Katherine leaned down, threw her arms around her sister's neck and burst into tears.
The two girls clung to each other murmuring little choked French endearments while Long Will looked on with sentimental approval, Dame Cicily sniffed in sympathy and even the prioress' controlled face softened.
Philippa drew away first and returned to practical problems. "I fear we've no suitable accommodation up here for you, Reverend Mother," she said apologetically, "but Long Will can guide you to respectable night's lodgings in the town, unless you wish to ride on to Ankerwyck Priory, perhaps?"
Godeleva flushed. "But surely I was to see the Queen. I understood I might have audience with the Queen." In spite of herself her voice trembled, for it was easy to read dismissal in the girl's proposal, and then where were all the golden hopes of royal favour and tardy gratitude for the care of Katherine? Where hopes of picking up new novices?
"The Queen, Our Lady be merciful, is ill, Reverend Mother," answered Philippa uncomfortably for she was used to supplicants at court and quite understood what the prioress wanted. "The dropsy which plagues her is very bad and she keeps to her bed, tended only by two of her ladies. I myself
have not seen her for a week - as soon as she's better, perhaps."
"But she sent for Katherine," protested the prioress. "She must have known I could not let the girl travel alone with a messenger!"
Philippa sighed, knowing that the Queen had given no thought to the matter at all, once she had assented to Philippa's timid request for an Easter boon.
"We will stay in the town then," said the prioress with recaptured calm, "until the Queen is well enough to receive me. Katherine-" She looked at the girl and paused, with a smile which did not quite hide the anxious question in her eyes.
Katherine responded to the unspoken plea with a rush of warmth, and astonishment that the austere little ruler of Sheppey days should be pleading and in need.
"I won't forget, Reverend Mother," she said gently, kneeling and kissing the plump white hand. "Not all you've done for me, nor your wish for audience with the Queen. I won't forget."
The prioress murmured a blessing. "You've been a good girl," she said, turning away. "Continue to be." She mounted Bayard, Dame Cicily clambered up on her horse, and Long Will shrugged, catching Bayard's bridle. He led the two nuns towards the gate.
"Well," said Philippa briskly, "now we must hurry. Tis near the hour for supper. Holy Michael and his angels, but we'll have to clean you up first and find you something fit to wear. You're not a slattern, I trust!" Philippa, hustling her sister past the Round Tower to the upper ward and into the passage that led to the Queen's apartments, had just taken a startled survey of Katherine.
"I trust not," said Katherine trying to laugh, "but we've been on the road since dawn and I've no change of clothes. I'm sorry-"
Philippa made an impatient clucking noise. "We must borrow a decent gown; only Matilda Radscroft is tall enough and she's not over-generous, but if you offer to do something for her . . . She's behind with her tapestry - can you embroider?"
"A little," answered Katherine humbly, stumbling up steep stone stairs after her sister. She understood that Philippa loved her of course, but that the moment of sentiment had passed. She understood too that Philippa would do her efficient duty no matter how she might dislike a disruption of her well-ordered-life.
But Katherine's eyes filled. She was hungry and tired and she felt an amazing pang of homesickness for Sheppey.
Philippa opened a stout oak door and ushered Katherine into the lady-in-waiting's solar. Here in this small low-vaulted room lived six of the Queen's damoiselles when they were in residence at Windsor. The two who were closest to the Queen - Matilda Fisher and Elizabeth Pershore - were now in constant attendance since the illness, and slept on the other side of the wing in the ante-room near their mistress, while the others slept here in three beds; except Alice Perrers, and there was little doubt unfortunately as to where she slept, though in theory she shared a bed in this solar.
Alice was here now, however, when Philippa and Katherine came in. All of the Queen's damoiselles were primping for supper. They hovered near the fire, and held candles for each other as they searched for finery in open coffers which dotted the rush-strewn floor. Only Alice Perrers sat alone, away from the, others, and she was tended by the two tiring maids who were assigned to all of them. One maid held a candle and the other a looking-glass while Alice rubbed cochineal paste into her high cheek-bones and hid her wiry black hair in a net of seed pearls.
She turned her pointed cat face towards Philippa and Katherine, widened her shrewd dark eyes and called, in the caressing voice for which she was famous, "Ah, Pica, my sweet, so is this the little sister, at last?"
Philippa stiffened, made the barest noise of assent and pulled Katherine to the other side of the fire as far as possible from Alice, who gave a laugh like chiming bells, and holding out her perfumed hand admired the sparkle of her new ring. It was of Saracen make, two rubies set in heavy worked gold, and had belonged to the King's mother, Isabella of France.
Katherine was puzzled, but had not time to wonder why Philippa was so rude, for the other ladies closed around them, greeting and exclaiming. They were solid young women and accustomed to work. They were not nobly born, except for Agnes de Saxilby, because the Queen sensibly chose her ladies for the embodiment of the Flemish housewifely virtues, and their positions were in no wise honorary. They gave active service. The wives of great noblemen would not do menial chores, even for the Queen. So these were the daughters or wives of gentry and they welcomed Katherine with rough kindness.
"Oh, so dirty! What frightful clothes! God's nails, but they must be lousy. Burn them!" The ladies summarily stripped Katherine and threw her clothes into the fire while the girl stood naked and shivering trying not to cry as Philippa brought water and a coarse towel and scrubbed her little sister until the beautiful skin turned fiery red and Katherine shrank and tried to protect her delicate round breasts from Philippa's determined scourings. Johanna Cosin unbraided and combed the burnished masses of Katherine's hair; they put on her a spare shift of Philippa's which was much too short, and Matilda Radscroft, carried away by the concerted undertaking, actually pulled her third-best gown from a coffer and slipped it over Katherine's head. The gown was of coarse and .rather shabby velvet, trimmed with narrow bands of rabbit fur, and it hung loosely on Katherine's far more slender body, but its colour was violet, and above it the girl's long neck glowed white as pearls and her still unbound hair, rippling below her knees, caught violet lights from the dress and gold ones from the fire.
"So much hair to make neat and to hold up in the cauls," Philippa grumbled, "and she hasn't even a proper girdle or a surcote for warmth."
"She has something else - a great deal else," said Alice Perrers' soft laughing voice from the corner, "and if you ladies are too stupid to see it, the men won't be. Thanks to God that the King is short-sighted, I can fill his entire vision - and shall."
Philippa stiffened, the other women's heads jerked back. "The bawdy slut," whispered Johanna. They sent Alice looks of hatred but they dared say nothing. Mysterious punishments afflicted those who engaged the creature in open warfare. Agnes de Saxilby had last month spoken her mind to Alice, calling her whore and witch - for it must be witchcraft that would make the King so forget all his former duty and affection for the Queen. Alice, saying nothing, had smiled her sleepy smile, but only yesterday poor Agnes had heard that the King had authorised a ruinous new levy on her father's manor.
The ladies finished with Katherine and put the last touches to their own toilets; they gave her a drink of wine which much revived her, before they all flocked down the steps towards the Great Hall for supper. "Stay near me," whispered Philippa. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to."