‘I hear you are married.’
I turned round. Eleanor was looking at me, a sly expression on her face.
‘Yes. In Paris.’
‘I told my uncle you would ensnare his brother one day.’
‘I wasn’t trying to ensnare anyone, Eleanor.’
She had a mocking smile on her lips.
‘I’ve known you a long time, Margaret, and I’ve known many women like you. You have nothing to offer but yourself and you use your body like a purse to be won in the lists. You refused him your bed, didn’t you? How it must have enraged poor Uncle Edmund. There you were, all sweetness: demure, obedient, lowered lashes, simpering smiles; a juicy widow just ripe for plucking and then you barred the door to your bedchamber. Cleverly played, Margaret. But I recall you always were a skilful player.’
I should have ignored her but I’d always been too quick to rise to the bait.
‘My husband is well pleased with me.’
‘Ah, but are you well pleased with him? How does it feel to know your husband ploughed his furrow through every woman in the queen’s household? I could name them if you like. I should watch your maidservants if I were you, countess.’ She spat out the last word as if it offended her to keep it on her tongue. ‘It seems your husband likes women of low birth.’
‘At least my husband doesn’t …’
‘Doesn’t what?’ Her eyes glinted with pleasure now that she had roused my temper. ‘What makes you think my husband was ever lacking in his duty to me. My grandfather chose my husband carefully and he understood the value of strength. I was a good wife who obeyed my husband in every respect and he was a good husband to me.’
‘I know what was said about your husband and I saw what he expected of you, Eleanor Despenser.’
‘My husband expected nothing from me that I was not happy to give. Did you imagine I was forced to do the things I did? Well, I wasn’t. I did them gladly. But what about you, Margaret? Are you obedient to your husband’s every wish? As you and I know, those with royal blood in their veins do not like to be denied in any way. Does he ask you to do things which you find distasteful? Men need pleasuring in such interesting ways, don’t they? And I’m sure my uncle’s brother is of an inventive nature. He always was.’
‘You have a foul mouth, Eleanor Despenser.’
She laughed. ‘What does he get you to do, countess? Do you tell your confessor? Poor man! How his cheeks must burn to hear such words spill from your lips. And you look so good and so pious. But then, appearances deceive. However, I am not deceived by you for one moment. I know exactly what it is that dearest Isabella wishes to know and I am not going to tell you. I shall leave you to guess just how far I was prepared to go to please my husband. As for your husband …’
‘My husband loves me and I would take him any day over a …‘
‘A what, countess? Be careful what you say about the dead.’
She smiled serenely as if we had been discussing the price of cloth and continued to stroke the curly head of the child on her knee.
I couldn’t wait to erase the memory of my encounter with Eleanor Despenser from my mind. But first I had to report to Isabella.
‘It is as you thought,’ I said. ‘She says the child is her husband’s.’
Isabella peered at me more closely. ‘But you have doubts?’
‘No. She showed no signs of claiming anything other than what one would expect. But she has been uncommonly favoured by your husband. They appear to have spent many happy evenings together at Sheen.’
‘Alone?’
‘Privy dining,’ I said. ‘Just the two of them because the lady’s husband was absent. And as we thought, your husband was exceedingly generous in the matter of gifts and money. She lacked for nothing.’
Isabella placed the tips of her fingers together and pursed her lips. After a moment she called for the man at the door.
‘Fetch me Mistress Nauntel.’
Juliana Nauntel was one of Isabella’s maids and the most valued woman in her household. She knew the queen’s secrets and ran the kind of errands Isabella would entrust to no-one else. She was diligent, unassuming and tight-lipped – the perfect servant.
‘Ah, Mistress Nauntel. Do you have what I asked for?’
The woman looked disapprovingly at her mistress. Reluctantly she passed over a small leather pouch. Isabella pulled open the drawstring neck and removed a small vial.
‘You are quite certain this is what I requested?’
The woman nodded. ‘Yes, my lady.’
Isabella removed the stopper and sniffed the contents. She wrinkled up her nose. ‘That’s it. You may go now.’
She waited until we were alone again before speaking. ‘You must go back to your brother, Margaret. Tell him to have his woman use this.’
‘I don’t know if my brother has a woman?’
‘Don’t be foolish, Margaret. Lady Wake spends her time with her sisters in their father’s castles. I doubt she’s seen your brother once since he joined us. He’s a hot-blooded man. Of course there is a woman. Tell him she must make up a drink for the Lady Eleanor.’
My eyes widened in disbelief.
‘Oh don’t look like that. I’m not planning to do away with my husband’s niece. This draught is to improve a woman’s well-being. It is a kindness.’
I took the small bag and secreted it away. I would go next morning and say nothing to anyone, not even Edmund. Then I would put the matter out of my mind.
Margery, Lady Abernethy was in the queen’s apartments at Westminster idly strumming on her lute and singing in a low voice. There was no sign of Isabella but I could hear her.
‘You will not go. I command you to stay.’
This was Isabella at her most imperious.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, my lady. You know I must go. I have business in Abergavenny which must be attended to. If a man does not see to his estates they will fall into ruin in one way or another.’
