‘Isabella won’t allow him to hurt her son.’ Edmund spoke the truth.
‘He doesn’t need to. He can control the king as easily as if he were a piece on the board. And one day he may have a son of his own - a royal son.’
The thought of Isabella giving my cousin a son was too much for Edmund.
‘He mustn’t be allowed to get away with this.’
‘How will you stop him?’
‘I shall take my brother out of Corfe.’
The little chamber echoed with his words - out of Corfe. Sir John had told us about the castle which was vast and impregnable. A mighty fortress, perched high on the rocks, guarding a gap in the hills and a path which led down to the sea. Edmund’s brother would never be brought out of there alive.
’Dearest, think carefully. You could be putting all our lives at risk. Think of the children.’
‘My son will not want a coward for a father.’
‘If you go ahead with this he may not have a father at all.’
We stared at each other in horror. Whatever Edmund did was dangerous. To do nothing might still result in a plot to dispose of us as Edmund’s relationship with the one-time king and his antagonism towards my cousin made him an obvious target.
Ice filled a pit in my belly. I had been horribly naïve to think my shared past with my cousin would save us. If Edmund was discovered trying to free his brother, his life would be worth nothing. My cousin wouldn’t let him live. And trying to restore the prisoner at Corfe to the throne could only lead to more bloodshed.
Edmund spoke gently. ‘I am not alone, Margaret. I have the blessing of His Holiness. He was glad to give it.’
‘You told him?’
‘That was the purpose of our visit.’
He had hidden this from me. I presumed his lengthy discussion with the Holy Father had concerned Earl Thomas.
‘Did he believe you?’
‘He gave me his blessing.’
‘Will he help?’
‘No. But he won’t interfere. I think he is uncomfortable at what Isabella and your cousin did and is pleased someone is to put matters right. It offended him greatly to have an anointed king put aside in the way that my brother was.’
Once we returned to Arundel Edmund went ahead with preparations for the rescue of his brother. And because I knew he would do it better with my help, I became a party to his plans. Late night meetings occurred in shadowy alleyways and secret conversations were held while men rode side by side along the highways. Messages were passed furtively from hand to hand when no-one was looking and here at Arundel strangers entered quietly with no fanfares and slunk up the stairs in silence to join Edmund in the private chamber above the chapel.
Late January. It was bitterly cold and I was wrapped in my warmest fur-lined mantle, crouching by the fire.
‘Who have we got?’
Edmund turned over his list.
‘Melton. He’s arranging the money and the clothes. He assures me there’s a merchant in London who will supply what is needed. My de Monthermer cousin; Stephen Gravesend, the bishop of London; a host of men you’ve never heard of, men who were in my brother’s household. Zouche whom you know; Fulk Fitzwarrin who was with me in Gascony; the abbot of Langdon; dozens of lesser clergy: friars, monks and the like; Hamo Chigwell, the Londoner. And not least, Sir John Gymmynges - he’s providing the boats.’
‘Boats? More than one?’
‘We need three: a shallow-draught boat, a coastal cog and a sea-going vessel; one for each stage of the journey. We’ll take my brother from Corfe out into deep water, and round the coast to here. Once he’s rested and changed his clothes I’ll travel with him across the sea.’
Because I was a woman who never trusted anyone to arrange matters properly, I couldn’t let it rest there. ‘Pecche said the coast at Corfe is wild. Are you sure it’s safe for your boats?’
‘Gymmynges says we go through the marshes to a large inland pool and from there the tidal race will take us out across the sandbar. He says it’s safer than making directly for the sea because if the escape is discovered that’s the way the guard will assume we’ve gone. He says his is the least dangerous route. Once over the bar we hug the coast keeping far enough out not to arouse suspicion. We make for Portsmouth and from there they say it’s just a short journey round to the mouth of the Arun.’
I couldn’t imagine entertaining Edmund’s brother here at Arundel. Would he expect a king’s welcome? Probably not. If I had spent two years in an underground tomb I would want rest and food and nothing more. But I had to decide which rooms to set aside and have them made ready.
Edmund took my hands in his and raised me up. ‘I know you would rather I didn’t do this, Margaret.’
I looked him straight in the eye. There was no use in pretending. ‘No. I wish it didn’t have to be done. I wish it had never happened. But it has, and although I think you are being careless with our lives I can understand why you feel it necessary.’
He pulled me close. ‘It is a matter of loyalty. I love you, Margaret.’
‘Do you? Are you sure it isn’t your conscience pricking you?’
I blinked furiously. I would not let him see me cry.
‘My dearest. How long have we been married? Four years? Four years, two children and this.’ He patted my belly. ‘How could I regret it?’
‘But I sometimes fear you do.’
He sighed. ‘No, Margaret, I don’t. But what about you? Do you feel more for me than simple gratitude?’
I stood still within the circle of his arms fighting the memories.
He tightened his hold. ‘Do you love me, Margaret?’
‘What do you think?’
He stroked my cheek with great deliberation, running his fingers slowly down my skin. For a soldier, his hands were amazingly gentle.
