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‘Are you not tempted to accept the offer?’ Roger asked slyly.
‘No!’ Hal exclaimed. ‘When I enter the guild—and I will—I want to know it is because of my merit, not as a reward for ridding Simon Vernon of an inconvenience.’
Roger took another swig and let out a loud belch. ‘Stop being so high-minded. You failed to get membership of the guild today. This would ease your admittance and Master Vernon would be a more useful connection to you than he ever would to me.’
Hal swung himself to his feet, ignoring the seductive voice that whispered in his ear of the sense of this. He crossed to Roger’s cot and stared down at his brother. ‘You are fond of Joanna, you said so yourself. Why not marry her?’
‘Sadly, as you discovered, she is merely the niece of a guild member. He has a son now and she will inherit nothing. Her marriage portion will be small,’ Roger sneered.
Hal set his jaw. ‘I’ll ask for the last time: will you reconsider your intentions towards her?’
Roger took a maddeningly slow drink from the jug. Hal’s palm itched to slap it from his hand. Roger finally looked up.
‘No. Sir Robin De Monsort has a daughter who comes of age in the next month. I intend to make sure I am her choice and am leaving with him in the morning.’
‘Won’t you care at all to see Joanna given to another man?’
‘If she’d been richer I would have grieved more, but I care very little about it if I’m truly honest.’
Hal bunched his fists, his heart thudding with anger at the careless way his brother spoke. Roger swung himself unsteadily to his feet, wobbled and fell back on his cot.
‘This morning you wanted me to bid farewell to Joanna forever. Now you want me to marry her after all. This has nothing to do with her feelings and everything to do with your wanting to escape from the situation. Just marry her and be done with it. She deserves a husband who at least has a passing interest in her.’
‘And what makes you think I do?’ Hal asked in surprise.
‘The fact that you’re even trying to persuade me,’ Roger explained with the slow logic of the drunk. ‘If you cared nothing for her you wouldn’t worry who she married.’
Hal grimaced. He barely knew the girl, but his ire rose whenever he witnessed the dismissive way Joanna’s uncle or Roger spoke of her or to her. Joanna’s distress had touched him and he felt at least partly responsible for having caused the situation by insisting Roger make a decision. Blame lay at his feet, but surely not enough to require such a foolhardy step as penance?
‘She’s sweet-natured enough to keep you happy and has connections for you that no other woman does. If you won’t have her Simon Vernon will find someone who will. I’m sure she’d prefer you to a fifty-year-old with stale breath,’ Roger continued. He leered suggestively. ‘You and I are enough alike. Maybe you’ll please her in the night after all.’
Hal wrinkled his nose. ‘You disgust me sometimes. If we weren’t brothers I’d want nothing to do with you.’
‘But we are and the choice is not yours.’
Roger laughed to himself, gave another great belch, closed his eyes and began snoring. Hal ran his hands through his hair and gave an exasperated sigh. His eye fell on the wine jug still clasped in Roger’s hand. He tugged it free and poured the remains into a cup before lying back on his cot, racked with indecision.
* * *
The morning brought rain, and with it a resolution. Hal packed his belongings and dressed in silence, slipping the thick wool tunic over his shirt as he stifled the yawns that resulted from a long night lying awake. Still angry, he avoided eye contact with Roger who was equally engrossed in dressing, ordering his young page back and forth with clothing of fine linen and silks. Once there was nothing left to do the brothers faced each other, their angry words lay between them, a barrier as real as stone and mortar.
Hal unbent first, clasping his hand on to Roger’s shoulder. ‘I wish you good fortune in the tournaments. Bring honour on our name.’
‘Have you made your mind up about Joanna?’ Roger asked gruffly, ignoring Hal’s words.
Hal squared his shoulders, thinking he would rather stick his hand into his own furnace than reveal his intentions to Roger.
‘You showed no interest last night. Why now? Unless you have reconsidered?’