My cousin’s voice was measured but laced with anger and irritation.
‘I don’t believe you. Tell me where you are really going. I insist.’
There was a long silence.
‘It is Lord Mortimer,’ whispered Margery, unnecessarily. He has just told the queen he will be absent for several weeks. He is going into Wales.’
My cousin’s voice was quieter now, more loving. ‘It is not what you think. I am not going to her, I swear.’
The silence lengthened.
‘She is beside herself,’ said Margery. ‘She says he is travelling to Ludlow to visit Lady Mortimer. She says he cares nothing for her and the hurt he is causing her.’
‘Surely a man may visit his wife?’ I murmured.
‘Not if he wishes to retain the favour of his queen and she forbids it.’
Isabella’s voice again.
‘You are taking her books.’
‘I told you before. The books are a gift to make up for my neglect. Christ’s blood, Madam! Would you have me throw my wife out and have her wander the countryside in her shift? Is that what you want? For me to insult her?’
‘I want you to remember who I am and what you owe to me, and not go running after a woman who means nothing to you any more.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘Or am I mistaken in that as well?’
My cousin’s voice sounded weary. ‘She is my wife. She is the mother of my children. I cannot deny her a degree of comfort and regard.’
‘Very well,’ said Isabella in that icy tone I knew only too well. ‘Go and lick the hem of her skirts! Do what you like. I shall take myself and my son to Canterbury. I shall spend my days in prayer and my nights in writing letters to my husband. I shall gather up gifts so that he knows I think lovingly of him despite our separation. It would be a sad day, would it not, Mortimer, if a
wife could not make love-gifts to her husband when they are apart. What would you recommend? What do you receive from your wife? Does she send you small delicacies for your table? Or fine clothing? Perhaps silk shirts stitched by her own fair hand? Yes that would be suitable for my lord – silk shirts. Or songbirds. It is difficult to express the love and devotion I bear my lord when we are so cruelly parted.’
‘Stop it, my lady. We must not hurt each other like this.’
‘No, Lord Mortimer,’ hissed Isabella’s voice. ‘You are mistaken. There is only one of us inflicting pain on the other and it is not I.’
Margery raised her eyebrows to me and shrugged her shoulders.
True to her word, two days later the queen’s household departed for Canterbury in a great display of royal pageantry. The king and his beloved mother were making a pilgrimage to the shrine of St Thomas to give thanks for their many blessings. And while all attention was on Isabella and her son, my cousin slipped away with barely anyone noticing he had gone.
Delighted by our newfound freedom Edmund and I went to Arundel to view what we had received from Isabella. It was very fine and well worth the burdens we had endured. The approach up the river from the sea reminded me sharply of the finer palaces of Isabella’s brother, and nowhere could there have been a stronger, more secure, fortress than this, our new castle. The walls were solid and the gatehouse narrow; and with high ground at our back and a commanding view over the town and river below, an enemy would be immediately apparent.
We spent a wonderful two weeks exploring our home and organising a household for our son. We rode out in the park and in the evening stood on the roof leads, looking down the valley and breathing in the smell of the sea. Our nights were spent in rekindling our closeness and I thought it might not be long before Mondi would have company in the nursery. I would have liked to stay longer but a terse note from Isabella commanded my return.
I arrived at Westminster to find my cousin still absent.
‘I wish I knew where he is and what he’s doing,’ I said to Lady Abernethy.
‘You mean you don’t know?’ She seemed amazed at my ignorance.
‘Should I?’
She lowered her voice. ‘There has been a plot to free Sir Edward.’
I gasped. ‘Free the king? I mean Sir Edward.’
‘Yes.’
‘But why did nobody tell me?’
Lady Abernethy was blunt. ‘If you weren’t told, it is because Lord Mortimer doesn’t want you to know. Perhaps he worries about your husband’s loyalty and thinks he may be involved in the plot.’
‘Lord Edmund? Nonsense. He is totally loyal and would never involve himself in something like that without telling me. Besides, what would be the purpose? Why would he want to take his brother away? Sir Edward lives in royal splendour in Kenilworth. He has nothing to complain of.’
‘People are saying Lord Mortimer plans to move his prisoner out of Henry of Lancaster’s clutches. He believes Kenilworth is not safe which must mean he suspects Lancaster as well.’
‘Whom does he not suspect?’ I said, bitterly.
‘I think the list is short.’
‘But I am his cousin,’ I wailed.
‘Ah yes, but your husband is Sir Edward’s brother.’
I could not believe I had been deceived by my cousin and Isabella. I was so angry I decided to ask Isabella for the truth.
I discovered her playing tables with Lady Jeanne in her private chamber. It was not a pastime I enjoyed. I preferred chess, a game of skill and concentration where one could satisfactorily demolish one’s opponent.
‘Moved?’ She raised her eyebrows at my question.
‘Yes, your grace.’
‘Does this concern you?’
‘My husband is Sir Edward’s brother, your grace, and it is only proper that he should be told. This was the agreement.’
Isabella narrowed her eyes and a chill filled the room.
‘If I remember correctly, the agreement was purely monetary. Your husband was greedy for income, not brotherly love. I think you will find I kept my side of the bargain and rewarded him well.’
