The Queen's Spy

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The Queen's Spy Page 25

by Caroline Newark


  ‘Sir Ingelram Berenger thought he was telling the truth.’

  ‘Sir Ingelram is a man yearning for the old days. He would jump at any chance of a return to what he remembers as the good times of the Despensers. He is suffering from nostalgia, Margaret, nothing more.’

  And so I told him. I told him what I had failed to ask Sir Thomas Gurney at Lincoln and what the embalming woman had said to Isabella at Worcester. I told him about my cousin’s visitor on the day the army left to fight the Scots last summer and what my cousin had said to me on the walls at York. And I told him what I had learned from Meg Mortimer at Ludlow and what I thought had happened that night at Berkeley Castle.

  ‘There was one thing they didn’t reckon on - the size of your brother’s feet. The boots didn’t fit.’

  ‘The boots didn’t fit?’ he repeated in disbelief.

  ‘They were too small and the embalming woman noticed. She probably said nothing at the time. I doubt if they’d have let her live if she’d said anything. But she didn’t. She kept silent until she saw Isabella.’

  I could see Edmund was having difficulty believing any of what I was saying. I put out my hand to hold his.

  ‘And there was something else, something they couldn’t possibly have known because it was hidden.’ I paused. I didn’t know the words to use even to my husband. When Edmund and I lay together we whispered endearments to each other; we didn’t list his private parts in intimate detail. ‘His … equipment,’ I faltered. ‘His manhood. He had a member like other men but as for the rest - there was only one. There should have been two.’

  ‘Only one?’

  I hurried on to hide my confusion. ‘They weren’t to know. A man would keep that secret. But the embalming woman noticed.’

  ‘My brother was not like that. He was …’

  ‘He had two?’

  ‘Of course he did. All men have two.’

  ‘Not all,’ I said quietly. ‘The dead man didn’t.’

  ‘My brother did. He was perfect.’

  ‘You’re certain?’

  ‘Christ’s blood, Margaret! Of course I’m certain. He was my brother. We bathed together, we swam together. I’d seen him naked a thousand times. Of course I’m certain.’

  ‘Then the man in the coffin at Berkeley was not your brother. He couldn’t have been.’

  Poor Edmund was utterly bewildered.

  ‘But if he wasn’t my brother, who was he?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who he was. They just needed someone who was tall and well-built, someone who in the shadows could pass as your brother. There must be plenty of men like that, men who wouldn’t be missed. And they’d have hidden his face afterwards to make certain no-one would ever know.’

  ‘But why? Why would anyone do such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. But there could be a dozen reasons.’

  ‘It was your cousin’s doing.’

  Edmund had jumped to the same conclusion as I had but that was not surprising.

  ‘I don’t want to believe it,’ I said miserably.

  ‘If what you say is true then it must be him. There’s no-one else who would do something so evil.’

  ‘Unless it was Isabella. But I’ve watched her carefully and I’m certain she believes she’s a widow. She wouldn’t allow my cousin into her bed if she knew her husband was alive. It would be too great a sin.’

  Edmund kept shaking his head. I could see he was struggling to believe anything of what I had told him.

  ‘But the funeral at Gloucester?’

  ‘A trick. Something designed to deceive.’

  ‘But we were all there? You were there.’

  ‘Whoever planned this needed us there. We had to be convinced your brother was dead and there had to be no room for doubt or suspicions.’

  Edmund put his head in his hands. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Why would anyone do such a thing? What would they gain from it? I thought it was murder, we all did. I don’t think there was a single person who thought my brother had truly died a natural death. But this?’

  ‘Perhaps the proof you seek is at Corfe.’

  Edmund sat thinking for a moment, then straightened his shoulders as if gathering himself up for an imaginary battle.

  ‘If the proof is at Corfe, we’ll find it. And in the meantime you must stay here. Trouble is brewing between Cousin Henry and Isabella and Mortimer and I need you and the children kept safe.’ He leaned forward and kissed my lips. ‘You are very precious to me.’

