The Tapestry Read Online Free PDF Page B

beckon to me again. I took two steps and stopped.
    “Mistress Joanna Stafford?” he called out. “This is where you will meet the wardrobe master.”
    “In this small room, so far from the king?” I asked. We were alone in the passageway.
    The page’s smile widened into a laugh, as if I’d said something amusing. “That is his preference, yes.”
    I walked to the door, all the time wishing I could think of an excuse to turn around and get away from him, fast. In the end, my sense of impropriety silenced the warning bells that exploded in my head. The page opened the door and I moved around him to enter. I took a deep breath, preparing my greeting.
    Suddenly I was sailing through the air, propelled by a powerful shove. The room was dark and cluttered. No one awaited me or anyone else here. I slammed into a rough table with my hip and cried out in pain.
    The door shut behind us.
    “What are you—” Before I could finish the sentence, a hand clamped over my mouth. With the other hand, the page grabbed my right arm and twisted it so sharply that my stomach turned over from the pain. He was a head taller than me, and quite strong. He started to drag me to the far corner of the room. I knew with utter certainty that I did not want go there.
    I bit his hand. It was not the slobbering of a desperate victim. No, I tore at this man’s hand with savagery; I wanted to reach bone. Now it was his turn to cry out, a squealing grunt. His grip on both my mouth and my arm loosened.
    I sprang toward the door, shouting, “Help—help!” I had reached it, my fingers on the doorknob, when the page grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around.
    I had seconds to survive. With the side of my right hand, I chopped through the bottom of his beard to land a sharp blow to his windpipe, a move Jacquard had taught me.
    His eyes popping in shock, he staggered away, choking.
    I yanked open the door. There was no one on the passageway. Hecould still emerge and drag me back in. I started to run, but the pain in my hip was such that I half limped. “Help!” I cried again.
    “What has happened?” said a young man’s voice from the direction of the door. “What’s wrong, mistress?”
    Tears of relief filled my eyes as my savior approached. He was tall and dark-haired and, in my semidelirious state, seemed possessed of a singularly beautiful face, like an angel sent by Christ to deliver me.
    “A page attacked me,” I said, turning to point. “Down there.”
    The young man bounded past me, toward the door.
    “Don’t,” I cried. “You must get help first. He’s very strong.”
    Ignoring my warning, he hurtled into the room. Seconds later, I heard the words: “There’s no one here.”
    I couldn’t believe it. But as soon as I joined him, I could see for myself that the page was gone. There was a far door on the other side of the room. The page must have decided to flee rather than chase me down.
    “Are those drops of blood on the floor?” exclaimed the young man. “Are you wounded?”
    “No, it’s his blood,” I said. “I bit his hand. Quite hard.”
    The young man looked at me, his lip curling with distaste as I tucked the loosened strands of black hair back into my hood. “What were you doing with one of His Majesty’s pages?” he said. “Was this some kind of assignation?”
    “It was not . He said he was leading me to the master of the king’s wardrobe. I have a summons. I am expected this week.”
    He snorted. “The wardrobe master in this part of the palace? This is for equipment. I was seeing to the work on a new jousting lance when I heard you. Very well, what was his name?”
    “He never said.”
    The young man sighed. “You’re telling me that a royal page led a woman he didn’t know to a room in Whitehall for a bit of frolic? Do you know how carefully trained these pages are? I should know, for I served as a page in His Majesty’s service myself.”
    “He didn’t want a frolic,” I said. “He wanted to