Page 41 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“He has performed in the palace several times and I am sure I am not surprised. With his looks, I daresay there’s many who would pay a pretty penny merely for his presence at their feasts. He is very handsome, is he not? Some might say the handsomest man at court.” She sent a piercing look in Gunnilde’s direction.

Gunnilde shook her head. “He would not like that at all, Your Majesty,” she said earnestly. “He has very refined feelings and would probably feel cheapened by such an experience. Being treated like a paid performer, I mean.” The Queen looked taken aback by such frankness. “You must own, Your Majesty, that being a composer sounds more respectable than being a troubadour,” she continued apologetically.

“Yes,” Armenal acknowledged after a small pause. “There is something in what you say. I suppose there might be some awkwardness about such an arrangement. Poor Sir James is hampered by his social standing when it comes to exploiting his talents it seems.”

Her tone was rather dry, Gunnilde thought, folding her lips, determined to say no more on the subject. She certainly did not want to put the Queen out of humor with her husband. That was the opposite of her intent!

“Ah, here is Magnatrude now,” the Queen said, sitting up straighter.

Gunnilde’s heart sank a little as the older woman climbed the steps to the dais with a measured stately step. She carried a silver salver with little dishes of nuts, dried figs, and dates. Behind her came her little page carrying a tray with pitcher and goblets.

“Draw up another chair, Magnatrude, and be seated here with us. Gunnilde here has been telling me how she means to further her husband’s cause.”

Magnatrude Bartree sent Gunnilde a cold look as she set down her tray before the Queen. Unwin added his items to the small table and fetched his mistress another of the low cushioned seats.

“Thank you, Unwin, now go and take some refreshment yourself,” Mistress Bartree bade her page, briefly touching the top of his head. He smiled up at her and retreated down the steps. Gunnilde watched the brief interaction with interest. So...Mistress Bartree was not all glares and hostility. Not when it suited her!

“Now, Gunnilde, repeat to me what you said about encouraging Sir James to broaden his palate when it comes to music,” the Queen instructed. Gunnilde did so. “Is she not ingenious, this protégé of mine?” Armenal demanded, eyes dancing. Gunnilde was glad to see the gleam back in her dark eyes, even if the amusement was at her expense.

Magnatrude’s lips twisted into some grim semblance of a smile. “It seems a somewhat convoluted plot to my mind,” she said dismissively. “What Sir James surely needs is a rich patron. Any wily wife would go about securing such a thing as a matter of urgency. But perhaps Lady Wycliffe has already realized this,” she said, looking deliberately from the Queen to Gunnilde and back again.

Catching her meaning, Gunnilde gasped and felt her cheeks grow warm. “I dare assure you, Mistress Bartree, that such a thing was not my intention in the slightest!” she said hotly.

Magnatrude Bartree’s back stiffened even further. “I am sure I do not know what I said to cause offence—”

“Oh, yes you do, madam!” Gunnilde interrupted her. “You plainly implied that I am set about cajoling a royal appointment out of the Queen, even at this moment! But to put things plainly, I do not think such a thing would suit him at all!”

Magnatrude Bartree’s rather sallow face reddened. “I simply meant,” she began carefully, “that for one situated as Sir James it would be untenable to—”

“I think I might be permitted to know my own husband rather better than you, madam!” Gunnilde cut in sharply. “Thank you kindly for your consideration!”

It occurred to Gunnilde that things had turned rather quiet elsewhere in the receiving chamber. She took a quick scan of the room and found to her dismay that everyone seemed to have drifted a good deal closer, and many appeared to be actively craning to hear their words.

“But why do you say this, Gunnilde?” the Queen asked with surprise, dragging her attention back from the crowd. “Why would an official appointment, say, as royal musician, not suit Sir James?”

Gunnilde darted a look around the dais. “Could you bid everyone to move away, Your Majesty? I do not wish to discuss such private matters with an audience.”

Mistress Bartree looked shocked by such a request, but the Queen stood up at once and shooed everyone away. She sat back down. “Pour us some drinks, Magnatrude.” The older woman complied at once. “Now,” she said, turning to Gunnilde, “tell me, for I am all agog.”

Gunnilde hesitated. “Well, firstly there is the fact James does not particularly care to perform for others. Then, secondly, I imagine that palace music would be just as select as cathedral music, perhaps more so. It would not serve to make his music hold general appeal, now, would it? Lastly...” She hesitated, then plunged on. “I had thought that perhaps the endeavor might serve to bring us closer together,” she confessed.

“A man is supposed to cleave to his wife, is he not? If I can only prove my worth to James then he is sure to turn to me, is he not? You must know all about it, Your Majesty, for is that not what happened in your own case? Why, everyone knows—” She broke off awkwardly as Magnatrude Bartree let out a hiss like an enraged goose.

“No, no, she is quite right,” Armenal said, holding up a hand. “You must not upbraid her, my good Magnatrude, for I dearly love to hear such unguarded speech, and such a thing is rare indeed in a palace.” She sighed and settled back in her seat. “The King turned to me after I proved my worth to him in the face of overwhelming grief,” she acknowledged. “I am sure it is whispered of in every corner of this castle.”

“Whispers are one thing, Your Majesty,” Magnatrude Bartree said angrily. “But to say it boldly to your face is another altogether!”

The Queen nodded. “Precisely. Is it any wonder then, why I am growing so fond of this young woman’s society? Now, let us speak some more about how you mean to snare this husband of yours and promote his interests, for I find it all quite fascinating.”

Afterward Gunnilde could not really have said what exactly she had rattled off in her eagerness to explain her line of thinking to the Queen. She knew only that she talked at great length about all manner of things, and that Queen Armenal pressed her further whenever she showed any signs of flagging.

She even ended up having to tell her of the unofficial betrothal of her youth all over again.

“And this...Master Conway,” the Queen said, helping herself to a fig. “Where is he now?”

“I believe he resides with his sister and brother-in-law now. His sister Muriel is married to Sir Christopher Lelland, who is a prominent courtier.”

The Queen’s expression continued blank. “Is he?”