The King of Thieves: Page 4

  Château du Bois

  The Queen waved her ladies away when Lord John Cromwell was announced. Only little Alicia was permitted to remain when Lord John and William de Bouden entered. There was no need of a chaperone with these men.

  William gave her a curious look, and she felt a cold hand clutch at her heart, suddenly fearing that somehow her husband had changed his mind and ordered her immediate return to London. But then she saw that there was an odd stillness about him, as though he was listening to Lord John with his entire soul.

  ‘Your Royal Highness,’ Cromwell began, ‘I have received some news from England. It is not all good, I fear.’

  ‘Continue.’

  ‘The King has discussed the position here with his council, and they have concluded that the best means of resolving all the issues, is for him to come here himself.’

  ‘The King? My husband will come here?’ Queen Isabella gasped. ‘But how will he do so? Will he leave the realm under the control of our son?’

  ‘My Lady, I do not know more than this,’ Lord Cromwell said. He was quiet a moment, and then looked down at the ground, frowning. ‘But …’

  The Queen maintained her silence, but motioned to Alicia to fetch the jug of wine from the sideboard. Alicia floated over the floor, a graceful figure in all she did, and soon both men were sipping from large goblets.

  Lord Cromwell pursed his lips, and then looked up with some sort of resolve in his eyes. ‘My Lady, I think you will be ordered to return to England upon his arrival.’

  Aha! she thought. ‘I fear you are right. And I shall be forced to return to my prison, guarded by those set to watch over me.’

  ‘I think that would be a great shame, my Lady. Further …’ His eyes slid towards William, and the Lord appeared to take some courage from the impassive man at his side. ‘Further, I think it would be a mistake. You are crucial to our negotiations with your brother.’

  That was why she was here. To ensure a continued peace with her brother, King Charles IV. After the little war last year, King Charles had confiscated all the English territories in France. It was Isabella’s job to try to win them all back. And she had all but succeeded. All that was needed now was for the King to pay homage to the French King for those lands which were held under feudal tenure. The rest didn’t matter. And until the King came to pay homage, the Agenais would remain under the control of the French King for now, while the courts decided what should happen to it.

  The French had set the date of the assumptio of the Blessed Virgin Mary* – one month exactly from today. That was the date when he was supposed to be here in France, to perform the formal homage at Beauvais.

  But she was sure that he would not come. He was sly, as she knew all too well; cunning enough to escape this. To perform full homage to another King would imply that he was little more than a vassal to the French. A man who might be called ‘King’, but who in reality held his crown not because it had been bestowed by God, but because he was permitted to do so by his superior. King Edward would never tolerate such a climb-down.

  ‘I shall be delighted to see my husband again, of course,’ she said carefully. Lord John was still the man set to guard her during her journey here, not selected by her, but by Despenser and her husband.

  ‘We have heard that he is to delay his journey. The date for him to meet with your brother is now to be two weeks later, on the Feast Day of St John the Baptist.*’

  The hand was at her heart again. Did he mean that she was to return at once, then? But no! That would be too cruel. She would not go yet. To voluntarily return to a prison would be …

  ‘My Lady, I do not think you should return. You should remain here. There is much still to do, and it would be wrong for you to hurry precipitately from Paris. Better that you should wait for your husband here.’

  She nodded, not allowing a smile, but as the two men backed their way from her room, she was convinced that the air in her chamber had grown musty and unwholesome. She was suddenly hot, dizzy, and she gasped, swaying, before rushing to the window, throwing the shutter wide and gulping at the air.

  ‘My Lady? My Lady, drink this!’ Alicia said urgently, passing her a goblet.

  ‘Wine, Alicia? Wine? I don’t need wine now!’ Isabella said breathlessly. ‘Do you understand? Did you see what my Lord Cromwell was saying? He has moved to our camp, Alicia. Even the head of the King’s embassy here in France has moved to support me!’

