‘That must have been a shock to the queen,’ I said carefully.
‘She was shaking from head to toe. Her fingernails were white and you could have crushed a man with the look on her face. She had Lord Edward out of there and into her chamber before you could say “Ave Rex”. And by the time she dismissed me, she was shrieking that he was an ungrateful pup who had no idea how she had suffered at his father’s hands and how all she had ever done was for him. But he was adamant. He would not accept the crown just because she wanted it. He said it was wrong.’
‘Oh Lady Margery,’ I sighed. ‘Where will all this lead?’
‘To Berwick, I trust. I need my lands back. The king gave me leave to travel to Scotland two years ago but I have had no success in recovering them. Hopefully Lord Edward will accept the crown and be less of a coward than his father and will mount a campaign against Robert Bruce.’
I had a sudden image of Badenoch, lost in the hills, far beyond my grasp. My dream castle from another time. John’s home.
‘Now enough of such nonsense,‘ said Lady Margery. ‘Tell me - what is the fashion for sleeves in Paris? Are they wearing them loose and flowing or are they buttoned tightly?’
How like Margery Abernethy. The realm might be falling apart but she always knew what was of importance to a woman.
Edmund returned home two night’s later, weary and dispirited.
‘My nephew has capitulated. Isabella has worn him down. He has agreed to take the crown if his father offers it to him but not otherwise. So Orleton and his bullies have gone to Kenilworth. Their job is to persuade my brother to resign the throne and God alone knows what threats they’ll use to get what they want.’
‘Will your brother do that? Will he give away his royalty?’
‘They’ll have him killed if he doesn’t. They’ve gone too far to turn chicken-hearted now. And Isabella is determined. Dear God, Margaret, if I had known what was going to happen I would never have agreed to any of this. I would have stayed in Paris.’
He looked so miserable I put my arms around him and stroked his hair.
‘There was nothing you could do, Edmund. The plan was already hatched and the end was inevitable. At least this way your brother will live in comfort for the rest of his life.’
He made a noise like a stifled sob. ‘Do you remember the tower at Pontefract where we first met?’ His voice was muffled by the fabric of my shift.
A chasm of memory separated that day from this and yet it was only five years: the freezing cold, a stone stairway to a bare room with a window open to the night sky, the pathetic remnants of a lost life and the shadowed man blocking my escape.
‘Of course I do,’ I said quietly. ‘How could I forget? But Kenilworth is not like that. It is a fine palace and he will have everything he needs.’
‘Of course,’ said Edmund bleakly. ‘Everything he needs. What else?’
He was quiet for a long time and we stayed together, neither of us willing to disturb our closeness.
As the short days of January marched onwards, the fall of a king and the rise of another merged seamlessly one into the other. The bishops returned from Kenilworth with the king’s agreement. I heard he had fallen to his knees, weeping like a child and had to be lifted back onto his chair by Lord Henry. When asked to resign his throne in favour of his son he had agreed and asked forgiveness for his many sins. The steward of the royal household had broken his staff of office and the reign of the queen’s husband was finally at an end. From henceforth, we were told, he would be known as “Sir Edward, sometime king of England”.
One late afternoon I had another visitor - my sister-in-law, the pretty little coroner’s daughter from Norfolk. She was now the mother of three children but as painfully shy as she had ever been. She flushed to the roots of her hair when I greeted her.
‘I joined my lord for the Nativity celebrations at Wallingford. He said I might attend provided I remembered to behave as he expected,’ she murmured.
She spoke with a country accent which betrayed her origins. She was pleasant enough and it was obvious she had learned fast, but it wasn’t fast enough. She might have done well as a rich merchant’s wife but would never succeed as a countess, poor creature.
She prattled about her husband with a very childish enthusiasm. She clearly adored Lord Norfolk even if his feelings towards her were cool. She bore no resentment for her banishment to his country manors, she was simply grateful for her invitation to the celebrations.
‘I love to see my lord in the joust, Lady Margaret, but I am afraid I will disappoint him and disgrace myself. He looks so fine in his armour, so tall and handsome; but it frightens me the way they rush at each other. What if a lance should go astray? What if a horse should fall and crush its rider? Imagine what it must be like to be trapped beneath one of those heaving bodies.’
She admired Mondi, cooing and waggling her fingers over the cradle, making silly noises and speaking nonsense words the way stupid women will. After a while she remembered the purpose of her visit and dutifully came to sit with me though it was obvious she would rather have remained with the nursemaids and the baby.
‘I am sure all will be well,’ I said, smiling sweetly.
‘I am so very nervous of everyone.’
‘You cannot be nervous of our new king; he is only a boy. Do you not have younger brothers?’
‘Yes, but when Lord Edward … I mean the king, is there, so is the queen and she frightens me. I wish the old king was here. I wish …’
She clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’ Her eyes were wide with alarm. ‘My lord said I must never mention the old king again. He said I must keep my mouth shut or he’d sew it up for me.’
‘Did you like Sir Edward, the old king?’ I said, trying to banish the alarming image of my brother-in-law wielding a needle.
