Mathilde 02 - The Poison Maiden (35 page)

‘John Highill?’ Isabella murmured.

‘Ah, yes.’ I pointed at Guido. ‘I have talked about what you planned. Let me return to what you did. A hideous mistake, Master Guido. I tricked Langton into revealing the name of John Highill, an old chancery clerk who ranted strangely and was closeted in Bethlehem Hospital. Apart from the king, Lord Gaveston and my mistress, only you, the queen dowager and Langton knew about my discovery. Highill died mysteriously at the hands of a supposed Franciscan nun. A matter of logic, Master Guido! That nun was either you or your mistress. Cowled and hooded, in the dark, with your talent for mime, you visited Highill. He liked his wine and you mingled a poison in it. Highill died. You cleansed the cup, stole his possessions and slipped away.’

‘I was ill here in Burgundy Hall!’

‘You were well enough,’ I scoffed. ‘And as you said, you are the queen dowager’s messenger, who could wander as he wished. Indeed, who would notice? Who would care?’ I paused. ‘The queen dowager comes and goes, sweeping in and out; who would notice the veiled lady-in-waiting carrying her baby sons, perhaps? Who would suspect it was Guido the Psalter? And if you were found missing from your sick-bed? Well, Guido has gone for a walk.’

Guido made to object.

‘You’re a killer,’ I insisted, ‘you dispatched those assassins against myself and Demontaigu. You, her,’ I jabbed a finger at Margaret, ‘and Marigny. We troubled you, didn’t we? You tried to find out what we knew! You wanted to stop our prying and snooping! Slit our throats! An unfortunate incident out on the heathland! A clerk and his maid barbarously slain by footpads!’

‘And Agnes d’Albret? Isabella’s voice was harsh.

‘Agnes,’ I replied, ‘was dangerous. Friendly with my Lord Gaveston, on whose wife she spied, she may have become suspicious. She may have noticed anomalies and contradictions but had little proof, or the status, to make any allegation. She even asked me if I’d observed anything wrong. Agnes first wanted to be safe, to find refuge in my mistress’ household. She fell under suspicion, so she was dispatched on a simple errand to Marigny, who knew what to do: seize her and send her as swiftly as possible back to France!’

Guido rose to his feet, not threatening but rather awkwardly. The queen dowager tried to grasp his wrist but he knocked her hand away.

‘Madam,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘this is finished. We must follow our own paths. I have,’ he bowed respectfully to Isabella, ‘a commission from your august father. I, Pierre Bernard, commonly known as Guido the Psalter, am a member of King Philip’s secret council, a special envoy carrying your father’s personal seal. I lie within the jurisdiction of the power of France. If charges are to be brought, I demand—’

Isabella raised a hand. ‘No more, no more,’ she murmured. ‘We expected as much. Go, sir, but as you pass through the hall of attendance, do tell the earls Pembroke and Lincoln that,’ she smiled falsely, ‘you are hastening to join my Lord Marigny at his lodgings elsewhere in this palace. As God lives, my father will know soon enough about you. I bid you adieu.’

Surprised, Guido gauchely bowed to both Isabella and Margaret, smirked at me and left.

‘And you, dearest kinswoman.’ Isabella’s voice thrilled, and once again I realised how consummate a mask-wearer she truly was. She disliked her aunt intensely and now made this obvious.

‘I am the queen dowager.’

‘So you are, and so you will remain, madam.’ Isabella rose. ‘You and your children will be taken back to one of your residences. Preferably,’ she mocked, ‘as far away as possible from me, but close enough to some mouldering relic. You can babble about them, visit the shrines, but this time it will be genuine, not a cover for your intriguing. As for my father,’ Isabella clicked her tongue, ‘you can tell him whatever you like. However, this charade of my husband, Gaveston, me and the power of France is all ended. I am Edward of England’s queen, crowned and anointed, the mother of future kings. Oh, go!’ She sat down, her voice weary. ‘In God’s name, madam, go! My husband sees no advantage in publicising your disgrace or humiliating you.’

Margaret rose, sketched a bow, glared hatefully at me and swept from the chamber. Isabella patted the stool beside her as I returned from closing the door. For a while we sat in silence. I went to speak. Isabella took a ring from her finger and pressed it into my hands.

‘A gift,’ she whispered, eyes smiling, ‘one my mother gave me. I now give it to you, Mathilde, with my love.’ She put her finger to her lips and walked over to a window. She stood there for a while, then put her face into her hands and stood, shoulders shaking. I made to rise.

‘No,’ she whispered without turning, ‘no, let me weep for what is, for what has been, but above all for what could have been.’ She continued to stand staring through the window.

There was a loud knock on the door. Isabella made a sign. I hastened to open it. Demontaigu stepped through. He was dressed in black leather jerkin and breeches. I noticed the blood-stains on his high-heeled boots. He placed his war belt on the floor and knelt.

‘Your grace.’

‘Is it done?’ Isabella asked without turning.