‘I haven’t.’ Roger said belligerently. ‘In fact, I only asked out of courtesy. Whether you marry her or not is no concern of mine.’ He clicked his fingers to the page, turned on his heel and sauntered out of the tent.
Hal hefted a bag across his shoulder, dragged his trunk to the waiting cart, then walked into the city.
* * *
Simon Vernon was not at home when he called. Sounds of family life drifted to Hal: children quarrelling, the clattering of cookware, a small dog yapping. Mistress Vernon peered at him through the partially closed door. Her gaze was suspicious rather than hostile and Hal wondered what Joanna had told her aunt of the previous night’s events. He craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of Joanna, but she was nowhere in sight.
Mistress Vernon informed Hal that her husband was most likely at his foundry. Hal retraced his steps to the Guild Hall along the alleys Joanna had taken him through the previous night. He suppressed a smile as he remembered her wide eyes full of innocence as she had led him in circles throughout the streets.
Even without instruction he could not have missed his destination. St Andrewgate was home to all York’s metalworkers. The narrow street was lined on both sides with open-fronted workshops making and selling all manner of wares and the heat from the furnaces and heady stench of smoke meeting the drizzle greeted Hal like an old friend.
Master Vernon’s foundry was located in an excellent position on the corner with two sides open to the street. Hal paused outside, aware of a clamminess creeping around his back. It was not too late; he could turn and walk away and no one would know. Except for him. He contemplated Simon Vernon’s establishment, larger and grander by far than his own forge in Ravenscrag. One day he would be master of such a place and today, for all his reservations, he was setting his foot most decisively on that path.
Simon Vernon was standing with his back to Hal, barking orders at a pair of young apprentices. A figure was seated at a table in the corner. Hal stared in surprise as he recognised Joanna, head bent over a wax tablet with a stylus in her hand. No one had noticed his arrival so for a moment he stood drinking in the sight of her. She wore a dark-blue dress, high necked and tight sleeved beneath a sombre grey surcoat, belted tight beneath her breasts. Her hair was braided and held back from her face with a linen band. In such a setting she appeared as delicate and out of place as a wren in a nest of crows. The impression was such a contrast to the gaily dressed, flighty girl he had encountered at the camp that Hal was transfixed.
She was not beautiful, at least not in the way he preferred his women to be, but engrossed in her task Joanna’s face was alight with enthusiasm, lending her cheeks a blush of rose. Her figure he already knew from having examined her the previous night. A slight stirring of excitement made him grin. Whatever other reservations he might have about marriage to Joanna, the physical aspects were not among them. He would enjoy getting to know his wife once they were wed.
Joanna muttered to herself, made a swift stroke with a quill and looked up. Too late to glance away her eyes trapped Hal’s. She frowned, a small furrow appearing between her eyes before she broke into a wide smile. She jumped from her chair and crossed the room to him.
‘Master Danby, what brings you here?’ she asked warmly. ‘Do you have a message for me?’ Her voice was hopeful, leaving Hal in no doubt whose word she craved.
He ignored the faint stab of jealousy that pricked his chest, deciding that whatever else occurred, Joanna would never discover Roger’s indifference from him. ‘I’m here to see your uncle.’
Simon Vernon finally noticed him. He strode to Hal, an eager expression on his face. ‘You again. Should I assume you are here because of our conversation last night?’
Hal bowed. ‘Good morning, Master Vernon. I am indeed here to discuss your proposal.’ He glanced at Joanna who was still standing beside her uncle, her eyes bright with suspicion. Master Vernon followed his gaze.
‘Joanna, go fetch ale for us. Make haste, girl!’ he exclaimed, pushing her shoulder.
Hal’s teeth gritted. If he had needed confirmation that he was making the right choice, the man’s manner towards his niece was enough. Joanna left the building.
Simon Vernon watched her go, then turned to Hal. ‘You’re here to ask for her hand?’
Hal took a deep breath. ‘I am.’
Now the words were out the weight of anxiety lifted from his shoulders.
