Isabella: Braveheart of France (15 page)

“I heard that Mortimer paid you a visit today,” Edward says to her that night as they dine in the Great Hall.

He chooses a morsel of chicken and places it on the silver plate in front of her. Occasionally he can be very charming. “He complains about your new chamberlain.”

“His name is Hugh. You may call him by his name.”

“Whatever I call him, he will not like him any better.”

“No chamberlain I choose will be acceptable to the magnates. They are jealous of everyone.”

“It is what I said to him. But he seems greatly upset. You should take him seriously.”

“I did.”

“He said that he cannot see you anymore without your chamberlain’s permission.”

“Well I cannot talk to everyone.” He smiles. “Do you find him charming?”

“Not especially.”

“Many of the ladies do. I don’t know how Lady Mortimer suffers it.”

“Will there be war, Edward?”

“That is not my decision.”

“They should obey you. You are the king.”

“That is what I would have them understand as well.” He sighs. “I should have left Mortimer in Ireland. He was useful to me there. Now he has no one else to fight, he wants to fight me.”

***

Whatever the true reason, Mortimer is surely spoiling for a war. He joins the Marcher lords who have formed a confederacy in the west. Hereford is among them, and together they have amassed a massive army. Newport, Cardiff and Caerphilly fall and then they burn half of Glamorgan and Gloucester, ransacking every Despenser castle in their way.

Edward leaves to confront them the day Isabella goes into confinement in the Tower. He orders them to disperse and they refuse. He cannot impose his will; the forces ranged against him are too great. Once again, Edward is powerless in his own lands.

Then Mortimer and Hereford march north and join with Lancaster.

***

It is raining the day he returns from the borderlands, water is leaking through the ceilings and onto the bedclothes. When Edward sees it he summons the constable and sends him sprawling down the stairs.

“What have they done to you?” he shouts and carries her out of the room.

She clings to him. Even defeated he is still a man to be reckoned with.

“Whose drums are they?” she asks him, as he trails along the corridor looking to find her a bed that isn’t soaked through.

“Mortimer’s.”

As they pass a window he stops and shows her. They fly Edward’s Plantaganet banners even while they lay siege to his castle. The fields beyond the suburbs are an armed camp.

“My barons are threatening to burn London from Charing Cross to Westminster. Lancaster leads them. It is just like old times.”

Later that day she gives birth to a daughter. She is easier won than the others, gentle Joan. Isabella had thought little Edward would kill her; she had heard a lion roar in the king’s menagerie when he was born. When Joan comes, there is just the warbling of doves in the apple trees below the tower.

Chapter 27

“My Lord Pembroke.”

Pembroke has a new wife, and is just recently returned from France. He had hopes to spend the summer starting a new son and heir but instead here he is again, trying to mend fences between his king and his lords.

He bows, all grace and inexhaustible patience. No wonder Edward forgave him for Gaveston. “Your grace, I was overjoyed to hear the news that you were safely delivered of a daughter.”

“Thank you, my lord Pembroke. And I believe I should congratulate you also, on your new wife. You have chosen well.” Indeed, her grandfather had been Henry the Third. “We are glad to see you safely returned.”

“I wish we had come back to England at a more fortunate time.”

“You have spoken to the Marchers? Perhaps you might ask them to remove themselves from London.”

“Well, your grace, that is why I am here.”

“They wish my husband to forego his new chamberlain. What does he say to that?”

“He does not seem well disposed to it.”

“Would you, if you were king?”

“There is one who might bring him to see the sense in it.”

“And who is that?”

Pembroke smiles. There is a wealth of meaning in his every expression and she now understands what he is here for. She hands young Joan to Lady Vescy and begs them all leave her in peace with Lord Pembroke.

“I cannot ask it of him,” she says when they are alone.

“You must.”

“He is King of England. No one ever asked my father to exile any of his advisers.”

“Your father never allowed any one man to so dominate his affairs.”

Isabella stares at Pembroke--a shrug here, a puff of the cheek there. Everything he does is an appeal for accommodation among reasonable men in a kingdom where such a man does not exist. And so he has come to her.

“He will hate me for it.”

“On the contrary, it will help him save face. If you plead on behalf of England, he can acquiesce and not lose his honour.”

“This is rebellion.”

“They claim they march under the king’s banner. They say it is Despenser they wish removed, not the King.”

Isabella considers: if she does this, it will make her pre-eminent. Should he listen to her at such a time it will prove to her, and to him, that she is indispensable. Isn’t that what she wants?

Isn’t this what he needs?

“It is the only way out of this for us all,” he says.

She nods. He is right. She will try.

***

“No,” Edward says. “I have made a vow. I shall never give in.”

She sees the pleading in his eyes. He wants a way out of this, but he also wants to win. He has never won before, and he is so tired of losing; losing to the Bruce, losing to the barons, losing to his dead father.

She sees that Mortimer was wrong about the Despenser. It is not the same as it was with Gaveston. This time it is the principle of the thing.

He stamps from his throne and waves a document at her, at his entire court, evidently it comes from Lancaster. “He says my chamberlain bars my magnates from my presence, that he alienates me from my people. To which people do you think he refers? This from a man who sets himself up at his castle like a foreign prince in my place!”

