With his free hand the executioner grasped at his victim’s groin and then with slow precision accompanied by a low growl from those watching, severed from between his thighs those very parts of Sir Hugh’s body with which he had offended God’s laws.
There was a moment of absolute silence and then a huge roar of approval from the crowd which almost drowned out the anguished screams from Sir Hugh.
‘No cock-sucking now, you little cunt!’ I heard the man below me yell.
‘Let’s see his guts!’ shrieked the woman clutching his arm.
The executioner tossed the pitiful bloodied scraps down into the fire where they sizzled and spat. Then he set about splitting open Hugh Despenser’s belly from chest to groin. When he had done this he reached in and pulled out his entrails, bits of bloody pulp and long slippery loops of pale stuff like chitterlings. As the heart was thrown down he yelled, ‘False-hearted traitor!’
By now Sir Hugh was dead and all that remained of the entertainment was to see his head cut off and his body hacked into four. No dogs this time. Edmund said the head was to go to London and the limbs to York, Norwich, Lincoln and Salisbury. Everyone was to know that the rule of the hated Despensers was at an end.
I glanced over at Isabella. She had a rapt expression on her face. She was utterly captivated and enjoying every minute of this. I could imagine her and my cousin in the privacy of her rooms reminding each other of the particular refinement they had chosen for this their greatest enemy. They would laugh over his pathetic body and enjoy remembering the inhuman howl which had burst forth from his lips. If Hugh Despenser had laid a single finger on the queen in any way, she had had her revenge.
Afterwards my brother came to pay his respects. I had seen very little of him since he’d joined us at Dunstable but I could see how highly regarded he was by our cousin. Some of the more difficult tasks had been given to Tom, and Isabella had more than once commented favourably on his loyalty.
‘I hear your father-in-law is to escort the king to his castle at Kenilworth,’ I said, finding it oddly difficult to talk to a brother I hardly knew. ‘I suppose the queen will wish to celebrate Christmas there with the king and with Lord Henry.’
He looked at me oddly. ‘The queen is to spend Christmas at Wallingford with her friends.’
‘Oh! I didn’t know. I thought …’ But I wasn’t quite certain what it was that I thought. ‘Will the king come to Wallingford?’
‘The king will remain at Kenilworth.’
From those few scant words I sensed a whole host of others left unsaid. Plans which had been discussed and decisions taken when neither Edmund nor I had been present.
‘Brother, is there something I should know?’
He sighed deeply. ‘It is possible that because of who she is and because of what she once was to him, the king may, in time, forgive the queen for what she has done. She is the mother of his children and has occupied a position at his side for many years.’
‘She had his welfare at heart. She only did what she believed was best for him and his realm. Sir Hugh Despenser was a fiend. His hold over the king was evil. Naturally, forgiveness, however deserving, may be slow in coming. But it will come.’
‘For the queen? Possibly. But for Lord Mortimer and for me? Never. The king will in no way extend forgiveness to those of us who challenged his royalty and killed his friends. To believe otherwise is madness.’
‘Could you not throw yourself on his mercy?’
Tom gave a bitter laugh. ‘There would be no mercy. He would have us declared traitors and then he would have us killed.’
‘The queen would not allow that. She would demand forgiveness for you and for our cousin. And what of Lord Henry?’
‘My father-in-law remembers only too well the fate of his brother when he dared to rise up against the king. Earl Thomas was the king’s cousin but that did not save him.’
It could not have been more clear if Tom had written the words large on the walls of Hereford: if we were to be safe, the king must remain a prisoner for the rest of his life.
What only this morning had seemed a clear path was now mired in a swirling fog with no obvious way forward. The king would stay in Kenilworth, the reluctant guest of Lord Henry, unable to rule as a king should, unable to summon parliaments or speak with his council.
But how could we have a kingdom with the king held prisoner? Who would wield power?
That evening in the bishop’s palace, Isabella supped privately with my cousin and Bishop Orleton. No invitation was sent to Edmund which precluded him from hearing Isabella gloat over the final agonies of her enemy. Instead my husband took me to my room where he took off my outer robes and loosened my gown. Then he laid me on the covers of the bed and climbed up beside me. Very gently he wrapped me in his arms.
‘Are you weary, my love?’
‘Very.’
I felt very much a beloved wife as we lay there quietly. This was not passion, but comfort, a very domestic comfort.
‘Edmund, what will happen to your brother? Tom says he is to remain at Kenilworth.’
‘A prisoner in all but name.’
‘Yes, but they can’t keep him there. He is the king.’
‘He may be the king, dearest, but Isabella holds the reins of power. After today, she and your cousin have everyone dancing to their tune and no-one dare lift a finger to help my brother. Despenser’s henchmen have been destroyed and I believe even the earl of Surrey is hurrying to ingratiate himself with his queen.’
I laid my hand on Edmund’s chest feeling the steady beat of his heart.
‘Are we safe? You and I?’
‘Yes, but be pleasant to Isabella. We mustn’t anger her. She promised me my inheritance and I intend to hold her to her word.’
