I had just acquired the house and manor of Pallenswick through Greseley’s clever negotiation and my borrowed gold coin, courtesy of the royal Treasury. And Pallenswick was a gleaming gem of a property on the banks of the Thames, to which I had moved my sons and my whole household. My access to Edward and the Court was as easy as donning a pair of silk slippers.

“I’ll come if I can,” Edward assured me.

“I’ll do just as well without you.” I knew he would be engaged in the progress of the war, and would be barred from the birthing chamber, King or no. Isabella would keep his spirits in good order.

“I’ll have Masses said for your safe delivery. Send me word.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be content if you bear me a daughter.”

“As long as she’s less combative than Isabella!”

“Difficult not to be.” Edward’s laughter startled the ducks that quacked in the shallows. Then, as I settled myself against the pillows: “Don’t go!”

The tightening of his hands around mine was a consolation, but I knew I must. In some matters I valued my independence. I wished to be under my own roof when I gave birth. And so I left Court. There was no secrecy now. My departure was marked with banners and pennons and a royal escort, such that all the world was aware that the King’s Concubine would bear him another child. Isabella found other affairs to occupy her so that she would not have to pretend a degree of concern. Good practice, all in all.

My wolfhound traveled with me, nervous of the water. A more misnamed animal I had never met. I carried Windsor’s dagger in my sleeve.

A basket of new-laid eggs rested on the table in the kitchen at Pallenswick, where I was engaged in helping my housekeeper to clear out boxes of wizened fruit from the previous autumn. And tucked between the eggs was a letter. An unconventional delivery, forsooth. Intrigued, keeping an eye to Joanne, my new daughter, who slept in her crib beside the hearth, I retrieved it and unfolded the single page. A brief note, no superscription, no signature, no seal. So someone wished to remain anonymous but had gone to a lot of trouble.

It is necessary for you to return to Westminster. Personal circumstances must not be allowed to stand in your way. It is for your good and that of the King.

A clerk’s hand. But from whom? I tapped the note lightly against the brown egg on the top of the pile. Not Edward. It was not his style, and why the need for secrecy? Wykeham? He would not stoop to unsigned missives. He would not need to, surely, as Edward’s Chancellor. Edward’s physician? If Edward were ill, a courier would have arrived with a horn blasting out its warning. Certainly not Isabella…None the wiser, I dropped the letter into the fire with a wry smile. Who would actually want me to return? I might be the acknowledged concubine, but most would happily clap me in a dungeon as far away from the King and Court as possible.

For the length of time it took me to walk from kitchen to parlor, the sleeping infant now in my arms, I considered taking no heed of it. But then—it was a warning. It was for the good of the King. I could not afford to ignore it—or could I? I did not appreciate an anonymous request that smacked of an order. I would think about it overnight.

I wished the anonymous writer a close association with the fires of hell.

I was, of course, up betimes, ordering my belongings packed and a barge made ready. I kissed my new daughter—fair and blue eyed like her father, named Joanne after Edward’s beloved dead daughter who had been taken by the plague. I had balked at the name, it being uncomfortably reminiscent of the woman who had disparaged my low birth and consigned me to a life of drudgery, but on this occasion Edward’s wishes took precedence. So I bade my daughter and sons farewell, admonished nurse and tutor with a multitude of unnecessary instructions, and set off for London within the hour. The writer of the note would make himself known soon enough.

I arrived to find that in my absence Edward had summoned a Parliament. It did not disturb me in any manner. With a new campaigning season approaching, a parliamentary session to give approval for taxation to raise the moneys to pay the English forces was an obvious step. It gave the palace at Westminster, where Edward was in residence, an air of turmoil. There was an unusual scurry and bustle, the stabling overcrowded, and accommodations for lords and bishops at a premium. The commons had to make what shrift they could. It would not affect me. Closing my door against the commotion without, I sighed with the pleasure of arrival. But not for long. I expect I scowled.

“You took your time!” John of Gaunt announced.

“What are you doing here?” I was not gracious. Why was I rarely gracious around John of Gaunt? And to find him here in my rooms, without my invitation. I think I always feared him. Gaunt was as ever impervious, sitting on the window ledge, his foot braced against the stone coping.

