29 - The Oath (23 page)

Malicious courtiers were happy to drip poison in the King’s ear. They pointed out that the Queen was herself French. She would support a French invasion, naturally. And her lands in Devon and Cornwall would provide the perfect location for an invasion force. To prevent this, her lands were sequestered, her income confiscated, her children, all of them, taken from her and placed in the protective custody of Lady Eleanor, Sir Hugh le Despenser’s wife; the Queen’s own worst enemy.

As soon as a chance presented itself, she fled to France, and began to raise her own force to wrest the kingdom from Despenser’s control.

Queen Isabella stood and clapped her hands. A steward arrived with jug and goblets, and soon Sir Ralph was sniffing a good, strong wine that made his mouth water.

She looked to the steward and nodded. Immediately, all the servants left the tent, and there was only the Queen and Sir Ralph. Instantly he felt more endangered than before.

‘So, Sir Ralph. I am glad to know that you are here.’

‘Where are the friars?’

She waved a hand in an impatient gesture. ‘They are safe and comfortable. Doing what they were sent here to do – to haggle. They are like a farmer who seeks the best price for his bushel of wheat, dickering for a day, while other men agree a price in the morning and enjoy the use of the money in the afternoon. Your friars are quibbling over details. Nothing more.’

‘They were to negotiate with you, Your Highness.’

‘They have seen me, and now they see my negotiators. Later, I shall speak with them again, perhaps. For now, they serve me better by meeting with others while I speak with you.’

‘What would you say to me?’

‘These friars, they came from my husband?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘How is he?’

Sir Ralph considered. ‘Hale and hearty. He has the heart of a lion.’

She smiled. ‘So, he is very anxious? Worried?’

‘I . . .’

‘Do not answer and forswear yourself, good sir knight. It does not suit you. You will not tell me that my husband is weak and worried, I can understand. Instead, tell me, how is the good Sir Hugh? Is he still as full of bile?’

Sir Ralph knew as well as any that Sir Hugh le Despenser was the primary cause of her leaving the country. He grinned. ‘I think you would be pleased to see him,’ he said.

‘Ah,’ she said, and chuckled. ‘If only that fool were here. So! You know that my husband is attempting to demand that all those with him should be spared. He wishes for safe custody for Sir Hugh and others. Yes, of course you know. Well, I think you also know the answer as well as any.’

‘You will not permit Sir Hugh to live.’

It was not a question. Her feelings towards Sir Hugh were clear in her eyes. When she mentioned his name, it appeared to burn her lips like acid, and her face momentarily lost its beauty.

‘Allow him to live?’ she said quietly. ‘I will give no such undertaking. Good men have died in the last days. You know Bishop Stapledon? Even though I had reason to deprecate his behaviour in recent years, I admired him. Yet the London mob hacked off his head and sent it to me. I received it at Gloucester. Poor man! Many others have been dispossessed, robbed or killed, and all because of the arch-felon Despenser. No, I will not permit him to live. He is a danger to the entire realm. His greed is without bounds.’

‘I am sad to hear that,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘You know that the King will not submit without his friend’s protection.’

‘It is sad. I am desolate at it myself. Because my husband
will
submit. He cannot survive – there is nowhere for him to go. The kingdom will not support him, for all know that I only came to remove Despenser and return to my husband’s side.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘You are here to remove the King from his throne.’

‘Would you blame me?’ she said. ‘He has taken my children from me and installed my daughters in the protective care of Despenser’s wife. Poor John is in London, I think, but all the while I was here, my children were alienated from me. So – I ask you again: would you blame me?’

‘He is the King, Your Majesty. Blame matters nothing. It is clear that you wish to end his reign.’

‘And if I do?’ she asked coquettishly. She turned from him and walked towards the middle of the tent. As she spoke, her voice was quieter, and he was forced to approach her again. ‘If I do, and place a Regent in charge of the kingdom until my son should be old enough to take the crown for himself, what would be so wrong about that? I love my son, Sir Ralph. I love him dearly, and would do all I may to protect his inheritance.’

‘The King has been anointed by God,’ Sir Ralph said with a shrug. ‘When he is dead, I will serve his son as I have him: loyally.’

‘Ah, but you will not hasten that moment?’

Sir Ralph felt the blood wash from his face. There was a tingling sensation in his belly at what he thought he had heard. ‘You suggest I should kill my King?’ he said with a hushed horror.

She spun round to face him, alarm in her eyes. ‘Kill him?
Kill
my husband? No, no, never!’ she said emphatically. ‘I wish only to see him surrender so that we can protect the nation and prevent any more bloodshed. Did you think I could ask such a thing as murder?’

‘My lady, I am truly sorry,’ he said, kneeling again. ‘I misunderstood. It was my error, and I am deeply sorry for it.’

‘Do not abase yourself,’ she said, and there was a tinge of exhaustion in her voice now. ‘I am not so surprised that any would think that I could plot such a happening. But what? Would it help me to have my husband killed? No! My son would hate me, and I would hate myself. I gave myself to my husband. I would not commit petit treason against him. Not for anything. But what should I do? Despenser is a devil who has bewitched my husband, and now I must force him to leave the King’s side. Is this reasonable? Why should I have to do this?’

‘My lady, perhaps if you were to permit him to escape to Ireland, insist that his exile be permanent, then Sir Hugh might flee.’

‘You do not know the man, do you?’ she said sadly. ‘Come, you shall have to leave soon to take your charges back to the King. Finish your wine and be gone. And Godspeed, Sir Ralph. I hope we may meet again in calmer times.’

‘I too, my lady. Your Highness,’ he said, backing from the room, bowing as he left.