‘My mother used to say that love is a most uncomplicated feeling. Don’t fight it, she said. Accept it. You don’t choose who to love. I didn’t choose to love you, my dearest Margaret; it just happened. But your heart is so full of the memories of that boy you married more than fifteen years ago that I sometimes fear you have no room for me.’
‘That’s not true. Of course I love you.’
I pulled myself away from him. I knew I was going to cry and I didn’t want him to see me weep. I crouched down by the fire where he couldn’t see my face. Did I love him? He was my husband, the father of my children and I had wanted so very much to marry him.
I had loved John with an uncomplicated love in those far away days at Mansfield. But with Edmund there had been evasion and pretence, right from the start. He had not wanted marriage, he had merely wanted to possess me, and despite his protestations, he had not been prepared to go against his king. It had taken pressure from my brother to persuade him otherwise and that still hurt, even after six years.
He knelt down beside me. ‘Margaret.’
Tears trickled down my cheeks and onto my hands. Why was it so easy to cry and so difficult to tell him how much he had hurt me? Why could I not tell him what I truly felt?
‘You’ll put out the fire if you carry on like this,’ he said gently.
The plan was almost ready. We spent the evening going through it in detail making sure that nothing was forgotten. There would be horses where horses were needed and boatmen to man the boats; provisions in case the prisoner was weakened by hunger; warm clothing and boots because nights were cold by the sea; and small coins for bribes because you never knew who you might stumble across. And our men would be well armed.
We waited for the Lady Philippa’s coronation at Westminster because Edmund was to ride in the procession. He and his brother were to escort the new queen as she rode through the city streets from the Tower to the royal palace at Westminster. Then there would be the parliament at Winchester and after that Edmund said he and his me
n would make a move.
The moment had almost come. Every morning I expected discovery and soldiers at the gate, but everything remained peaceful. The days passed in quiet domesticity and I tried not to worry.
‘They don’t suspect me,’ Edmund said after a meeting where my cousin and Isabella had been present. ‘Now, come and sit down. I need you to write a letter for me.’
I fetched the ink and parchment from the corner table where I kept my chest of private things, and sat down. Edmund stood behind me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. I could hear the creak of his leather boots as he shifted his position, and to one side there was a movement as the logs in the hearth slid and settled, disturbing the bed of ash below.
I felt the brush of his fingers as he pulled aside my veil; then the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. His lips touched my skin with infinite gentleness. Once, twice, three times. Small kisses. I sat very still not wanting to disturb the moment.
‘Worshipful and dear brother.’ Edmund began with a formal greeting. ‘Soon you shall come out of your prison and be delivered … I have the assent of almost all the great lords of England …’
‘Is that true? Almost all?’
‘Just write, Margaret. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.’
He continued dictating and I kept silent. He didn’t need my questions.
‘… so you shall be king again as you were before, and all of them – prelates, earls and barons – have sworn this to me upon a book.’
‘You told me he would go overseas. You said he wouldn’t remain here. Are you mad? Do you plan to host a rival court at Arundel?’
I was angry, but Edmund was calm.
‘Margaret, you don’t know my brother. Do you imagine he will want to slink off across the Narrow Sea? If I want him out of there, I have to make him believe he is going to be king again. Otherwise he might as well throw himself off the castle walls. Squatting at Philip’s feet in Paris for the rest of his life would not be an attractive thought.’
Pushing my worries to the back of my mind, I finished the letter and passed it to Edmund to sign. He handled the quill inexpertly; he didn’t care for writing. I had been his scribe in private matters since the early days of our marriage when he discovered what I could do. In my bleaker moments I had comforted myself with the knowledge that I was necessary to him for some things.
He sealed the packet with his personal seal and tucked it into his jacket.
‘I’ll get this to John Deverill.’
‘Is he one of us?’
‘He’s being paid well and is anxious to help. We were lucky to find such a man in the garrison at Corfe. Only a few more weeks now, sweetheart. Stop worrying.’
‘And Donald of Mar?’
‘We’ve had a message. He is sitting on the northern border promising forty thousand men if force is needed.’
‘And your brother Norfolk?’
‘Ah, Thomas. Now there’s a problem. Caught in a bind, is Thomas. Did you know he married his boy to one of your cousin’s daughters? Last summer while we were overseas. A Mortimer daughter-in-law! He considers it a good match.’
I nodded. I had been told. Two more great marriages for two of my cousin’s girls: Beatrice to Lord Norfolk’s son and Agnes to the Pembroke heir, young Laurence Hastings. These alliances were yet another rung up the ladder to the very top.
Edmund frowned. His brother Norfolk was continually giving him cause for concern.
‘He tells me he must consider his ties to the Mortimers as well as his loyalty to our brother. So you see, my brother Thomas is committed, but not doing much to help. And he says his wife is sick.’
A poor excuse. I couldn’t see Norfolk at the bedside, tenderly wiping sweat from the brow of the little coroner’s daughter. He’d more likely be off with his wild companions, drinking and gambling. I had always thought him a fair-weather friend but it worried me if he was distancing himself from Edmund. Did he know things that we didn’t? Had he heard something?
