“Certainly, my lady. My lord.” Hebowed to them again, and left.
“If you'll pardon me,” Sire Philip said witha bow of his own, “I'll go with him, I think, to be sure he eatsand does indeed sleep tonight, rather than coming back here to prayagain.”
“He had no fondness for Sir Clement, so it'sdoubly to his credit to do what he's doing,” Frevisse said.
“But that makes it no less tiring. Doing right from a sense of duty is more wearing than doing it fromaffection.”
“And so has greater merit.”
“Truly,” Sire Philip agreed. “By yourleave, my ladies.” He bowed and left them.
To Dame Perpetua, still silently standing toone side, Frevisse said, “I suppose we should go to Aunt Matildanow.” For her, in this, affection and duty together weregoing to be equally wearing; she wished someone was going to bidher have her supper, then go to bed and be done with theday.
But no one was likely to. Resigned tothat, she led the way toward her aunt's parlor.
Robert Fenner met them at the foot of thestairs. “Jevan said you wanted to see me,” he said withoutmore greeting than a quick bow and a glance over his shouldertoward the hall. “Sir Walter is not pleased to be among thoseleft to each other's company in the hall. He hoped for achance to talk with his worship, the earl of Suffolk.” Histone caught both Sir Walter's arrogance and his own ridicule ofit.
“And lacking that pleasure, he's spreadinghis discontent wherever he best can,” Frevisse said.
“As ever,” Robert agreed. “So I can'tbe gone long.”
Understanding the hint, Frevisse askeddirectly, “What do you know about Sire Philip's relationship to SirClement?”
“The priest? Your uncle's householdpriest? Nothing.”
“It's said his father was a villein of SirClement's father. Basing, I think the name was.”
“Ah!” Robert nodded. “I know thecommon gossip there. Basing bought his freedom with hiswife's money, and then went on to increase her small fortune to alarger one and set the sons he had by her in places well abovevilleinage.”
“Sons?” Frevisse asked.
“Two of them, if I remember rightly. The priest and another one. I don't know about the secondone. But I do remember talk that Sir Clement liked to claimthe purchase from villeinage had not been valid and that father andsons were both still his property.”
“The father is still alive?”
“I think not.”
“But both sons are alive.”
“I suppose so. I haven't heardotherwise.”
“And how valid is this claim of SirClement's?”
“Probably not at all or he would have pursuedit, I suppose. Or maybe he had more pleasure in holding theclaim over the sons' heads, threatening to bring it down on themwhenever he chose and meanwhile enjoying drawing the tortureout.”
“Not a pleasant man.”
“You've only to know what he's done to Jevanto be sure of that.”
“What has he done to Jevan?”
“Everything where he should have left himalone, and nothing where he should have done something. SirClement's sister married less well than Sir Clement thought sheshould have and completely against his wishes. It might havebeen all right if her husband had lived long enough to make good onhis small inheritance. By all accounts he was clever andcapable enough, and he looked like becoming a competent woolmerchant. But he died with his affairs all tangled ininvestments that needed his close eye, and without him, when allwas said and done, there was very little left. His wifebarely outlived him, and Sir Clement seized on Jevan. Therewere relatives on the father's side who would have taken him andbeen glad of it, but Sir Clement had rank and power, and he's usedJevan like a servant ever since, to punish him for his mother's‘sin’ in going against Sir Clement's wishes in her marriage.”
“But he's still Sir Clement's nephew. He'll inherit something now, surely.”
Robert shook his head. “The propertiesare all entailed in the male line. Everything goes to Guybecause his grandfather was Sir Clement's father's brother, if Iremember it rightly. Sir Clement reminded Jevan of his lackof expectation frequently and with pleasure.”
“God is too merciful; he waited too long tostrike Sir Clement down,” Frevisse said, then quickly crossedherself. “God forgive me.”
Dame Perpetua crossed herself, too; butRobert said, “You're not the only one who's said that, nor I doubtyou'll be the last.”
“I saw him die,” Frevisse said. “I atleast should be more careful of my words.” But at the sametime her mind was beginning to trace a path among the things shehad been learning. “Then Guy is some sort of cousin to SirClement, not a nephew. And he's cousin to Jevan, too. Will he deal more justly with him than Sir Clement did?”
“I gather that Guy despises him for alickspittle, never mind Jevan had small choice in the matter. Jevan has no hopes from him. Or from the other way,either.”
“The other way?”
Robert smiled sadly, with memories of hisown. “Lady Anne, Sir Clement's ward. Jevan hasnever said it directly, but you have only to watch him to see hecares for her. I doubt she knows it. Between her lovefor Guy and her fear that Sir Clement might take her for himself,she's had little time to think of other loves. But that'sover now, God be thanked, and she and Guy will be free to marry, Isuppose. Poor Jevan is out of everything, but it's a suitableenough marriage, all ways – in rank and fortune and affection.”
Remembering what she had overheard and seenamong the three of them yesterday, Frevisse said with somegentleness, “So Sir Clement's death is boon to Lady Anne and Guy atleast.”
“And to a great many others,” Robertsaid. “He dearly loved trouble for its own sake. Goodmy lady, I have to go back or there'll be trouble for me and not ofSir Clement's making.”
“Go quickly. I'm sorry I kept you solong. And thank you.”
“You're very welcome.” He smiled again;Frevisse could remember when there had been real joy in his smile,not this pretence he made of it now. “Pray for me, mylady.”
Frevisse, who rarely touched anyone, tookhold of his arm for a moment, her eyes on his to make her words gomore deeply. “Always. Go with God, Robert, whateverhappens.”
He bowed too quickly for her to read hisexpression, caught her hand in his own and kissed it, then turnedand left without lifting his gaze to her again.
“I'll pray for him, too,” Dame Perpetua saidin the silence after he was gone.
Frevisse nodded. “He's in need.”
“As are we all.” Dame Perpetua’s simplecertainty let what seemed too easily a mindless platitude be theplain truth that it was.
Frevisse felt suddenly grateful for DamePerpetua's quiet, steady presence.
Chapter Eleven
Dame Perpetua left Frevisse at the door tothe parlor. “I am not needed here, nor do I want to goin. I'd rather go to bed, by your leave.” Wishing shecould go with her, Frevisse gave Dame Perpetua the small bundle totake with her, out of the way. Frevisse had guessed by itsfeel that it held a book, and was curious what Chaucer had soparticularly wanted to give her. But she meant to find abetter time and place to open the bundle than now and did not wishto draw attention to it by carrying it with her into theparlor. She drew a deep breath, then went in.
The room was even more full of people thanthe evening she had arrived and, like then, most of them werestrangers to her. Aunt Matilda and Bishop Beaufort sat nearthe fireplace, with Alice at her mother's side and her husbandSuffolk at the bishop's, all in low-voiced conversation withvarious guests. Master Gallard, hovering just inside thedoor, bowed to her and said under the general murmur ofconversation, “My lady your aunt has been asking after you. You'll go at once to join her?”