Isabella knew that the barons were getting together and would march against Edward. Oh God, she thought, if I but had a child, a boy who was heir to the throne! Then I do believe they would be ready to depose Edward and make my son the King and I his mother would be Regent, for the people love me and want to recompense me for the wrongs I have suffered through Edward. It was true.
They were ashamed of their King. That he should marry a Princess and neglect her for a foppish minion was disgraceful. They were ashamed of their English King. Yes, they would be with her and against her husband while he kept Gaveston at his side.
Oh, for a child! How she yearned for one, prayed for one and exerted every wile she knew to lure Edward to her bed. There was one thing which could bring him there and that was duty and the thought that if she were once impregnated with his seed he could be left in peace.
Meanwhile Gaveston languished, and the King was distraught. If they had been in London he would have had his physician at his friend’s bedside. He did the next best thing and sent for the finest doctor in the North, William de Bromtoft. Gaveston would recover, Edward was told. He needed rest.
‘I will give him a potion to make him sleep. It is rest he needs more than anything.’
And while Gaveston slept, Edward sat by his bedside until the Queen glided quietly into the bedchamber.
‘How fares he?’ she whispered.
‘He murmurs in his sleep.’
‘He is aware of you here. The doctor said he needs peace and rest. Leave him, Edward. Let him sleep alone. He will best recover then.’
‘What if he should wake and want me?’
‘Then he will call for you. At this moment he is aware of you and it worries him that he cannot speak with you.’
At length Edward allowed himself to be led away. In his bedchamber the Queen soothed him with a special posset women made in France to rouse their lovers’ ardour. She took him to her bed and with the help of her ministrations, her prayers and perhaps the posset, that night she became pregnant.
* * *
Gaveston recovered. The spring had come and it could hardly be expected that the barons would allow him to continue to flout them. The Lords Ordainers, those earls, barons and bishops who had drawn up the Ordinances for the reform of the realm met and sworn to defend them and for this reason, they were ready to march against the King, for by receiving Gaveston and restoring his possessions Edward had openly defied them. It was clear that he had to learn his lesson.
Lancaster, with his newly acquired power, was the most important of the earls. He had his own private army. It was arranged that the earls and barons should organize tournaments in their castles where men prepared for war should muster. When they were ready, they would band together and march north until to where the King and Gaveston were living together. They would take Gaveston prisoner and if the King objected, there would be nothing left but to take arms against Edward.
It was a dangerous situation and it was hoped that the King realized how serious.
Edward did. To his great joy, Gaveston had completely recovered and there was another reason for rejoicing. Isabella was with child.
Edward was delighted. None could say he had not done his duty. Fervently he prayed that the child would be a boy.
It was May. Isabella had conceived in February and her condition was beginning to be noticeable. The King with his entourage had come to Newcastle and there it was they heard the news that the hostile barons were approaching.
‘We must leave without delay!’ cried the King. ‘Where can we go? Oh Perrot, what will happen to you if you fall into their hands?’
‘They will trump up some charge against me doubtless and have my head to grace the Bridge.’
‘I beg of you, do not talk so. They shall all be hanged before I’d allow it.’
Gaveston said sadly: ‘Little King, would you be able to stop it?’
The Queen burst upon them. She was afraid for the child. She said: ‘Come, let us not wait here. Let us get away without delay. If we go to Tynemouth we could take ship for Scarborough and that will give us time to think.’
‘Isabella is right,’ said Edward. ‘Let us go, Perrot.’
In due course, they arrived at Tynemouth and there Edward at once ordered that a boat be made ready for them.
‘We will rest one night and be gone tomorrow. The tide will be right and carry us to safety.’
Isabella returned to her bedchamber, leaving the friends together.
She wondered what the barons would do to Gaveston when they captured him, for capture him they would in time.
She thought of his enemies and chiefly of Lancaster. She had quite a fancy for Lancaster and he for her. She had heard that his marriage was not a happy one. Alice de Lacy had brought him his earldoms of Lincoln and Salisbury but little happiness. She did not like her husband and made no secret of her feelings.
He shrugged her dislike aside and it was said took many mistresses. He was the most powerful baron in the country and Isabella was attracted by power. She could never love her husband. He was too weak and that streak in his nature which made him the doting slave of Gaveston nauseated her.
Lancaster would lead the barons against Gaveston and because Edward had allied himself with his friend, that meant against Edward.
What a fool he was, this man to whom they had married her! Could he not see that he was placing his throne in jeopardy? They were fools― both him and Gaveston. They seemed to be blind to where their folly was leading them. Why could not Gaveston have behaved with decorum? Why did they have to flout their relationship so it was obvious to all? Why had Gaveston have to display his questionable wit and poke fun at men who were far more powerful than himself?
How had Edward become so utterly his slave?
Never mind. One day it would be different. If this child she carried was a boy― She slept fitfully that night, for her sleep was troubled by dreams and vague stirrings throughout the castle; and in the morning she understood the reason for these disturbances.