‘As you said,’ Demontaigu replied. ‘Pierre Bernard, known as Guido the Psalter, was intent on rejoining Lord Marigny. Lincoln and Pembroke will bear witness to that. No servant of this kingdom would seize him, but we were waiting.’

Isabella glanced bleakly over her shoulder at him.

‘My brethren and I were just beyond the gateway, Ausel and the rest. Guido the Psalter came swaggering out like a cock in a yard. We surrounded him. We gagged his mouth and bound his hands. No one noticed. I don’t think anyone really cared.’

‘And?’

‘We took him into the northern meadow just beyond the Great Ditch on Tothill Lane. We released his bonds and accused him of being what he was, a spy, a traitor and an assassin. At first he pleaded, but then accepted his fate. We allowed him to confess and took him over to a tree stump. Ausel cut his head off. He and the brothers have taken his corpse to the House of the Crutched Friars for burial. I sent money for the requiem mass. Madam,’ Demontaigu declared, ‘Bernard deserved his death. He brought it on himself.’

‘Thank you.’ Isabella turned away. ‘Please,’ she glanced swiftly over her shoulder, ‘please wait outside.’

Demontaigu rose, bowed, nodded at me and left. Only when the door closed did Isabella walk back; even then the lengthening shadows concealed her tear-streaked face.

‘This charade is over. I am queen; let Gaveston have his day. My husband will concede to the Lords through bribes, concessions and intimations of what Philip of France really intended, which will turn their hearts back to their king. We will move to Windsor. I will persuade Edward to let Gaveston go into honourable exile, perhaps with my Lord Mortimer, the king’s lieutenant in Ireland.’ She sighed. ‘Of course, Gaveston will return, but believe me, Mathilde de Clairebon – or should I say Mathilde of Westminster? This charade will end. Oh yes, I remember the maxim: never go to war unless you have to, never fight a battle unless you are going to win. However, on a day of my choosing, at a time of my choosing, at a place of my choosing, I, Isabella, will end this charade for good!’

Most of what Mathilde has written here about the crisis of spring 1308 is founded on fact, be it Philip IV, the French envoys in England, Gaveston’s warrior skills, as well as his penchant for nicknames! Mathilde’s description of Winchelsea and the leading earls is also accurate. Edward II’s character is faithfully reflected in contemporary chronicle accounts, whilst Philip IV and his minions were dark, sinister souls. Edward II did prevaricate about the Templars. New Temple Church can still be visited and the effigies on the floor carefully examined. Relics were very important in the Middle Ages. The monks of Glastonbury did ‘discover’ the bodies of Arthur and Guinevere, whilst the sacred blood at Hailes Abbey was venerated up until the Reformation. On the sacred cloths, see
The Burial Cloths of Christ
by Mark Guscin (CTS Publications). One of these cloths is still kept in Oviedo, Spain. Burgundy Hall did exist, and the political and geographical background to this crisis, as well as the layout of Westminster, is analysed in two of my non-fiction works:
Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II
and
The Great Crown Jewels Robbery of 1303
; both of these are based on my Oxford thesis on Queen Isabella. Guido’s plot to cause foul odours and miasmas is logical. In 1326 Mortimer tried to kill the imprisoned Edward II in the same way.

Walter Langton’s career is as described here –
The Lancercost Chronicle
describes the bishop as ‘Gaveston’s implacable enemy’. Langton did fall from power and Hemingburgh’s chronicle describes the seizure of his vast treasure hoard in New Temple Church.

Mathilde’s inclusion in the royal household would be logical and acceptable. Kings and queens often relied on commoners for advice and support. In 1326 Edward II was specifically accused of this. Queen Margaret’s treachery is also a fact. The peace treaties of 1296-1298 virtually forced Edward I to marry her. Margaret was never crowned. Edward I certainly acted the loving husband; they had four children. However, Sir Thomas Grey, in his chronicle
Scalacronica
, mentions how Margaret secretly informed her brother that Edward I had bribed a number of Philip’s knights to assassinate him, and the French king was so concerned he abandoned the siege of Lille. This was a deliberate trap by Edward I, who left a highly confidential letter on his bed for Margaret to read. Edward could certainly be harsh towards her. In a collection of private letters, edited by Pierre Chaplais (
English Historical Review
, 1962), he told her confessor to gently break the news of the death of her sister Blanche. However, if she was inconsolable, Edward continued, she should be reminded that Blanche was as good as dead as soon as she left France to marry the Duke of Austria! Margaret was certainly active in the crisis of 1308. The Lincoln archives hold two anonymous newsletters (D and C Muniments 11/56/1, nos. 39 and 42) that describe Philip bribing the earls, through his sister, with wine and £10,000. Little wonder that, in May 1308, three of Margaret’s castles, including Devizes, were seized whilst Isabella was given fresh estates. In addition, after the crisis of 1308 Margaret appears to have been exiled from Court. She died in 1318, and was buried in Greyfriars, London; hence Mathilde’s assertion in the Prologue that the Poison Maiden was not far from her!