  Louvre, Paris

  His mood, always fragile, shattered when the next knock came. Sieur Hugues lifted Amélie bodily from him, stood up and hoiked his hosen up as he walked across the room to open it.

  Amélie couldn’t help but laugh as she watched him. The sight of his skinny little legs, the heavy scarlet robe, and his scowling features was enough to make her dissolve. Even when he threw a furious look in her direction, it only served to make the scene still more amusing.

  ‘What do you want?’ he bellowed at the poor boy outside.

  ‘Sir, there’s b-been a murder!’ the boy stammered, appalled at the glower on his face and petrified that he might be beaten for interrupting.

  Sir Hugues was still for a heartbeat, and then he glanced over his shoulder at Amélie, his face a picture of horror.

  She met his gaze with a blink of surprise. She had no idea why he should look so anxious. He had been here all the time.

  Furnshill, Devon

  ‘Wat! Stop that unholy racket!’

  If it were not for young Wat whistling in that tuneless, foolish manner, Baldwin de Furnshill would have been perfectly content as he sat at his table. There was much to be done here, plus he had duties as Keeper of the King’s Peace, which kept him busy. It was just good to be here, at home, with his wife. For too much of the last year he had been forced to stay away from his family, even undertaking a journey to France to protect the Queen on her way to see her brother, but now he could sit and enjoy the simpler delights of his family. Or could, if it weren’t for Wat …

  Baldwin was tempted to tell him to leave the hall – but that would not do. Wat had every right to sit at table, just as all his servants did. They were there by feudal obligation: theirs was to serve and support him, while his was to feed, house and clothe them. The responsibility of feudal law meant more, so Baldwin sometimes felt, to the lord of the manor than it did to the servants themselves.

  But it was a responsibility which he felt keenly. Any man who had given him his word and hand was fully deserving of Sir Baldwin’s reciprocation. Just as Baldwin’s own lords were deserving of his unswerving loyalty, so he was deserving of their support and protection. That was the whole basis of English law.

  So, Sir Baldwin must give all aid to the Lord of the Shire, Sir Hugh de Courtenay; through him, Baldwin must support the King himself. As must Sir Hugh. And yet Baldwin was becoming concerned that the balance of rights and responsibilities was shifting. There was a growing burden on the part of the King’s subjects – all because of Despenser. The rapacity of the man was unwholesome and no one in the country could stomach it any more – except, apparently, the King.

  Outside, once he had finished his meal, the air was still cool, and as he waited for his horse to be brought to him he stood in front of the house gazing down southwards, a tall man of some two-and-fifty years with the powerful shoulders of a trained warrior, the thick neck of a knight used to the weight of a heavy helm, and the slightly bandy legs of a man who had spent much of his time in the saddle. His dog walked to him, sitting against his leg and leaning, looking up into his eyes.

  Wolf was a handsome animal. He was heavy-boned, and black all over, apart from delightful tan colouring at his eyebrows, cheeks and ankles, with a white muzzle, paws and tip to the tail. And a large white cross on his breast. He panted all the while, as though it was ridiculously hot in the sun. Still a little anxious, he preferred to be with Baldwin at every moment. It was irritating to Jeanne on occasion, but Baldwin had always been a lover of hounds and large dogs of al
l types. He had acquired Wolf only a few weeks ago, from the Bishop of Orange, and felt honoured that the brute was so affectionate to him in such a short while.

  As he thought this, his eyes rose to the distant view again.

  ‘Husband, you are too pensive.’

  He smiled and nodded as Jeanne, his wife, joined him. From here there was a patch of grass that led to the Tiverton Road. It was a small pasture for feeding goats and occasional travellers’ horses, but Baldwin always enjoyed standing just here, in front of his door, because there was a fair view over the road. It was easier to see people approaching.

  ‘Are you worried about something?’ she said gently.

  ‘Your soft words show better than anything how well you understand me,’ he said with a dry grin, his fingers playing at the hair on Wolf’s head.

