid to Maude too, for neither of us have any onerous needs. We had no need to drag Paula and her daughters to be maids to Pernel and Emma; besides, Sebastian had become fond of Paula and would stay happily with her and Tibby and Tibby’s Peterkin.

Paula had expressed herself willing to travel with us before; but I had seen the relief in her eyes when I had declined.

As a fisherman’s widow she disliked the sea and feared it; and although she had never forbidden Viola or Tamsin to travel with their little mistresses, I could see that she feared too for them.

And I would not put a mother through such fears.

When they be thirteen or fourteen and effectively adult they would be old enough to make their own choices; and such she would then have to abide with.  Meantime they stayed at her side.

Besides, they had plenty to be busy with, for they conspired with Pernel to get their mother suitably remarried; and excuse of caring for some of Pernel’s hounds meant they might drag their mother more into the company of Silas Hunter that Pernel deemed a suitable mate for Paula.

He was a good and gentle man; and had nieces and nephews of similar age to Viola and Tamsin that the girls played with; and his ferret and Thomas cat had come to a wary truce.

I could not fault Pernel’s plotting.

As an extra maid who might also help with the babes we should take Sidony, Pernel’s half-wit Fosser sister that loved to help Rosa, and had made caring for Cecily – also her sister – her special task.

We would have adopted her too, had we not thought she would feel threatened by having to learn to be a lady.  She was happy just to be cared for and not hit about the head all day.  I was not even sure she realised that Pernel was once her sister, or recognised her at all when Pernel asked that we take her to care for; for Burd Pernel de Curtney was a far cry from the feral and dirty little creature Pernel Fosser was when first we took her in.

In deciding who to take I also approached Jodoc, our chief musician.

“Jodoc, you have showed that you can mimic the speech of Dorset,” I said “Would you care to come and help us to find the measure of this land?”

He nodded.

“Ess fay, I will do all that I might for you and Sir Robert; though I be straight uncomfortable about spying,” he said.

“We be there to maintain the king’s peace and avoid hangings where we might,” I said. “You know us well enough by now.”

He nodded.

“Must I bring all my childer?” he asked wistfully. “It be right nice for Carenza to be settled.”

“And her no older than Sebastian? What do you take me for? I thought to suggest that you bring Meriadoc as your eldest son, him being a right clever rogue, and let Gawen and Talwyn bide.  I was not sure about Petroc; he is of an age with Tybalt, our ward, whom I thought to take; for Tyb was to be the symbol of rebellion, looking so like Richard of York as he does, and I thought to show the folk there that he was come to no harm.  And he and Petroc are as thick as thieves.”

Jodoc laughed.

“Ess, that they be….and you generous to let Petroc learn his letters with gentlemen’s sons.  If Petroc want to come I be happy for him to, but if he wish to stay, an you not mind I shall not want to force him.”

“That is fine, Jodoc,” I assured him.  “And should we need to send you out as musicians to hear the mood around then if Petroc comes not, Adam may be your boy for he’s good enough to carry it off providing one not ask him to play the lute; for the only air he can pick out thereupon is a French one and less than salubrious that the Dauphin taught him.”

Jodoc laughed.

“Master Adam is boldaciously versatile, My Lady,” he said.

“Aye, he is that,” I agreed cheerfully. “He and the Dauphin made a merry pair of scullions, poking around in drains.”

“That sound a better story than any troubadour might make up,” opined Jodoc.

“It is,” I said “And one day you shall hear it; perchance we will have time to tell it on shipboard as we sail to Dorset.”

As Adam hailed from Portsmouth, which was not so far from the Isle of Purbeck – that is no isle really, nor even really a peninsular - he would not take long to learn the accent an he have need.

We should have Rafe along with us too, of course.

I was not sure where Rafe originated; for he had lost almost all trace of accent save a touch that hinted of the west.

I asked him; and for a long moment he was silent.

“Do not answer an you prefer not to,” I said hastily “I apologise for my nosiness.”

He smiled at me.

“There is no need for that,” he said. “Nor for me to keep a secret. You know I speak not much of my former life because of the pain and grief; but the joy I have found in your household has helped me to overcome some of that pain.  I come from Cornwall, Mistress Felicia,” -  he was less formal when we wwere alone – “And I was glad that ‘twas YOU killed Hamo Dimmond.  His face was familiar to me; methinks it was his uncle I killed for the raping of my daughter.”

“Why did you not say so, you daft man?” I said, laying an affectionate hand on his arm. “It must have been a shock.  We could have stood by you and shown our support, for the grief must have resurged raw!”

He smiled.

“I love you well, you and Master Rob,” he said, his voice choking. “You have ever treated me as kindred.”

“We stole you as kindred,” I said. “And we love thee well too, Rafe, like a brother. Wouldst rather not come?”

Rafe shook his head.

“I know the mind of the southern people, I can be of good help,” he said. “I might even know some personally.”

“Will that be any risk or problem?”

He shrugged.