When her women came to her for her toilette, she knew at once that something was wrong.
‘You had better tell me without delay,’ she commanded grimly.
‘My lady, the King has left. He and the Earl of Cornwall were off before dawn.’
She did not answer. she did not want the women to know how angry and humiliated she felt.
She waited.
‘My lady, they say that the Earl of Lancaster is but a few miles from the castle and marching this way― come, they say to take the Earl of Cornwall. The King was beset with anxiety and he and the Earl left without delay.’
So they had gone and left her to face his enemies. How she hated them― Edward as much as Gaveston! What did Edward care for her, the wife who was about to bear his son? Nothing mattered to him as long as Gaveston was safe.
‘So,’ she said, ‘The Earl of Lancaster is close to the castle.’
‘Surrounding it with his men, some say, my lady.’
‘It is all they say and some say. You had better help me to dress. I must be ready for the King’s enemies when they call on me.’
How well she hid her seething anger! How dared he! What were they thinking, these servants? So this is how he treats his wife. He has no thought for her at all. All that matters to him is his lover, Gaveston. He should pay for this one day. Oh yes, one day the humiliation he had piled on her should be paid for in interest. One this child was born― and if it were a boy― Oh God, let it be a boy! Then Edward, her faithless husband, should beware.
She was dressed. The cold glitter behind her eyes if anything added to her beauty. She was maddened when she saw that glowing reflection, that outstanding beauty which had set the minstrels singing at her father’s Court, because it had no effect on his husband. Why had they not married her to a man!
‘Now,’ she said, ‘I would hear what is happening.’
It was Lancaster who made her aware of that. The castle could offer
no resistance. Moreover the Queen was not sure that she wished it to.
Lancaster walked straight into the castle and when he learned that the King had flown with Gaveston during the night he asked for an audience with the Queen.
He bowed low and kissed her hand. His eyes told her that he thought she was a remarkably beautiful woman and as such he did homage to her.
‘My lady,’ he said, ‘I beg you to forgive me for this intrusion.’
She smiled and thought: Why was Lancaster not the King? I should not have complained if he had been my husband. It could so easily have been so. His father had been a brother of Edward the First and he was therefore first cousin to Edward her husband. He was royal; he was powerful and rich; and he was fully a man.
‘Intrusion?’ she lifted her brows and turned her head towards the window where she could see Lancaster’s private army was encamped about its walls. ‘It is a mind way of expressing it. Have you and your men taken the castle?’
‘My lady, while you are here, I would never allow that. We came for the traitor Gaveston who has broken his word and returned to England and who is under excommunication.’
‘I would I could deliver him to you. He and the King left shortly before your arrival.’
‘So he has slipped through our fingers. Never fear. We shall catch up with them.’
‘The King is with him, my lord.’
Lancaster nodded gravely. ‘That is a pity, but if it is so, then must he take the consequences.’
‘What do you mean? Have you come against the King?’
“My lady, I have come to take Gaveston.’
‘And what if the King will not give him up?’
‘Then we must perforce take him even so.’
‘This could mean― war?’
‘War for a worthless adventurer? Nay, let us hope it will not come to that.
But we are determined to have Gaveston. So you did not leave with them.’
‘No.’ She could not hide the venom in her voice. ‘They did not think to save me from their pursuers. They thought only of themselves.’
‘There is no need for you to fear.’ He had taken a step toward her. ‘ I would protect you against all who would harm you.’
‘You are a good friend and cousin.’
‘My lady, I would serve you with my life. Depend upon this: no harm shall come to you while I am near to protect you.’
‘Thank you, my lord Lancaster. In protecting me, it may well be that you protect your future King.’
He smiled slowly. ‘Is that so, my lady? Then we should rejoice.’
‘Thank you, cousin.’
He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I will rid you of Gaveston,’ he said. ‘I promise you that he shall not live much longer to torment you.’
She gave him her hand. ‘I will remember that, cousin,’ she said.
He bowed and left her, his eyes lingering on her as though he found it difficult to take them from her.
When he had gone, she listened to the sounds in the castle.
They were searching for evidence of where the pair had gone.
They would soon discover that they had left by sea. They must be calling at Scarborough. So Pembroke and Warenne were marching north and Lancaster would march south.
Edward would have to deliver Gaveston to them or there would be civil war.
Thank God for the child. If it were only a boy, she could look forward to a future with excitement. She was heartily tired of Edward and it was more humiliating because if he had cared for her she might have loved him. It would be hard to find a more handsome man. It was maddening and humiliating that he had left her to her fate in order to escape with Gaveston. How was he to know that his enemies would not regard themselves as hers too? Yet he had left her, pregnant as she was, to face them. What man worthy of the name would do that?
If she had a spark of affection for Edward it was over now.
She thought of Lancaster― if she had not been a queen, if she had not to bear the King’s son― she had seen in his expression as he looked at her that he found her infinitely desirable.
