Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) Page 9

  The Queen walked to a chair and stood behind it as though needing the support. She still had problems with her arms, he knew. They had never properly healed after the fire at Poissy, when she had been badly burned. Sweet God, that was twelve years ago now, he realised with a shock. It was fearful how time hurtled by.

  ‘Milord, I have heard dreadful rumours. Some say that there are men who wish to see me dead.’

  ‘Your Royal Highness, please …’

  ‘I believe it. That is why I bend my mind to see who could wish this thing. And I wonder, as I look about me, who could be willing.’

  ‘My Lady, I fear there are many who would be glad to see you … It is not a palatable thought, I know, but while your brother rattles his sword and lances across the Channel, many see any French men or women as possible traitors.’

  ‘Their Queen? People dare to suggest I could be faithless to my husband?’

  ‘Some people are terribly gullible.’

  ‘And you? Do you think this?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he lied smoothly.

  It was easy, this verbal fencing. Sir Hugh le Despenser had been brought up in the court of the old King, when Edward I’s powers were on the wane. To survive in his household in that period, a man had to have acute political instincts. And, under the new King, Despenser had risen to become the richest and most powerful man in the kingdom. Perhaps second to the King – but since he controlled the other man’s heart and mind, that was little qualification. A woman was no trouble after such a studenthood.

  ‘Of course,’ she continued, ‘the idea that an assassin could enter the King’s palace with the intention of murdering me is ridiculous, when there are so many guards, eh? Who is responsible for the guards posted about my chambers?’

  ‘Well, I suppose I have nominal responsibility,’ he admitted. ‘One of my men posts them.’

  ‘Ah yes. The one called Ellis, non? He is a very loyal man, I consider.’

  ‘I have none better.’

  ‘Good, because naturally, if any man were to harm me, the King of France, my brother, would never rest until the man who had ordered my death were brought to justice. He would use all his powers and wealth to hunt the man down.’

  ‘I would expect nothing else, my Lady,’ Sir Hugh said. And it was natural enough. Isabella’s death would be a grievous insult to the French Royal Family. That was the marvellous second incentive for having her removed. Not only was she a magnet for all the disaffected barons in the country, her death would make it difficult, if not impossible, for King Edward to go to France. News of Despenser’s ‘close’ relationship with the King was bruited abroad. Many would therefore conclude that the King himself might have had a hand in her death. No guarantee of safe conduct would make Edward feel secure in France.

  He smiled at her, but her next words caused his smile to disappear.

  ‘I have to say, Sir Hugh, it would be terribly sad if your protection was to fail. My brother is known to hold a grudge. Any man who plotted to harm me would be considered his own mortal and particular enemy. And I fear I may have indicated to him that you and I have not always agreed.’

  He liked the sound of that rather less. ‘I do not think I understand you.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do, Sir Hugh.’

  Her face was as cold as marble as she emphasised that word, and he comprehended perfectly. He might be wealthy, he might be powerful, but to her, his lowly birth was reason for contempt. And she had already managed to hint to her brother somehow that, were she to die, it would be down to Sir Hugh. A leaden weight settled in his belly.

  ‘And another matter,’ the lady continued, ‘one of my maids is very slapdash. I would be glad if she could be replaced.’

  ‘Then you should have mentioned it to my wife.’ He felt a rage building. The arrogance of this bitch – to try to threaten him!

  ‘I have not felt the need, milord. I leave the affair up to you. I am sure you know which lady I mean.’

  ‘I cannot imagine. The ladies-in-waiting were all carefully picked by my wife.’

  ‘One in particular is not in the same mould as these others. I would be grateful, were you to see that she was replaced by someone a little more … ah, sympathique?’

  He allowed a freezing smile to crack his features. ‘My Lady, please do not worry yourself,’ he said smoothly, pleased to see her anger and frustration.

  ‘I have a brain. I choose to use it, Sir Hugh!’

  ‘I mean no disrespect, Your Highness. It is only that if a man were to try to harm you, the guards would stop him. And this lady you refer to – we shall have her removed.’