I opened my mouth to say something, but Isabella swept me aside. ‘However, as you have asked, and, as you are dear to me, I shall tell you. Yes, there were certain unruly elements in the countryside which would have tried to take my husband away and make use of him. They are being apprehended.’
So there had been a plot. I wondered if my cousin knew who was behind it.
Isabella was watching my face. ‘Lord Mortimer has asked the king to appoint Lord Berkeley and Sir John Maltravers as my husband’s new guardians. He is to be moved to a place of greater safety. Everything is being seen to and it is for that reason alone that Lord Mortimer is absent from our side.’
She smiled at me. ‘You mustn’t worry, Margaret. It is merely a matter of my husband’s safety, nothing more. Lancaster has proved a somewhat careless guardian and, as your husband knows, the comfort and well-being of my husband is my foremost concern. Berkeley Castle will, I trust, be a pleasant place for his retirement from the cares of his kingship. I think I shall visit him there later in the year.’
She turned back to her game, all thoughts of my questions banished. I watched as her delicate queenly fingers tossed the dice and then, with great relish, picked up one of her pieces and moved it up the board. Yes indeed, it was a very silly game.
The queen’s household moved slowly north through the familiar flat lands of my childhood, travelling along narrow causeways until we reached the island in the marshes where Ramsey Abbey stood. It was here in the chapter room that the king’s council was to meet with the king.
There was silence as the king and his mother took their places. Apart from the queen, I was the only woman present and my role was to wait on Isabella, not to speak. The council had come to report on the Scottish problem. Since the disaster of Bannockburn the Scots had been a continual thorn in our sides: raiding, stealing, burning and threatening invasion.
Before Isabella had finished arranging her skirts, the senior member of the council stepped forward. Henry, earl of Lancaster had not aged well. He was grey and bent, and if rumours were to be believed, half-blind. Edmund said he had not taken kindly to having his royal prisoner removed and there was bad feeling between him and my cousin.
Lord Henry pulled himself up to his full height and glared at his king.
‘The advice the council gives your grace is to fight the turds.’
The king smiled. He was well used to his outspoken guardian.
‘Poor advice,’ remarked Isabella.
Lord Henry’s eyes shifted to the queen. It was obvious he didn’t like her and he didn’t like her intervention.
‘The so-called peace you brokered in Paris didn’t last the year, madam, did it? Norham Castle burned the day your son was crowned. Would you have us pave the way to York for the Scots? Lay down carpets? Bid them welcome? Make them gifts of our cattle and our crops? Let them take our women?’
‘War is not the answer to the king’s problems,’ said Isabella.
‘It’s the answer to mine.’ Lord Henry was not about to be put down by a woman no matter who she was. ‘Those of us who’ve had their Scottish lands stolen, want them back. And we’ve had enough of those scurvy whoresons storming across the border. It’s time to put a stop to it once and for all. Unless you’d care to move your border south, to the Trent, your grace?’
His tone was verging on the rude but he seemed sure of his position. We all knew the king needed Lord Henry and his northern barons to keep the border secure.
‘We should make peace with the Scots,’ said Isabella firmly.
‘We should crush them,’ snarled Lord Henry.
The young king turned to his mother. ‘The council have put forward their views very clearly, my lady, and their advice is tha
t it is better to fight now and regain what we lost at Bannockburn. Our position on the ground is too weak to negotiate a peace.’
Isabella was having none of this. She leaned over to speak to her son privately. ‘Campaigns cost money and your royal coffers are nearly empty. Your father’s chamberlain emptied the treasury of gold and you’ve been left a very poor inheritance.’
I was shocked at her duplicity. This was quite untrue. It was Isabella herself who had emptied the royal coffers. Once she had the keys her greedy fingers had taken practically everything there was to take. She had no intention of allowing her personal wealth to be used in a pointless war with the Scots.
My brother rose.
‘Your grace,’ he bowed to the king. ‘As you know, many of us here have lands near the border. How are we to defend them if we do not make a stand? If we tolerate these raids they will merely increase in ferocity. Soon the north will be ungovernable and what then?’
My brother’s northern fortress of Liddell stood in a cold and inhospitable spot in the borderlands. He supported his father-in-law in the matter of the Scots because their interests ran side by side.
The king smiled at Tom. He was always polite, far more so than his father had been. ‘Thank you, Lord Wake. I hear your advice and I agree. We shall call a muster at York for midsummer and in the meantime we shall send envoys to Bruce, to see if we can reach an accommodation.’
It was a brave speech for a fourteen-year-old boy but like any boy of his age he wanted to fight. It must seem like a huge adventure, one full of unknown excitement. John had felt the same but John had died on his adventure and I had been left alone.
The royal household left Ramsey for Peterborough where Easter was celebrated and then journeyed slowly on to Stamford for the parliament. As soon as we arrived I received an unexpected royal summons and hastily changed my dusty travelling clothes for something brushed and perfumed.
Isabella was pacing, a sure sign of annoyance.
‘I have decided that from now on I shall attend meetings of the regency council in person.’
‘But no woman is allowed sit on the council, your grace.’
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