Candace Robb - The Cross Legged Knight

‘We cannot very well deny your mother’s request,’ she said to Emma in a voice that even Lady Pagnell could not hear.

The boys’ tutor directed Ivo and John to move the bench closer to Lady Pagnell. Again, they seemed reluctant to meet Lucie’s gaze. Perhaps Emma had not exaggerated Lady Pagnell’s negative effect on the household. As Lucie passed the long table, she noticed the steward watching her. He quickly glanced away, but not before she caught his irritated expression. She could not blame him, being interrupted in his work by all the bother her visit was causing.

‘Come, Lucie, let me look at you.’ Lady Pagnell held out her arms, then gestured for Lucie to pivot. ‘A lovely gown. Blue is a good colour for you. But my child, how thin you are, and how pale.’

‘Mother,’ Emma warned.

Ignoring her daughter, Lady Pagnell continued, ‘I was sorry to hear of your loss.’

This was nothing of which Lucie wished to speak to Lady Pagnell. But it was to be expected. And noting shadows beneath the widow’s eyes, new lines etched on her face and her complexion less robust than usual, Lucie was reminded that Lady Pagnell, too, had recently suffered a painful loss. ‘I was confined to my bedchamber so long it is no wonder I seem pale, Lady Pagnell. But I am much recovered.’

The widow shook her head. ‘You are still young, do not waste your days grieving for a lost child. It was God’s will. He will bless you with another if it is meant to be.’

Unable to respond, Lucie stepped closer to examine the embroidery. ‘Is this for the chapel altar?’ The strength of her voice surprised her. God was co-operating for a change. The cloth was narrow, a fine linen, draped over the embroidery stand and folded carefully on the floor behind. The end on which Lady Pagnell was working depicted a knight in armour sitting astride a prancing chestnut horse with black mane and tail. The ground beneath the pair was a carpet of tiny flowers. The knight’s tabard was white with a large red cross, signifying a crusader.

‘It is for the chapel altar. On the other end is a cross-legged knight. Though why I play to that foolishness I do not know.’ Lady Pagnell’s voice said otherwise.

‘Father’s wish to go crusading was not foolishness.’ Emma spoke sharply.

Lucie prayed that she and Gwenllian never grew so distant. ‘Sir Ranulf would be moved by your work, Lady Pagnell.’

‘You see, Emma? Lucie does not find me heartless.’

‘Do sit down,’ Emma said to Lucie, ‘and tell us about the fire last night.’

At last a subject of use to her. She settled beside Emma. ‘I would as lief not repeat what you already know. What have you heard? Was anyone from your household there?’

‘Matthew was out, but he missed the excitement,’ said Emma, glancing towards the table where the steward bent over his work. ‘It did not occur to him to come to the aid of the bishop.’

Now Matthew glanced up, his face moving from light to shadow so that Lucie could not see his expression, but his voice was quiet as he said, ‘There were so many people in the street I thought I would only be in the way.’

‘And right you were, of course, Matthew,’ said Lady Pagnell. ‘Emma, watch your tongue with my steward.’

‘Then he should be so good as to watch his with my servants.’

Mother and daughter locked eyes, both with high colour born of anger, not health. Lucie had never witnessed such discord in the Ferriby house. Something was very wrong, but she could not believe Emma’s suspicion, that the steward harboured hopes of winning Lady Pagnell. The Pagnells were too proud a family.

Lady Pagnell stabbed at the embroidery and pricked the finger she held beneath as a guide.

‘You should follow your own advice, Mother. “Never place your fingers beneath your needles. The frame makes that unnecessary.”’ Emma did a perfect imitation of her mother’s voice.

Lady Pagnell sat down on a stool beside the large frame and sucked her finger, pausing to say, ‘Really, Emma, you are acting the petulant child. This is not like you.’ She paused. ‘As for our household helping in the fire, Lucie, I regret to say we were dining quietly here. It was Stephen’s last night in the city.’

Stephen was Lady Pagnell’s eldest son, the heir. Emma often complained of her brother’s efforts to control all the family, so it seemed odd to Lucie that Stephen had departed for home before the negotiations with Wykeham had been completed. The manor was soon to be his own home.

‘Will he be returning to meet with the Bishop of Winchester?’ Lucie asked.

Lady Pagnell shook her head. ‘Stephen said as he has little knowledge of our neighbour he would leave it to Matthew and me to choose what might be acceptable. I must say I was disappointed. I should have welcomed my son’s guidance in this. I fear that I shall offer something too dear in exchange for the modest piece of property on which I wish to live. Stephen withdrew from the deliberations just to vex me.’

Emma had caught Lucie’s eye at the mention of Matthew and made a face as if to say, ‘You see?’

‘It is fertile land with a stream of clear water,’ said Lady Pagnell, ‘and it will require an equally pleasant and useful property to wrest it from that man’s clutches.’

‘He was good enough to contribute to Father’s outfitting,’ said Emma, ‘and he deserves a fair exchange. Stephen was in too much haste to return to his Pippa.’ His wife was pregnant with her fifth child and could not make the journey for the funeral. ‘It is not a steward’s place to take part in such decisions.’

‘Might I be of help?’ Lucie asked, desperate to avoid another argument. ‘Are any of the properties south of the city, near Freythorpe Hadden?’ — her family estate.

‘Some are,’ said Lady Pagnell. ‘Our neighbour means it for a new tenant, not himself, so it was not necessary to have it adjoining his land. Perhaps you might look them over?’ She turned towards Matthew, who was in the process of gathering up his work and strapping the items together.

‘That will not be necessary, My Lady. I plan to ride out to the various properties so that I might provide you with a full description of each, its prospects and amenities. It is impossible to judge such things from deeds.’ Matthew was a well-spoken man, but though his words were courteous his scowl was not. He bowed, now, and clutching his bundle he made his excuses and departed by the rear door.

‘Mother, you allow him to be too familiar.’

‘Your father hired him, Emma. I have not often heard you question his judgement.’

To save them both from any more argument, Lucie launched into an account of the fire, of the servant Poins’s wounds, Magda’s remedies and this morning’s gossip about Cisotta. ‘Last night it seemed the fire had inspired the people of York to help their neighbours, but today they are intent on destroying her good name rather than praying for the dead and injured.’

‘Amen,’ said Lady Pagnell. ‘They assisted in dousing the fire to save their own homes, not out of charity.’

Emma fussed with the keys that hung from her girdle. ‘Can it be so bad as that?’ she managed to say.

‘I have heard hardly a word spoken in sympathy for Cisotta,’ Lucie said.

Emma crossed herself. ‘May God give her peace. She was a skilled healer.’

‘Jealousy, that is what drives gossips,’ said Lady Pagnell. ‘I understand she was a pretty woman and dressed to be admired.’

‘Mother,’ Emma warned.

‘She was, Lady Pagnell,’ said Lucie.

‘They do say Adeline Fitzbaldric is ambitious for her husband,’ said Emma, ‘and that is why she seized the chance to live in William of Wykeham’s house rather than secure a more permanent residence.’