He had a reputation for his affairs with women. It was understandable. He had disliked Alice his wife and she, him. This had been a marriage of convenience if ever there had been one. He had little to complain of, though. No doubt Alice had. It had brought him the earldoms of Lincoln and Salisbury.
What had it brought Alice? The Queen wondered about her and whether she had taken a lover.
If only― thought the Queen. How easy it would have been with a man like Lancaster. He had shown her clearly that he would count himself fortunate if he beckoned to him. They would be discreet― but there was no discretion that could save her from scandal. And she had the heirs to the throne to produce.
Isabella was a voluptuous woman but she was an even more ambitious one.
She wanted power through her children. She wanted to humiliate the man who had humiliated her. Perhaps more than anything she wanted revenge.
* * *
She was safe at Tyneside. Lancaster had promised her that no harm should befall her. He would rid her of Gaveston, he had said. It was a promise which she knew he would do his best to keep. She felt at ease. Her women said that the child was certain to be a boy. The wise old goodies could tell by the way she carried it. She was careful of herself. Nothing must go wrong. She must produce a healthy child. And if by the time of its birth Lancaster had kept his word and rid her of Gaveston who knew what would result?
She must have more children. They would not be born in love, of course.
Never, never would she forgive Edward for his last insult. That he should leave her and their unborn child to his enemies was too much to be borne. How was he to know that his enemies might be her friends?
It was necessary, her women said, to take exercise. It could be bad for the child, so she took to walking in the fields and woods about the castle and it was here one day that she met the boy Thomeline. Poor wretched little orphan. He was half-naked and dirty and frightened and yet so desperate that he dared approach the Queen and beg for alms.
Her companions would have driven him away and she would have shrunk from him but she hesitated. It might have been because of the child she carried that she was interested in children. She was not sure but there was something in the boy’s eyes which touched her unaccountably, for she was not a sentimental woman who brooded on the wrongs of others.
‘Nay,’ she said, ‘let the child speak. What would you have, boy?’
He answered, ‘I am hungry, Queen.’
‘Where is your father?’
‘Dead.’
‘And your mother?’
‘Dead too. The soldiers killed them. The Scots who came over the border.
They burned our cottage and took all we had.’
‘And they let you live?’
‘They didn’t find me. I was hiding in the bushes. They didn’t see me.’
‘Give this boy clothes and money to the value of six shillings and sixpence,’
she commanded.
‘My lady!’ cried her women. ‘He is a beggar with a beggar’s tales!’
‘He is a child,’ she answered, ‘and I believe him. Let it be done.’
The boy fell to his knees and kissed the hem of her gown.
She walked on, wondering at herself. There were many orphans in the world. Why be upset by one?
But she was glad that the boy had stopped her. Then she was pleased that she had acted as she had, for she heard the women talking together of her piety and good deeds. She must have the good opinion of her husband’s subjects.
When they turned from him they must look to her.
She thought a good deal about the boy and a few days later she wished to know if her orders had been carried out regarding him and asked that he be brought to her.
He came in his new clothes and he stood before her staring at her in wonderment.
‘Well boy,’ she said, ‘so you have eate
n now and you have good clothes.’
His eyes filled with tears and he knelt and would have kissed her gown but she said: ‘Get up. Come and stand near me. Where do you sleep at nights?’
His eyes shown with pleasure. ‘There is an old hut. The Scots did not take the trouble to burn it. I found it. It offers shelter from the cold.’
She noticed how thin he was. He needed care. That much was obvious.
‘When I am gone from here,’ she said, ‘You could go hungry again.’
He nodded. Then he smiled: ‘But I shall always remember you. I shall never forget that I saw the Queen.’
‘When you are cold and hungry and bigger, stronger people turn you out of the hut, you will forget me.’
‘I never will,’ he said fiercely.
‘You will always be my loyal subject then?’
‘I’d die for you, Queen.’
‘It was little I did,’ she said. ‘I would spend what I gave to you for ribbons on my waist.’
‘So should it be,’ said the boy, ‘for you are beautiful as no one ever was before you. You are a queen and an angel from heaven.’
She said: ‘So I am a queen to all but only an angel to you. I am going to make you love me more, little Thomeline. You shall not again be hungry, nor sleep in the hut. How would you like to go to London? But how can you know?
You have no idea of what London is like, have you? I have an organist there. He is French and his name is Jean. He was a wife named Agnes. She longs for children and could never have them. So I am going to give her a little boy and you a mother and father. How would you like that?’
‘Should I see you, Queen?’
‘It might well be that you would.’
‘Please, may I go?’
‘You shall go. You shall be well clothed and fed and taught many things.
You need good food, for you are not very strong. They will make you into a healthy boy.’
‘Will they want me as their boy?’
‘They will if I say they will.’
‘You can do anything, Queen,’ he said.
The Follies of the King Page 11