“I suppose if it be threatened to tell the authorities that I killed mine overlord I trust Sir Robert to sort it out,” he said simply.

That PROVED how settled he had begun to be with us.

“And ‘twill be relatively easy to sort, he having been the relative of a traitor,” I said.

Especially for those of us who basked for the nonce in royal favour.

What a palaver travelling had become now we were great folks!  Counting the babes we should number three and twenty of us, with Walter’s man Wilcock along.  Wilcock was a useful man in a tight corner, with his own unique talents, being an ex burglar that Walter had caught and offered employment to.

We should have taken Oliver too, for he looked most wistful; but he was still too weak, and would have been more at risk an he waxed hot about the mercenaries that half killed him and succeeded with his friend; being associated with Dimmond’s men as they had been.

At least we should be able to sail the whole way; for the stony river after which the village of Chesilfleet was named emptied into Poole bay.  The surrounding countryside was called Wytch Heath and so we might be expected to meet some superstitious problems too; but we should cross that bridge when we came to it.

The chance to sail being providential we sent Rafe to Lowestoft and if necessary on to Yarmouth to engage a ship of suitable size for our peregrinations; or at least to find if there was one running down to Portsmouth whence we might find some local shipping.

I might have guessed that a resourceful man like Rafe would manage to go one better.

He arrived back on the Saturday forenoon sailing on the ship of Master Greengrasse, a long time acquaintance of ours and cousin of Tom Greengrasse, the Beccles Reeve.

Rafe grinned cheerily.

“Master Greengrasse heard tell of a boat for sale just across the water in Scheveningen in the Low Countries, that he thought you might like for yourself, since you travel so much, Master Robert,” said he.

“Boat or ship?” I asked.

Rafe shrugged.

“There’s a difference?”

“I think so far as I can gather, a ship is large enough to need a master, but a boat operates by common consent,” I said. “It’s a question of size.”

“Ar, Valkensluft be a ship roight enough,” said Master Greengrasse, joining the conversation.  “Her be one o’ these outlandish types with spritsail wass able tu go awful close tu the windward; which is what they needs in the Low Countries think on.  They call un hoeys.”

Manoeuvrable then; not like those damned keels that usually constitute the coastal shipping, and must sit far enough out to sea not to risk being blown onto the shore, that make them all the more unstable with the added fear of not being able to swim to safety should the wretched things capsize.

“What’s she like on the high seas?” I asked.

Greengrasse scratched his head.

“Well, her has sailed to Genoa more than once with no problem, ar, and to Portugal; so her’d have tu sail through the Bay, and thass no joke dew a ship be-ant weatherly.”

The Bay of Biscay is certainly no joke.

“What crew does she need?” asked Robin.

“Six men, ar and moostly fer hire tu yew du yew be willin’ tu take un on,” said Greengrasse.  “See, master-owner tuk an’ died, and his widder want to sell up. There oony be one son, and he be keen to be a lawyer, o’ all things.” He spat contemptuously at the idea of any man with the chance to go to sea in his own vessel choosing law books over it.

I could see both points of view; but secretly I have to say I be more inclined to the choice of the freedom of the sailing master.

You might always study books at sea after all.

And Falconwing was a nice name for a ship; presumably she had plied passengers and falcons for the annual bird auction at Valkensward.  If she could manage to navigate the River Dommel, that I understand to be much the same size as the River Waveney, she would do us very well.

“What’s the asking price?” I said “And what sort of size is she?”

“Her be some fifty feet long, twelve and a half in the beam and four foot draught.  The widder want hundered an’ fifty gelders for ut,” said Greengrasse promptly.

The gelder is not so far off a crown in value; so the price was around thirty sovereigns, the price of a small merchant’s house.  That seemed fair; it would easily pay for itself with trading an the markets be picked carefully.

“We’ll have it, an it still be available,” said Robin. “Perchance, Master Greengrasse, you will permit me to pay you to inspect her for me and check she be seaworthy, and act as mine agent in her purchase?  We will take on any of the crew as will come with her.”

Master Greengrasse tugged his forelock.

“I be back around Monday, with her or without,” he said. “Dew her not be so good as she look, or dew her be sowd awready, Our’ll sail yew tu Portsmouth fer I cin allus git cargo there, ar and sell any Flemish cloth I moight pick up while I be over in Scheveningen too.”

It is a horrid town to pronounce, for if you do it correctly you risk spraying everyone around with gob.  Fortunately Master Greengrasse pronounced it in his own idiom, as Shayveningham, that it would had taken me a while to work out where this ship was had not Rafe mentioned it first.  Rafe could manage it without spraying.

We thanked Master Greengrasse sincerely, and gave him enough gold for the purchase and for his services.

Having our own vessel would be truly useful.  Had we had such, Fidel need not have died and Oliver not have lost the chance to wield sword in his now weakened right arm.

If ifs and wishes were horses and fishes, beggars at least would ride and feast.  What is done is done.