nearly ten years before. Around him, men were coming in from the fields for their dinner, men were loading things in carts to be transported to his manor at Tewkesbury, men were waiting to see him with business and petitions. Yet as Hugh stood there in the midst of all of them, on the eve of his marriage, he had never felt more alone in his life.
iv
June 1341: Tewkesbury
IN BETWEEN LAST-MINUTE FITTINGS OF BESS'S WEDDING apparel, the Countess of Salisbury was taking the opportunity to give Bess some womanly, and motherly, advice. She had begun with the subject of the Marital Act, which as Bess understood it from her mother was something that could be reasonably enjoyable to women but which was something that men could not bear to be without. Hugh, it seemed, would be no exception to this rule. “Men are not faithful by nature, though many are,” Katharine told Bess. “You must accept it if Hugh strays occasionally. And at his age, and with you not of a condition to lie with him just yet, you must expect that he will have known women before, and may continue to do so after your wedding. As long as he does not flaunt them in front of you, you must bear this patiently.”
“What if he does flaunt them in front of me? Can I get the Pope to annul our marriage?” Bess had happy visions, all of a sudden, of Hugh bringing a stable of whores to dine at table with him and of a suitably furious Pope tearing their marriage contract in two. She could almost hear the satisfying rip the parchment made.
“I doubt he would do so,” said Katharine most unhelpfully. “Hugh is a decent man, after all, and not a fool. I’ve no doubt that he will treat you with all due respect.”
Bess scowled. A worrisome thought came to her then. “Mama, does Papa stray?”
“Certainly not, and it would be a sorry day for him if he did,” said Katharine.
Leaving Bess to puzzle over this inconsistency with the advice she had just been given, Katharine turned her attention to the casket of jewels sitting nearby. They had been brought to Bess the day before, an early wedding present from Hugh. Philippa, Sybil, and Agnes, Bess's younger sisters, had been goggle-eyed when they were taken out, and Bess herself had been impressed, though she’d tried to not seem so. “Have you decided what ones to wear yet?”
“I hadn’t thought of it. I thought to wear just the ones that Papa gave me.”
“And offend Hugh? Besides, child, they are magnificent.” She opened the casket and lifted a ruby brooch in one hand and a sapphire bracelet in the other. “His mother's, I suppose, and some of them perhaps his grandmother Joan of Acre's. The first Edward's daughter, you know.” Katharine held the ruby brooch up against Bess's wedding dress. As a consolation for her marriage, Bess had been allowed to select the silken fabric herself; it was a dusky rose trimmed with gold that shimmered as she moved. “It will go beautifully with your gown.”
“Do you think Hugh's mother wore them upon her marriage to Hugh's father?” Bess shuddered.
“Quite possibly; the settings look old enough. Now, don’t you get it into your head not to wear them because of that! It is not every girl who gets to wear jewels like these on her wedding day—or ever. They’re too fine to let sit in their casket because of your superstition.”
Holding the brooch herself, Bess had to agree.
The Montacute family was already in Tewkesbury, where Hugh had a manor close to the abbey founded by his mother's ancestors. Though the manor house was a good-sized one, it could hold only the bride and groom and their immediate families and servants, even with most of the servants bedding down in the great hall. With the wedding to take place in two days, the house was quickly filling up, as were the local inns. Anyone with a respectable home who could drag in an extra bed or pallet to accommodate a paying guest was doing so, and a
iv
June 1341: Tewkesbury
IN BETWEEN LAST-MINUTE FITTINGS OF BESS'S WEDDING apparel, the Countess of Salisbury was taking the opportunity to give Bess some womanly, and motherly, advice. She had begun with the subject of the Marital Act, which as Bess understood it from her mother was something that could be reasonably enjoyable to women but which was something that men could not bear to be without. Hugh, it seemed, would be no exception to this rule. “Men are not faithful by nature, though many are,” Katharine told Bess. “You must accept it if Hugh strays occasionally. And at his age, and with you not of a condition to lie with him just yet, you must expect that he will have known women before, and may continue to do so after your wedding. As long as he does not flaunt them in front of you, you must bear this patiently.”
“What if he does flaunt them in front of me? Can I get the Pope to annul our marriage?” Bess had happy visions, all of a sudden, of Hugh bringing a stable of whores to dine at table with him and of a suitably furious Pope tearing their marriage contract in two. She could almost hear the satisfying rip the parchment made.
“I doubt he would do so,” said Katharine most unhelpfully. “Hugh is a decent man, after all, and not a fool. I’ve no doubt that he will treat you with all due respect.”
Bess scowled. A worrisome thought came to her then. “Mama, does Papa stray?”
“Certainly not, and it would be a sorry day for him if he did,” said Katharine.
Leaving Bess to puzzle over this inconsistency with the advice she had just been given, Katharine turned her attention to the casket of jewels sitting nearby. They had been brought to Bess the day before, an early wedding present from Hugh. Philippa, Sybil, and Agnes, Bess's younger sisters, had been goggle-eyed when they were taken out, and Bess herself had been impressed, though she’d tried to not seem so. “Have you decided what ones to wear yet?”
“I hadn’t thought of it. I thought to wear just the ones that Papa gave me.”
“And offend Hugh? Besides, child, they are magnificent.” She opened the casket and lifted a ruby brooch in one hand and a sapphire bracelet in the other. “His mother's, I suppose, and some of them perhaps his grandmother Joan of Acre's. The first Edward's daughter, you know.” Katharine held the ruby brooch up against Bess's wedding dress. As a consolation for her marriage, Bess had been allowed to select the silken fabric herself; it was a dusky rose trimmed with gold that shimmered as she moved. “It will go beautifully with your gown.”
“Do you think Hugh's mother wore them upon her marriage to Hugh's father?” Bess shuddered.
“Quite possibly; the settings look old enough. Now, don’t you get it into your head not to wear them because of that! It is not every girl who gets to wear jewels like these on her wedding day—or ever. They’re too fine to let sit in their casket because of your superstition.”
Holding the brooch herself, Bess had to agree.
The Montacute family was already in Tewkesbury, where Hugh had a manor close to the abbey founded by his mother's ancestors. Though the manor house was a good-sized one, it could hold only the bride and groom and their immediate families and servants, even with most of the servants bedding down in the great hall. With the wedding to take place in two days, the house was quickly filling up, as were the local inns. Anyone with a respectable home who could drag in an extra bed or pallet to accommodate a paying guest was doing so, and a
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