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“King Henry and
Prince Edward are now Leicester’s prisoners. In fact, nearly every important
supporter of Henry has been taken prisoner. If you go to Hugh in France, your
lands will be swallowed up by Leicester’s followers. I intend to lay claim to
Hugh’s property. After all, it was my mother’s first but I could offer no
reason for taking yours.”
    “My son Baldwin will be released from prison now,” Joanna
said angrily. “Will he not be favored with my lands if I go to France? Surely
he deserves at least that since he suffered imprisonment in Leicester’s great
cause. Or is the high and pure Earl of Leicester so little different from the
king he blames? Are you telling me that Leicester too will only gift his own
sons and his powerful supporters with the prizes he wrests from those who
fought honestly for what they believed right?”
    “At least his sons have roots in this land,” Norfolk began
hotly, but stopped when Barbara took his arm, turned him about, and gave him a
sharp push.
    “Go in, I beg you,” she cried. “I will be on your heels.”
And then, turning to Joanna, “What ails you? Can you not see that you are the
only one who can safely try to win permission for Hugh to return? If my father
or even Baldwin interceded in Hugh’s behalf, his loyalty would come into
question at once. You are no threat, and Leicester will think it right and
proper for a wife to try to arrange for her husband’s pardon. Come, Joanna,
gather up our sewing, then go and lie down for a little time and recover from
your fright. I will see to my father’s care. His temper will also be better for
a rest, a clean gown, and a cup of wine.”
    Joanna raised her hands to her face for a moment and uttered
a stifled sob, but she dropped them and turned back toward the bench where they
had been sitting. As soon as she was sure Joanna would do as she had asked,
Barbara ran quickly after her father. She caught up with him outside of the
garden. He was staring at the handsome stone manor house from which a
thatch-roofed walk extended to the kitchen building. Voices and laughter
drifted from the latter, mingling with the occasional bark of a dog from the
kennel attached to the near side of the barn and stable across the courtyard
and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer from his shed just beyond the
pens for animals fattening for slaughter.
    “Hugh has done well with this place,” he said when she took
his arm.
    “It is a great favorite with all of us.” Barbara tugged at
him gently, and he walked with her toward the house. “One can see out across
the hills from the windows of the hall. Come, you will feel better when you
have shed that mail and filled your belly.”
    “Will I?”
    “Of course you will.” She hugged his arm affectionately to
her side. “You know you are always cross when you miss a meal, and I am sure
you have missed more than one, coming in haste from Norfolk.”
    He raised a hand to pull at a thick curl that had snaked its
way through the net of gold silk that, as usual, was losing the battle of
controlling her hair. “I have not missed any meals, but I admit they were not
such as I cared to linger over.”
    “Well, that is the same,” Barbara said, releasing his arm so
he could climb the narrow stair to the open door. “Go up, Papa, do. As soon as
you have eaten, you will see that matters could be worse.”
    He laughed harshly at that, but climbed the stair without any
other reply. Normally Barbara would have taken him into Joanna’s solar, but her
father and her aunt would be better apart for a while and Joanna’s bed was in
the solar. Thus, Barbara gestured to one of the dozen or so menservants, who
were busy about various duties in the hall. The man hurried to her and began to
help the earl remove his mail while Barbara ran across the hall into the solar.
There she opened a clothes chest from which she drew a surcoat and tunic, a
fine linen shirt, and thin, footed woolen