would rather it didn't This was no part of the king's plan, my lady."
His no-nonsense approach steadied her. "I know that. I am told it is a judgment of the Bishop of Durham."
"Who may not have jurisdiction in these matters. However, if anyone thinks it is your husband's duty to punish you, it does seem to have been taken care of."
Jehanne was rather alarmed by his astute reading of the situation. She was not used to trying to handle people whose minds worked so like hers.
"I intend to report on this matter to the king," he said. "In order for my report to be complete, I would like to see your wounds."
"I have no objection. Sisters?"
The two nuns whispered together, then one said, "If he only looks . . ."
Alarmingly, Jehanne found she was unable to stand and had to ask the nuns to ease off her tunic. Raising her arms was almost impossible with the fresh welts, and she feared she would be sick or faint in the process. Eventually, however, it was off and he walked around to look.
He stayed there longer, surely, than it took to assess her punishment. When he returned to stand in front of her, he said, "I think you should come to Westminster."
"Against the king's command?" It was what she had wanted, but, distressingly, now she felt too shaken and weary to fight directly for her cause.
"I have authority enough to remove you to another confinement closer to the king. He may wish to see for himself."
"I'll soon feel like a monster on display at the fair." But those were silly words, and she stood carefully.
FitzRoger had turned to discuss transport with the nuns. He soon turned back. "Can you ride? They have a cart, but horseback - or, rather, jennetback - might be more bearable."
"I trust in God to give me strength to do anything if I must."
"My philosophy exactly, my lady." And he gestured toward the open door.
It was astonishingly sweet to step into sunshine and smell the flowers. So sweet it almost weakened Jehanne to tears. But then she recollected her situation and turned to FitzRoger. "We must take my baby, the nurse, and my cousin Aline too."
It appeared he did have authority enough, for the party was soon assembled, and the mother superior appeared to argue only when she heard that they were taking her mount. FitzRoger stepped aside to have words with her, and the woman paled and stalked away.
"She meant well," said Jehanne when he returned to her side. "She thinks I deserve the punishment. And she was following the orders of a bishop."
"A singularly pernicious excuse." He shook his head at her. "It seems you are as forgiving as your husband."
"Oh, not at all."
Jehanne rode, with the rest of the party walking, for there was no speed in riding through the crowded streets. It hurt to ride, but then, it hurt to do anything but lie very still on her stomach, and when her breasts filled with milk, that wasn't particularly comfortable, either.
In fact, she did feel that she had perhaps suffered enough, and as they wended their way through the crowds to the king's hall, the suffocating burden of guilt she had borne for a year or more began to slide from her.
She took to praying, finding perhaps a touch of the sense of God that Galeran had. Christ had been whipped too, and since he had known his fate and embraced it, he, too, had accepted the pain for the greater good.
She grimaced. She could imagine what Galeran would say to that. Her thinking of herself as like the Son of God.
Instead, she addressed her prayers meekly, reverently, to Mary, Mother of God. But even then she couldn't help wondering if Mary had ever wanted to step in and turn her beloved Son from His painful course.
She really wasn't very good at meekness.
Despite that, the prayers and thoughts helped Jehanne handle the journey, but by the time she reached Westminster Hall she was almost faint and had to be helped into the building. Soon she was in a comfortable small room that contained a tented couch. She lay on it in relief, as much at being able to hide a tendency to tears as to ease her pain.
She didn't look, but sensed that FitzRoger left. Would he go straight to the king? Would he tell Galeran? She longed for Galeran but could imagine his anger at what she had accepted.