To accept a kiss from Ximene, Joan had to rise to the tips of her toes. She steadied herself by putting her arms round Ximene’s neck. Joan’s skin tingled, and her eyes opened wide in shock, for never before had she experienced physical pleasure from a woman’s touch.
Joan of Kent-13th March 1354
Joan also frowned, she had wanted to be noticed not to disrupt the evening. The reception was predominantly in honour of Ximene. Joan considered retiring, to avoid causing Ximene any further embarrassment. She turned in every direction, hoping to find her, but Ximene had unexpectedly left the room. Anxious about Ximene’s absence, Joan found it difficult to concentrate on or enjoy the attention of her male audience.
Ximene reappeared. Joan heard her entry because of the hush, which fell upon the hall. Ximene paused by the door, a mixture of hesitation and defiance emanating from her. Her breasts were now exposed, a result she had achieved by removing her own chemise and cutting away the upper inch and a half of her bodice. Though grateful for this gesture, Ximene’s ravishing appearance disconcerted Joan.
Somewhere in the process of modifying her dress Ximene had dislodged her coiffure, which now hung in exquisite disarray. Her eyes, set wider than most women’s, sparkled brightly. In her agitation, her cheeks had become flushed, which served to emphasise the slenderness of her face and her high cheekbones. Her perfect breasts heaved with emotion.
‘I think,’ Ximene said, her voice quivering slightly, ‘I think that many of you have been grossly impolite to criticise our visitor’s fashion sense. For myself, I would like to thank Countess Joan for introducing to us the latest court fashions.’ Her voice gained strength and resonance. ‘I am so pleased to know what is fashionable. I find it delightful and it will be so suitable for the warmer months.’
The room remained silent as Ximene walked over and held Joan’s hand. Her grandmother, Lady Eleanor could not resist gentle applause. She was joined by many others. Agnes whispered in her husband’s ear and giggling uncontrollably grabbed the hands of several of her best friends, pulling them after her from the room. When they returned, still giggling coquettishly they were all bare-breasted.
‘Marvellous,’ announced Ximene, with a wide smile, ‘now we can all enjoy the evening.’
The incident lowered any barriers there might have been between Joan and her hosts. She was suddenly accepted and even the women who were still conservatively dressed made a point of talking to her and asking her about life in Bordeaux, London and Paris.
Later, Joan spent the evening talking to Ximene. She took an immediate liking to this young woman who seemed to have a positive view of everything in life. However, listening to her enthusiasm and observing her dark southern beauty, Joan made a quiet vow. she must never allow Ximene to meet the Prince, her Prince.
Ximene certainly was different. Usually, the participants in a Progression ceremony asked a multitude of questions of their sponsors concerned with what they had to do and how to react. None of that seemed to concern Ximene. She was so very confident; her initial questions were about makeup and dressmaking –particularly the best way to stitch lightweight materials. She asked Joan about the dress she wore. She wanted to know the detail, the way it was made and the way in which it supported Joan’s breasts.
Joan talked to Ximene more generally about fashion and then she found herself talking about her night attire and a short time after, how to attract men and a short time after that again, lovemaking techniques! All this with a young woman she now identified as a rival.
Over the next two days, they grew closer and closer. In each other’s company, they whispered and laughed continuously, outrageously.
During her extended conversations with Ximene, Joan discovered the embryo of a plan to escape from the Comte’s control. In conversations with both Ximene and her grandmother, Joan encouraged speculation of how she might be of assistance in helping Ximene escape. ‘Perhaps the correct solution might be to return to your grandparents’ home in Sicily. Les Étoile might help to get you there,’ she said.
Joan had no idea how this plan could be manipulated to her advantage but instinctively believed that once isolated from the Comte’s influence there would be many opportunities to distract Ximene from a marriage with the Prince.
On the third night, the Progression ceremony was held. The participants of the ceremony—six girls and seven boys—sat at a table in the hall. As a sponsor, Joan sat on an elevated dais at one end of the hall. Parents, friends and supporters of the participants occupied the other three sides.
The young ladies wore white dresses with full skirts. Tight corsets pulled in their waists and were laced up at the front. Beneath the corsets, gold chemises could be seen, spilling over the top of the corsets in a profusion of pleats and lace.
