Lisette regarded her sister thoughtfully for a moment. “Perhaps he is not telling you the true reason, Iseult. It may be he has learned of your adulterous liaison with Master Legerton and wants to escape the shame you have brought on him.”
Iseult waved her hand in dismissal. She was not surprised at her sister’s knowledge of her lover; she had never been overcareful of concealing her attraction to handsome men and, as far as her husband was concerned, she had no care that he suffered dishonour through her actions. “I have finished with Legerton,” she said airily. “He no longer interests me.”
Lisette, remembering how their father’s neighbour had lost affection for Iseult once he had tired of her body, gestured towards the belt Iseult wore and said caustically, “Is that expensive girdle his parting gift to you, then?”
Iseult looked puzzled for a moment and then, fingering one of the bright tassels lying in her lap, said, “Oh, no. This was Simon’s New Year present to me. Legerton only gave me a paltry brooch. It was not even solid silver, merely gilt.”
Her answer took Lisette by surprise. She had not thought Simon able to afford such an expensive piece of frippery. Despite Iseult’s unfaithfulness, the assayer must still love his wife a great deal if he was willing to spend a good portion of his income on such a costly present. She regarded her sister and thought how self-centred Iseult was, how she did not realise there was many a husband who would have denounced such a flagrantly unfaithful wife and meted out the punishment proscribed by law. How would Iseult react, she wondered, if Simon were to order her beautiful hair shaved off and then drag her through the streets of the town for all to see?
At these thoughts, Lisette’s patience finally snapped. “You should give thanks to God that Simon is such a caring husband, Iseult. Much as it pains me to say it, you behave like a harlot. I am ashamed to admit we share the same blood.”
Never before had her sister spoken so harshly, and Iseult stared at Lisette in dismay. Her discomfiture lasted only a moment, however, before her innate self-absorption resurrected itself. Rising from the stool on which she had been sitting and tossing back her head arrogantly, she said, “You have always been jealous of me, Lisette, and I see you have not changed. Since you are embarrassed to have me for a sister, I will not trouble you with my company any longer.”
So saying, she called for her maidservant and left the house.
In the mint, de Stow’s workmen had almost completed the manufacture of silver coins for the consignment ordered by Legerton. Helias had promised his employees that if the order was finished today, they could have a paid day of rest on Epiphany.
The air rang with sounds of industry as the hammermen struck the king’s image on the last few coins. The furnace had been allowed to go out, but the odour of molten metal still lingered. De Stow was busy inspecting the work his men had done, stacking the coins in neat piles of twelve ready for inspection by Simon Partager, who would reweigh them and use his touchstone to ensure the silver content was as required by the king’s ordinance.
As he worked, de Stow’s brows were drawn down into a frown and his manner impatient. Usually of equable temperament, his men had noticed his foul humour for the last two or three days and been surprised when he railed at them for the slightest laxity.
One of the hammermen had opined that the moneyer’s testiness was due to their employer having to cope with extra duties since the death of his clerk, and the other workers had agreed. Only de Stow’s wife, Blanche, noticed that her husband’s ill humour had not evidenced itself in the busy days just after Brand’s murder but had, instead, coincided with the arrest of Tasser. With great effort, she kept her misgivings to herself and fervently prayed her husband was not involved in the silversmith’s illegal dealings.
Twenty-three
On Epiphany, the day celebrating the Magi’s adoration of the infant Christ child, the sky above Lincoln dawned clear and diamond bright. Long before the hour of Matins rang, the castle servants were astir and setting up tables in the hall for the morning meal, laying extra places with trenchers and wine goblets. Additional guests had arrived in Lincoln the day before, local knights of Gerard and Nicolaa’s acquaintance invited, along with their wives, to witness Richard and Eustachia pledge their intention to wed. Most of the guests had taken lodgings within the town, for quite a few maintained homes of their own in Lincoln, but those who did not have such amenities had been invited to spend the eve and day of the betrothal in the castle.
Neither Richard nor Eustachia appeared in the hall, food having been taken to their chambers for them to eat while they dressed for the momentous occasion. Lucia was also absent, joyfully helping her sister’s maid arrange Eustachia’s hair and gown.
On the dais, both Nicolaa and Gerard, neither of whom was usually given to ostentation in their dress, were sumptuously attired, as were Gilbert and Egelina Bassett. Both barons were wearing tunics emblazoned with their respective emblems; Camville’s that of two silver lions passant, and Basset his insignia of three gold chevrons. They chatted amicably with the guests seated alongside them as slices of cold viands and cups of small ale were served.
Once the meal was over, and the trestle tables and platters cleared away, Camville gave a signal to Eudo, and the steward motioned for a group of musicians waiting at the back of the hall to commence playing. As the strains of a popular hymn swelled above the heads of the company, Eustachia came through the door of the western tower of the keep. There was an appreciative gasp as she appeared. Her dark hair and pale olive skin glowed in contrast to the ivory silk of her kirtle and the creamy lace that covered her hair. Behind her came Lucia, dressed in a gown the colour of harebells.
As the two young women moved farther into the hall, the assembly noticed that Richard Camville had unobtrusively entered the huge room from the opposite side of the hall and was waiting for Eustachia in front of the dais. He wore a tunic and surcoat of vibrant green, and his flaming red hair, the colour of copper, shone beneath a silken cap of the same colour. His eyes were alight with pleasure as Eustachia moved forward to join him and, as he draped a magnificent cloak trimmed with vair around her shoulders, it was obvious he was well content to give his promise to wed the woman standing by his side.
The couple walked the length of the hall and out onto the steps of the forebuilding, followed by their parents, Lucia and guests. After descending the steep flight of stairs down into the bail, Richard assisted Eustachia onto the saddle of a gentle white mare caparisoned in the Bassett colours of red and gold and then mounted his own steed, a handsome roan whose tossing head set the bells attached to its harness jingling.
Once their parents and the other guests were mounted, Richard slowly led the entourage out of the eastern gate of the ward, across Ermine Street and into the grounds of the Minster. Behind them came the knights and upper servants of the Haye and Camville retinues, walking at a measured pace, followed by the rest of the household servants.
In the Minster, there was a great crowd of people. While the ill-tempered sheriff was not popular with most of the citizens in Lincoln, Nicolaa was held in high esteem and the townspeople had gathered as a mark of respect for her and her son.
At the main entrance to the cathedral, the archdeacon was waiting to add his official witness to the solemn vows Richard and Eustachia would exchange underneath the lintel of the massive doors. After they had given their pledges, the priest would give his blessing on their future union. The couple were to make the vow of verba de futuro-a promise to marry at some time in the future-but it was considered to be as binding as the pledge of verba de praesenti-a consent to be wed at that moment.