Outside, he took a deep breath, and wondered what the woman would do. Well, it was none of his concern. He had other matters to deal with. He could see Bernard sitting on a portable trough, and bent his steps towards him, but all the way he was considering the Queen and her words. It was troubling to see her in such clear distress. And all knew who had driven her to this final act of despair.

He could almost pity Sir Hugh le Despenser, for when the Queen captured him, his end would not be good.

Bristol

Baldwin woke with a curse on his lips. During the night a flea or similar malevolent creature had found its way to him, and now he had a series of lumps on his back that itched like the devil.

The house was a large one in a part of the city that had once been the Temple lands, and he had been struck with a strong sense of nostalgia as he rode this way with Redcliffe last evening. They had left the tavern while it was still just light, before the gates were closed against all intruders, and made their way southwards into the warren of little streets and lanes that made up the Temple area.

They had passed through this suburb on the way to the bridge, but seeing it in the morning light, Baldwin could understand why the merchant had decided to take him for drinks in the city itself. Last afternoon they had all been too tired to pay attention to the buildings about them. Now, as he stood in the stables over the road, Baldwin looked about him without favour.

‘I don’t suppose that Master Redcliffe is a very successful merchant,’ was Jack’s opinion when he saw Baldwin. He was grooming their mounts as he did each morning.

‘I think you could be right,’ Baldwin said. He noticed that Wolf was looking well-groomed as well, and he glanced at Jack, but the boy was concentrating on the horses.

Later, when their host brought them bread and some cold cuts of meat, he offered them his apology. ‘I did tell you I had lost everything when my ship sank. My creditors demanded all that I owed immediately afterwards, and I was forced to sell my house and gardens within the city. I am no longer a burgess, but at least I am fortunate to have my health and this little home.’

‘It is a good size,’ Baldwin commented.

‘Much smaller than the last, I fear. That was large, and with an excellent stables. I used to help the King to import horses from a Galician stud. Excellent, they were, too. I lost four magnificent destriers on my last ship. They were worth a lot of money.’ Thomas sighed at the memory.

The house had a goodly-sized hall, and behind it was a yard with some outbuildings, in which he hoped to store goods when he could buy space on a ship and try to return to his past career. For now, he relied on his wife to maintain the house while he worked on recovering his fortune.

‘If war comes,’ Baldwin said, ‘what then?’

‘There is always money to be made for a man with determination,’ Redcliffe said, but his voice was tired, and Baldwin thought he looked as though he had been knocked down so often that the prospect of another fight was too daunting for him.

Redcliffe was sitting on a small chair, and he looked up as his wife, Roisea, went to his side. He put his arm about her waist as he spoke, and smiled up at her now. It eased the lines of concern at his brow. They were much in love, from the look of them, Baldwin thought, and at that moment, Roisea was tugged, protesting, on to her husband’s lap. She leaned forward to kiss him enthusiastically, as if the two were alone in that chamber.

‘I am sorry, Sir Baldwin,’ Thomas said after a few moments. He grinned at his wife as she sprang from him and stood at his side once more.

She squeaked as he tried to encircle her waist again, moving out of his reach. ‘Husband,’ she chided, ‘your guest hardly knows where to look!’

‘You’re right, my love,’Thomas said. ‘So, Sir Baldwin, if real war comes here, I shall sell and trade whatever I may once more. As I say, there is always money for a man who is bold enough.’

Baldwin nodded, unconvinced. ‘There are often more men with determination who possess weapons and help themselves to all that they can,’ he pointed out. He did not want to say so, but there were enormous risks for young women like Madame Redcliffe. She was a short, but slender woman in perhaps her middle twenties, with a round face that was particularly attractive. She had a pale, peach-coloured complexion, lovely clear blue eyes, a broad, intelligent forehead, and full, soft lips that seemed made for smiling.

In many ways, she was the picture of desirability, and yet Baldwin could think only of his own wife, so many miles away, surely worrying about him and what he might be doing. He missed her, his lovely Jeanne. He had loved her since the first moment he had set eyes upon her in Tavistock all those years ago.

He looked again at Roisea and this time saw the fear in her eyes, while her mouth smiled.

‘Madame Redcliffe,’ he said gently, ‘I am most grateful for the use of your room.’

‘I am at your service, Sir Baldwin. It is very kind of you to honour us with your company, when you could have rested in any of the inns in the city itself.’

‘But such inns would not have so charming a hostess,’ Baldwin said with a slight bow.

‘You will stay with us a little?’

Baldwin glanced at her husband. ‘I fear I must return to my own home. My wife will be missing me, and I would prefer to be there in case of unrest.’

‘It is difficult when you have responsibilities,’ she said, and threw a look at her husband that Baldwin could not comprehend.

Women were so difficult to understand – he had spent too much of his youth in the convent without female companionship.

‘You will stay one day, at least?’ Redcliffe said. ‘I wouldn’t want to think you had to set off so soon, without any rest.’

Baldwin could feel Jack’s eyes on him as he said politely, ‘I am most grateful to you, Master Thomas, but no. I must return. At this time, I have a responsibility to my wife, but also to the King.’

‘You are a supporter of the King, then?’ Roisea asked. Her lips were parted, as though she awaited his answer with an especial keenness.

It was not a question he had expected, and Baldwin felt his brow crease in a fleeting frown. ‘I have given my oath to him, and I owe him my service as my Lord. Just as any knight must who holds lands from the King.’

‘You are a man of honour,’ Redcliffe said, pushing his wife away so that he could reach the food. ‘Come, Sir Baldwin, please eat.’

Bristol Castle

In the castle, Robert Vyke was happy to find that he was not to be held in one of the cells. All too often, as he knew, a city’s castle would contain the very best facilities for holding men – cold, damp chambers near the moat, plenty of smiths keen to show their skills at producing fetters of different types, and quite a lot of men who were equally enthusiastic about methods of enquiry involving the use of hot metal and pliers.