The Traitor's Wife (31 page)

“Lord Despenser, the king will see you now.”

“What is the meaning of this, Hugh?”

The king and Hugh were alone in the room. The king was not shouting; in fact, his voice was very soft, his face composed. It was a tactic the first Edward had used on occasion too, Hugh now remembered. For the first time he felt a twinge of fear. Might the king really send him to the Tower?

The king's question had been purely rhetorical. He was going on, “I shrugged off your fool stunt with Tonbridge Castle. I've never tried to collect your fine for your assault on John de Ros. I've been extraordinarily patient with your escapades regarding Wentloog. But now you take a man out of my own Tower and execute him, without seeking my permission! You've presumed too long on my good nature, Hugh.”

“That was not my intent, your grace. I've my reasons—”

“Oh, I'm sure you do, sir.”

“Will you not let me explain myself?”

Edward shrugged. “Explain away.”

Hugh did, justifying his execution of Llywelyn Bren much as he had in his conversation with Eleanor. Then for good measure, baffled by the king's stony silence, he explained why the men of Wentloog would clearly be happier and better for staying in Hugh's lordship of Glamorgan. The king seemed scarcely to listen, and his face had taken on a peculiar, far-off look. He interrupted Hugh in mid-sentence and said in the same quiet voice, “The truth is, Hugh, you sought to make a fool of me.”

“No! Nothing of the sort.”

“You lie.” The king was even quieter, and he had moved so close that Hugh felt compelled to step back.

“Your grace, this serves for naught. I meant no such thing. But I was rash and thoughtless, and I humbly beg your pardon. Tell me what my punishment shall be, and I shall abide by— Christ!”

The king had knocked Hugh to the floor, and when Hugh struggled to rise, he hit him again. Hugh, dazed, fell back, and the king rolled him over on his belly. “You have sought to master me, Hugh, and you miscalculated. It is I who shall master you.”

Hugh, his face pressed into the rushes on the floor, felt his drawers being tugged down. He struggled, but the king was tall and muscular, and he was like a man possessed besides. He heaved against Hugh, groaning and muttering unintelligibly.

Then his movements abruptly stopped. Hugh felt the weight lift off him, then heard the king give a great sigh. “I can't force you, Hugh. Forgive me.” The king pulled him to a sitting position and gently touched his face. “I've hurt you, I see. Let me get you some wine.”

He guided Hugh to a seat and poured some nearby wine into a gold cup, from which Hugh sipped slowly as the king made encouraging sounds. Finally he recovered his breath and gasped, in as cool a tone as he could muster, “Is this your new method of bringing your barons into line, Edward? If so, you'll find it inefficient, and perhaps disagreeable when some like Lancaster are concerned. Perhaps you should consider delegating this task.”

Edward looked more closely at his forehead. “There'll be a bruise, but I don't think it will be a very bad one. Do you wish to leave? You may now.”

Hugh stood up gingerly, and the world began sliding around. Only the king's arm stopped him from falling. “I can't be seen like this.”

“Then lie on my bed and rest.”

Obediently, Hugh let the king help him onto his great bed and lay down. The dizziness eased when he closed his eyes, so he shut them and felt himself drift off. Then he woke to find a cool cloth on his forehead. His boots had been taken off, and someone sat next to him, stroking his hand. The room was dim. “How long have I been here?”

“Hours; it is quite late. I gave word out that you had taken ill and would be resting in my chambers.”

Hugh snorted. “That's one way to put it.” He sat up, relieved to find that doing so caused him no difficulty. “With your grace's permission, I will retire now. I trust I look fit to be seen?”

“You do, and you may retire if you wish. But I wish you would stay. I love you, Hugh.”

“
Love
me?”

“I have loved you for years.”

Hugh gestured toward the gold cup. The king let him take a gulp, then continued, “I've kept it hidden well, haven't I? I've fought this for so long, because I knew it could bring me no good. But the years went on and the angrier you made me, the more I loved you. Finally there was the business of Wentloog, and Llywelyn Bren, and I could stand it no more. That's why I brought you here, to master you for once and for all, as I've said. But you see, it didn't work. I love you too much for that.” He shook his head. “I want you willing, Hugh.”

Hugh drained the cup, and the king poured him another one. “Damory? Audley? Montacute?”

“Dear friends, Hugh, no more. I've been with but one man in my life, and you know full well who that was. If you were to be the second, it would give me indescribable joy, and there would be nothing in this world I would not do for you.”

“Have you forgotten I am married to your niece? Your favorite niece?”

“No, Hugh. I have thought of my niece, and that thought has stopped me in what I am asking you now many, many a time. I would not hurt Eleanor for the world. Neither would you. But she cannot be hurt if she does not know, and I assure you I have no intentions of letting her know. I can be discreet, as you can.”

