Isabella: Braveheart of France (16 page)

“The Queen of England is hardly ‘no one.’”

This intransigence is just what Edward has hoped for; how could Lady Baddlesmere be sure that Isabella was not here to take possession of the castle in the King’s name? Despenser was an astute man, when all was said and done, as well as a passably adept pirate.

“Go back to the gate. Tell her the queen requires lodging for the night.”

Her sergeant hesitates. “If she refuses?”

“Tell her.”

He leads two dozen of the royal escort across the isthmus and up to the castle gates. He shouts her request to the guard on the tower of the gatehouse. She cannot hear the reply, but it must be a refusal for her sergeant shouts the request a second time.

A moment later, he pitches back in his saddle, an arrow through his throat. He tumbles to the ground and his horse rears up. More arrows arc through the mist and two more men go down. Trapped on this narrow neck of land the rest cannot avoid a second volley, and in moments a dozen of her men lay dead or groaning in front of the gates of Leeds Castle.

The survivors gallop back. The blood drains from her cheeks. It is one thing to plan a provocation, another to see good men die because of it.

She lets the curtain drop. Several of her ladies are squealing in fright.

I have done my duty to my husband.

She imagines her father smiling and nodding, this is how he would have done it. He would be proud.

Two days later, Pembroke’s banner appears outside the priory where she has retired with her surviving escort. The earl’s men clatter over the stone bridge mounted on
destriers
, warhorses.

She comes out to the cloister to meet him. He sweeps his mail coif from his head and tosses it to his man. He kneels.

She counts fifty men at his back. “Is that all you have to take Leeds Castle?”

“Your grace, there are thirty thousand men over that hill. Lend your ears closely and you will hear them.”

He was right. She hears drums on the wind and the tramp of feet, though faint. But thirty thousand?

“You exaggerate, my Lord Pembroke. That is not like you.”

“It is the truth. The whole country is outraged at the way you have been mistreated. They have risen to your cause as they have never have risen to Edward’s. All of London is with me, and Norfolk, Kent, Surrey, Arundel. And how many are there inside the castle? They will sh...they will be terrified when they see us.”

“What of Lancaster and my lord Mortimer?”

“I have parlayed with them and they know their cause is lost. They are running back to Shrewsbury. But there is no place for them to hide now. Shall we to Leeds?”

Chapter 30

Tonbridge Castle

Edward’s face shines as if he has experienced divine revelation. He has endured their humiliation for ten years. Now he has his moment and he is going to draw from it in full measure.

“Isabella!” He takes her in his arms when he sees her. She is the key now. While his earls would not go to war for their king over the many insults thrown at him, it takes just one against the queen and the whole country is on his side.

“It worked,” she whispers.

“Thanks to you,” he beams at her. “See how they fear their king now!”

He cannot stop moving. He sits, he stands, he goes to the window and then sits again. He has been so long bowed by defeats that it is as if he has been unchained.

“What of Mortimer and Lancaster?”

“Running like rabbits back to their rat nests in the Welsh sloplands. This time they shall not escape. Now I have an army to pursue them.”

This is more like a king. Now she may truly be a queen again.

Soon he is out of the tent, organising the siege of Leeds castle and congratulating Pembroke and Surrey though they have done nothing yet.

***

The swans have gone and there is ice on the lake. Lady Baddlesmere's soldiers watch their vast army take up position around the walls. She can imagine what they must be feeling.

On a crisp December morning soon afterwards, Lady Baddlesmere surrenders the castle to the king. It is Edward’s first victory. He finally knows what it is like to win.

The constable of the castle and a dozen of his men are led out in chains, and Edward supervises their execution. When the last is finished jerking on his rope, Lady Baddlesmere and her children are brought out in chains and hustled into a carriage.

Isabella is there and sees it all. For a moment their eyes meet. Lady Baddlesmere looks frightened and confused. She has done her duty by her husband, and her reward is to be imprisoned in the Tower at the king’s pleasure.

In later years, Isabella will look back on this moment and curse it. This is when the king changed. From this very moment everyone in England will pay for what happened to the only one he had ever loved.

“You did this for me,” he says to her.

“I did as you asked me. I am always your dutiful queen.” She cannot banish the image of Lady Baddlesmere being dragged from her castle in chains. It terrifies her.

“I am bringing Perro back from exile.”

“Lord Despenser, you mean?”

“Yes, Hugh, that’s what I said. He will soon be back here at my command. They will never dictate my friends to me again.” He grins but his eyes are cold. “There shall be more kisses of peace. They have put my face to the dirt enough times, now they shall all taste the earth.”

***

Pembroke looks frail; the hard roads of England have taken a toll on him, and he looks more ready for a place by the fire and a blanket than riding after Edward’s enemies. He bows stiffly. He is tired of it all.

“How are my husband’s fortunes?”

“He has taken Mortimer,” he says.

“He surrendered?”

“There was nowhere left to run. I tried to make terms for him as best I could. I told him that if he came freely to the king he would be pardoned and his life would be spared.”

“Why should you offer such a thing?”

“He never rose against Edward, only against Despenser.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“I gave my word.”

As he had given it to Gaveston. This old man never learns a thing from his own history. She cannot imagine how he has survived so long in the hurl burly of English politics. “Where is Mortimer now?”

