Katherine by Anya Seton Page B
Authors: Anya Seton
She indicated a cushion on the corner of the platform near her chair.
Katherine's heart melted with gratitude.
The Duchess was today dazzling as the southern May, having dressed to please her husband's taste, in full magnificence of jewels and ermine. Her silver-gilt hair was twined with pearls and she wore her gold and diamond coronet. She smelt of jasmine and Katherine adored her.
Blanche was accustomed to adoration, but she had the warmth of a great lady and she was drawn to the girl. She glanced at the boar-crested betrothal ring on Katherine's childish hand, saw where the tippet had been ripped from the sleeve of her gift, and reconstructed what must have happened.
She leaned down saying, "I wish you happiness, my dear," then turned quickly, her blue eyes focusing on the field as two heralds with trumpets marched solemnly towards each other. Blanche, whose famous father, Henry, Duke of Lancaster, had been the foremost knight in the kingdom, had witnessed many tournaments and appreciated each point of ceremony and honour. She listened intently to the heralds who announced a preliminary joust between John, Baron de Mowbray, and a Gascon knight, the Sieur de Pavignac.
These names meant nothing to Katherine and during the ceremonious exchange between the heralds and pursuivants on each side she had time to look around her.
The lists here at Windsor were very large, with stockades enclosing the hundred-and-fifty-yard field, and permanent loges built in tiers on either side for the spectators. The royal loge, canopied in gold and red striped silk, was in dead centre of the southern side, so that the sun might not bother the royal eyes. The King being present today, the lily and leopard flag fluttered over the canopy.
The Lancastrian loge adjoined the royal one, and Katherine had a good view of the King, who seemed in high spirits, laughing, calling out jests and drinking frequently from a gold and ruby cup presented by one of his squires.
Geoffrey Chaucer was not in evidence because, as Katherine found out later, he had not been able to attend the tournament at all. William of Wykeham, the King's architect, had heartlessly sent Geoffrey on a quick trip to London after the precious pieces of stained glass needed to finish the west window of Henry the Third's renovated chapel in time for the high ceremonial Mass tomorrow.
Nor was Alice Perrers to be seen. The Queen's chair was occupied by the King's daughter, the Princess Isabel de Coucy, and all the surrounding lords and ladies were of the highest rank.
The Queen's waiting-women were huddled together on the last bench of an adjoining loge and Katherine could not have distinguished Philippa at all except that her sister got up and waved at her, accurately expressing by means of the wave her astonishment and approval at seeing her.
Katherine's interest was jerked abruptly back to the lists as there came a roar from the crowd, a fanfare of trumpets from the heralds and a marshal waving his white baton, who shouted, "In the name of God and Saint George, come forth to do battle!" At either end of the lists the squires loosed bridles, and two great destriers thundered towards each other down the field. Clods flew from the hoofs while the riders, with lances poised to aim at the opposing shields, lowered their helmeted heads and braced themselves for the shock.
The crash of wood and metal was deafening, sparks flew from the armour, the crowd shouted approval, which soon changed to a groan of disappointment. At the moment of collision the Baron de Mowbray's charger had veered too far left, the Gascon knight's lance had thus glanced off Mowbray's shield on to his hauberk and, lodging in the joint of the iron roundel which protected his shoulder, prised him out of the saddle, while the stallion was thrown back on its haunches. The baron lay on the ground, a helpless mass of armour. The Gascon knight raised his visor and grinned complacently towards the royal loge.
"Well
Katherine's heart melted with gratitude.
The Duchess was today dazzling as the southern May, having dressed to please her husband's taste, in full magnificence of jewels and ermine. Her silver-gilt hair was twined with pearls and she wore her gold and diamond coronet. She smelt of jasmine and Katherine adored her.
Blanche was accustomed to adoration, but she had the warmth of a great lady and she was drawn to the girl. She glanced at the boar-crested betrothal ring on Katherine's childish hand, saw where the tippet had been ripped from the sleeve of her gift, and reconstructed what must have happened.
She leaned down saying, "I wish you happiness, my dear," then turned quickly, her blue eyes focusing on the field as two heralds with trumpets marched solemnly towards each other. Blanche, whose famous father, Henry, Duke of Lancaster, had been the foremost knight in the kingdom, had witnessed many tournaments and appreciated each point of ceremony and honour. She listened intently to the heralds who announced a preliminary joust between John, Baron de Mowbray, and a Gascon knight, the Sieur de Pavignac.
These names meant nothing to Katherine and during the ceremonious exchange between the heralds and pursuivants on each side she had time to look around her.
The lists here at Windsor were very large, with stockades enclosing the hundred-and-fifty-yard field, and permanent loges built in tiers on either side for the spectators. The royal loge, canopied in gold and red striped silk, was in dead centre of the southern side, so that the sun might not bother the royal eyes. The King being present today, the lily and leopard flag fluttered over the canopy.
The Lancastrian loge adjoined the royal one, and Katherine had a good view of the King, who seemed in high spirits, laughing, calling out jests and drinking frequently from a gold and ruby cup presented by one of his squires.
Geoffrey Chaucer was not in evidence because, as Katherine found out later, he had not been able to attend the tournament at all. William of Wykeham, the King's architect, had heartlessly sent Geoffrey on a quick trip to London after the precious pieces of stained glass needed to finish the west window of Henry the Third's renovated chapel in time for the high ceremonial Mass tomorrow.
Nor was Alice Perrers to be seen. The Queen's chair was occupied by the King's daughter, the Princess Isabel de Coucy, and all the surrounding lords and ladies were of the highest rank.
The Queen's waiting-women were huddled together on the last bench of an adjoining loge and Katherine could not have distinguished Philippa at all except that her sister got up and waved at her, accurately expressing by means of the wave her astonishment and approval at seeing her.
Katherine's interest was jerked abruptly back to the lists as there came a roar from the crowd, a fanfare of trumpets from the heralds and a marshal waving his white baton, who shouted, "In the name of God and Saint George, come forth to do battle!" At either end of the lists the squires loosed bridles, and two great destriers thundered towards each other down the field. Clods flew from the hoofs while the riders, with lances poised to aim at the opposing shields, lowered their helmeted heads and braced themselves for the shock.
The crash of wood and metal was deafening, sparks flew from the armour, the crowd shouted approval, which soon changed to a groan of disappointment. At the moment of collision the Baron de Mowbray's charger had veered too far left, the Gascon knight's lance had thus glanced off Mowbray's shield on to his hauberk and, lodging in the joint of the iron roundel which protected his shoulder, prised him out of the saddle, while the stallion was thrown back on its haunches. The baron lay on the ground, a helpless mass of armour. The Gascon knight raised his visor and grinned complacently towards the royal loge.
"Well