  I wondered how precious we really were or if the age-old ties of love and loyalty which bound him to his beloved brother were stronger than those which he had joyfully woven round me and his two children. If it came to a choice, who would he choose?

  13

  Endgame 1329

  That winter saw Isabella finally triumph over her enemies. Shortly after Christmas and despite Edmund’s efforts to broker a peace before the fighting began, Lord Henry surrendered his sword to my cousin. Having seen the size of the advancing royal host and hearing that the town of Leicester was lost, the remnants of the demoralised Lancastrian army laid aside their weapons and went home to their manors. They’d had enough. My brother and Lord Beaumont were loyal to the end but when they saw Lord Henry weeping on his knees in front of a laughing Isabella, they turned and fled for their lives.

  It was several weeks before I heard from Tom. The letter was water-stained and had passed through several hands before arriving at my door but at least I knew he was safe. He and Lord Beaumont had ridden across a countryside covered in snow and ice, making for the nearest port. There they’d taken ship across the Narrow Sea and found refuge with Lady de Vesci close to Paris.

  The rebellion was over. Lord Henry was stripped of his offices and his wealth and the exiles stayed where they were, afraid to return and face Isabella’s wrath. But for my cousin there was nothing but good news.

  ‘Lord Mortimer has been given the earldom of March,’ said Lady Abernethy, making herself comfortable in my best chair.

  She swore she had come to see my children but I suspected it was more to do with wanting to share the latest gossip.

  ‘You have never seen anything like it, Lady Margaret. If the occasion had not been so solemn I swear I would have laughed. There was Lord Mortimer puffed up with importance in his ceremonial robes.’ She thrust out her chest and blew out her cheeks in a fine travesty of my cousin at his most commanding. ‘And there was the king, expected to exchange the kiss of peace with this man who had seduced his mother and usurped his royalty. He had a face on him as if he’d sucked a lemon.’

  She pulled in her cheeks and pursed her lips in a grimace of utter disgust. Then closing her eyes she offered me her lips.

  I laughed and pushed her away. ‘It can’t have been as bad as all that.’

  ‘Oh it was, believe me; it was every bit as bad. We could see the king wasn’t happy. But just think - earl of March! So much for the earldom of Gloucester. No-one can compare with Lord Mortimer now.’

  ‘He will be very grand,’ I said slowly, wondering how much higher my cousin planned to climb.

  ‘He was very grand before,’ said Lady Margery, signalling to my girl to bring the bowl of dates. ‘But now he has the title to prove it.’

  I smiled to myself. Lady Mortimer would be a countess. I wondered if Isabella had thought of that when she had ordered her son to ennoble my cousin.

  In early February I left the children at Arundel and travelled to join Edmund at our house in Kensington. I liked the position. We were close to Westminster but there was no danger of meeting Isabella tripping along the paths; and no chance of bumping into my cousin and his increasingly vast entourage sweeping through the cloistered walkways. Here we could be as peaceful or as busy as we wished and entertain only those whom we chose to see.

  Edmund sa
id that apart from venting their anger on the Londoners for supporting the earl of Lancaster in his rebellion, my cousin and Isabella had been surprisingly merciful. There were no executions. But he reckoned Lord Beaumont and my brother were wise to fly the country as Isabella’s anger was known to be fickle and you could never be certain.

  Huge fines were levied on any of the rebels who could pay and this money would go some way to replenishing the royal coffers. As well as fines and forfeitures, oaths were to be sworn by those who had dared to oppose the king: oaths to protect the king, his mother, the earl of March and members of the king’s council.

  I felt nervous. How would I be received as the sister of a known traitor? Edmund’s position would shelter me but I was beginning to fear both Isabella and my cousin. There was a time when I would have done anything the great Lord Mortimer asked of me, when I would willingly have died for him. But that was a long time ago. Now I knew him for what he was. Once I had been close to Isabella, her confidante in all things. Now I felt cast out and unwelcome.

