‘No. It’s God’s truth, my dear. Men do. There are ways and means to extract information and no man is immune. Your husband told me a lot but I think there is more. He was most unwilling to reveal the name of his informant, spun me a story about friars who conjured up devils. I didn’t believe him so I thought you might like to tell me. To avoid further unpleasantness.’
‘You can do what you like but if my husband won’t tell you then neither will I.’
He got up and walked across the floor towards me, smiling. I remained as still as I could, trying in vain to stop my legs from trembling. He had me trapped against the wall and there was no possibility of escape. He put up his right hand and pulled the cap from my head leaving my hair and neck exposed. Then with the infinite slowness of a lover he placed his fingers delicately round my throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the threat was everywhere. It permeated the air between us, thick and menacing. With his thumb he began to stroke the tender pulse at the base of my neck. I lowered my lashes, not wanting to see the look in his eyes.
‘It would be so easy to break you, little cousin,’ he murmured. ‘I could rip off those fragile feathers you wear and crush your bones with my fist. I might even find a degree of pleasure in doing so. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m offering you a deal. You want something from me and, provided you do as I say, I’ll give it to you. How’s that for a kindness?’
I didn’t trust him an inch.
‘What do you want? You’ve taken my jewels and my plate. I doubt there’s anything of value left to steal.’
‘Not valuables, cousin. Information. Names, dates, places. That’s what I want. We have most of your husband’s friends already: faithful Archbishop Melton, and poor Fitzwarin; old Sir Ingelram Berenger and the Despenser crew. They’ll soon be under lock and key singing their hearts out. But I remembered about your prodigious memory and I’m sure you have a list of your fellow conspirators, right here.’
He placed his hands across my brow and squeezed very slightly. It was agonisingly painful and I almost screamed.
‘If you think I’ll give one single piece of information for you to use against my husband, you are very much mistaken.’
He took his hands away and gripped my shoulders.
‘This is your own fault, Margaret. I warned you often enough. You should have left well alone. You shouldn’t have interfered. People who get in my way get hurt. Now …’ He pushed one of his legs hard up against my skirts so that I couldn’t move. ‘The name. Before I lose patience.’
‘No.’
I kept telling myself he wouldn’t really hurt me because I was his cousin and a woman. I kept telling myself to be brave, to be strong.
His eyes glittered with anger. Then with a sigh he stepped away.
‘Very well, if that’s the way you want to play the game, that’s how we’ll play it. But don’t say you weren’t given a chance.’
He’d reached the door before I realised he was leaving. I ran swiftly across the floor and grabbed hold of his sleeve.
‘For pity’s sake, cousin, tell me what you’ve done with my husband. Where have you put him?’
He shook me off like an intrusive insect. He stood there, one hand holding the iron ring of the door, the other adjusting the collar on his robe, and smiled.
‘Your husband? Didn’t I say? We had him executed two months ago.’
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
‘He was a traitor and he confessed. He had to, the evidence was overwhelming. Mind you, it was a beautifully written letter, Margaret, you must have taken a great deal of care in writing it. Naturally it wasn’t intended for me and I’m certain you never expected it to end up in my hands.’
‘Deverill,’ I whispered.
‘Yes. John Deverill. A sensible man. Gave his loyalty to his king, which as you know means giving it to me. Unlike your husband, who seemed unsure as to where his loyalties lay. I thought he was still with us but I was mistaken.’
‘How could you do it?’
‘Me? I did nothing. The king signed the order, not me. I merely brought matters to the attention of the court. And yes, Margaret, it was a proper trial. The king’s coroner was there. When your husband realised they were going to have him killed, he wanted to make amends; he offered to walk to London with a rope around his neck in just his shirt. It was a pathetic sight, him pleading for mercy. The lords were unanimous in their verdict: loss of life and limb and nothing for his heirs, save for the king’s mercy and clearly the king was not feeling merciful on that particular day.
‘It was you. You and Isabella. You don’t fool me. Edward would never have done this. She made him sign. What did she do, hold a knife to his throat?’
‘Oh come, Margaret. Can you really imagine the queen harming her beloved son? She didn’t need to threaten him.’
‘What did she do?’ I whispered.
‘She talked to him. And you know how persuasive she can be when she sets her mind to something. She could see the danger for us all in what your foolish husband was trying to do and she ensured her son knew what would happen if his uncle was successful. She told him a good king had to make difficult choices and that in the eyes of his people he would be judged, not on misguided merciful acts, but on his strength. Then she gave him the order to sign.’
I raised my hands to claw at his eyes, at his face, at any part of him I could reach. I hated him more than I had hated anyone in my life and if I’d possessed a knife, I would have killed him. But he caught my wrists and twisted my hands to one side until I cried out in pain. Then he pushed me away and rubbed his hands down his tunic as if to rid himself of the stain touching me.
He stood looking at me for a moment and in his face there was no trace of my cousin any more. This man was the ruler of all England, the man who controlled the king, and there was nothing I could do.
‘When I get out of here I’ll hunt you down and tear you apart,’ I said in a low voice. ‘And if I don’t, my curses will follow you to your grave.’