‘And the king?’
‘There is nothing I can do for him. Isabella has sworn not to harm him and soon they must meet and talk but I don’t know when that will be. And in the meantime you must think of nothing but our child.’
I smiled at Edmund. ‘Where shall I go for the birth?’
‘How about a miserable Welsh castle. I believe I have three.’
I giggled, remembering the days of our courtship and thinking once more how fortunate I was to have a husband like Edmund, a man who not only loved me but cared for me.
Next morning I set my maid to packing my boxes. Isabella had given orders that we were to leave Hereford and make a slow progress towards Wallingford. This, she told me, would allow people the opportunity to cheer their queen who had rid them of the rapacious rule of the Despensers.
‘There’s a woman outside, m’lady,’ said my maid keeping her eyes on the floor. ‘Steward don’t know her but she insists on seeing you.’
I sighed. This would be yet another woman seeking help. The town was awash with them, all anxious to prove their loyalty to the queen’s cause.
I sat and waited. A moment later the steward ushered in a hooded figure in a voluminous black cloak. She was like one of those women you see skulking outside tavern doors, wrapped up so that nobody recognises them.
She put up her hands and pushed the hood back from her face.
It was the countess of Surrey.
‘Oh Lady Margaret,’ she wailed. ‘I am in such distress. I don’t know who I can count on as a friend.’
I nodded to the girl to fetch wine for the countess and waited while she seated herself.
‘Forgive me for not rising,’ I said laying my hand on my belly.
‘You are enceinte?‘
‘I am.’
She looked wistful. ‘How fortunate you are.’
‘Countess, forgive me, but why are you here?’
Her hands fluttered in her lap like the wings of an injured bird. ‘I cannot go to the queen or Lord Mortimer, not after my husband turned his back on them.’
‘You have heard what has happened?’
‘Yes, yes. The king taken and his chamberlain dead. Such folly!’
‘You think it folly?’
‘I do. The queen has upset the order of everything we hold sacred. I cannot believe she has the king in chains.’
‘Countess, I do not think Lord Henry keeps his cousin in chains.’
‘You think not? I could tell you things about that man. And to think the king is at his mercy. Lord Henry will put him in that tower his brother built at Pontefract.’
‘I believe the king is to go to Kenilworth,’ I said gently.
‘Just as bad.’ She began twisting the cloth of her skirts in her agitation.
‘Countess, where is your husband?’
‘He heard of the killing of his sister’s husband and is afraid for his life. He wishes to make peace with the queen but is unsure of how matters stand.’
‘I think Lord Fitzalan was regarded by Lord Mortimer with an extreme hatred which I doubt extends to your husband. However it was not prudent for him to remain with the king for so long. Did he not see which way the tide was running?’
The countess looked embarrassed. ‘I urged him to stay loyal. He was wavering. He told me it was my fault we had returned to England. My fault? You know how things were, Lady Margaret. He lured me back with promises of a fresh beginning to our marriage. I believed he wanted me under his roof while all the time he was consorting with other women. He shamed me in front of my household. I said he had no concept of loyalty and I would return to France. I raised my voice to him, Lady Margaret, something I have never done before.‘
‘Countess, you knew what the queen and Lord Mortimer were planning. Did you not consider what might happen?’
She sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes.
‘I saw no further than my own happiness and I have been duly punished. But though he has cheated me a second time, I would not see my husband dead.’
‘I do not think the queen will allow your husband to be killed.’
‘But what will become of us? Our kingdom is without a king.’
‘We have a king.’
‘But for how long? Anything can happen when a Lancaster is let loose, anything.’
The countess was becoming panic-stricken and whatever I did I had to calm her before she began screaming.
‘You mustn’t worry, the queen has issued orders that her husband is not to be harmed.’
‘I doubt she’ll be able to control those dogs of hers.’
‘Which dogs?’
‘Lord Mortimer and his like.’
‘Countess, my cousin may seem a violent man to you but …’
She leaned forward and grabbled my hands. ‘You think you know him, Lady Margaret but you do not. He is like Lancaster, a man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You may think me a foolish woman but I tell you, Lord Mortimer would kill the king himself if it suited his purposes.’
‘Countess!’
I thought Lady Jeanne sane enough but perhaps her troubles had left her mind unhinged.
‘I know you think me fanciful but I have had a long time to reflect on what the queen and Lord Mortimer have done and what they want. They have the boy and they will use him.’
‘Which boy?’ I said, startled.
‘Lord Edward, the king’s son.’
‘The queen loves her son.’
‘That will not stop her from using him.’ She put her mouth close to my ear and whispered, ‘She will set him up in place of his father.’
‘She wouldn’t,’ I said uncertainly.
‘You know she would.’
‘But what of her husband?’
For a moment there was nothing but silence in the room but the silence told me everything I wanted to know.
‘To kill a king would mean eternal damnation.’ I whispered. ‘It would be impossible.’
But we both knew that to a woman who had stolen her husband’s kingdom and killed his friend, who had plotted and planned an invasion and gathered her husband’s nobles to her side, nothing was impossible.
