The Traitor's Wife (7 page)

“I am pleased that
you
are pleased with me, your grace.” And indeed she was. To be in favor with the queen, and carrying Hugh's child—there was nothing more that she could ask for.

Edward and Isabella were crowned King and Queen of England on February 25. Edward, blond and tall like his ancestors, was magnificent in his royal robes, and Isabella's gown would have been talked of for years had not Gaveston turned up in a robe of purple that made the royal couple's garments look to be almost everyday apparel in comparison. He only wanted a crown, and he did the next best thing by bearing the king's for him.

Gaveston had organized many an entertainment for the young prince's household, and it was thought even by those who disliked him most that the coronation and the ensuing banquet would go smoothly. They did not. Either Gaveston in his glee at having yet another chance to irk the barons had overlooked key details, or servants took pleasure in making him look a fool, for the rooms were overcrowded and the food poorly prepared and late. The young queen's uncles departed for France in a huff, and the queen herself, who had been neglected in favor of Gaveston at the banquet, was snappish with her ladies, even Eleanor, for two days afterward. Even Hugh's father, who had taken part in the ceremony and who was one of the few men in England who supported Gaveston, was embarrassed for his king's behavior. Only Margaret, who wrote to her old friends at Amesbury that her husband had been the handsomest man in England that night, had no complaints.

A couple of weeks later, at Westminster, the queen, who was fond of music and had learned that her new English attendant had a lovely voice, bade one of her chamber ladies to find Edward and see if he would lend her his crwth player to accompany Eleanor as she sang. One of the damsels would have happily gone, but Eleanor, slightly nauseated with her pregnancy and eager to walk in the fresh air in search of the king, offered to go herself.

Edward was with his gardener when Eleanor found him. After he gave the man very precise instructions about some rose bushes—for Edward had very definite ideas about what the royal gardens should look like and would not have found life at all amiss if he had been born a gardener instead of a king— he turned to his young niece with his usual sweet smile. “What can I do for you, Nelly?”

Eleanor gave her Isabella's message, and the king readily agreed. “So the queen is fond of the crwth? I did not know that.”

“She is fond of many of the things you are, your grace.”

“When will you learn not to your-grace me? Such as?”

“She loves to hunt, she has told me. She is an excellent horsewoman; I've watched her ride.”

“I'll take her tomorrow when Gaveston and I go, then.”

Eleanor wondered if Gaveston could be left at home, but said nothing. The king continued, “Now tell me about the queen. Does she task you and the other ladies too much? I know that she has a trying temper. Even Queen Margaret has admitted as much.”

“She is usually quite good-humored with me, your—Uncle.” After a moment or two of silence, she added, “She truly is beautiful. I was bedazzled when I saw her step off the ship.”

Edward nodded. “Everyone tells me how beautiful she is. I can see it. But beauty is like a tapestry. What hangs well in one room may simply not in another.” He threw a stone in an ornamental pond. “Sometimes I wonder if she was not hung in the wrong room.”

“Uncle, I really should not be hearing this.”

“You're right.” Edward threw another stone. “Certain choices are made for us, and we must adapt ourselves to them, must we not? You are right to keep me from indulging in self-pity.”

“Someday you will have a child, and that will give you a common interest and purpose.”

“You are a wise as well as a beautiful young woman.” He smiled. “Speaking of which, Gaveston was not discreet, as usual, and told me what he probably should not have told me yet. You are with child.”

“He can keep nothing to himself. I was waiting until I was further along to tell others.”

“He knew it would please me, that's all. Don't be angry with him.” He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

She smiled her thanks.

“They want to send him away, you know.”

“Gaveston?” But she should have known better than to ask; no other “him” could be in her uncle's mind. “Why?”

“To spite me, I think.” He scowled. “There seems to be a new reason every day. His title is too high; Cornwall should have been given to one of my half brothers. When he is closer to me than any brother. I consult him before I consult the barons; why not? He has my interest at heart; they do not. I give him jewels and land. They are mine to give, are they not? He insults the barons. My God, the pompous fools need a little insulting!” He smiled suddenly. “Have you heard the nicknames he has invented for the earls?”

“Warwick is the Black Dog of Arden, I believe.”

“That's his best, I think. He's always reminded me of a dog guarding his territory against an intruder, barking and snapping with as much show as possible. Burst-Belly—Lincoln—was a bit obvious. Joseph the Jew—Pembroke—was another inspired one, I thought, with that dark visage of his.”

“Lancaster is the Fiddler.”

“Yes, he's always looking for someone to dance to his tune!” He frowned as he remembered the nickname his friend had coined for Eleanor's brother, the Cuckold's Bird. Edward had been rather hurt to hear it, directed as it was to Gilbert's mother, his favorite sister, who certainly had made a clandestine second marriage but who hardly deserved the epithet. Gaveston, seeing this, had quickly explained that cuckoldry was the only likely fate of a man married to a woman as young and lovely as Joan. Still, Eleanor was even less likely to appreciate the remark than Edward had, so he fell silent.

