As if to reward Katharine for putting her own wishes aside and thinking of others, fate conspired to grant her a wish she would never have dared to hope for – she was granted a reprieve on her return to Kettlethorpe. Hugh brought her the news himself. He looked embarrassed and slightly flustered as he stood before her, cap in hand, feet shuffling like a small boy.

“I do not know how to tell you the honour that has been done me.”

“Why Hugh, you look as pleased as the cat who swallowed the canary. What can have happened?”

“The Duke has asked me to join him on his expedition.” Katharine was puzzled. It was common knowledge that the Duke was just back from Aquitaine where he and his brother, the Black Prince, had been making preparations for the coming invasion of Castile. Hugh was one of the Duke’s retainers and as such would naturally go with the Duke. There was no special honour in this.

“And . . . ?” prompted Katharine.

“And the Duchess has requested as a ‘special favour’ that you be allowed to spend the wait with her. Imagine the Duchess wanting anything that is mine!”

A flash of intuition gave Katharine an insight into this man she had married and she did not have the heart to resent Hugh’s words. He had always felt so inferior; she could not begrudge his delight in finally having something others might consider valuable. Gently she touched his sleeve. “That is very nice for you Hugh.”

Hugh’s pride of possession brought Katharine one great advantage – a fine piece of horse flesh for her very own! In the old days in Blanche’s household Katharine was relagated to ride in the baggage carts with the children and the luggage. Since her marriage she had had a horse of her own, but it was a gentle dependable beast. Now her mount had breeding written all over him. It did not matter to her that he was purchased to impress the Duchess with how well Hugh had taken care of his wife. The only thing that mattered was that at last she had a horse worthy of the name.

She felt like a bird who finds the cage door has been inadver­tently left open. Time might require it to return, but for the moment the deep blue sky beckoned. Hugh was returning to Kettlethorpe to make preparations before going overseas. And she, joy of joys, would not be returning to the dreary confines of Kettlethorpe until some time in the distant future.


With the constraint of Hugh’s presence removed Katharine blossomed.

Previously she had taken the advantages offered her by life in the Duke’s household for granted. Not so now. Now she soaked up the culture around her.

People who had been places; the very people who were doing the most interesting things in the world were in abundance around her. Their conversation was as refreshing to her spirit as a walk in a spring rain.

Many of the best minds in Europe were gathered in the Duke’s court, and not merely military minds. There were ecclesiastics, poets, writers, and artists of all descriptions – painters, sculptors, and those less admired but no less brilliant souls – clothes designers.

There was so much doing, so much happening that she almost begrudged spending any of this precious time with her nose glued within a book.

However, she was more hungry for the chance to read than for anything else. Even if Hugh could have afforded a single manu­script he would never have approved of owning one. Just a bunch of falderal – that was his opinion. It grated him enough when he had to sit through some tedious reading in the hall of an evening.

If it were at all possible he would always manage to join one of the more active groups. A rousing game of blind man’s bluff was much more worth the time as far as he was concerned.

Therefore, if Katharine wished to read she must do so now, in whatever time she could squeeze into the busy day.

The best time to read was in the afternoons, for then the other ladies usually chose to take a nap or else sought the cooling breeze by the river’s edge. It was an ideal time to have the garden to herself, and she had one favorite spot where an ancient tree made a cool arbour retreat.


She was seated there one afternoon absorbed, not in a manu­script which would have been too precious to be trusted outdoors, but in a collection of odd fragments of poetry Geoffrey had collected, when a dark shadow obscured her light. Looking up she was surprised to see the Duke of Lancaster there before her, and that the expression she observed on his face was inquisitive.

She smiled up at him just as if she were not in awe of him – a brave, guileless, trusting smile. It reminded the Duke of a look he had sometimes received from his younger sister, and he reacted to this girl with the same warmth of uncomplicated affection he felt for his sister.

Swinging easily onto the bench beside her he looked over her shoulder at the book she was reading.

“What is this? Is such language fit reading for innocent ears?” he teased.

The tide of colour that rushed to suffuse Katharine’s cheeks was very becoming, but she was not flustered when she answered.

“You must not take things out of context, my lord.”

“Out of context! How can I possibly take those words out of context? There are only two lines, and they are quite separate from anything else on the page.” Deliberately he repeated them:

‘Christ, if my love were in my arms, 
And I in my bed again.’

But Katharine refused to be intimidated by his attempt to embarrass her.

“The words are open to misinterpretation I agree. But it is not what you think. The sentiment is not bawdy. It is a simple statement of love, and the beauty lies in its very simplic­ity. Rather like these lines here,” and Katharine pointed to a place earlier in the manuscript.

‘A girl from La Palma made me in love.
I, who thought that love had forgotten me.’

The Duke looked at her with new respect. “Surely such lines of poetry are unusual. How did you come by them?”

“My brother-in-law loves the sound of words. It is an inter­est few people share with him, but since I do he has trusted me with these notes. They are not things he has written, his writing is much better than this.” She was unconscious of the small note of pride that had crept into her voice. “But Geoffrey likes to collect snatches of poetry that appeal to him.”

“Geoffrey? You do not mean Geoffrey Chaucer?”

“Yes, do you know him then?”

“But of course. We have known each other since we were seven­teen. He was in my brother Lionel’s household when we first met that Christmas. I like to think we have been friends since. A remarkable fellow that brother of yours.”

“Not brother, he is married to my sister. But I could not love him more if he were a blood relative.”

“You are a very fortunate person to have such an individual in your family,” slightly hesitantly, the duke continued, “it is such a lovely afternoon . . . would you care to take a walk?”

She had no difficulty keeping up with him because he deliberately matched his pace to hers, a fact which surprised her simply because it was such a considerate action.


