man said or did. She adored Jeanne, and in the usual way anything that would make Jeanne happy was Emma’s delight, but
that did not extend to Baldwin.
When Emma and he had first met, she had been entirely unimpressed with his home, his lands and his choice of companions in
his hall. Most despised of all, as Jeanne and Baldwin knew only too well, was his mastiff, Uther. Emma detested the old monster,
and although even Baldwin could, on occasion, admit that Uther was a little overwhelming at times, he would never admit that
in front of Emma, and especially not since Uther had died. Ifanything, his loyalty to the brute had increased rather than diminished now that Uther was dead.
In like fashion, Emma would not give up her oft-stated opinion that the animal was a vicious monster that should have been
killed when still a pup, before he could upset anybody else. The only thing Baldwin had ever done, or rather not done, that
had elevated him in her opinion was to decide not to replace Uther when the dog died.
However, his reluctance to speak for either side in the present political climate struck Emma as dishonourable.
‘That’s what it seems like to me, and I speak as I find. Can’t abide people who won’t stand by their lords. Look at him! He
should declare his loyalties, either to the king or to the Lord de Courtenay. Where’s the difficulty in that?’
‘Enough, Emma! It is not your place to decide where his duty lies!’ Jeanne snapped at last.
‘No, my lady, but it’ll be his soon enough, when there is a fight down here, on our manor, or perhaps on his own up at Furnshill,’
Emma retorted. ‘He should state where his allegiance lies, that’s all I’m saying. Hoi! You! Where are you going with that?’
and she was off after a hapless peasant before Jeanne could reprimand her again.
The worst of it was not Emma’s blundering clumsiness in her language, nor the apparent pleasure she took in denigrating Baldwin,
a man whom Jeanne was sure Emma had never liked, but more the disloyal feeling in Jeanne’s own breast that her husband really
should have declared on which side his interests lay. There were so many men for whom life under the present rule was all
but intolerable. The Despensers were notoriously and aggressively acquisitive. They could not see or hear of another man’s
wealth without attempting to steal it.
No, Jeanne would hate to think that her Baldwin could join the king and the Despensers and fight for them. Only recently the
Lord Mortimer had escaped from the Tower in London, and made his way overseas somehow, if the rumours were true. Baldwin had
been told by another judge at the Court of Gaol Delivery that Mortimer was in French territory. His liberty had to be a massive
concern for the Despensers because they knew Mortimer was the only one of their enemies left with extensive military experience.
If he returned to Britain, Baldwin said, he could pose a threat to them, and maybe even the king himself.
‘Are you well?’ Baldwin asked.
She smiled at his solicitous tone. ‘Do not try to change the subject. You know that I was worried about you because if you
were to have a fall you might not be found for an age. If you have to go riding, could you not take a man with you?’
‘My love, I was only going for a canter around your lands.’ Baldwin sighed. ‘I have ridden in more dangerous locations, you
know.’
‘Yes, I know, but a wounded man who falls can die all too easily. You should be resting, husband!’
He groaned. ‘I need to be fit, woman! I have to get myself ready again …’
‘For what? Do you think that if the king was to send his host to Scotland again, he’d order all the oldest knights to join
him?’
‘I don’t think I’m quite his oldest,’ Baldwin protested.
‘Perhaps not quite,’ she agreed.
‘I’m good enough for some activities still,’ he persisted.
As they had spoken, they had left the stables, and now
that did not extend to Baldwin.
When Emma and he had first met, she had been entirely unimpressed with his home, his lands and his choice of companions in
his hall. Most despised of all, as Jeanne and Baldwin knew only too well, was his mastiff, Uther. Emma detested the old monster,
and although even Baldwin could, on occasion, admit that Uther was a little overwhelming at times, he would never admit that
in front of Emma, and especially not since Uther had died. Ifanything, his loyalty to the brute had increased rather than diminished now that Uther was dead.
In like fashion, Emma would not give up her oft-stated opinion that the animal was a vicious monster that should have been
killed when still a pup, before he could upset anybody else. The only thing Baldwin had ever done, or rather not done, that
had elevated him in her opinion was to decide not to replace Uther when the dog died.
However, his reluctance to speak for either side in the present political climate struck Emma as dishonourable.
‘That’s what it seems like to me, and I speak as I find. Can’t abide people who won’t stand by their lords. Look at him! He
should declare his loyalties, either to the king or to the Lord de Courtenay. Where’s the difficulty in that?’
‘Enough, Emma! It is not your place to decide where his duty lies!’ Jeanne snapped at last.
‘No, my lady, but it’ll be his soon enough, when there is a fight down here, on our manor, or perhaps on his own up at Furnshill,’
Emma retorted. ‘He should state where his allegiance lies, that’s all I’m saying. Hoi! You! Where are you going with that?’
and she was off after a hapless peasant before Jeanne could reprimand her again.
The worst of it was not Emma’s blundering clumsiness in her language, nor the apparent pleasure she took in denigrating Baldwin,
a man whom Jeanne was sure Emma had never liked, but more the disloyal feeling in Jeanne’s own breast that her husband really
should have declared on which side his interests lay. There were so many men for whom life under the present rule was all
but intolerable. The Despensers were notoriously and aggressively acquisitive. They could not see or hear of another man’s
wealth without attempting to steal it.
No, Jeanne would hate to think that her Baldwin could join the king and the Despensers and fight for them. Only recently the
Lord Mortimer had escaped from the Tower in London, and made his way overseas somehow, if the rumours were true. Baldwin had
been told by another judge at the Court of Gaol Delivery that Mortimer was in French territory. His liberty had to be a massive
concern for the Despensers because they knew Mortimer was the only one of their enemies left with extensive military experience.
If he returned to Britain, Baldwin said, he could pose a threat to them, and maybe even the king himself.
‘Are you well?’ Baldwin asked.
She smiled at his solicitous tone. ‘Do not try to change the subject. You know that I was worried about you because if you
were to have a fall you might not be found for an age. If you have to go riding, could you not take a man with you?’
‘My love, I was only going for a canter around your lands.’ Baldwin sighed. ‘I have ridden in more dangerous locations, you
know.’
‘Yes, I know, but a wounded man who falls can die all too easily. You should be resting, husband!’
He groaned. ‘I need to be fit, woman! I have to get myself ready again …’
‘For what? Do you think that if the king was to send his host to Scotland again, he’d order all the oldest knights to join
him?’
‘I don’t think I’m quite his oldest,’ Baldwin protested.
‘Perhaps not quite,’ she agreed.
‘I’m good enough for some activities still,’ he persisted.
As they had spoken, they had left the stables, and now
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