The wine here is different. It does not have the same thick, velvety taste as the wine I am accustomed too. However, this does not stop me from drinking. I sip on the red liquid slowly, as we sit in Joan's chamber next to the warming fireplace, gossiping like fishwives. My sister's face flushes—from the fire or the wine, I am unsure. She has found a liking to the bitter liquid, for she is drinking it in larger gulps, and is already on the verge of becoming giddy from the wine.
I move closer to the fire, stretching my hands out towards the hot flames. The nights are colder in England. A cool breeze can materialize in the atmosphere, then inadvertently turn into a harsh wind—speckled with rain—in the blink of an eye. It would then cook up a storm like those over the English channel—storms powerful enough to sway ships and shake the foundations of houses.
I have only been here a few days but I feel like I have never been parted from my sister. We were close as children, and like most siblings, we have drifted apart over the years, only to restore our the powerful bond we'd had now. She appears older than I remember, even though only a few years have passed. I can only assume marriage is the reason. She still laughs like the girl I know and jests with me relentlessly but I can see something missing in her eyes, the joys of blissful youth snuffed out.
"Philip will be coming in a few days to collect you, then escort you to court," my sister says.
I take a sip of the bitter drink. "Finally. It has taken him long enough to make his way to see me." I remark.
Joan smiles at me. "He can not help himself. The women adore him. He is a fine sportsman—very handsome, too—and he is a companion to the king."
"Let me guess . . . mother's encouragement?"
"No. Mother has requested his presence back home more than once. I am surprised father has not dragged him back to France to marry a wealthy woman,"she replies.
I smile at the thought of father traveling to collect his reprobate son from the king of England. She smiles back as she grabs the jug to refill our glasses. "How am I meant to compete with these women, Joan?" I wonder aloud.
"You will be fine. You are beautiful, Kat. You're kind and modest . . . Just be yourself. He will find it refreshing to have something new." She runs her hand through my hair as she speaks.
I am not sure if I believe her encouraging words. "Will you help me, Joan?" I plead.
A dry chuckle emerges from her throat. "Help sister, in what way? You wish me to seduce the king for you?"
I give her a gentle push on the arm. "If you would not mind." She looks at me blankly "I am only kidding. I mean, advise me if I am doing something right, or if what I am doing is wrong. Let me know if he notices me. Things like that, Joan. Guidance."
"I can give you guidance," she says simply. "I am happy you are here, Kat. For once, my husband has to take me to court with him. It would be unseemly if he took my little sister to court without a female chaperone."
"Why does he not take you to court?" I ask, intrigued.
"He is seeing someone behind my back. It is easier to leave me behind here, so he does not feel as guilty for cheating on me." She replies, catching me off-guard. "I will help you in your task, Kat, if you help me find out which English woman has taken my husband from me."
I look at my sister. I notice the fatigue around her eyes. The transition from France to England has been hard on her, more so than I realized. Her husband has not been faithful to her. I bring my sister into an embrace and she lets the few built up tears escape her eyes.
** *
My brother Philip is proclaiming his own arrival, swinging his long legs from his still moving horse. "Dear gentle sisters!" He shouts loud enough for everyone to hear.
We had both heard the horse's footfalls ringing on the cobblestones when he had entered the courtyard. We were already running down the steps—carrying our dresses—in a rush to embrace our brother. His strong muscular arms envelope us both in one large hug. He leans back and lifts us both off the ground. We all laugh and smile together again.
"We are to ride as soon as possible to Whitehall. I do not want to be absent from the court for too long!" He exclaims.
Philip clasps Lord Howard's hand in greeting as he finally walks down the stairs to join the commotion. They briefly discuss the transfer of my baggage, since the rest would be left to
the serving men and women who would move our belongings behind us. It was more a discussion of court politics than anything else.
"Why so quick to return, brother?" I ask when he finishes conversing with my sister's husband.
"The king, sister! He has let me come collect you, but I must return with haste. There is to be a tournament and I will compete! You will love it."
I can not help but get caught up in the excitement radiating from my brother. From what I remember, he has always been enthusiastic—but never like this. There is true joy in his eyes. He clearly has a love for this country; it has been kinder to him than to my sister.
His gaze falls upon me. "Yes, brother?" I say.
"You have grown into a beautiful woman, Kat. I knew you were a pretty child, but you have grown to be a fairly attractive maiden. You may catch yourself a very wealthy husband at this court," he purrs.
I look away from his piercing gaze and instead glance at the floor. How little he knew of how far I wished to rise. Philip is dear to me, but he is also a man. Mother has decided it is best not to include him, for now that he has grown, his allegiances could change. All he knows is that I am here to visit my family, and explore the English court.
"Let's make haste." He gestures to a carriage which rounds the corner.
The carriage sways and bumps as it crosses the uneven terrain beneath us. The way to court is an uncomfortable ride in more ways than one. I would certainly prefer horse-back.
The constant shaking and swaying of the carriage is causing a slight ache that runs through my body. It increases with every jolt the carriage makes. The second problem is the smell. On the country roads the air is fresh, but the closer we edge towards the city, the fouler the smell becomes. It is an odor of filth, sweat, and death.
The smell becomes stronger as we head into the throng of city markets. The place is packed with people, who are followed by flies coming from various directions. I reach for my sweet smelling pomador, place it to my nose, and breathe it in deep, relishing the strong lavender and chamomile scent.
It feels like an eternity until the carriage moves from the busy market, to smoother pathways which offer slightly cleaner surroundings. Removing the pomador, I scrunch my nose in distaste. The smell of filth still lingers, as if it has crawled into the carriage for a ride.
The foul-smelling crowds are replaced with a group of men in livery. The pungent smell still hangs in the air, however, this crowd looks much more civilized. They appear to have respectable jobs, and each villager walks with a purpose in his step.
"I forgot the stench of the masses," Joan tries to block out the foul smell too.
The scenery changes from the carriage window. There is a less profuse amount of shops, and the crumbling hovels are replaced with much grander townhouses. The cobbles begin to smooth off and the ride becomes more gentle.
The door flings open, and a young steward steps forward, offering his hand to me. The man has a mass of brown curls which cuts my breath short.
Master Ashley?
I realize is not him. His young features suggest he is only a boy, and he is less handsome compared to Master Ashley. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep seeing the knight in my head?
As my feet touch the cobblestones, I feel nervous. What if the king is in the courtyard? Would I even recognize him as the king?
Foolish thoughts. I would know him soon enough. There is no need to rush. King Henry is said to be magnificent. Soon I will meet with him and my task will begin. I will make my mother proud and bear the prophesied child.
My thoughts are soon consumed in talk with Joan. It is like we have never been separated, for conversation comes easily to both of us. Her husband is a gentleman to the King, and he is often at court. She has been able to attend before so she will be my navigator.