beautiful woman, a mother, and you are in need,‖ Mary said. ―I care not what you are, or what
you might have been, or what sins you think weigh down your soul. Emma, you are dying, but I
can ease you into that dying, and it will be my great honour to do so.‖
Again the tears trickled down Emma‘s face. She could not believe that this woman—this
wondrous, noble woman—could sit there and look upon her with no judgement or loathing in her
face.
―If you have love within you, and mercy to give,‖ Emma said, ―then give it to my
daughter, not me. Jocelyn needs a protectress—‖
―Say no more, Emma. I shall take Jocelyn into my household, for I think she shall make
the best of companions, and ensure her future, but that does not mean that I should therefore
abandon you. I do not ask such prices. Now, Jocelyn, sit here by your mother, and wipe her face
and brow thus. Yes, good girl. Emma, I will return in a moment. I need to talk to my physician.‖
And Mary rose, smiled, and turned away.
Both Neville and Margaret instantly put arms about her, for she swayed as she stood.
She thanked them with a nod and smile, and it was a measure of her own weariness and
discomfort that she allowed their arms to stay about her.
―Culpeper,‖ she said, ―what can you do for this woman?‖
Culpeper looked at the queen, then, with increasing incredulity, at Emma lying on her
bed. ―Do for her, madam? I can do nothing for her. See, she is close to death. Why her mind does
not wander with such a fever, I do not know, but I can only think that—‖
―Thank you,‖ Mary said, ―but I believe there is something you can do for Emma. What of
the potion that you mix for me? Will it not ease this woman‘s agony?‖
Again Culpeper‘s eyes slithered from the queen to the dying woman, then back to the
queen. ―But, madam, I have so very little, and you need—‖
―My need is inconsequential compared to this poor woman‘s,‖ Mary said, and her tone
was like steel. ―And you can find new herbs enough at any one of the city‘s hospitals or
apothecary shops to mix a new batch. Now, where is it?‖
Sighing, and setting his face into the most injured of expressions, Culpeper withdrew a
vial from a pocket inside his cloak.
―Good.‖ Mary took the vial, then turned to Neville. ―Tom, will you shrive this woman?
Cleanse her soul so that she may attain salvation?‖
Neville glanced at Emma. ―I am no longer a priest, madam,‖ he said, ―but it is the
comfort and the words that matter, not the vehicle that utters them. Yes, I can shrive and comfort
her.‖
He was rewarded with beautiful, grateful smiles from both Margaret and Mary.
―It is only love that matters, Tom,‖ Margaret said. ―Only that, and I think love is
something that Emma has in full.‖
Neville held her eyes for a long moment, then gave her a small smile in return.
―Madam,‖ he said to Mary, ―I will need to shrive her before she takes that potion. She
must remain clear-headed. Margaret, will you fetch me a bowl of fresh water? Or,‖ he glanced
about their surroundings, ―a bowl of as clean water as you can manage.‖
He turned to Jocelyn, squatting down beside her mother, so that he could look her in the
eye. ―My dear,‖ he said, ―I must speak with your mother now. Will you wait with your queen?
And can you find her a stool so that she might rest?‖
Jocelyn regarded Neville with huge solemn eyes, then she nodded, turned, and did as he
asked, finding a stool in the outer room, and dragging it back into her mother‘s death room for
Mary to sit upon.
As Jocelyn moved away, Neville rose, than sank down again on Emma‘s bed. After the
briefest of hesitations, he took both the woman‘s dry, chapped and feverish hands in his.
―Emma,‖ he said in a gentle voice, ―I spent many years as a Dominican friar before,‖ he
smiled, and glanced at Margaret, ―I met a woman who led me astray from my vows.‖ His smile
and the light, teasing nature of his voice took all potential sting and retribution out of his words.