“Does he have one for my father-in-law?”

“Dear Hugh? No. Hugh's done nothing but be loyal to me. He's the only one who hasn't slighted Gaveston in any way. He understands what he means to me.” He smiled. “I'll never forget those little gifts he sent to me when I was estranged from my father, raisins and wine. Small things, but they cheered me.”

“I am certain things will right themselves.”

“We can only hope.” Edward gazed ahead moodily, then pointed a finger. “What do you think of having a fish pond put in there? I want the queen to like it here at Westminster.”

“I think it would be lovely.” Eleanor paused and said gently, “But why not ask the queen herself?”

T
HE BARONS HAD WON. GAVESTON WAS TO BE EXILED. THE BARONS HAD been relentless about his removal since the coronation, and Edward, to avoid a civil war he was not entirely sure he could win, and knowing that his French father-in-law might not be at all unwilling to intervene against him, finally agreed to his removal. As had happened when his father exiled the Gascon, there was time to prepare, and the friends went to Langley, Edward's favorite manor. Isabella went also, accompanied by Eleanor and her other ladies.

If the queen was satisfied with Gaveston's removal, she kept it to herself. The king, working toward his friend's recall even before he left England, had finally granted her Ponthieu, and even as he sought to enjoy his last few days with Piers, he was careful not to neglect his wife. Eleanor wondered if he had finally consummated his marriage, but Isabella said no more on the subject. She was looking more womanly with each passing day, however, and the days when Edward could validly complain that his wife was but a child were quickly becoming numbered.

The day was fine, and Isabella, having been given a hunting pack by her husband, had gone with some of her ladies and knights to try the hounds out, the king having stayed behind to attend to some documents before quickly giving up his duties for the day and heading outside with Gaveston. Eleanor, too far gone in pregnancy to wish to sit a horse, even if Hugh would have let her, stayed behind too, but soon found sitting by a tapestry rack insupportable with the birds chirping cheerfully outside and a light breeze rustling the curtains at the window. She heaved herself to her feet and went outside, where she walked by the river gathering wildflowers as her son—all the older ladies had declared she was having a son, and Eleanor saw no reason to gainsay them— kicked her vigorously as if himself eager to be outdoors.

Soon the king and Gaveston rowed into view. If they had been doing anything besides sitting decorously on opposite sides of the boat before they saw Eleanor, it was not apparent.

“Niece!”

“Sister!”

“Had we known you were around we would have had you join us,” said Edward.

Eleanor laughed. “I'd sink any boat you put me into now. I am enormous!”

“Nonsense, you look beautiful. But all women look beautiful when they are with child.”

Gaveston hopped out of the boat while Edward tied it up and said, “But you of course look more beautiful when you are with child than other women do when they are with child.”

“Oh, stop it. Save your compliments for Margaret.”

Gaveston bowed. “I shall do so.” He glanced at the considerable bulge under Eleanor's gown. “May I, sister?”

“You may as well. Everyone else in the family does.”

Piers put out his hand and touched Eleanor's belly, with a gentleness that surprised her.

The king shyly touched it too. Then he asked, “Is the queen still hunting?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I wish to speak to you privately for a moment.”

“He is sending my brother Hugh on crusade, Nelly. Go, Hugh, with our blessing! Fight the infidels.”

“Leave us be for a while, Piers,” Edward said patiently.

“Oh, very well.” Gaveston again patted Eleanor's belly, gently as before. “Keep young Hugh safe, now. As opposed to Hugh the younger.”

“
Piers!
”

“I'm going. Good-bye.”

Edward looked after him fondly. “He's irrepressible, isn't he? I can't tell you how sweet life has been since he returned. It was so bleak without him. And now he must go away again.” He gave a sigh, then forced a smile. “But let's have our chat now.” He paused awkwardly. “On second thought, let's go inside.”

She followed her uncle indoors. Langley had been Edward's favorite residence as a boy, and he had lovingly improved it since so that almost every room in it bore some stamp of his individuality. The room he led her to, however, had scarcely been altered in twenty years, when Edward had slept in it with his nursemaid. Now a new nursemaid sat in the room, and a child, little more than a year old, slept in a little bed. “Uncle, he is an angel! Who is he? Who are his parents?”

“His name is Adam, and he is mine. He was born eleven months ago.”

“He is the most beautiful little boy I have ever seen.” She knelt beside his bed and stroked his hair, which was still sparse and whitish but seemed to be acquiring a reddish tint.

“Aye, he is a pretty little fellow. Bastards always are, for some reason.” He shook his head sadly and led her away. “Let's go into the next room so we don't interrupt his nap.”

She sat in a window seat in the adjoining room, which was well supplied with toys. “If I may ask, sir, where is his mother?”

“In the next world, poor thing.” Edward stood next to her, staring out the window. “I met Lucy while rowing. She had no idea who I was and I didn't tell her at first.”

“She must have been very pretty.”