  It was easy to be happy in her company, he reflected. Jeanne was a tall, slim woman with red-gold hair, and a face that had none of the merits of classical beauty. Her nose was tip-tilted, her mouth over-wide, with a large upper lip. And yet it was the total of the imperfections that he thought made her unimaginably lovely. Added to her looks, she had a brain which was sharp and astute.

  ‘Is it the King?’

  He sighed. There was no concealing his fears with his wife, no matter how dangerous it might be to allow his concerns to become more widely known. ‘Yes. I do not know what I should do.’

  ‘What is the need to worry about it at this time?’

  ‘In case I have a man demand that I support him now. This has been brewing for many years. Our Lord, Hugh de Courtenay, has been a keen supporter of the King most of the time – but when Piers Gaveston was being hunted down in the land, it was Sir Hugh who went to try to capture him. When there have been troubles, and the Good Lord knows how often there have been in this unhappy reign, the baron has been at the forefront of the forces trying to hold the King to account.’

  ‘You are worried that he may not support the King?’ Jeanne said quietly.

  ‘It would not surprise me. And would that mean that he would demand my loyalty to him personally?’

  ‘What would you do if he did?’

  ‘I could do little. I have made my oath to Sir Hugh and his family. But I do have a higher debt of honour to the King, surely?’

  ‘I am sure you will find a balance, my husband.’

  ‘I wish I were so sure as you,’ Baldwin smiled. Then, at the sound of a short scream from inside the house, he spun round and winced. ‘I think your son wants you again!’

  ‘He can wait,’ Jeanne said with uncharacteristic sharpness. ‘What of Despenser?’

  ‘He has no oath from me,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘The man is vile. If his mother were to swallow a gold coin, he would dismember her to seek it.’

  ‘Baldwin! That’s a terrible thing to say!’ Jeanne laughed.

  He did not join her. He had not been joking. ‘I seek only to avoid any confrontation with him.’

  ‘I think that is sensible.’

  ‘Yes,’ Baldwin said, and his eyes rose to the view again. There was no one on the road, he saw.

  That was good. Because there was one man he did not wish to be called to see: the Bishop of Exeter, Walter Stapledon.

  Chapter Three

  Westminster, Thorney Island

  Sir Hugh le Despenser was in his small chamber when his clerk found the single sheet of parchment in among the pile of correspondence.

  ‘My Lord?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You have apparently acquired a property in Devon, but I cannot see exactly what this …’

  Despenser frowned and strode to the unfortunate man, snatching it from him.

  ‘It’s from Wattere,’ the clerk said helpfully.

  His master turned a look upon him that was so sour, the clerk reckoned it could have curdled milk.

  The Lord Despenser was not, in truth, looking well. His face had grown pinched and sallow in the last few weeks.

  Seeing Despenser glance at him again, the clerk turned back to his work. It was never pleasant to have the Lord’s eye upon a man. There was a wealth of suspicion in that eye, and it was dangerous to be thought of as someone who was showing too much interest in him or his affairs. There were enough men and women in the country who were now his enemies.

  But the plain fact was, Sir Hugh was a worried man. This in response to news coming in of armies being gathered over the sea, of more and more malcontents who were so disenchanted with the rule of Sir Hugh and the King that they had fled the land and were now gathering in ever larger, bolder groups in France and in other places where the King’s enemies congregated. The trouble was, almost all the world was the King’s enemy. Everyone knew that.

  There were reports almost weekly now of ships being readied for an invasion; and each time Sir Hugh would spring into frenetic action, distributing messages to the Admirals, to the Sheriffs of the coastal counties, to knights and others upon whom he felt he could count, demanding added vigilance, ordering them to send ships to sea to seek out the forces which threatened the realm, and generally over-reacting. It was a proof of his own sense of vulnerability.

  That was not all. The kingdom was unsettled. Certainly Sir Hugh had not helped matters with his single-minded pursuit of his advancement at the cost of all others. There were many who had cause to regret hearing his name. Some were impoverished, their lands and treasure forfeit to the King and now held by Despenser as reward for his loyalty. His enrichment had come at the expense of so many of the families who had chosen to set their faces against their King. Others had been broken physically, their limbs shattered until they agreed to sign away their fortunes to him, while some few were no more, their bodies concealed in shallow graves.