  ‘Please do so. I would not like to have to be forced to take matters into my own hand.’

  ‘I have little experience of such things, Lady. My wife will see to it.’

  ‘Good. And you may see to the guards about me: I would have them increased. Otherwise,’ she gave a light laugh, ‘some may suggest that you could wish me to be removed.’

  ‘My Lady! Why should I want that?’

  She turned and looked him very directly in the eye. ‘We both know where we stand, I think. I am not so foolish as to believe that I am safe, but I will swear this to you: if you aid me in this, I will shield you from accusations too. My brother, the King of France, would be pleased to learn that you had helped to protect me. As pleased as he would be enraged and vengeful against any man who sought to harm me.’

  ‘But that is all I intend to do, my Lady.’

  ‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘Then we have an accord. I shall serve you as best I may, and you will keep me safe from any attacks. Yes?’

  He nodded and rose as she left, his mind in a turmoil. Was it possible that she was telling the truth – that she had managed to get a message to her brother? Of course it was! He kicked at the chair, sending it flying across the room. There were always people willing to take money to deliver messages, if the price was right. Any number of people could have done so. It was deeply irritating. But perhaps there was something to be salvaged from the mess.

  Jack must be told not to continue with this commission. Somehow, Sir Hugh must track him down and let him know that the attempt must be postponed – perhaps indefinitely. How could he call Jack off, though? Well, that was a matter for Ellis.

  ‘Ellis?’ he bellowed. ‘Get in here! Now!’

  There was one foolproof way to ensure that the Queen knew he was serious about their agreement. Dangerous, yes, but necessary if he wanted to save his own skin.

  ‘Shit! Ellis, find Jack and tell him it’s off. He can’t attack the Queen.’

  ‘How? He’s gone to ground – I’ve no idea where he is. You know, how he works, Sir Hugh. He could be anywhere right now.’

  ‘Well, find him – any damned way you can. Find him and stop him. And in the meantime, double the guards. We can’t take the risk you may miss him. He must not harm the Queen!’

  Chapter Nine

  The early hours of Wednesday before Candlemas1

  Thorney Island

  Earl Edmund sat contentedly in his chamber in the Palace of Westminster. Earlier, he had enjoyed a very pleasant evening meal. The face presented to the world by Sir Hugh le Despenser had shown his bitterness and rage, and anything that could have put that bastard in such a foul mood was balm to the Earl’s soul.

  What the reason for the long face was, Edmund had no idea. Perhaps it was the rumour of yet another attempt on his life, for there had been several in recent months. It was said that the traitor Mortimer had paid a necromancer to try to kill him by magic. Truly, Sir Hugh had very few friends in the world.

  Long may it continue, the Earl thought, yawning. There was no one whose death he would have been happier to hear about.

  Walking to his bedchamber, a small room near the King’s own chamber, he saw a shadow thrown by a torch, and stopped. There were dangers in a place like this so late at night: too many dark corridors, places of concealment in alcoves and behind drapery … and he was one man wh
o had determined to live as long as possible. His hand reached for his sword even as he saw the pale face peering down the hallway at him.

  ‘Piers! Dear God, what are you doing wandering about the place like this?’ he demanded.

  ‘Earl, my Lord, I have terrible news. Terrible!’

  Lady Eleanor de Clare walked into the Great Hall with the letters gripped in her hand, and looked to the far end, where her husband, Sir Hugh le Despenser, stood talking with one of the clerks of the Exchequer.

  They were a pasty lot, those clerks. She had never had much regard for them, what with their unhealthful complexions and their minds made up of numbers. Nothing seemed to excite them so much as finding a mistake in a colleague’s calculations, and none had the faintest idea about honourable pursuits, let alone the finer aspects of courtly love.

  Her man was a very different type altogether. Tall, handsome, and with that dangerous look in his eye, he was every inch a knight. Powerful, strong, fair of hair and with a brilliant mind that measured all he saw in a moment. He would assess a man or woman in an instant and always be right. She had seen it.