7
Vivat Rex 1327
Our baby was a boy and we named him Edmund for his father. Four weeks after the birth I climbed into a litter and together with my little son and his wet-nurse, set out for London through the dismal white-washed countryside. Snow lingered in the valleys and underneath hedges but on sunny slopes it was thawing fast. River waters were steadily rising and in one place a bridge was threatened by the relentless progress of the icy-grey torrent. I was nervous but my escort assured me I was perfectly safe.
Inside the litter there were furs and heated bricks to keep me warm and I kept the curtains tightly closed. Although it was a summer fever which had taken Aymer, I feared cold also killed little children.
Edmund’s note had said the parliament would meet the day after the feast of the Epiphany. He would be at Westminster but our house would be ready for when I arrived and the servants were expecting me. He would come as soon as he was able. He ended with orders to keep his son safe and asked that I should take good care of myself because I was his truly beloved wife.
I had barely settled myself in my room when I had an unexpected visitor. I hadn’t seen her for more than two years and had no idea she was in London.
‘Lady Abernethy!’
Margery Abernethy sank slowly to the ground in an exaggerated display of humility.
‘Countess,’ she murmured.
I smiled. ‘Get up this instant, Lady Margery. You look extremely foolish down there on the floor. Come and sit beside me and tell me what you’ve been doing these past two years. I’m hungry for news.’
Before I went to France with Isabella, Lady Margery had been my friend. She was a widow with two children and, like me, had lands beyond the border which were irretrievably lost.
She smiled up at me. ‘I think it would be far more interesting to find out what you have been doing, Lady Margaret. I leave you in your drab woollen gowns attending to the queen’s needs, turn my back for a moment, and what happens? Someone has transformed you into a countess wrapped in velvets and furs and covered in jewels.’
I laughed. ‘Come and see my son.’
I called for the nursemaid who arrived promptly with a closely swaddled bundle.
‘Oh how sweet!’ With a gentle finger Lady Margery turned back the folds threatening to obscure my son. ‘I do so want another child,’ she said longingly, ‘All I have are my two girls, but at my age and with no husband I fear it would be an unspeakable scandal if I produced one.’ She looked at me with a wicked glint in her eye. ‘I don’t suppose you have any more men tucked away in your saddlebags? I’m not greedy. A lord will do. I don’t require an earl. I’m not like you.’
‘Have you seen my husband?’
‘The handsome earl of Kent? She eyed me speculatively. ‘You have done well, Lady Margaret. This is far more than you could have hoped for. In truth it is far more than almost any woman could have hoped for. I trust he is generous. Is he an attentive husband?’
I blushed. ‘He is most attentive. I think I am very fortunate because I couldn’t have found a better man.’
She looked thoroughly disbelieving. To Lady Margery, all men were untrustworthy scoundrels, interested in only two things: a woman’s money and a woman’s body.
‘Tell me,’ I said, anxious to divert her conversation from my husband’s perceived shortcomings. ‘What is happening outside? My maids say people are rioting on the streets.’
Edmund was still at Westminster and had not yet come home so I had no news and was relying on the garbled stories I received from the servants.
‘Are you surprised? Their world is being turned upside down. First Lord Mortimer brings his friends to the Guildhall to join in swearing an oath to support the queen and her son; th
en Archbishop Reynolds distributes tuns of wine to the citizens so there isn’t a sober man in the city; and now they hear the parliament has agreed to set aside their anointed king and put Lord Edward in his place. This is not an ordinary day for the people.’
‘So it has been done,’ I murmured to myself.
‘Did you know this was to happen? I think you did.’
I put my hands to my cheeks which felt decidedly warm. ‘I knew the queen and my cousin, Lord Mortimer wanted rid of the Despensers, as we all did. But not this.’
Lady Margery leaned forward and said quietly. ‘It was not done in silence and behind closed doors as I believe these things often are. Your cousin spoke very eloquently to the parliament. He said the citizens of London and all the lords were agreed on the matter - the king must go. But there was uproar. The bishops were divided. Rochester and York were against it as was old Reynolds, but Bishop Orleton carried the day. Your brother led everyone by the nose like the horse-master he is. He had them eating out of his hand at the end. You should have heard the noise. They were shouting for the king’s son, and when Lord Edward appeared they cheered him to the rafters.’
‘You were in the chamber?’
‘The queen needed someone to attend her. Once she would have chosen you.’
‘How was she?’
‘In tears by the end.’
Yes, I thought, tears were always a woman’s friend at times like this.
‘So they will throw down the father and make young Lord Edward king,’ I said bleakly.
She smiled as if she was carrying a secret. She leaned back in her chair and watched my face.
‘Lord Edward has refused.’
Sainte Vierge! A carefully arranged demonstration of public support and Lord Edward refuses to play the role Isabella has determined for him. She has brought him the crown of England and he has turned it down! My cousin would be furious. To have come so far and be thwarted by a fourteen year-old boy.
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