On the other side of the hedge that walled in the garden Geoffrey Chaucer looked annoyed. He had overheard the last part of the conversation, and although its contents gave him ample reason for satisfaction, the very fact that it had taken place worried him. Katharine was young and guileless, and any girl’s head could be turned by the attentions of a Duke.

He produced a mental image of his sister-in-law, and with it a small frown of consternation furrowed his brow:

The fine bones of her face had been carved by a master hand, and the chiseled perfection of her beauty was vaguely disturbing. Fortunately her youth and vivacity captured her observers and distracted their attention from her almost flawless face. Such beauty was its own invitation to disaster. It promised too much! And time had not yet developed the moral stamina and strength of character that would one day give depth to the mould nature had provided.

What was he thinking of? Two people had met and talked. They had not met in a lover’s tryst. No indiscretion had been committ­ed. He would have to stop being so protective towards Katharine. He supposed it was because he was the only male relative she had. But there was something unique and susceptible about Katharine – something that made a man feel the need to protect her.


The Duke was whistling as he made his way back into his chancery. He had seldom felt so refreshed from a break.

Strange, but his accidental meeting with Katharine had given him a curious pleasure. He took it as a personal compliment that she should choose to spend her time reading. It was not considered a wise or useful occupation for women, and the women of his house­hold were among the first in England to be taught to read or write. Far from seeing it as an advantage he knew that most of the ladies in attendance on Blanche looked at it as a cross that must be borne. Indeed he could not wholly blame them – few of their husbands would be able to do more than make their marks for the purposes of a legal document.

That this bright and attractive girl should choose to read when she could obviously be the centre of a throng of young gallants – this fact gave him a curious satisfaction. The warmth of the feeling it produced in him he took for brotherly concern. It was well he did not stop to analyze his feelings. If he had he would not have allowed himself the pleasure of ‘accidentally’ meeting her on many a pleasant afternoon.

Small White Berries

Katharine was so engrossed with the small white berries she held in her hand, that she failed to notice the look of strain on her friend's face, or to think it strange that Hawise was waiting for her at the top of the rise. Hawise was too good a friend to intrude on those moments when Katharine was distraught and restless. In those moments, it was Katharine's wont to disappear down to the stream, or into the wooded area surrounding Kettlethorpe. When sorrow filled her, she simply needed to be alone.

Usually peace would gradually reclaim her soul, it had done so today, and she was now absorbed in deciphering the message of these small white berries that looked almost like wax.

When she looked up and saw Hawise standing there she held out the tiny branch so that Hawise could see these unusual berries.

"I have found a bush by the stream with clusters of lovely white berries. Almost like tiny snow balls, but shiny as if made from wax. They are very pretty. But precisely because they are pretty they might be dangerous.

"I have never seen them before. Unless you can find someone who can identify them and say they are harmless, uproot them. Children might be tempted to eat them. I know I was tempted to try one. They are small and firm like grapes and cluster together like something else I have seen but can not quite remember. However, these are unique because they are clustered together in groups of widely differing numbers.

"Some are single berries, some small groups, and I counted one stem with sixteen berries in various stages of plumpness, and another ten or twelve green ones in the same group." Katharine thought for but a bare moment and then directed, "Try Brother William at Thornton Abbey. They are very busy at Thornton using a massive amount of brick to build a new gatehouse after what happened to them in the Peasants Revolt, but Brother William will find the time to see you. He is a good man, and he is known to be very knowledgeable about plants."

It struck Hawise as strange - that Katharine should now be absorbed solely in small domestic matters like a plant children might be tempted to eat. Only last year Katharine had been the confidant of the most powerful man in England, and God alone knew how often events had been influenced by Katharine Swynford's advice and suggestions.

Unless Hawise was very much mistaken, this time of tranquility was about to come to an end.

The man waiting in the hall had not confided any state secrets. He had been affable and friendly. But it was his very bonhomie which worried Hawise. Unless she was very misguided, his jovial manner was a cover for some very weighty problem he brought with him - and not safely tucked into his saddle bag either.

He was not a mere messenger bringing a sealed written document, the contents of which he had no knowledge. The problem he brought he understood too well. You could see it in his eyes. Something was amiss, and Hawise was afraid for Katharine.

"You have a visitor. Thomas Sutton is waiting for you in the hall."

Katharine took to her heels and ran, without waiting for Hawise or noticing her friend's disquiet.

She did not even stop to tidy her hair, or wash her hands. She had been so long without visitors or news that she simply ran without ceremony to embrace her long-term friend. They had known each other for more than fifteen years now. When her excitement quelled she looked instinctively for John de Worsop. She did not think she had ever seen one without the other.

It was only the realization that Thomas had come alone that made her aware that something must be wrong. His words confirmed it, for he said: "It is such a fine day, my lady, and I have disturbed your walk; would you do me the honour of allowing me to accompany you down to see your beautiful brook?"

Katharine was not dull-witted. It was not the fact that he wanted to be alone to impart his news that alarmed her - it was the fact that he had called her 'my lady'. It had been years since they had stood on terms of formality; something was very wrong indeed.

She held out the plant to him - small and bedraggled it still made a good pretext.

"Certainly Thomas, I should be glad of your opinion. I have been wondering whether this plant should be uprooted. I have never seen it before, and wonder if it might be poisonous if the children were tempted to try the berries. Come and tell me what you think."

They left the hall and moved through the grounds adjoining the manor still discussing the small white berries and the shape of the green leaves.

It was not until they were far from prying eyes, and, as far as it was possible to tell, removed from any possibility of being overheard, that she finally turned to him.

"I know it is serious. More serious than death or injury, because if it had been either of those disasters you would have told me outright. What can be more serious than death or injury I cannot guess, so you had best tell me quickly without taking the time to remove the barbs."