“I’m waiting for you, Mistress Perrers.”

He’d had little to do with me since our initial agreement. Oh, his public recognition of me was superb. He might be forced to accept my importance to Edward, but still I thought he despised me. So what was he doing here? Unless…Suspicion began to flutter over my skin.

“I came as soon as I could,” I said.

“I expected you yesterday.”

I was right. He was plotting again. “So you sent the letter, my lord.”

“That’s not important. It brought you back. It should have been sooner.”

I resented his tone—the peremptory demand, his overt criticism. My response was biting. “You didn’t have the courage to sign it, did you, my lord?”

“Nothing to do with courage. More to do with discretion.”

“So that no one knows you sent for the King’s paramour? How unfortunate for you that you are driven to consort with such as me, having to admit that you actually have a need of me. Once was enough. But to have to ask again! How can you tolerate it, my lord?” How savage my taunts, but he had caught me on the raw.

Gaunt was on his feet, striding toward the door. I had pushed his arrogant pride too far.

“Wait!”

He halted abruptly, his face stony. “I don’t have need of you. I was mistaken.”

“Obviously you do.” I removed my mantle and hood, giving myself time to struggle against the inclination to let him go and slam the door at his back. It must be serious for Gaunt to come to me; therefore it was for me to make the first gesture to this man whose conceit was vast. “Let us begin again, my lord.” I stretched out my hand in a gesture of conciliation. “Tell me what the problem is and I will answer you.”

Serious indeed! Gaunt needed no second invitation. “He refuses to do it. And he must. You are the only one he’ll listen to. Regrettable, but a fact. You’ve got to persuade him.”

Typical of the man to dive into the middle of the problem without explanation.

“I presume you mean the King. And I might persuade him if you are more specific. Come and sit with me, my lord, and tell me what’s stirred this particular pot. Is it Parliament?”

“By God, it is!”

He sat and told me all in short, incisive sentences.

Parliament had begun the session in unfriendly mood. Their list of complaints would carpet the floor from Westminster to the Tower. All the money granted by the previous session—what had happened to it? Vanished without trace and with no achievement for it! England’s proud name had been ground into the mud of Europe. Gascony was more or less lost. Where was the English Navy? Were there not rumors of French invasion plans? And now the King was daring to ask them for more finance. Well, they wouldn’t provide it! It was throwing good money after bad.

I listened, honestly perplexed.

“I do not see how I can help in this matter,” I observed at the end.

“They are looking for scapegoats,” Gaunt snarled, as if I were witless not to see it. “They are unwilling to attack the King directly, but they are intent on drawing the blood of his ministers, accusing them of poor judgment. And unfortunately Parliament has discovered a weapon. What do all Edward’s ministers have in common?”

I saw the direction of this. “They are all men of the Church.”

“Exactly! Priests, to a man. What do they know about warfare? Nothing! Parliament wants them removed before they’ll consider taxation.”

It was now very clear, my role in Gaunt’s plans. “And Edward will not do it.”

“No. He is driven by loyalty. I can’t move him. And if he won’t comply…we would have a crisis at home to match the one in France.”

“If I persuade Edward to dismiss his clerics, who will replace them?” I asked.

Gaunt smiled bleakly. “Here’s my suggestion.…”

I listened to his planning. It was masterly. I could not find fault with it.

“Will you do it?”

I stared at him. “Will your new ministers not be unpopular?”

“Why should they be? They’re not clerics.”

“But they’ll be seen as your men.”

“They’re men of talent!”

So they were. But for a moment I simply sat and considered the whole, making Gaunt wait just a little, because I was in a mood to do so. I could see no fault with his plan—and it would rescue the King’s relationship with Parliament. It had much to recommend it.

“I will do it, my lord.”

“I’m obliged!”

The agreement was accepted by the curtest of nods, and Gaunt strode from my rooms, leaving my previous good humor disturbed. Damn the man! Gaunt and I might be allies in this, but it would never be an easy alliance. It crossed my mind that it might be like getting into bed with a viper.

Together Gaunt and I found Edward engaged in some heated conversation with Latimer. He greeted me with a smile, saluting my cheeks, but the welcome was notable for its brevity, even a touch of irritation.