―I no longer wear my robes, or adhere to my vows. Nevertheless, would you like me to hear your
confession, and shrive you of your sins?‖
―Can I be shriven?‖ Emma asked. ―I have so many sins, and, as the physician said, I am
nothing but a common whore. How can you forgive such as me?‖
Thomas Neville said nothing for a long moment. Instead, his thoughts cast back to those
days when he‘d renounced all whores, when he‘d hated them beyond all reason…when he‘d
hated all women beyond reason.
He remembered the whore in the streets of Rome who had cursed him, and told him that
one day he would hand his soul on a platter to a whore. You will offer her your eternal
damnation in return for her love!
And then he remembered what Jesus Christ had said to him on the hill of Calvary. Love
saves, it does not damn.
Jesus Christ, God of the Demons.
And yet what would he rather do here? Damn this woman into God‘s hell for her sins ( for
men”s sin in lusting after her? For the angels” sins in lusting after women? ), or save her into Christ‘s world of love?
What should he do?
He remembered Alice, his mistress, and her horrible death because he had refused to
acknowledge their child. Then he had run from love, fearing it. He remembered what Margaret
had done for Lancaster, and to where Lancaster had gone. A field of lilies, under a clear blue sky,
and the empty cross sitting atop the flowered hill. He and Tyler had gone home, to love,
Bolingbroke had said, and Neville knew his choice was the easiest of all to make.
―Have you loved?‖ he said.
Her brow creased, as much in pain, Neville thought, as in reflection. ―Yes, of course,‖
she said. ―I loved my parents, and they me. My grandmother adored me, and I her. And,‖ her
eyes shifted to where Jocelyn sat on the floor by Mary‘s feet, ―I love my daughter, and she loves
me.‖
Neville smiled. Emma had loved, and was loved, and she would be saved because of it.
If I had not learned to love, dared to love, Neville thought, then I would have damned myself for all time.
Then a stranger, and far stronger thought occurred to him. If the angels have never loved,
and refuse to love, then do they exist in hell, and not heaven?
Neville suddenly realised his thoughts were drifting off, and he collected himself,
remembering what Margaret had said to Lancaster. Now, Neville repeated those words for
Emma. ―Then what a blessed life you have had, and what love you have given. Your
grandmother, your parents, your child have all had of you what they should: your love and your
care. You have had from them the same love and care. Embrace your passing with joy, Emma,
not with thoughts of sin.‖
―But—‖
―You have been loved,‖ Neville said firmly, his hands tightening about hers, ―and you
have loved. Is there anything else?‖
Emma stared at him, blinking her tears away. Very slowly she smiled.
So deeply was everyone concentrating on Emma and Thomas Neville that without
exception they all jumped when the voice spoke from the doorway.
―Well said, Tom. There is nothing else, indeed.‖
And Hal Bolingbroke, King of England, walked into the already crowded and close
chamber.
VII
Friday 24th May 1381
—iii—
Emma blinked, and smiled, for she recognised him, but did not otherwise fuss. Too much
had happened already this night, and she was too close to her own death to be bothered
overmuch by the King of England‘s entrance into her mean chamber.
Bolingbroke paused by Mary long enough to lay a hand on her shoulder and nod a
greeting, then walked to Emma‘s bedside to stand by Neville.
―This is Mistress Emma Hawkins,‖ Neville said softly, his gaze remaining on Emma‘s
face. Then he raised his eyes to Bolingbroke. ―Your queen is come to aid the Londoners in their
horror, your grace, and she is here to witness Emma‘s passing into—‖ he stopped, unsure of
what she might be passing into. Heaven as guarded by the angels, certainly not, and ever more
certainly not the angels‘ construction of hell.
―Her passing into love,‖ said Bolingbroke, and, leaning down a little, touched Emma‘s
swollen face. Boils and pustules now disfigured it, blowing up the flesh about her mouth and
eyes.
―Thank you,‖ whispered Emma, and Bolingbroke nodded, then moved away. He
whispered something to Culpeper, who vanished, returning a few minutes later with several more