‘Oh yes. He was kind. He would invite me to sup with him.’ She gave a little smile, her face slowly filling with sunshine. ‘Once when my lord was away on his business, the king sent a messenger to bring me up-river, and together we had a small meal and listened to some musicians. When we were alone we talked and he sang for me. It wasn’t like being with a king at all. It was as if he was an ordinary man, the kind my father entertained in his house when I was young.’
She overstayed her welcome until I was yawning. Our talk was as limited as I expected from a woman who had done nothing in her life but keep house for her father and lay herself down for her husband. I wondered if Edmund’s brother found much delight in her but he hadn’t married her for her conversation and in other respects she must still be pleasing. She was amazingly pretty and certainly very willing. She was the kind of woman all men desire but rarely marry, unless she trails a vast dowry in her wake.
As soon as I had undergone the formal rituals of purification I returned not only to my husband’s arms but to the queen’s presence.
Isabella gave me a cursory glance. ‘You look pale, Margaret. Are you sickening?’
‘No, your grace. It is only the rigours of childbirth.’
‘I gave birth to four children and was never in anything other than perfect health. Nevertheless, I am glad you have returned. I have need of you.’
She made no enquiries about Mondi. I could have been delivered of a bastard in a hedgerow for all the interest she was taking.
‘You have heard about Madame of Evreux?’
‘Yes, your grace. A girl and unlikely to live. It is most unfortunate.’
‘It is many things but it is not unfortunate. I told my brother he would have no luck in his marriage bed and I have been proved right.’
‘She is still young.’
Isabella snorted as if Madame of Evreux’s youth was nothing.
‘Tell me Margaret. What did you think of my cousin, Philip, our new count of Valois? You have a good eye for people.
It is one of your talents and why I keep you.’
I thought of the quivering greyhound with his ungainly posture and trembling legs.
‘He is nervous of his wife,’ I said slowly. ‘He may be tall and boast broad shoulders, but he has the look of a man who fears he will fail.’
‘Hah!’ said Isabella. ‘I was right. You saw it too. If Charles should die, God forbid that he should, then long-nosed Philip is not the man to take the throne. And if not him - then who?’
I knew the way Isabella’s mind was working. Having removed her husband from the throne of England she was now intent in securing the crown of France for Lord Edward. Of course she would have to get rid of her brother first but I didn’t think a small matter like that would stop her. A woman who has invaded her husband’s kingdom and stolen his throne could achieve anything.
Sometimes I wondered where the Isabella of yesterday had gone: the sweet young queen who had loved her husband and had welcomed me into her household. When I was first with her she had made much of me, teased me, indulged me and later had treated me as a confidante. But that woman had vanished in the turmoil of these last two years. She had been replaced by this scheming, ruthless, vindictive harpy. But I had long ago decided it was sensible to be friendly with such a woman. Better a friend than an enemy.
‘Your noble father had three sons and a single daughter,’ I said slowly. ‘All three sons have failed to provide a male heir. Thus through your royal person your son would have the strongest claim if anything were to happen to your brother, which naturally we pray will not.’
Naturally,’ agreed Isabella.
At that moment the man at the door announced my cousin. The queen looked up and smiled.
‘Mortimer, see who is here. Your cousin has come back to us.’
He nodded to us both.
‘You are well, cousin?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And the child?’
‘He thrives.’
‘Good.’ He turned to Isabella. ‘Is the boy ready to agree? Have you shut his ungrateful mouth for him?’
For a moment I didn’t know who my cousin meant, then I realised he was talking about the young king. I was shocked. This was no way to talk to the queen about her son.
Isabella touched his arm. ‘You mustn’t let yourself get upset by him, dear Mortimer. He is only trying to do what he thinks is right. Remember, he has had little experience and we need to show him the way things are done. I will keep him in my own household and that way we can be sure he is not influenced by those who do not have our best interests at heart.’
‘It is all very well for you, my lady. It was not your sons he was ridiculing.’
‘Don’t fret. It is all settled now. Your sons shall wear earls’ robes at the coronation as you desired: scarlet, green and brown cloth-of-gold with miniver and squirrel fur. They will look utterly splendid as will all the king’s newly-created knights. As will you, dearest Mortimer.’
She smiled at him and after a moment his face softened and he returned the smile. But I noticed he didn’t thank her.
Earl’s robes? I thought. For the sons of a mere baron? How far my cousin had travelled. Almost as far as I had myself.
At the coronation my old friends from the nursery at Wigmore did indeed look splendid in their robes. I could hardly believe how they had grown: tall, well-made men; even young Johnny was up to his brothers’ shoulders and already sprouting a beard.
Everything on that first day of February shone: from one end of the abbey to the other, amidst clouds of incense and swirls of brocade, the glitter and sparkle of a thousand precious jewels filled my eyes. This was the day Isabella had been waiting for.
The only person who did not appear to be enjoying himself was the young king. He was solemn and quiet, responding where necessary but with none of the joy and effusiveness expected of a newly-crowned king. At the feast his mother sat beside him and you might have thought it was her coronation day - hers and Lord Mortimer’s.