  I had barely unpacked my chests when I received a summons. Someone had told Isabella of my arrival and she ordered my presence at once, this minute, without delay. I would much rather have stayed and organised my household but I wearily changed my gown and rode once more through the familiar precincts of the royal palace to visit this woman I had once thought was almost my friend.

  I was given a chair at the king’s high table, seated between my cousin and Countess Jeanne. On my cousin’s other side was Isabella, a sparkling iridescent Isabella.

  ‘You are trembling,’ said my cousin, taking my hand in his. ‘Do I frighten you that much or are you merely cold?’

  ‘Of course you don’t frighten me, cousin,’ I said untruthfully. ‘I am nervous at returning here after so long an absence.’

  ‘Ah yes, you have been with your children. You are fortunate, Margaret. You doubtless heard about my boys?’

  The news had come late to Arundel. Two of my friends from the nursery had died at the end of the summer: young Roger from a brief fever and Johnny, handsome, carefree Johnny, killed in a jousting accident.

  ‘I had masses said for their souls, as you must know I would; and I wrote to their mother.’

  My words seemed inadequate but I didn’t know how to give comfort to a man like my cousin who seemed impervious to grief.

  But across his face came a fleeting shaft of pain. ‘I wish I had more sons,’ he said quietly. ‘All I have are two and Geoffrey is often away. He sees his mother more than he sees me.’

  ‘Once you have lost a child you fear daily for the others no matter how old they are,’ I said, thinking of my little dead son, Aymer.

  He was about to turn away when he hesitated.

  ‘A word in your ear, Margaret. Warn your husband to tread carefully.’

  My stomach lurched. ‘Has Edmund done something to upset you, my lord?’

  ‘Not yet. I have forgotten his unwise peacemaking of last year. But I should hate the king’s uncle to be seen as anything other than totally loyal. And you already know what happens to meddlesome women.’

  With that odd remark he turned to Isabella.

  ‘Lady Margaret?’ It was Lady Jeanne.

  After we had made our greetings she insisted on telling me the latest gossip.

  ‘The Lady Eleanor has disgraced herself again,’ she said, her eyes gleaming at the thought of more scandal. ‘She has run off with an inferior lordling.’

  ‘Lady Despenser?’

  ‘Alas, Lady Despenser no longer. She claims she is now Lady Zouche. Abducted or more likely eloped.’ She lowered her voice. ‘They are saying she had the two of them. Wanted to sample the goods before she purchased.’

  ‘Two what, Lady Jeanne?’

  ‘Two men, of course. Lord Zouche was one and the other was that handsome Grey fellow. And it wasn’t a matter of conversation. She took both of them to her bed.’

  ‘At the same time?’

  Lady Jeanne looked suitably shocked. ‘Oh surely not? A lady would never. Would she?’

  I smiled sweetly. It was such fun teasing Lady Jeanne. ‘And Lady Eleanor picked Lord Zouche?’

  ‘Yes. Although Grey refutes the marriage. Claims he had her before Lord Zouche and that he and Lady Eleanor are man and wife. Says he will pursue the matter through the courts.’

  ‘Did she have the king’s permission to remarry?’

  ‘No and Isabella is not pleased. Lady Eleanor was raised back to her previous position, had her lands restored and now she does this. It’s a disgrace.’

  ‘Perhaps it was love?’ I suggested.

  ‘What? With two of them?’

  After the meal was finished I accompanied Isabella back to her private apartments.

  ‘You have heard about the Lady Eleanor?’ she hissed.

  ‘Yes, your grace.’

  ‘I have her in the Tower.’

  ‘For marrying without the king’s consent?’ This was harsh even for Isabella.

  ‘No, you fool, for stealing my jewels and my plate. When she was last my guest in the Tower she had the temerity to help herself to some of my treasure, valuables that evil man Despenser inveigled from my late husband. She claims they are hers by right. She is wrong. They are mine.’

