Phillippa shook herself. 'I digress. As you can imagine, Nicholas now saw little of Amelie. But at summer's end, Geoffrey went off to arrange his life in Milan, and Amelie once more sought Nicholas's company. She was jealous of the time he spent in the shop and out in the garden. His father had opened his purse for Nicholas, encouraging him to send far and wide for seeds of exotic strains. The lad was torn between pleasing his father and indulging Amelie. To his credit, his work usually won.
'Which made it all the harder for me. I had all I could do to keep my patience with her that winter. She paced the great hall, snapping at you, poor child, for the slightest thing, picked at her food, complained about everything.
'In spring, Geoffrey returned. He went to Nicholas and thanked him for being a friend to Amelie. And he assured Nicholas and me that he'd arranged a home for Amelie, though Lucie was still to be put in a convent for a time. Oh, my love, my heart went out to you. An Italian convent. Geoffrey swore that the sisters knew French, that they were quite civilised. He asked Nicholas and me to be Amelie's support for a while longer. He must go to his family in Lincolnshire to make his farewells and settle his affairs. The calm before the storm.
'Amelie's mood darkened, but so gradually that she was completely caught up in it before I could see what was happening. She grew secretive. I learned from Nicholas that she'd come to him one morning, earlier than usual, alone, frightened. She was with child. She wanted him to help her. He did not understand. For so long she had wished for this very news. She said Geoffrey would not take her with him if she was pregnant.
'Nicholas urged against drastic measures. She might conceal it long enough. But it was July, and already the swell of her stomach was noticeable. And Geoffrey had been delayed. He could not leave before Michaelmas. Two months. She said that she had quickened with child because at last she was happy. So it would happen again. Later. When it would not mean the death of all her joy. She begged Nicholas for something that would pass the child from her. He was frightened. He knew that it was a mortal sin and that it would be dangerous for her. She had such a difficult time with Lucie's birth, and now she was distressed, her humours in turmoil. In such a state, already weak, a medicine could quickly become a poison. He refused.
'She fell to her knees, begging him, weeping and threatening to dose herself with rue from my garden. Fell to her knees and wept. He was almost undone. He begged for some time to pray over his decision.
'He went to his old friend Anselm to ask his advice. Anselm advised Nicholas that Amelie would get what she desired from someone, so if he was concerned about her, it ought to be him. He was the best apothecary in Yorkshire. He would one day be a master apothecary. He was the son of a master.'
Lucie could see Anselm's motivation. 'The Archdeacon hoped it would kill her. He was jealous of her. And if Nicholas was guilty, he would struggle to forget her. Then Anselm might have another chance.'
Phillippa shrugged. 'I knew nothing of their relationship. I only knew that Nicholas respected Anselm's opinion and trusted him to keep the matter to himself. Since Anselm's counsel was to give Amelie what she wanted, Nicholas did so. He mixed her a potion of rue, juniper, tansy, and wormwood, the dosage low enough to ensure that it would work gradually and could not poison her. As much as mortal man can ensure such things. He told me what he'd given her, what was the safe dosage. No one of the ingredients could be guaranteed to abort the child, but it was a rare case in which none of these worked. I thought it clever, but my heart misgave me. I watched her like a hawk, making sure she took the smallest dosage morning and night. She was careful. It seemed he'd impressed on her the importance of following his instructions. Like a fool, I eased my supervision.
'September arrived, and still Geoffrey did not appear. Amelie did not look well. Her hands flew as she spoke, she jumped at the smallest sound, her eyes were too large in her head, and shadowed, as if she slept little.
'I thought it was the news from Calais. Robert wrote that King Philip had at last brought a great army to save the people of Calais, then ordered the army's retreat a few days later, without battle. Behind the city walls a great wail rose up. A year besieged, and now they knew themselves abandoned. Joyous for us, not so for Amelie. They were still her people.'
'I served with men who were at Calais,' Owen said. 'It was a terrible time. When they opened the gates, there were no dogs, no animals but a few goats and cows for milking. All the rest had been slaughtered to fill the empty bellies. So many had died. It was a barren, silent city.'
Lucie wiped her eyes. 'Maman's convent had been raided by Edward's army. That is why she was at home when Sir Robert brought her father back and demanded ransom. She had been hidden by a sister in the flour bin in the larder. A soldier dragged one of her classmates in there, raped her, and slit her throat, right there in front of Maman. She could not scream, she could not move enough to hide her eyes for fear he'd discover her. She could just watch’
'She'd had her share of grief, to be sure’ Phillippa said. 'And the news that Calais had fallen to King Edward's army sent her into hysterics. My brother had sent word that as soon as the city fell, he would return to Freythorpe, What if he should arrive before Geoffrey? Merciful Mother. I kept asking her if she was certain the child had not yet passed. She was so thin, I doubted that so little flesh could nurture a growing child. She swore it had not passed. I warned her that as soon as she could, she must stop the physick. Every day she grew weaker. She fluttered like a caged bird, and her eyes were haunted.
'And then Robert arrived, full of himself, blind to her condition. King Edward had made him aide to the governor of Calais. He meant to take Amelie back with him. I saw that he hoped returning to France would make her happy. Happy enough to bear the son he wanted. And I suddenly realised how he must love her. To make the difficult Channel crossing and travel six days at a gallop to reach her, only to return with her in a short time. He was not a young man. And there was no question he must return quickly. The governor needed him then most of all.
'And I had helped her betray him. Holy Mother, 1 had encouraged Amelie in her unfaithfulness to my own brother, who loved her and was her lawful husband. I had been caught up in a romantic dream. Certainly he was a lout, he had no grace, no gentleness. He'd been bred to fight, later to lead men into battle. No one had taught him to be a husband. But he meant to try. He meant to give her what he believed she yearned for. Her country, her people.
'And then it all fell apart.' Phillippa wiped her forehead with a trembling hand. Lucie gripped her own hands so tight her knuckles showed white.
'Amelie looked very ill when she came to dinner. I wanted her to lie down, but she insisted that if she played up to Robert's homecoming he would notice nothing. He was not so blind as that. He asked her forgiveness for bringing her to Yorkshire. Said he had not understood how difficult it would be for her. She sat straight, eating little, staring down at her plate or at her husband's hands. Her wimple was damp at the temples. Her colour was bad. Grey. Robert ate and drank with enthusiasm. He thought her pallor, her trembling hands, must be her usual state. He looked forward to changing all that with the voyage to Calais.