He laughed. ‘You won’t get out. I shall have your children removed but you will stay here. And remember, little cousin, in the years to come as you grow old and withered and pale, that it was your choice to die here, shut away from the world. Your choice, not mine. You could have told me what I wanted to know but you chose to keep silent. Sweet dreams, Margaret, I doubt we shall meet again.’
The door clanged shut. The sound of his boots descending the stone stairway could just be heard. Then another bang as the lower door slammed.
I was perfectly calm. I felt as cold as ice. The words my cousin had spoken remained somewhere else, somewhere where they had no meaning.
Edmund was dead. Two months ago and I hadn’t known.
I endured six months of penance. There was time to examine each one of my sins and time to pray to the Holy Mother of God who in her goodness would surely show me what to do. But she didn’t answer.
It had been my fault. I could see that now. Without my interference Edmund would never have known his brother was alive in Corfe Castle. He would never have heard of the boots which didn’t fit and what the embalming woman had said. He would never have heard of the man who was not his brother who had been put in the coffin at Berkeley to deceive us all.
He would have dismissed John Pecche as a stupid man with too much imagination. He would never have encountered Sir Ingemar Berenger and they would never have hatched their ill-conceived plan. Everything that had happened had been my fault.
Time slipped by in an endless void. I completed my daily tasks. I talked to my children and spoke occasionally to my maids. But every night I crouched low on my knees, trying in the eyes of God to right the wrongs I had done.
Edmund would not have joined with my cousin and Isabella if I had not persuaded him to do so, and without Edmund the invasion might not have taken place. It was Edmund who brought his brother Nor
folk with him and opened up the landing grounds of the east to our ships. Without his name on Isabella’s letters and petitions her words would not have carried the weight they did. The queen and the queen’s son might have been a welcome sight to the king’s enemies but it was the support of the king’s two brothers which added legitimacy to their rebellion.
If, in Paris I had urged Edmund to come home to England and retire to our country manors, we would have raised our children together in peace. We would have loved and lived and grown old and none of this would have happened.
As I prayed my face was awash with tears of grief and shame until I realised that tears were self-indulgent and what I really deserved was punishment. I should have been the one who suffered the executioner’s sword, not my beloved Edmund.
The days became colder, the daylight hours shorter, and Mondi became sick. Our nights were full of his whimpering. He developed a fever and began coughing. I pleaded with Master Langeford to fetch a physician but he said his orders were clear - no visitors under any circumstances. It was more than his life was worth to disobey Lord Mortimer.
‘I could bring the boy a cordial,’ he said. ‘One of the men says he knows a woman in the town who brews them.’
I was touched by the thought. It was unexpected and these days little kindnesses moved me to tears.
The contents of the jug smelt familiar. At Wigmore I was an expert on the various herbs and berries used for medicinal purposes but over the years I had lost my skill. I placed a drop on my tongue. Sweet with a rich smoothness and a burning aftertaste. I gave Mondi a little to drink and he seemed easier. His face was flushed and, although his skin was hot, he complained of the cold.
There was nothing else I could do but pray for him. I didn’t sleep but kept watch over him in the night which was when he suffered most. His eyelashes fluttered as he tossed and turned. I prayed for forgiveness. I had sinned but my children were innocent. They had done nothing. This was my doing. Everything was my fault.
We passed the day when the souls of the dead are said to walk the earth and the first frosts were already threatening. One night as I lay, trying to keep warm, wrapped tightly in my coverlet, I heard noises: faraway shouting, banging, a man’s footsteps on the stairs. It was still dark but it must be nearly morning as there was a faint greyness lapping at the window high on the wall.
Hurriedly I slipped out of bed and threw on my robe and thrust my feet into my shoes. A moment later the door opened and there was Nicholas Langeford holding a lantern. With half my attention I noticed he hadn’t closed the door. Usually he was scrupulously careful to make sure I was well locked into my prison, even if he was with me. I also noticed that his boots were polished and his jacket, which had become rather grubby in recent days, had been replaced by a finer one, dark-red with a blue hood. He set the lantern down on the table and then stood very upright holding out a roll of parchment. The seal was broken.
I raised my eyes to his.
‘This came, my lady’ he said. ‘A royal command.’
‘What is it?’ I was frightened in case this was something worse than what we were enduring at the moment. Was this the order to take my children? Or for my execution?
‘It is from the king, my lady.’ I barely noticed the softness and the respectful tone of voice. ‘It is an order for your release. You are to be …’
I heard nothing else. My knees trembled and my legs gave way and I collapsed on the floor, weeping. I could see nothing. My eyes were blinded by scalding hot tears. This was a trick. This was like the funeral at Gloucester, something designed to deceive. It couldn’t be true. He said I would die here. He said I would never come out.
‘My lady! Please.’ Master Langeford bent over me and placed his hand gently on my shoulder. ‘My lady. Don’t weep. Please don’t weep. This is good news for you. Good news. It is the best of news. I have ordered your chambers downstairs to be prepared and a meal cooked. The boy is bringing in the logs for your hearth this moment. Soon everything will be ready. You are free, my lady.’