  I murmured something about base ingratitude.

  ‘I haven’t decided what to do with her yet but I think a further period of incarceration will cool her inclinations in all directions. And Margaret?’

  ‘Your grace?’

  ‘You would do well to note what happens to women who incur my displeasure. I haven’t forgotten about your brother. See you redeem the reputation of your family. It wouldn’t do for you to be branded as disloyal.’

  With that she let go of my arm and swept ahead, leaving me wondering what, if anything, she knew. Isabella wasn’t stupid and if I had worked out what had happened that night at Berkeley Castle, probably so had she. And if she had, she would know I was a danger to her. She would have noticed me talking to the embalming woman and having private conversations with Lord Berkeley’s wife. Perhaps I had unwittingly betrayed myself.

  A yawning pit of horrors opened up in front of my eyes and I wished I had left well alone.

  In the weeks after we left Westminster, we followed the king as he moved from one palace to another. We were bound for Isabella’s castle at Guildford where the king was to host a splendid tournament. Now that she had humbled Lord Henry and satisfactorily punished his followers, Isabella was in the mood for merrymaking. There were to be two days of feasting, jousting and celebration in honour of her victory: hers and Lord Mortimer’s.

  ‘The crown cannot afford such generosity,’ said the king, setting his lips together in a firm line as if he didn’t wish the conversation to continue.

  This was the second cool exchange between mother and son over the matter of a special presentation to Lord Mortimer. The gift was intended as a reward to my cousin for his part in the defeat of the Lancastrians and had been decided on by Isabella.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘My coffers are empty.’

  ‘Lord Mortimer has just won a great victory for you. He has squeezed those who rebelled so that your treasury is full. Of course you can afford to be generous and Lord Mortimer is the most deserving of your nobles.’

  ‘I cannot reward him so handsomely, lady mother. He is only one man among many and has already been given an earldom. What more does he want?’

  Clearly the king had no desire to give further expensive gifts to his mother’s lover when he had probably given him a king’s ransom already. But of course he couldn’t say that. He may have whispered such things to his wife on her pillow but he would not dare say them to his mother.

  I wondered how long it would be before the king rebelled. Weak sons remain cowed by their strong mothers a
ll their lives but I didn’t think Isabella’s son was weak - merely young.

  I shifted somewhat uncomfortably on my cushion. Though I was surrounded by other women in the royal stand, I didn’t care for my close proximity to Isabella. I was certain she could read my thoughts. On my right Lady Philippa was watching her husband succeed in the lists and I had to admit the young king was becoming one of our most skilful tournament riders. Of course Edmund was taller and stronger and would usually defeat his nephew but today the king triumphed.

  I slipped out of the stand and holding up my skirts, walked across the grass to Edmund’s tent.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  He grinned at me. ‘Covered in mud and grass, nothing more.’

  ‘It’s not like you to fall.’

  ‘I didn’t fall. I slid off.’

  Despite being still half-harnessed, he put his arms around me and nuzzled my cheek.

  ‘It was purposely done. I need to go into the town,’ he murmured against my ear. I tried to pull my head back but he held me fast against his shoulder. ‘I’ll take William with me. If anyone asks, say I was shaken after my fall.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ I said lightly, pretending nothing was amiss.

  ‘Our man is back. He’s at the Angel.’

  He kissed me hard on the lips and walked away, cursing and holding onto his arm.

  Our man? Of course - the man from Corfe.

  It was some hours later when Edmund returned. His face betrayed nothing as we mixed with the king’s guests at the evening entertainment. The music swirled, the acrobats danced and my husband was as charming and as talkative as ever. But as soon as we could, we retired, Edmund pleading exhaustion and a sore arm.

  ‘What did he say?’

  I was impatient but Edmund insisted on making sure no-one was listening. He checked the window shutters and instructed William to stand guard. The maids and the grooms were ordered out. Eventually we were alone.

 

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