Dragon's Court. Joanna Makepeace

willingly.

      She looked about her complacently as they were now on the main road south heading towards Northampton. This was the excitement she craved, the thrill of seeing new places and observing people. Here there were many travellers; all life, it seemed, stretched out before her. Carts rumbled by, loaded with farm produce; a company of liveried retainers passed them at one juncture and Richard Allard ordered his small procession to draw in close to the roadside to allow them passage.

      A hedge priest trudged patiently by, his coarse black robe girdled high, smeared with the dust and mud of many journeys, his sandals worn and flapping, offering little protection to dirty and calloused feet. A fat pardoner, attended by a servant, stared curiously at their group but Richard made a small but commanding gesture of his hand, as if ordering the man not to attempt to delay them by offering his wares.

      As they passed Anne noted that the man’s cloak was ornamented by the shell brooch of St James of Compostela, so the man had made pilgrimages. She had heard tell of adventures on such expeditions. Her father possessed a printed copy of Master Chaucer’s tales of the famous pilgrimage to Canterbury and her own mother had visited the shrine at Walsingham. She had longed to go there too and considered that, when she was wed, she would most probably go to the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham also to pray for a child.

      They passed through Northampton without being delayed and it was the first and only time Anne did not wish to linger there to gaze into the booths of the silk merchants.

      Simpkin Cooper, the man-at-arms who had been in the van of the little party, suggested they take refreshment at an inn on the southern side of the town.

      “It may be some time, Master Allard, before we find anything so suitable for the ladies. The village taverns are very squalid in this district.”

      “I defer to your experience, Master Cooper,” Richard Allard said mildly and turned in the saddle to inform Anne of their decision.

      “You will certainly become saddle sore if you do not stop and rest soon, however much you insist that you enjoy riding,” he said, “and the horses will need watering.”

      Anne looked up at the sun, low and bright, and thought how the weather was unusually sultry for this time of year.

      “Can we not eat outside in the open since it is warm?” she enquired. “I do not suppose we shall get another such opportunity on this journey. Inns are always so smelly and crowded. I shall feel more refreshed if we stay outside. Surely we can find shelter from the wind, though it is very mild and I doubt we shall need that.”

      Richard shrugged. He was accustomed to camping out even in the depths of winter, and she was right: the weather was pleasant for the time of year. He consulted Simpkin as to the whereabouts of some pleasing spinney where they could be away from prying eyes on the road for an hour or two.

      “We’ll need to find water for the horses,” he reminded the man, who nodded thoughtfully.

      “Aye, Master Allard, it is a good notion, today, at any rate.” He thought for a minute, then scratched his chin and grinned. “I know one small spinney about a mile and a half further on.” He cast Richard a knowing look. “It’s not more’n a few yards from our way and sheltered by bushes. A small stream runs through it.” His roguish glance confirmed Richard’s suspicion that Simpkin had, most likely, done some of his courting in that same spinney.

      “Right, man, lead us to it,” he agreed. “We have cold meats and cheese as well as fresh bread in plenty and good wine and ale too.”

      Anne had been listening to the exchange and called to Mary Scroggins, who was riding behind with Wat Glazier. Mary passed no comment. Objections would be useless. She knew, from past experience, that there was no arguing with Mistress Anne when she had one fixed idea in her mind, though, for her part, Mary would have welcomed the opportunity to sample a tavern’s hot food and have warmed water and towels for washing at their disposal.

      For all her protestations, Anne was glad to be lifted from the saddle of her palfrey when they pulled off the road some half-hour later, following Simpkin’s directions into a small spinney bordering open pasture land beyond. Well-matured oaks and beech trees gave ample cover and a bramble hedge offered protection from the wind. Simpkin led the way unerringly to a small clearing from which, in the distance, Anne could hear the faint burbling of a small stream.

      “It’ll be more’n a mite muddy round the stream bank,” Simpkin advised. “Better camp here, Master Allard, it’ll be more comfortable for the women folk.”

      Richard glanced round and nodded approval after first moving off to reconnoitre the ground further on and returning to the clearing.

      “This seems fine,” he said. “Spread horse blankets on the ground for the ladies and Mistress Anne can lean back against my saddle. She’ll find the roughness of the tree bole somewhat uncomfortable.”

      Mary looked round anxiously and Simpkin reassured her.

      “Don’t worry, Mary. There’s a spot just behind them bushes as you and Mistress Anne can use when you need to, while we keep watch without “aving to intrude on you, like.”

      Mary grunted and Anne gave a little chuckle. It seemed Simpkin was, indeed, very well acquainted with this terrain.

      Food was unpacked from one of the panniers and ale and wine poured. It was quiet in the wood and she lay back against the supporting saddle, her hood pushed back, listening to the song birds who had not flown south for the winter and the rustlings of the little wood creatures.

      She had often gone fishing near the Nene with her father and Ned and always enjoyed the peace of the countryside, for the manor was rarely quiet, echoing with the sound of voices from kitchens, dairy and buttery as well as calls from the stables and the sounds of hammers in the outbuildings where smiths, carpenters and coopers were going about their various duties on the desmesne.

      Anne’s mother had kept her employed, learning housewifely skills in the house itself, as well as overseeing the maids in the dairy. Anne enjoyed learning the healing arts in her mother’s still room, but she hated the hours in the hall and solar with her embroidery and distaff for Margaret Jarvis had insisted that it was necessary still for every woman to learn to spin.

      Richard Allard sat eating and drinking ale but she thought he seemed more than a whit restless, as if impatient to be once more on the road. However, he said little, every now and then glancing in her direction and ensuring she had all her needs provided.

      Food always tasted good to Anne eaten out in the open and she revelled in the fresh, clean tang of cheese and new-baked bread and the salty tastiness of crisp, cold bacon. She wondered if she would develop a taste for the rich sauces and extravagant roast peacocks and swans served at Court, though her mother had informed her that often those strange, exotic meats were tough and everything had grown cold before it reached the table, having been carried from kitchens some distance from the eating hall.

      The men went off eventually, leading the horses to water them. Mary sat back against a moss-covered rock, seemingly dozing. Anne rubbed at her greasy hands. She had a napkin but would welcome now some water for washing. The men would be at the stream bank, which could not be far away. She would go in the direction of the sound of water and wash her hands. She looked down at Mary then decided not to waken her and, soft-footed, hurried off.

      The track appeared well marked as if people had come this way often and she had few problems with over-growing branches. She walked confidently, humming a little tune she had heard one of the grooms sing. In the distance she could hear the reassuring sound of laughter and jovial voices in banter. The three men were very near and would hear if she cried out.

      She reached the stream at last and stood admiring its quaint beauty as it burbled over stones. The summer had been dry but there had been several days of heavy rain about a week back and the stream was quite high. It was very narrow—she could have leaped across very easily—and, obviously, it was not deep, but she approached the bank cautiously. She had no wish to slip on muddy ground and fall into the water, it would ruin her fine new cloak and gown.