  But the instability which he had assisted was now growing alarming. Only this month, Robert Sapy’s deputy in Wales had been attacked in Gloucestershire. His eyes had been torn out, his legs and arms smashed, and his accounts stolen. There had been a time only a very short while ago when no man would have dared to treat such an important man in so dreadful a manner, but that time was past. Now no one was safe.

  And just as he grew alarmed to hear such stories, there was the threat of the King actually leaving the country to go to France to pay homage to King Charles IV. Sweet Christ in chains, was the man a cretin? If the King were to leave England, Despenser could not go with him. He had been promised death if he ever set foot in France. But as soon as the King left the realm, Despenser’s life wouldn’t be worth a wooden farthing.

  He barked suddenly: ‘You! Peter!’

  The clerk jumped, startled from his reverie. ‘Yes, my Lord?’

  ‘Take a message for Wattere. It is this: “Let him know”.’

  ‘Just that?’

  ‘Yes. He will know what to do,’ Despenser said. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  Peter the clerk watched him surreptitiously. The stance in many would look like that of a decisive man who was considering a new task, but Peter knew him better than most.

  He thought Despenser was trying to stop his hands from twitching with nervousness.

  Old Palace Yard, Westminster Palace

  Edward, the Earl of Chester, strode from the court where he had been practising sword-play with a master of defence, and wiped his forehead with a cloth.

  He was already showing signs of the kind of man he would become. Only twelve years old, he was powerfully built, with a long, handsome face framed by thick golden hair. His eyes showed his intelligence: quick, shrewd and observant; he was already a good judge of character. He had been made Earl only a few days after his birth, although his father had been sixteen before he was given an earldom. And it made a difference, he knew. He had inherited responsibilities and duties which most others wouldn’t have to think about until they were men.

  His other gift was that of diplomacy. Early on, he had discovered that he must develop these skills to help bridge the gap between his parents, as his father withdrew more and m
ore, growing convinced by stages that his wife was a traitor and considering deserting him.

  ‘My Lord, your father has asked that you join him,’ a servant said, panting slightly as he trotted beside the Earl.

  ‘I will go straightway to him, then,’ Earl Edward said. He took the next corridor, and in a few minutes was walking into the King’s own chamber.

  It was a magnificent room. The ceiling was white, with corbels inset, but the walls were painted with scenes from the Old Testament. Carpets lay on the floor, softening the sound of tread, while at the far end was the King’s bed. Servants stood silently. When the King lifted a hand, miraculously a goblet appeared in it, the man who had placed it there swiftly but silently returning to stand at the cupboard.

  ‘My Lord King?’ Earl Edward said.

  ‘There is no need for too much formality today,’ the King said as his son bowed low. ‘Today is a day for discussion of the problems I face.’

  ‘My King, you are universally respected …’

  ‘I am hated by many.’

  ‘Yet still respected,’ the Earl said with barely a pause.

  ‘You know the situation with France,’ the King said, ignoring his words. ‘I am caught in a cleft stick. If I do this, I lose the Agenais. If I do this, I lose all our French territories. It is intolerable! Am I not a King in my own right?’

  ‘Not in France, my Lord,’ Edward said simply.

  ‘Then I must go and abase myself before my brother-in-law. It will demean the Crown to do so before a foreign power. Can I do it and keep my royal dignity?’

  ‘I am not sure that there is a choice, my father.’

  The King did not notice the alteration in tone. A slight steeliness had crept into the Earl’s voice. This discussion was not an abstract matter to him. It affected the realm which he would one day inherit.

  ‘There is an alternative.’ The King had stepped to a window near the large fireplace, and now he stood by it reflectively, staring out over the Thames. ‘You.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Earl Edward remained where he was for the moment, gazing at his father with some perplexity.