Edward is so angry he is frothing. He throws the document in the rushes where a secretary rushes to retrieve it. We cannot have the dogs sniffing at the correspondence.

“Mortimer says he wants my chamberlain and his father and all their servants gone from my palace or he will relinquish his homage and set up another in my place. That is treason!”

He is wild-eyed. The Despenser - and for all this talk about Young Hugh, he is in truth several years older than Edward - moves to console him, places a hand on his arm and begs forbearance, but the king brushes him away.

“You wish me to negotiate with traitors?”

There is a silence in the Great Hall. Even Pembroke is cowed by Edward’s temper. But he manages: “Your grace, I beg you. He perishes on the rocks he that loves another more than himself.”

It is at this moment that Isabella rushes forward and falls to her knees in front of him, before Pembroke, before the king’s bishops, before the king’s court. “My Lord, they threaten to depose you and put Lancaster on the throne. I beg you, make this sacrifice for the sake of the people.”

Edward sees her on her knees and is astonished. “The people?”

“It is the people of England who need this peace. Do not do it because of their army, do not do it for fear of their arrogance and their infidelity. Do it to spare us from tyrants. Do it for England.”

Edward sees his salvation. He takes her gently by the arm and raises her to her feet. “You do not have to do this,” he whispers.

“But you do.”

She sees the Despenser glaring at her over her husband’s shoulder.

“He does not love you like I do.”

He knows whom she means. “What do you suggest?” he says.

“Play for time. If you will fight, you must fight on your own terms. That time is not here, and it is not now.”

He leads his queen to the dais and sits her again on her throne. He bends his knee and kisses her hand. Pembroke raises an eyebrow, impressed. Even the bishops smile. Everyone seems relieved but the young Despenser, and he no longer matters to her now.

***

Edward summons Mortimer and Lancaster and Hereford and the rest to Westminster Hall. He sits stony faced on the throne and tells them that the Despensers will be sent away within the month. Lancaster grins and claps Hereford on the back. He does not even have the grace to appear magnanimous. Only Mortimer betrays no expression, he catches Isabella’s eye just once and she looks away.

The earls all fall then on their knees and he pardons them for what they have done. His voice shakes. He sounds as if he is going to choke on a bone.

That night he comes to her bed but he does not blow out the candle and he does not try to caress her. He lies quite still in the darkness and when she reaches for him he squeezes her hand and holds it to his chest.

“You must help me,” he says.

“Anything. What is it you wish?”

“This cannot stand.”

“You did what you must. There will be another day.”

“You have said this to me before but I am tired of waiting for the right moment. This time I must make the right moment.”

“You have a plan?”

“Just say you will do it.”

“My loyalty to you is absolute.”

“Good,” he says and rolls on his side and sleeps. She lies awake, staring into the darkness.

Chapter 28

There is a mist on the river and the way is lit by torches. The clip of their horse’s hooves are muted by the fog. Though it is summer it is cold tonight, the landing chosen because so few eyes can see them.

The ship is pulled up at a long jetty and she and Edward are escorted aboard. She wrinkles her nose at the reek of mud. There is planking laid across to the deck, and her ladies help her across it. She is wrapped in a long-hooded cloak. She sees rough-looking men without uniforms stare back at her.

The Despenser does not look as he did when he was the king’s chamberlain. He has a thin beard now and rough clothes and shouts orders as if he has been a privateer all his life. The king’s chamberlain now makes his way in the world by running this pirate ship out of Bordeaux. He has recently plundered a Genoese vessel and helped himself to five thousand pounds in treasure. Whatever else they say about him, he knows how to make a living.

They go below to a cabin, dim lit with oil lamps and candles. He gets out the wine. She refuses, but the king doesn’t.

He outlines his plan and the king is enthusiastic. They look to her. She agrees, for she has given her word to the king that she will do it. She wants to see him win, and if she must use this silken ruffian to do it, then so be it.

***

Isabella and Edward return to the Tower just before dawn. The fog has cleared, apparently at the king’s command, and as they enter the Watergate, the white tower shines in the moonlight. She hugs the cloak tighter around her shoulders.

“He is no threat to you, Isabella.”

“I have your word?”

“You are my queen. No one can ever replace you.”

His hand reaches for hers. She is reassured and all doubts are cast aside.

Chapter 29

Leeds Castle, Canterbury, Kent

The wake made by a pair of white swans ripples the black lake around the castle. Helmeted men watch them from the crenulated towers. Isabella leans from her litter, her breath clouding on the damp evening air. Her sergeant races to attend her.

“You sent word ahead, requesting lodging?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Then why are the gates not open to us?”

“Lord Baddlesmere is not inside, your grace.” She knows this: he is with Mortimer and Lancaster, had joined the conspiracy against the King, though he hardly had choice in the matter as his daughter is married to Mortimer’s son. His absence was the reason Edward sent her here, though the rest of the world thinks she is on a pilgrimage to Canterbury.

“Lady Baddlesmere has told the escort that her husband left her firm orders to permit entrance to no one.”