He helped me to my feet.
‘Free?’
‘Yes, my lady. Free. You do not have to stay here. This order is for your release. You are to be brought to the king at Westminster.’
‘To the king?’
‘Yes, my lady. Lord Mortimer has fallen. A week ago. The royal messenger said the king’s friends seized him at the point of a sword. He’s in the Tower this very moment awaiting trial.’
He settled me on the stool and hovered over me like a mother hen with her chicks.
‘The king wanted him killed on the spot but it’s said the Lady Isabella begged for his life. Bets are on he won’t last the week. They say it’ll be the rope at Tyburn and there’s not many who’ll be sorry. He was a bad man.’
‘Where is the Lady Isabella?’
He shook his head. ‘The messenger thinks maybe Berkhamsted but doesn’t know for certain.’
It was over. Oh sweet Holy Mother, it was over. A new day had dawned and they couldn’t hurt me any more. I was free and I would be reborn.
15
Westminster 1330
We travelled to Westminster but I was weak and, after so many months shut away, found the light and the noise difficult. I was told the king was busy, much involved in matters of state and making preparations for the parliament. I would have to wait.
When, after two days, our meeting took place I was surprisingly nervous.
He had grown, not just in height, but in royalty. When I had last seen him a year ago, he was a boy, afraid to open his mouth, afraid to look you in the eye, afraid of his own shadow. Now he was truly a king.
‘Lady Margaret.’ He held out his hand to assist me to a chair. He was full of thoughtfulness and concern.
‘Your grace.’ I inclined my head, thinking how formal this was. And everything was so glitteringly bright. So many candles.
‘Is your son recovered? the queen tells me he has been unwell.’
‘Yes, your grace. The Lady Philippa in her kindness called her physician to advise on what should be done and Mondi is much better.’
‘We will remember him in our prayers. Now about your estates.’
I thought he would tell me about Edmund but it seemed he wanted to talk about my dower lands.
‘Your grace, may I ask you a question?’
A look of surprise crossed his face.
‘Certainly. Subjects may always ask. A king of course cannot guarantee an answer.’
‘My husband.’
There was a long silence. I didn’t know how to ask what I wanted to know without insulting him but surely he must understand.
‘I know things cannot have been as I was told,’ I said carefully. ‘Lord Mortimer had his own reasons for what he said to me. But there are many things I still do not understand.’
He considered his fingers for a moment and then looked up at me and smiled.
‘Do you recall a long time ago when we were in foreign parts, Lady Margaret? I asked you a question and you gave me an answer.’
It was in another time, on our journey to Valenciennes. I remembered the boy asking whether my cousin was a good man.
‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘I remember.’
‘It wasn’t true, the answer you gave me; it wasn’t true.’
‘I wasn’t to know, your grace. People change. I truly thought my cousin had your best interests at heart, and later, when I found out that he didn’t, it was too late.‘
He didn’t lose his smile. ‘No, you misunderstand me. What I am saying, Lady Margaret, is that an answer is meaningless. You may think it is true but it may not be. So, there is no point in asking me the question, is there?’
‘But …’
He spoke before I could say anything else.
‘My clerks are drawing up a petition for you and your elder son
to present to the parliament for the restoration of your lands and your title. You will be wealthy, my lady, and you will be safe.’
‘May we go back to Arundel?’
‘That will not be possible. Arundel will be returned to the Fitzalan’s. It was their castle before it was taken from them and fairness dictates it should be theirs again.’
So Edmund’s favourite castle was to be lost. But castles were nothing other than blocks of stone, it was only people who truly mattered.
‘Is Lord Mortimer to die?’ I asked, already knowing the answer.
‘There will be a trial, but yes, he will die. There can be no forgiveness for the sins he committed. He was not the anointed king, yet he behaved as if he was.’
‘And your lady mother?’
He smiled. ‘My mother has been unwell. She is resting at Berkhamsted, regaining her health and her strength. She is very devout so she will recover, of that I am certain. It may take a while but the queen and I hope she will be well enough to join us for our tournament at Guildford before the Epiphany. The preparations are well under way. It will be a great spectacle. We shall have a mock hunt this time with boar and deer. You must come and bring your son. It is the kind of entertainment a boy would enjoy. Or is he too young? Mine I’m afraid is only a baby.’ His gaze softened. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘Yes, your grace, I have. He looks like you.’
‘He does, doesn’t he? I named him Edward just as I said I would. I didn’t forget. You see, Lady Margaret, I never forget anything.’
‘Your grace, what of your father?’
I had never noticed before how veiled his eyes were - blue as the summer sky, just like Edmund’s, but curiously opaque as if there were thoughts he wanted kept hidden.
‘My father is dead, Lady Margaret. We buried him at Gloucester. You were there. Surely you remember?’
‘But the prisoner …?’
‘My mother has my father’s heart in a silver vessel. It is a great comfort to her and she says she will take it with her to her grave. She grieves for him, as we all do.’
The Queen's Spy Page 30