  And now he had seen her. He finished his words with the clerk, and crossed the hall to meet her in a quieter corner, away from the shouting. It was necessary here. Apart from the men calling to each other about the long marble table, the Chancery, there was also the King’s Bench and the Court of Common Pleas in this hall, and the din was appalling.

  Two men were with him – Sir Hugh always tended to have one or two henchmen with him for protection now – but he waved them away. There was no need of a guard against his own wife.

  ‘My Lady, I hope I see you well?’

  She gave the faintest of shrugs. ‘You are always considerate, my Lord. Yes, I slept well for the most part. She disturbed my slumbers a little, but not too much.’

  ‘She disturbs all,’ he said in a low voice, looking away.

  ‘She will keep up her keening about her children. Since you took them from her, I don’t think she’s slept a full night.’

  ‘You still have one of the pups in your care with her. Point out to her that he could be taken away as well, and see if that will shut her up.’

  Eleanor nodded. He was right, after all. The silly woman should have been grateful. Princess Eleanor and Princess Joan had both gone to be looked after by the Monthermers, but her eight-year-old son John of Eltham was still here.

  ‘Any news for me?’ he muttered.

  ‘Two letters,’ she replied. ‘She is not happy that I look through her correspondence and tried to keep this one secret, but I saw it.’

  ‘What does it say?’ he demanded eagerly, reaching for it.

  ‘It is a series of complaints.’ Eleanor passed the letter to her husband and spoke quietly as he glanced over the sheet. ‘She protests about her lands being taken and losing her income, she complains that all her own servants have been taken from her, and says that you have taken her husband’s love from her.’

  ‘That’s all?’ he chuckled.

  ‘She does describe the King as – what was it? Ah, yes, “a gripple miser”.’

  ‘A man who has been parsimonious towards her, but abundantly generous to another, eh? I wonder whom she could mean!’

  ‘She has demanded that her seal be returned to her.’

  ‘You have it still?’

  Eleanor took it from within her bodice, where it hung on a cord. ‘Always.’ It was understandable that the Queen should resent this latest humiliation. Eleanor was not sure how she herself would feel, were she to be kept under the supervision of another, with all her letters read, all her servants removed, her children too, her income drastically reduced, and even her private seal confiscated so that no private or personal correspondence could be sent. For a Queen, the daughter of one King and now effectively the estranged wife of another, it was a proof of how low she had sunk. She was being systematically stripped of all her assets.

  ‘With luck we shall not have to keep her much longer,’ Despenser said, smiling at her.

  But there was something in his eyes which alerted her to his real feelings. ‘My love, is something worrying you?’

  ‘She has been a nuisance at all times, and never more so than now,’ he sighed.

  ‘What has she done?’

  ‘Nothing. It is nothing.’ His thoughts were far away now, she saw. This foolish Queen was troubling him.

  ‘Is there something I can do to help?’ Eleanor asked.

  Despenser glanced back at her. ‘Dear Eleanor!’ he murmured. He would have liked to confide in her, but how could he explain?

  Ellis had already been to many of the inns and taverns where they knew Jack had stayed before, but there was no sign of the man. Even now, Ellis was riding over the Surrey side of the river in search of another tavern where they thought Jack might have billeted himself.

  The trouble was, Sir Hugh thought moodily, Jack had always insisted that he should be left alone to do his work. When he took a commission, he would fade away, sometimes for days or weeks, and it was impossible to know when or where he would strike. His attacks were inevitably successful, but this time Sir Hugh wanted to stop him – and couldn’t!

  ‘I’ll have to make sure Ellis mounts double the guards – keeps men at the Queen’s side at all times. There’s nothing else to do, if we don’t find the bastard,’ he told himself, but even as he thought it, he heard the door open and automatically bowed low, as did all others in the hall.

  Eleanor took her cue from him, removing her hand from his forearm and curtseying. Not that there was any need for her or anyone else to bother, as she knew. The King had eyes for only one person in that great chamber.