My cousin was slapping men on the back and talking his way round the hall while Isabella’s son sat mute and wary, watching his progress. The eyes of the young king followed my cousin but the boy didn’t move and he said nothing.
There were lavish gifts, as was expected: silver dishes and spoons for Lord Henry and a gilded silver salt cellar for my brother. Bishop Orleton was handed several items from the royal treasury to put in his Episcopal Palace, while a Mortimer cousin, Thomas Vere, received two gilt silver basins engraved with the arms of England and France. Richard de Bethune, now mayor of London, had an engraved gold cup and an enamelled gold ewer. Of course he had not only delivered my cousin from his imprisonment in the Tower four years ago but had recently delivered the citizens of London to him when they were most needed. Did no one else wonder exactly what he had done for the king to warrant these gifts? But all the silver and gold given out that day was nothing compared to Isabella’s gift to herself.
‘She has taken an income from the crown of twenty thousand marks a year,’ said a shocked Edmund. ‘Does she mean to beggar my nephew?’
‘You forget,’ I reminded him. ‘When Despenser was in power she believed herself near destitute. Now she behaves in the manner of one who knows what it is to starve.’
‘She was always a greedy woman,’ said Edmund. ‘I trust she remembers her promise to me.’
After the feast a meeting was called by my cousin. Only a select few were invited and the gathering was marked more by those who were absent than by those who came. Lord Henry was missing, as was my brother and so were the other Lancastrian lords.
The chosen few met late in the day and, to my surprise, one other notable person was missing: the king.
‘He is weary,’ said Isabella fondly. ‘It has been a long day for a boy of his age. I sent him to his bed.’
She spoke as if he was six years old, not a young man who had been anointed king of England. But to Isabella he was her son and as such would do as he was told.
‘We have problems,’ said my cousin, getting down to business at once. ‘The parliament is to meet the day after tomorrow and will be packed with Henry of Lancaster’s men. Lancaster holds sway in the north and also holds the prisoner.’
Isabella tapped the table. ‘My husband is to be called something other than “the prisoner”. It is disrespectful to the father of my son, a man who was once your sovereign.’
My cousin flushed a deep red. ‘I apologise, my lady. I had not intended the words as an insult.’
Isabella smiled graciously and inclined her head to him. She had reminded him of his inferior position and he didn’t like it one bit.
‘Lord Edward of Caernarvon would be suitable,’ she went on. ‘He was referred to in that way before we were married. Or Sir Edward; that would also be acceptable both to me and to the king.’
My cousin frowned impatiently. ‘Sir Edward it is then. Are we agreed? Lord Edmund? Lord Norfolk?’
My husband looked up. ‘I agree,’ he said flatly, as if it didn’t matter to him that these men were demoting his brother to the rank of a mere knight. ‘It is only words.’
His brother Norfolk nodded and from every side there were murmurs of agreement.
‘Perhaps you find you are reconsidering your bishops’ invocations, my lady,’ said my cousin with a hint of malice in his voice.
‘Which would be?’
‘That you return to your husband’s side in his captivity. We know Sir Edward is anxious for you to bring him consolation. After all, my lady, it would be an honouring of your marriage vows which, we know, you hold in high esteem.’
I knew immediately that Isabella had refused to give my cousin his reward. After Despenser’s execution he would have expected her to be more accommodating, perhaps allowing a degree of intimacy, but it seemed she was determined to keep him at a distance and he was angr
y and impatient. This was a lover’s quarrel fought out across the queen’s table but the others appeared oblivious to the hidden meanings in the words.
‘This has already been discussed, Lord Mortimer,’ said Isabella icily. ‘The bishops, if you recall, are nervous for my safety. However much I personally may wish to honour and obey my dearest lord, he has, unfortunately, shown himself a dangerous man where I am concerned. My son will not permit me to return to my husband’s side. He says my welfare must be his first concern. So I shall remain here with the king to serve him and give him good guidance as a mother and as a queen.’
Her eyes glittered with triumph. I knew she intended to control them both: my cousin and her son.
‘Should we not discuss how to handle the parliament?’ said the earl of Surrey in all innocence.
Since his return to Isabella’s side the earl had been overly anxious to prove himself a loyal and trusted member of the queen’s camp. Lady Jeanne said he was cool towards her and seldom visited but fervent in his admiration for the young king and for Lord Mortimer.
‘Indeed,’ said Isabella. ‘Let us get down to business. Lancaster will push for all he can get. He will want pardons for his friends for their actions in the rebellion five years ago and of course for his brother.’
‘I thought Earl Thomas had a reincarnation as one of England’s newest saints?’ said my cousin lazily. ‘I’ve been told they flock in their thousands to his graveside. What more can he possibly need? Surely it is beyond our earthly powers to award him a higher status.’
‘What an excellent idea, Lord Mortimer,’ said Isabella, smiling. ‘I shall write to His Holiness urging him to consider the late dear departed earl of Lancaster as a candidate for canonization. And as the process is a lengthy one, taking many years, Lord Henry will not, in the meantime, wish to incur my displeasure in case I withdraw my support for his brother’s cause.’
The Queen's Spy Page 14