‘I suppose I shall be forced to travel with people chosen for me?’ she said after a moment.
‘I will wish to keep the costs of the embassy at a minimum.’
‘Naturally. Yet I would have some men I can trust.’
‘You have my word that all will be honourable and trustworthy.’
‘Your word? I am reassured.’
He grated his teeth, but swallowed his anger at her sarcasm. ‘You wish for a senior man? A Bishop? Earl?’
‘Will our son travel with me?’
The King smiled. ‘No. He will come later, provided that all the negotiations are successful. I will send him on to you when all the plans have been set out clearly.’
For Sir Hugh, it was the best of all worlds. As he had hoped when he first tried to tempt Earl Edmund into plotting against him, persuading the fool through Piers that Sir Hugh did not want the Queen to leave the country, in reality it was clearly impossible for him to be seen to attempt to prevent her going. The only effective manner of his preserving his power was for the Queen to be apparently supported by him so that the French did not have any more incentive to seek his death.
It would have been best for him to have seen her killed here, but it was not to be.
‘My Liege.’
The King took his arm with a smile. ‘Come, look at this, Sir Hugh.’
At the window, Sir Hugh looked out. From here they had a view of a magnificent royal barge. ‘That is marvellous!’
‘Isn’t it?’
It was painted in red, with glints of gold where gilt licked the decoration. Cushions were spread about, and Sir Hugh could see that there was a great awning to keep the King and his guests sheltered in the worst of weathers. At the stern was a comfortable-looking seat with padded arms and thick cushions for the King. Beside it, a comfy, but lower chair.
‘I had it made for the summer, and wanted to view it beforehand. I hope you and I will be able to use it in the warm months.’
‘Yes, I am sure …’
‘So no more attempts on the Queen’s life, Sir Hugh,’ the King murmured.
Sir Hugh smiled. ‘You need not worry about that.’
‘No, I do not – do I?’ the King said, but this time – for the first time – Sir Hugh heard that special note in his tone: it was the same tone he had used when pronouncing death on Sir Andrew Harclay; when he told his cousin, Earl Thomas of Lancaster, that he must die; when he spoke to his wife. It was the sort of voice he used for people whom he had once trusted, when he learned of their faithlessness.
There was only one thing for Sir Hugh to do, and he did so hurriedly. Dropping to his knees, he bent his head almost to the floor. ‘My Lord, don’t blame me! I only sought what I was sure was best for you.’
‘Yes – and you, eh? No more, Sir Hugh. It is tedious to have to seek out such men. And they do bleed an inordinate amount.’
Sir Hugh looked up at his lord and lover. ‘It was you?’
‘So no more, Sir Hugh. I have lost my wife. I would not lose you too.’ He paused. ‘You must pay. You will buy me a new carpet. My last one was soiled.’
Richard Blaket stood aside as the Queen returned to her chamber, Alicia in attendance. As the Queen entered, Alicia remained outside with him.
‘We shall be travelling soon,’ she said.
‘To Eltham?’ Richard asked. He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but failed. The guards set about this island were all selected from the area and would not travel with the household when it was moving across the countryside.
‘No. We are to go to France. France!’ She clapped her hands and smiled in delight.
‘France?’ he said dully. ‘How long for?’
‘We won’t be there all that long,’ she said, suddenly quiet as she saw his pain. ‘The Queen has to go to discuss things with their King, and then we’ll be back.’
He nodded sadly. It was natural that she would be glad to travel to France. It was the centre of culture, of beauty, all that was lovely to a woman.
‘You aren’t happy?’
‘How can I be happy when I’m going to have to wave you goodbye?’
‘I will be returning.’
‘Yes,’ he said. But all he could think of was the long months of loneliness while she was gone.
Chapter Forty-Three
Thursday after the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary1
Bishop of Exeter’s house, Straunde
It was a foul morning. Even as Baldwin and Simon threw their belongings over their mounts and bound them tightly ready for the journey, Rob at Simon’s side, swearing as his frozen fingers fumbled with the straps and buckles, a sleeting rain greyed the heavens and Simon had to stop and pull on his broad-brimmed hat to keep the icy chill from seeping down the back of his neck.
‘Simon, Sir Baldwin; I wish you God speed,’ the Bishop called from the shelter of his doorway. He made the sign of the cross as the three crouched before him. ‘Be careful in your journeying, and may you return safely.’
Baldwin and Simon crossed themselves, and Rob hurriedly copied them, before all three mounted their horses and prepared to make their way homewards.
Before they could ride away, though, a messenger clattered through the gateway. ‘Sir Baldwin, the King wishes to speak with you before you go.’
Baldwin would say nothing as they made their way along Straunde and down King Street, but Simon could see his tension. The knight was wound up like a hempen cord, ready to snap in a moment.
‘You had best wait here,’ Baldwin said at the gatehouse to the New Palace Yard.
‘No. I am coming too,’ Simon said.
‘You weren’t called for.’
‘People often forget me. I am too insignificant,’ Simon grinned.
In the end Baldwin agreed, but as he passed his reins to Rob, he felt as though his boots were made of lead. He had no idea what the summons presaged, but was convinced that the King must have some reason that would not be to Baldwin’s benefit.
The guards stood aside as the two approached, their polearms held upright, and Baldwin and Simon were ushered into the King’s chamber by the steward.
‘Sir Baldwin. I am glad to see you again.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Baldwin said, bowing low. He half-expected to be arrested as he stood there.
‘You helped my wife a great deal over this strange attempted murder. Do you like her?’
‘My Lord? I … she is a wonderful lady.’
‘But do you like her?’
‘Me? My Lord, how could I aspire to like her? She is a lady so superior to me, that I would not know what to say to her.’
‘You are returning to your homes?’
Baldwin and Simon exchanged confused looks. ‘Ah, yes, my Liege,’ Baldwin managed after a short while.
‘Good. Well, God speed. I look forward to meeting you both again.’
‘Yes, my Liege.’
The King nodded and then astonished both men. He took a purse from his belt and gave it to Baldwin. ‘You have been of some service to me and my wife. This will compensate you for the travel and for your efforts when you arrived here.’
‘There is no need for this, Your Majesty!’ Baldwin gasped as he looked inside.
‘I think that there is. Travel is not cheap in my realm, and in any case, this is to compensate you for the return journey.’
‘What return?’
‘When I send you with my wife to France, Sir Baldwin. You will go with her to protect her on the way. And mind you do protect her – and advise me of any threats to my son when he joins my Queen to pay homage to his uncle.’
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Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) Page 38