  Eleanor stood a little back as Edward walked straight to her husband, and it was only when she noticed his hand at her husband’s arm, how he kept it there affectionately and drew Despenser to his side, that she felt that niggle of jealousy once more.

  And the squirm of revulsion.

  Earl Edmund was at the rear of the room with Piers de Wrotham and Edmund’s brother, Thomas of Norfolk. The latter was slightly taller than Edmund, a fact that had never failed to annoy him.

  When they were growing up, Edmund had found his older brother’s abundant self-confidence and jokes at his expense annoying, but more recently he had grown immune to them. Ever since their joint attack and siege of Leeds Castle, there had been a mutual regard between them. Until, of course, Edmund had been sent to Guyenne to protect the Principality from the invasion of Charles Valois.

  Shit, the bastard had walked all over Edmund and his men. Whenever he demanded help from England, from Sir Hugh le Bloody Despenser, the man was too busy stealing lands and property from the legitimate owners to give a stuff. So Edmund could do nothing, just hung about twiddling his thumbs while the King lost his sole remaining territory in France. It was enough to make a man weep.

  Not that it reflected badly on the King’s favourite, of course. No shit had ever stuck to his blanket. No, instead of that it was Edmund who must bear the brunt of the King’s reproaches. As soon as he had returned to England, he had realised how the land lay. The King was sulky and uncommunicative – unless Sir Hugh was there, of course. And that jumped-up little prick was all too keen to make fun of the King’s brother.

  ‘Look at him now,’ Thomas whispered. ‘He is all over the man like a cheap tabard!’

  Edmund could not help but agree. The King was sickeningly demonstrative. It had been the same with the previous favourite, Piers Gaveston, until the barons could no longer stomach their obvious sodomy and executed Gaveston. Perhaps, with luck, the same would happen to Despenser – except that Sir Hugh had too tight a grip on the Realm’s powers, and on the King. He would not allow Edward to put himself into any form of danger. And as for journeying to France … well, Despenser would be more likely to suggest that he should fall on his own sword as let the King go there. That was what Charles demanded, though. And Despenser knew that he must do something – find some alter
native to the King travelling to Paris. Because as soon as Edward was over the water, Despenser’s life would become forfeit.

  ‘He’ll never let the King go to France,’ Edmund scoffed.

  ‘But he may permit the Queen to go,’ Piers said.

  Thomas glanced at them. ‘Eh? What was that?’

  ‘I have suggested that your brother might benefit from showing himself a better guardian of the realm than the good Sir Despenser.’

  ‘And how do you expect him to do that? The daft sod can’t even persuade a wench who’s thrown herself at him, to join him in his bed!’

  ‘That is not funny, Thomas.’

  ‘It’s true, though, Edmund. Mabilla was teasing your tarse for days, and as soon as you gave chase, the bitch screamed like a virgin. Virgin, my arse!’ Thomas snorted loudly at the joke, turning and walking away.

  It was true enough, but that didn’t make Edmund any happier to hear the tale repeated, especially not in front of his servant, but before he could respond, Piers was already speaking.

  ‘My Lord, I think that there is one way in which you might defeat Sir Hugh.’

  ‘How, in God’s name? There is nothing better suited to my tastes than to see him on the ground and squirming!’

  ‘I think that, were you to espouse the Queen’s cause more strenuously, you might injure him. Perhaps you could suggest that, before she were to leave these shores to become Ambassadress to France, she should be reestablished in her former position?’

  Earl Edmund curled his lip scornfully. ‘And how is that going to affect the Despenser swine?’

  ‘If the Queen has her lands and rights returned to her, so that if she were to go to France to negotiate with the French King, he could see that our King was treating her honourably, and that her letters to him detailing her suffering were not entirely correct, it may heal the rift between the English and French Crowns. And then a more equitable truce could be arranged. Perhaps the King might even travel to France, and all the glory of the achievement would redound to your honour, my Lord.’