Joan knew that Ximene had fought a determined campaign to appear bare-breasted. She had eventually relented on the grounds that traditions must be upheld. All participants should appear virginal at the Progression, something of an anomaly given their education would move to its final phase shortly, known as The Transition and included practical experience in sexual activity!
The young men wore hose, tight pants, waistcoats and cloaks in black, embroidered with gold. They also wore a gold chemise underneath their waistcoats, only slightly simpler than the ones worn by the girls.
The evening commenced with a multi-course meal supported by ample supplies of wine, beer and Armagnac.
Ximene ate and drank very little. Troubadours sang of lost loves and the injustices of the Frankish invasion. Acrobats and jugglers entertained the diners. As the meal ended, one group of dancers gave an imitation of a bullfight before a second group of scantily clad, gipsy dancers introduced a sexual theme.
The female participants, one at a time, ascended a throne in the middle of the dais, where Joan sat. Each of the young men then rose in turn and expressed their admiration for the lady occupying the throne. An unmistakable tension filled the air, as each young man gave his address.
Every girl made a great show of holding a favour—a coloured scarf—in front of her, fluttering it back and forth as if considering whether to award it to the current admirer. When the last speech had been made, the girls made a deliberate gesture of putting away the favour, to symbolise a woman’s right to accept none of her suitors.
During the speech-giving ritual, inevitably the young men displayed their preferences. The praise for their favourite was usually fulsome and better-prepared than for the other girls. Most of the addresses were in prose, but many admirers used verse. One even broke into song.
Once all the girls had occupied the throne and the final presentations had been completed, the music started again. The girls circled the table and threw their favours into the middle of it symbolising that in the future they would consider suits made by any of the young men.
Then the music stopped. The girls approached the nearest man. The men, who’d re-seated themselves earlier, rose to their feet and faced the girls. They kissed full on the lips, some more enthusiastically than others. As the music recommenced, the participants approached the audience and selected someone to kiss. Some moved on but others did not. For those who found an acceptable partner, the kiss continued, accompanied by embraces and even gentle fondling.
Ximene approached Joan. She pulled Joan from her seat. To accept a kiss from Ximene, Joan had to rise to the tips of her toes. She steadied herself by putting her arms round Ximene’s neck. Joan’s skin tingled, and her eyes opened wide in shock, for never before had she experienced physical pleasure from a woman’s touch, though she had tried several times out of curiosity. As her lips touched Ximene’s, a vibration passed through the whole of her body—genuine pleasure. She jerked back.
‘Thank you for being my sponsor,’ said Ximene.
Mischievously, she turned to kiss a tall, dark, young man, who also melted at her touch. Seconds later she focussed on a pretty blonde-haired girl, who clearly enjoyed the experience. After a deep breath, followed by a sigh, Ximene returned to Joan… ‘Can we retire to your apartment; I need some help to get out of my clothes.’
The next morning Joan awoke, bemused that for the previous twelve hours she had been totally transfixed by a young girl, eleven years her junior. Joan’s mind held a kaleidoscope of differing thoughts. Ximene, that delightful girl, was undeniably a threat to Joan’s own emerging ambitions.
Joan considered over and over how Ximene might be dissuaded from a marriage with her Prince. She found herself in a quandary, flattered that Ximene confided in her but also seeing Ximene as her most formidable rival.
At the same time, she did not want any harm to come to Ximene. After due consideration, she decided it would indeed be easier for her to influence Ximene against marrying the Prince if Ximene managed to free herself from the Comte.
She smiled within, for her enduring contact with Thierry d’Arques might just come in useful after all. Thierry d’Arques could safely transport Ximene to Sicily and his good looks and superb build, might quite possibly, be another factor to distract Ximene’s attention away from the Prince. Joan had arranged to meet with Thierry, to set things in motion.
Twelve months later, she knew or at least suspected that the Prince, her Prince, was travelling east to meet Ximene. Ximene’s escape had not taken place. Something else must be done! Tomorrow, she would leave for the Château Clermont, where she had accepted an invitation from Ximene’s grandmother to attend the Festival of the Moon. Joan planned to make Lady Eleanor see that marrying the Prince might not be in Ximene’s best interests.
But all that was for tomorrow. She heard the clatter of hooves outside the gate. The Prince had arrived! She smoothed her dress and applied some last minute rouge to her nipples. Tonight she intended to show the Prince what he would be missing if he married Ximene.
