"Some people are wondering who is right Simon or Henry," he continued. "And some have already made up their minds. What about you? You are an intelligent woman, Madeleine. You must have considered the situation, perhaps even discussed it with your husband. Whom do you favour?"
"No-one wants a woman’s opinion, sirrah!" she said, lightly. "Joan, bring us some mead, please. You will need to fetch it for us. It will take an age if you try to find one of the castle servants."
"But, Madeleine!" Joan began to protest. Leave her precious lady alone with this young peacock? Never, if she had a choice.
"Please do as I say," said Madeleine, firmly. "I am safe in here for a few minutes aren’t I Jervis?"
"Certainly, Madam," said Jervis, dropping back into his usual bantering manner. "And I have a thirst on me that only mead will quench!"
Grumbling under her breath, Joan turned on her heel and left the room, followed by the sound of Jervis chuckle and Madeleine s giggle. They both knew that it was a long trip to the kitchens for the mead, she thought. Well, she continued to herself, shrugging her BOSON BOOKS
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shoulders, she had done her best if Madeleine
wished
to
start the gossips tongues
wagging, there was nothing more she could do. Now, where were the kitchens in this old English castle?
A boy came towards her along the passage and she beckoned to him.
Which way to the kitchens? said Joan, coldly.
The boy grinned cheekily.
Down and down the stairs, until you can smell em, he said, and dodged away from Joan s outstretched arm. He was too slow; she caught him by the ear and said grimly, Show me, lad, and no tricks!
She started off at a good pace, still holding the boy by his ear and pushing him ahead of her, ignoring his yelps of pain. He stumbled along in front of her, leading her, as he had said, down a slope. The smells that began to reach her nostrils made them twitch.
Roasting meat mixed with the smells of something suspiciously like rotting cabbage and rancid fat. This part of the castle is little better than a midden, she thought to herself, grimly.
The boy’s yelping had subsided and he trotted along obediently. She relaxed her grip on his ear, realising that there was little chance of him escaping, so long as she held some part of his clothing, so she grabbed a handful of cloth at his shoulder, which was more comfortable for both of them.
The rank smell grew stronger then, as they passed a passage branching suddenly to the left, faded again.
"Where does that lead?" said Joan, still wrinkling her nose at the smells that assaulted it.
"To the dungeons I told you it smelt bad down here!" said the lad, glancing back at her and seeing her expression.
"Is there someone down there?" said Joan, horrified.
"No-one living," said the boy. "But they say that there are dead bodies down there still.
My Lord de Warenne’s father was a great one for throwing people in the dungeons if they displeased him, my master says."
He shivered suddenly.
"I hope I never see them," he said.
Joan’s heart was touched.
"You never will, if you obey your master, and do your work, I’m sure," she said.
The boy looked at her, amazed.
"I wouldn’t, in any case, mistress," he said. "Lord John does not use the dungeons any more. I don’t know why they still smell so bad."
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"Perhaps he’s given permission for others to use them, now that he has so many people staying here as his guests," said Joan. "Not everybody treats their servants so well."
"Do you think so?" said the boy, stopping completely, and gazing at her in horror.
"Might my master be given permission?"
"No, no!" said Joan, giving him a push. "Little boys aren’t put into dungeons. Now get me into the kitchens, where we are supposed to be, and stop frightening both of us with your talk of dungeons and dead bodies!"
* * *
"Jervis," said Madeleine. "You really do want to know my opinion, don’t you?"
Jervis looked at her, his previously easy manner replaced by wariness.
"And would you really tell me, Madeleine?" he said. "Now, when no-one else can hear us?"
She paused, staring at the rushes on the floor, as though seeking guidance from them.
Jervis waited, saying nothing.
"I’ll tell you this," she said, staring straight into his eyes. "Don’t assume that a wife necessarily shares her husband’s opinions."
Jervis let out his breath in a long sigh of relief.