‘Last night I was certain you would refuse,’ Simon said. ‘What changed your mind? Was the promise of my good favour too much to resist?’
Hal smiled politely. ‘Naturally.’
Simon Vernon held out a hand. ‘Then the matter is settled. Now let’s discuss terms.’
* * *
Joanna tapped her foot impatiently as the serving girl filled an earthenware jug with maddening slowness, all the while wondering what her uncle and Hal had been discussing. When she first saw him her heart had leapt, believing for one blissful moment that Sir Roger had changed his mind and sent his brother as messenger. Of course that had been foolish. From what she was learning of Hal he was too proud to consent to carry out such a task. This was not merely a visit for courtesy, however. From the way her uncle had dismissed her she knew there was more to Hal’s appearance and she was determined to find out what it was.
* * *
She arrived back at the foundry with heels skidding in the mud. The two men were facing each other, arms folded and legs set wide, consciously or unconsciously mirroring each other’s stance. They were both talking and smiling, but when Joanna entered Hal’s face became serious.
‘Bring the ale quickly, Joanna,’ her uncle instructed. ‘We have something to drink to.’
Obediently Joanna walked to the table at the back of the room and filled two cups. She picked them up and turned to find Hal standing close behind her.
‘Let me help,’ he said, taking the cups from her hand. He stared down at Joanna with an intensity that sent warm shivers running across her scalp.
‘Come here, girl!’ Simon called. As she joined them his jowly face split into a smile. ‘I said last night I would find you a husband if you could not find your own. Master Danby here has asked for your hand and I have agreed.’
The room spun and grew hotter. Joanna looked at the furnace to check if it had flamed suddenly, but it burned as steadily as always.
‘You must have misunderstood,’ she said. ‘Surely he means on behalf of Sir Roger.’
Simon snorted contemptuously. ‘Of course he doesn’t. You can forget any dreams of Sir Roger asking you. I know I have. The sooner you get him out of your head the happier you’ll be.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ Her voice echoed in her ears.
‘Believe it, you silly chit,’ Simon snapped. ‘Master Danby has excellent prospects and will make a good husband. What possible objections could you have?’
‘I don’t know him!’
‘You were happy enough to go flitting about the city with him yesterday like a common wench with no regard for your name!’ Simon barked.
‘He’s a bastard!’ Joanna faltered. Hal’s head whipped up as though she had struck him physically. His eyes bored into her, the pupils large and black, pinning her to the spot with their intensity. ‘I’m sorry...’ she began.
‘I bear my father’s name and I hold land on his estate,’ Hal said curtly. ‘My status does not shame me.’
‘Master Danby is right. What does that matter?’ Simon asked. ‘He is a lord’s son by birth and his children will be legitimate.’
Children. Joanna’s stomach heaved at the thought of children and what creating them would entail. The thought of anyone touching her in the way Roger had made her want to scream.
Simon gripped Joanna by the arm and pulled her to the back of the room out of Hal’s hearing. His face was stern.
‘It is good fortune you happened upon someone who did not take advantage and make you completely unmarriageable, but enough is enough,’ he growled. ‘I have wasted three years while you waited for his brother and I’m not prepared to wait any longer. Master Danby has clearly seen the advantages such a match will bring. I suggest you do the same. This man or Thomas Gruffydd, but no more waiting.’
He dropped her arm and stormed out, leaving Joanna in no doubt that he intended to be obeyed. Hal was watching closely, his mouth a thin line.
‘What advantages does he mean?’ Joanna asked as soon as Simon was out of earshot. She closed her eyes as the answer struck her with sudden clarity.
‘No, I understand. It’s guild business, isn’t it? How did you manage to coerce him?’
‘The idea was not mine. Your uncle suggested it.’ Hal frowned. ‘Why do you assume I want the marriage any more than you do?’
A feeling of nausea told her he was speaking the truth. Hadn’t Simon threatened to find her a husband only last night?
‘So you’re buying me?’ Joanna said, her voice shaking. ‘Do you gain admittance to the guild as a reward?’