“There is the small matter of the Church.”

“The Church! Fine words from a pirate. Gaveston guessed the truth about those trips of yours long ago.”

“I haven't done that in years.”

“Once a pirate, always a pirate, Hugh. Don't turn righteous on me now.”

“The queen…”

“
You
to worry over the queen! Leave that to me.”

Edward was laughing now; Hugh's protests had begun to take on an encouragingly formalistic turn. “I won't know what to do, how to please you.”

“I shall teach you, as Gaveston and I taught each other.” He stroked Hugh's hair. “But we were naught but two clumsy boys at first, and it will be different for you and me.” He shuddered. “Not as it was earlier, I promise you that. That was unforgivable of me. It shall be beautiful.”

Hugh sighed. “Might I at least have some more wine to fortify myself?”

Edward smiled. “All the wine you want, and the cup too.”

The sun woke Edward, and he turned to look for Hugh beside him. He was still there, sleeping soundly. Edward smiled. From the copious amount of wine Hugh had consumed the night before, it was unlikely that he would wake soon. Edward reached out and stroked Hugh's hair, too gently to wake him, noticing for the first time that its darkness was relieved by reddish tints, almost as if he had absorbed some of Eleanor's bright red tresses. So much he had learned about his lover, but there was still so much to find out… He trembled with the very joy he was feeling. Not since a morning in his sixteenth year of life, the morning after he and Gaveston, drunk and laughing, had fumbled each other's clothes off and discovered, to their astonishment, that they could be so much more than brothers to one another, had Edward felt so utterly happy.

He was fond of Audley, Damory, and Montacute, the more so because he knew his fondness for them irritated Lancaster, but theirs had never been a physical relationship; it had never occurred to him to take one of them to bed, and if one of them had offered, the king probably would have refused. There had been no one, man or woman, who could arouse in the king the depth of the love he had borne for Gaveston. No one, until now.

He kissed the head that he had been stroking and smiled again, thinking of the game he had played last night with Hugh, making him remove one item of clothing each time he finished a cup of wine. Hugh had gotten down to his shirt before the king, able to bear no more, had called the game to a halt and begun undressing him himself. With enough wine in him, Hugh had not needed as much guidance as the king had anticipated, nor had the enjoyment of the pair been one-sided. The cries of pleasure that had emanated from behind the bed curtains had not all been Edward's, and they had not been pretended. Edward had been sleeping with Isabella long enough to recognize a sham when he saw one.

He pulled Hugh against his chest and listened to his heart thumping against his. Hugh slept on, and the king did not care that his arm was growing numb under the pressure of his companion's weight. He could have stayed there forever, cherishing his new love.

At last Hugh awoke. He started to find his head resting on the shoulder of the king, then flushed as he remembered why he was there. His embarrassment only endeared him more to Edward. “Did you sleep well, Hugh?”

“Yes, but my head is killing me, and my body aches like a maiden's after her wedding night.”

“There will not be pain next time,” Edward promised. He paused. “Hugh, there will be a next time, won't there?”

“Yes, Edward.”

Edward's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank God.” He pulled Hugh closer and spoke into his hair. “You won't regret having my love, Hugh. You shall be as my brother, shall share all with me. Nor shall your family suffer. I will love my sweet niece Eleanor all the more for knowing that we both love you. And perhaps"—a certain wistfulness had crept into the king's voice— “you will come to love me too.”

“Perhaps.”

“And now, dear one, get dressed before I call my men in. I shall order us something to break our fast"—Hugh shook his head vigorously—"to break my fast then, and some ale for you to help your poor head. And we shall discuss Wentloog.”

Hugh the elder did not understand it, but his son and the king had emerged from their conference on the best of terms. Hugh the younger appeared before the king and his council and swore that he had withdrawn from Wentloog and released all of those whose oaths he had taken, and the lands were taken into the king's hands, pending future discussion of their disposition. The matter of Llywelyn Bren seemed to have been forgotten altogether, at least by those present at Westminster. What had his boy and the king said to each other? Hugh the elder wondered. He was somewhat hurt by his son's failure to confide in him, but as he had browbeaten Hugh so much about the matter, perhaps it was only to be expected that Hugh would be so closemouthed. At any case, the worst he had expected had not come to pass, so he was not wont to complain.

In Wales, Eleanor felt similarly relieved when a messenger arrived to let her know that her husband was well and would soon be on his way back to Wales, after he stopped to visit his ailing younger sister. Before Hugh arrived, however, she was much puzzled over the unexpected arrival of a cart groaning with gifts from the king: tuns of wine, fine cloth, even a barrel of sturgeon. This was an excessive outburst of avuncular affection even from the king, Eleanor thought, and then she smiled. The king was obviously anxious to let her know that Hugh had not offended him.