“Edward has had them both put in chains and thrown in prison. Mortimer and his father are to be tried for treason. The king has confiscated his lands and arrested his wife and children, his daughters are all sent to nunneries. It is a harsh fate.”

“Taking an army against your king is a harsh decision.”

“He felt he had no choice.”

Isabella steps closer. “You sound as if you have sympathy for him.”

“I understand his reasons even if I do not agree with them, your grace.”

“What of my uncle Lancaster?”

“Fled north. He now calls himself King Arthur, and says that he champions the common man of England against a king gone mad. Some say he is hoping the Bruce will provide protection.”

“Then he is the one who is mad.”

“The king asks that you send to your brother in France to seek assistance in his travails against Lancaster.”

“That is not possible. My brother Phillip is dead. Charles is the new heir but not yet crowned.”

“Dead?” Pembroke looks shocked. She knows what he is thinking; since the Templar Grand Master shouted his curse at his execution, her father and two of her brothers had died. It is a black and savage magic, this.

“I shall send messages to the sheriff at Westmoreland and have him assemble his army, ensure Lancaster cannot reach Scotland. Lancaster must not escape my husband’s displeasure.”

Pembroke is about to speak, but thinks better of it.

“What is it, my lord?”

“What shall I do? I gave my word to Mortimer.”

“He knew what he was about when he started this.”

“He has been a faithful servant to the king for many years.”

“So faithful that he brought his soldiers to London and besieged us in the Tower.”

“The king is not the man he was. I had never suspected to see such venom in him.”

Really? Isabella thought. Then what did you expect after all they had done to him?

“He is to be tried as a traitor. It is a harsh fate for a man who served the king so.”

Isabella sighs. Pembroke the peacemaker is fast becoming Pembroke the dreamer. He is not much longer for this game, she suspects, or this life. He overlooks that a ruthless streak behoves all great kings. Look what her own father had done to Marguerite and Beatrice.

“My lord, Edward does what he must. When you stir the anger of a king, you cannot expect him to shrug his shoulders and walk away.”

Pembroke admits defeat. He bows and takes his leave. The Queen calls for her secretary and starts dictating letters, galvanizing support for Edward. He relies on her now, and she will not let him down.

Chapter 31

Pontefract

Her carriage bounces over the cobblestones outside Pontefract castle. Isabella dares a peek through the curtains; blackened and rotted bodies, or parts of them, hang on pikes outside the gates. Edward has not only embraced vengeance, he is now completely enamoured of it.

Anyone who supported Lancaster is now either dead or rotting in a prison. Many have been butchered and their quarters sent to the corners of Lancaster’s estates as signs of the king’s intent.

He trapped Lancaster at Boroughbridge. As Pembroke had predicted, he intended to treat with the Scots. So much for England’s great champion, all his carping about Edward’s failure to tame the Scots, and there at the end he was grovelling to the Bruce for his own neck.

They had brought her the news at Langley: Lancaster had been tried as a traitor. The most Edward would do for him was commute his sentence of drawing and quartering to a cleaner, more merciful death.

Edward’s soldiers are everywhere. The bailie is a sea of grey steel and grim faces. When she is brought in to his chamber he cannot wait to tell her what he has done.

“He was trembling like a woman! We put him on some sorry nag and took him to Saint Thomas Hill, a little col like the one where they slaughtered my Perro. I let the mob have some fun with him, throw snow and offal at him and such. This for his pride! So much for the man who sent for me at Kenilworth as if I were his vassal. I let him know a little of what Perro felt when they dragged him from his dungeon in the middle of the night and slaughtered him!”

“How was it done?”

“A splendid touch! He was made to kneel in the direction of Scotland--to remind everyone that it was from there he had sought his salvation. It took three strokes of a blunt sword to get his head off, the stiff-necked bastard.”

“What did he have to say in his defence?”

“I did not permit him to speak. He did not allow Perro to do so, so why should I grant him such privilege?”

“Did you kill him for treason or for killing Gaveston?”

A moment’s silence. “Does it matter?”

An usher announces that the Despenser is here to see the king. He saunters into the room as if he is co-regent. Instead of a bow, he kisses the king’s cheek, smiling over Edward’s shoulder at the queen.

“My Lord Despenser, how pleasant to see you returned from abroad.”

The sleek privateer she had met on Thanet is now replaced by an overfed cat, one that purrs as Edward strokes him and glares at anyone who would shift him from his lap.

Edward seems likewise indulgent. She remembers what Mortimer had told her.
The ghost of Piers Gaveston has just walked into the room.

“So it is done then, your grace?” she says.

“Done?”

“Lancaster is dead and Mortimer arrested. They cannot challenge you now.”

“Of course it is not done,” the Despenser says.

What did he just say? His insolence is beyond bounds. She waits for Edward to rebuke him, but instead he just sits there and lets Despenser stroke his arm.

“There are heads and shanks from Pontefract to Kenilworth. You have made your point.”

“While there is one man who supported Lancaster against me, I shall not rest. I will weed them all out.”

“Have you not done enough? You executed a nobleman of England, something not done since the time of the Conqueror. You have terrified all of England’s magnates. None will stand against you now.”

“We feel they are not nearly terrified enough,” the Despenser says.