‘Actually, I don’t!’ Hal said. ‘I’m not buying you. I gain nothing at this time other than a wife and the promise that I can petition for membership sooner than the customary year is up if I feel able. I’m not sure I get the best out of the deal.’
Hal stepped closer and put a hand gently on her shoulder. Joanna shrugged it off again violently.
‘I don’t love you,’ she said coldly.
Hal raised an eyebrow. ‘Nor I you. It would be rare if we did after such a short time knowing each other. I don’t expect you to feel for me what you did my brother, but perhaps in time we will become fond of each other.’
Joanna crossed her arms, the mention of her adored knight sending waves of misery through her. ‘If Sir Roger knew he would never let this happen. I need to speak to him.’
Hal’s expression became blank.
‘My brother has already left the city.’
Joanna’s shoulders sagged and she stifled a sob.
‘In truth, I have no real desire to marry you, knowing you are in love with him,’ Hal said. ‘However, as your uncle said, there are advantages for me. For both of us.’
‘What is the advantage for me?’ Joanna asked quietly.
‘Perhaps nothing,’ Hal admitted. ‘If you would prefer to wait and see which alternative husband your uncle can find for you I will not stand in your way.’
Those words were all it took. He was right; Simon Vernon would find her a husband and, being anxious to be rid of her, would take less care than he did over choosing his belt. Thomas Gruffydd’s face swam before her eyes and she shivered.
Joanna walked to the front of the workshop where the breeze cooled her cheeks and she could think more freely. Hal did not follow, though she could feel his dark eyes on her. She examined him out of the corner of her eye: a tall figure, handsome when he stopped frowning, but so like Roger that the sight of him tore her to shreds inside. Simon thought him honourable. Perhaps he was right. Hal had come to her aid in the camp when the guards had made their lewd comments and last night he had insisted on accompanying her home. For some reason known only to himself he had set himself as her protector.
Uncle Simon came back inside. ‘You’ve had enough time to think, so what is it to be? Make your choice, girl.’
Joanna swallowed, summoning the courage to speak. ‘I do not wish to marry this man, but you leave me no choice.’ Simon grunted his agreement. Joanna bunched her fists to stop her hands trembling and forced a smile she did not feel in the slightest.
‘Master Danby, I will be your wife.’
Chapter Six (#ulink_23968189-3768-53f6-aa63-d7d8650f5f88)
The wedding was arranged with indecent haste, being only fifteen days in preparation rather than the customary forty. Lent was fast approaching and, perhaps fearing Joanna would change her mind, Simon Vernon was insistent that the ceremony took place before rather than afterwards.
Hal had returned home to speak to his father the same afternoon as their betrothal had taken place and had not returned to the city. In vain Joanna hoped that his petition would be refused, but six days later a messenger hammered on the door of the house, bearing a letter for Simon agreeing to the proposed date and asking him to acquire lodgings for Hal and Joanna for the nights following the ceremony.
To Joanna the speed with which matters were put into place was the final seal on her hopes of escaping the betrothal.
‘I agreed too rashly,’ she muttered, pacing the floor of Simon Vernon’s house as the day drew closer. ‘I should have asked for more time to consider, or delayed somehow.’
Mary Vernon ceased her sewing and frowned. ‘What good would waiting have done?’
‘Sir Roger loves me,’ Joanna said. ‘He will never let the marriage take place. When he knows what I am being forced into he will come back for me, but the sooner the wedding, the less chance he will receive my letter in time.’
‘You’ve written to him?’ Mary frowned. ‘If my husband finds out he’ll be furious!’
‘He won’t find out. You won’t tell him, will you?’ Joanna pleaded. She stared into the fire where she had cast letter after letter before finally deciding on the words to explain her plight. She had sent the letter ahead to Windsor the day Hal had left York and nine days later there had still been no reply.
‘Windsor is a long way,’ Joanna said firmly. ‘It will take time.’