Edmund was gone a week and came back weary from too much rich food and too much celebrating. Philippa, he said, had looked very lovely and every inch the queen of England. He was an obliging husband and described, as best he could, the fur cape and cap she wore, the sumptuous gowns of crimson and green and silver and gold, the jewelled clasps, the crowns - everything.
It had been a hardship to miss such an occasion but I truly was too far gone with this child. I would have looked like a dumpling waddling about and I didn’t want women sniggering behind their hands - so inelegant, such a poor marriage!
‘I never thought her a pretty girl but she did Edward proud,’ said Edmund, leaning back while the boy pulled off his boots. ‘Even Isabella was put in the shade, and that takes some doing.’
I smiled to think of Isabella’s annoyance. She had never wanted Philippa to have any of this: no separate household, no dowered estates, no money, no coronation. If she could have produced an heir for her son without allowing Philippa into his bed, she would have done that joyfully.
We passed the next two weeks checking and rechecking the plan. Edmund said he had received private visits from would-be supporters while he was in London and many offers of money. The last day we spent together with the children and then it was time for Edmund to leave for the parliament in Winchester.
I went out into the courtyard to see him go. As he rode out under the gatehouse he turned and raised his arm in salute. Edmund was twenty-eight years old but still heart-stoppingly handsome.
Just before he disappeared into the shadows under the narrow archway, a shaft of sunlight caught the polished hilt of his sword and slid off the scarlet and blue of his clothing. It reminded me of a morning a lifetime ago - the same colours, the same cheerful wave, the same refusal to consider the danger. It was John riding off to war up the sandy track at Mansfield, John who said I mustn’t worry, John who promised he would return but who never came back.
I remembered that day as clearly as if it was yesterday. I was young, he was young and we were very much in love. I thought our marriage was blessed and would last forever and that the strength of my love would keep him safe. But I was wrong.
Edmund said he would come back and I believed him. Ten days he said. Ten at the most. There wasn’t much business to deal with at the parliament but he would let me know if he was going to be delayed. Winchester wasn’t far. That morning in bed he had kissed me in my drowsiness and promised he would be back for the birth of our child.
And so I waited.
14
Arundel 1330
On the sixth day, I was resting in my solar when I heard footsteps running up the stairs. One of my women burst into the room.
‘There are soldiers in the hall, my lady. They are asking for you.’
She was wide-eyed and breathless. Of course none of them knew anything about Edmund’s plan but she was afraid. I could smell her fear.
I swung my legs off the rumpled day bed and struggled to my feet.
‘Help me with my clothing.’
I had no wish to entertain visitors in my solar and would have to make the effort to go downstairs. Holding tightly to the rail I walked slowly down to greet these men, whoever they were. It was as well I did because, as I appeared at the turn of the stairs, one of them already had his foot on the bottom step.
‘Please return to the hall,’ I said in my firmest voice.
He was half in the gloom, his back to the light, a typical man-at-arms: burly, rough and mannerless.
‘Ah! The lady of the castle. And not a moment too soon. I was coming to get you.’ His voice was deep with an accent I couldn’t place.
He retreated a few steps until finally we were both standing in the hall. The servants were gathered around the edges of the room looking nervous. My steward was helpless with a man at his back.
‘Wha
t is this?’ I demanded.
‘You are Margaret, wife of Sir Edmund, earl of Kent.’
‘I am.’
My legs were trembling but I felt fire warming my belly. How dare this man interrogate me! Then I noticed the keys to our castle in his hand.
‘My name is Nicholas Langeford. I have here a warrant for your arrest, my lady. You are to come with me, you and your children.’
He held out a letter. It bore the royal seal. There was no doubt it was official. It was short and very much to the point. I was to be taken by these men to Salisbury Castle and delivered into the custody of the sheriff. I was to bring my children and two damsels, no more. My jewels and all my goods were to be seized.
‘Where is my husband?’ I said, my thoughts rushing about wildly. ‘Where is the earl?’
Master Langeford exchanged a glance with his nearest companion.
‘The earl is imprisoned at Winchester, my lady. I understand he is to stand trial for his crimes.’
It had happened just as I had feared. Edmund in prison. A trial. Sweet Holy Virgin! Who had betrayed us?
‘My husband has done nothing wrong.’
The man’s face was impassive. ‘It has nothing to do with me, my lady. I merely carry out my orders. Now if you please - your jewels.’
He was looking at the rings on my fingers. I quickly withdrew my hands into the loose sleeves of my gown.
‘No use, my lady. We’ll be taking them all. That’s what our orders are. I am to deliver them to Master Holyns here. He indicated a man in black, clearly the king’s clerk. Now, are you going to make this easy for us or not? I have no wish to use violence on anybody, least of all a woman, and especially not with children in the house.’
I turned to my maid who was hovering behind me. ‘Go and fetch my silver coffer from the solar and give it to this man.’
As she turned to leave, Master Langeford nodded to one of his men. ‘Follow her. We don’t want any of this stuff disappearing.’
The Queen's Spy Page 28