Read Online The King’s Concubine: A Novel of Alice Perrers by Anne O'Brien - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anne O'Brien
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works.”
He laughed. He actually laughed, a harsh bark of noise.
“Now what?”
“I knew I was right.”
“About what?”
“ You , Mistress Perrers. Sit down! And don’t argue! I’m about to give you your first lesson.”
So I did, and Greseley explained to me the brilliance for a woman in my position of the legal device of “ enfeoffment to use. ” “The property is yours; it remains yours,” he explained. “But you allow others to administer it for you—for a fee, of course. You must choose wisely—a man with an interest in the property so that he will administer it well. Do you understand?” I nodded. “You grant that man legal rights over the land, but you retain de facto control. See? You remain in ultimate ownership but need do nothing in the day-to-day running of it.”
“And can I make the agreement between us as long or as short as I wish?”
“Yes.”
“And I suppose I need a man of law to oversee this for me?”
“It would be wise.”
“What is it—this property that I now own, but do not own?”
“Living accommodations—with shops below.”
What else did I need to ask? “Was there any money left over from the transaction?”
“You don’t miss much, do you?” He tipped out the contents of the purse at his belt and pushed across the board a small number of coins.
“You said I needed a man of law.” He regarded me without expression. “I suppose you would be my man of law.”
“I certainly could. Next time, we will work in partnership.”
“Will there be a next time?”
“Oh, I think so.” I thought the slide of his glance had a depth of craftiness.
“Is that good or bad—to work in partnership?”
Greseley’s pointed nose sniffed at my ignorance. He knew I could not work alone. But it seemed good to me. What strides I had made. I was a wife of sorts, even if I spent my nights checking Janyn’s tally sticks and columns of figures, and now I was a property owner. A little ripple of pleasure brushed along the skin of my forearms as the idea engaged my mind and my emotions. I liked it. And in my first deliberate business transaction I pushed the coins back toward Greseley.
“This is my…What is the word? Retainer? You are now my man of law, Master Greseley.”
“I am indeed, Mistress Perrers.”
The coins were swept into his purse with alacrity.
And where did I keep the evidence of my ownership? I kept it hidden on my person between shift and overgown, tied with a cord, except when I took it out and touched it, running my fingers over the words that made it all official. There it was for my future. Security. Permanence. The words were like warm hands around mine on a winter’s day.
I did not dislike Greseley as much as I once had.
Plague returned. The same dread pestilence that had struck without mercy just before my birth came creeping stealthily into London. It was the only gossip to be had in the streets, the market, the alehouses. It was different this time, so they said in whispers. The plague of children, they called it, striking cruelly at infants but not the hale and hearty who had reached adult years.
But the pestilence, stepping over our threshold, proved to be a chancy creature.
Of us all it was Janyn who was struck down. He drew aside the sleeve of his tunic to reveal the dread whirls of red spots as we gathered for dinner on an ordinary day. We stared at the signs as if we could not believe in their existence. The meal was abandoned. Without a word Janyn walked up the stairs and shut himself in his chamber. Terror, rank and loathsome, set its claws into the Perrers household.
The boy disappeared overnight. Greseley found work in other parts of London. Mistress Damiata fled with disgraceful speed to stay with her cousin, whose house was uncontaminated. Who nursed Janyn? I did. I was his wife, even if he had never touched me unless his calloused fingers grazed mine when he pointed out a mistake in my copying. I owed him at least this final
He laughed. He actually laughed, a harsh bark of noise.
“Now what?”
“I knew I was right.”
“About what?”
“ You , Mistress Perrers. Sit down! And don’t argue! I’m about to give you your first lesson.”
So I did, and Greseley explained to me the brilliance for a woman in my position of the legal device of “ enfeoffment to use. ” “The property is yours; it remains yours,” he explained. “But you allow others to administer it for you—for a fee, of course. You must choose wisely—a man with an interest in the property so that he will administer it well. Do you understand?” I nodded. “You grant that man legal rights over the land, but you retain de facto control. See? You remain in ultimate ownership but need do nothing in the day-to-day running of it.”
“And can I make the agreement between us as long or as short as I wish?”
“Yes.”
“And I suppose I need a man of law to oversee this for me?”
“It would be wise.”
“What is it—this property that I now own, but do not own?”
“Living accommodations—with shops below.”
What else did I need to ask? “Was there any money left over from the transaction?”
“You don’t miss much, do you?” He tipped out the contents of the purse at his belt and pushed across the board a small number of coins.
“You said I needed a man of law.” He regarded me without expression. “I suppose you would be my man of law.”
“I certainly could. Next time, we will work in partnership.”
“Will there be a next time?”
“Oh, I think so.” I thought the slide of his glance had a depth of craftiness.
“Is that good or bad—to work in partnership?”
Greseley’s pointed nose sniffed at my ignorance. He knew I could not work alone. But it seemed good to me. What strides I had made. I was a wife of sorts, even if I spent my nights checking Janyn’s tally sticks and columns of figures, and now I was a property owner. A little ripple of pleasure brushed along the skin of my forearms as the idea engaged my mind and my emotions. I liked it. And in my first deliberate business transaction I pushed the coins back toward Greseley.
“This is my…What is the word? Retainer? You are now my man of law, Master Greseley.”
“I am indeed, Mistress Perrers.”
The coins were swept into his purse with alacrity.
And where did I keep the evidence of my ownership? I kept it hidden on my person between shift and overgown, tied with a cord, except when I took it out and touched it, running my fingers over the words that made it all official. There it was for my future. Security. Permanence. The words were like warm hands around mine on a winter’s day.
I did not dislike Greseley as much as I once had.
Plague returned. The same dread pestilence that had struck without mercy just before my birth came creeping stealthily into London. It was the only gossip to be had in the streets, the market, the alehouses. It was different this time, so they said in whispers. The plague of children, they called it, striking cruelly at infants but not the hale and hearty who had reached adult years.
But the pestilence, stepping over our threshold, proved to be a chancy creature.
Of us all it was Janyn who was struck down. He drew aside the sleeve of his tunic to reveal the dread whirls of red spots as we gathered for dinner on an ordinary day. We stared at the signs as if we could not believe in their existence. The meal was abandoned. Without a word Janyn walked up the stairs and shut himself in his chamber. Terror, rank and loathsome, set its claws into the Perrers household.
The boy disappeared overnight. Greseley found work in other parts of London. Mistress Damiata fled with disgraceful speed to stay with her cousin, whose house was uncontaminated. Who nursed Janyn? I did. I was his wife, even if he had never touched me unless his calloused fingers grazed mine when he pointed out a mistake in my copying. I owed him at least this final
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