The Traitor's Wife (61 page)

The next day, William Trussell, acting on behalf of the whole realm, renounced homage and allegiance to the king. Thomas le Blount, the king's household steward, broke his staff of office. The royal household was no more.

Edward the Third was crowned on February 1, 1327. Isabella celebrated by granting herself a dower of twenty thousand marks per year—over thirteen thousand pounds. It was nearly triple the generous income she had received before the confiscation of her estates.

“They have appointed a regency council to advise the king. Archbishop Reynolds, Archbishop Melton, the Bishops of Winchester and Hereford—”

“Melton is the only one of them worthy to be called a man of God. But go on, please.”

“The Earls of Lancaster, Norfolk, Kent, and Surrey. Thomas Wake. Henry Percy. Oliver Ingham. John de Ros.”

“Hugh should have killed him when he had the chance,” said Eleanor sourly. “So Mortimer does not have a seat on this council? Then I doubt it will be much of one. Thank you for our meal.”

As the guard left, Eleanor pushed away the food he had brought along with this latest news. Gladys shook her head. Eleanor had eaten little after the death of her husband, less than that after her daughters' removal, and almost nothing after her uncle had given up his crown. “My lady, you cannot go on like this. You must eat.”

“I am not hungry.”

“I know, my lady. But you must force yourself. You cannot starve your unborn child, after all.”

“Child? I am not with child.”

“You have not had a monthly course since you have been here, my lady. Your waist is thickening, even as you eat nothing. You must be with child.”

“But—”

“You and Hugh were together here before he left. He came to your bed, didn't he?”

Yes, thought Eleanor, he had most certainly come to her bed. She frowned. Lately she
had
felt tired and nauseated, but she had attributed the symptoms to the effects of grief. Might Hugh had left her a last gift?

For the first time since Bishop Stapeldon had died, she felt hope rise within her. Then it faltered. “But Gladys, what if I bear a girl? Will the queen take her as she did the others?”

“How can we know what will happen? But you must have faith, my lady. Surely God would not be so cruel as to bring you this child only to snatch it away.”

Eleanor pulled her plate back to her and began nibbling at her food.

That night, she lay in her bed and touched her belly, then the fur on Hugh's cloak. “Thank you, my love,” she whispered.

P
ARLIAMENT WAS STILL SITTING IN MID-FEBRUARY WHEN ZOUCHE WAS ordered to see the king. The lanky fourteen-year-old sat in his chamber, accompanied not by any of the members of his council, but by Mortimer and Isabella. Zouche had scarcely had time to kneel and be ordered to rise before Mortimer started speaking. “Are you ready to undertake another trip to Wales, Zouche?”

“Why?”

“Hugh le Despenser's whelp, that's why. He still holds out in Caerphilly Castle, along with its constable, John Felton, and a hundred men or so. They claim that the former king made them swear on the Host that they would give the castle up to no one but the king, and that they'll hold it until their rightful king comes to claim it. Of course, the boy has an additional incentive to hold out, in light of what happened to Papa and Grandfather.”

“Is he accused of any of their crimes?”

Mortimer shrugged. “He's eighteen, old enough to have been involved in them. He's not without courage, I understand; he was a hostage for England after the last Scottish fiasco and never flinched when they took him across the border, so they say. Such a boy is dangerous, particularly now that he has a father and grandfather to avenge. The king wants you to take him and the castle into custody.” He grinned and held up a piece of parchment. “The king has issued a pardon to all those in the castle except Despenser, excluding him by name. We'll see how many friends he has after that. If the loyalty his father and grandfather inspired is any indication, the brat will soon be taken.”

Isabella was studying her robes with a pained look. “It is a harsh necessity, Lord Zouche, but the family are the enemies of the realm.”

William hesitated. Casually, he asked, “Might I ask what is the status of the late Hugh's widow?”

“The redheaded little cat and her mangy kittens are locked up in the Tower for safekeeping,” Mortimer said.

Isabella gave a sigh as pained as her look. “She is a granddaughter of the first Edward and must be treated with a certain respect, but it cannot be forgotten that she aided and abetted her husband in his schemes against me. Why, he made my husband appoint the wench as my housekeeper, solely to humiliate me! And the devious woman entered into his scheme wholeheartedly. She must be punished for her misdeeds.”

“Lady Despenser is my first cousin,” said the new king. So much he had fallen into the background that the adults in the room started when he spoke. Isabella herself appeared to be about to scold her son for his interruption when she recalled just in time that he was the sovereign of England. “She was always respectful to me, and John is fond of her. I'll not have her shut up for life.”

“Why, of course not, my lord,” said Isabella with a brittle smile. “But this is none of Lord Zouche's concern, is it? He will find this all quite tedious.”

“And there are other matters you must attend to this day,” added Mortimer.

“I shall prepare to go to Wales straightaway,” said Zouche, profiting from the hint.

“Visitor, my lady.”

Eleanor started at the small figure in the doorway, half the size of the burly guard standing behind him. “John?”

“I just wanted to see if you were doing all right,” said John of Eltham formally. The door closed and with the guard gone, John rushed into the room and hurled himself into her arms. “Lady Despenser,
are
you all right?”

“Of course I am, John. But what a pleasure! What are you doing here? Is the court here?”

“No, still at Westminster. I came here by barge.”

“With permission?”

He grinned. “No. I can't stay long or there'll be questions. But I did want to see you.”

“You are my first visitor—
our
first visitor.”

“I was afraid you would be in chains,” he admitted, looking around for any fetters that might be in sight.

Eleanor laughed. “We have not come to that, John, rest your mind easy. See?” She waved her hand around the room. “We have proper beds, and a table to eat off of, and food and ale and—”

“No sweetmeats,” muttered Gilbert darkly.

John looked around. Edward, Gilbert, and Eleanor's John had come to stand by their mother, but there was no sign of the Despenser girls. “Lady Despenser, where are the girls? Aren't they in the Tower?”

“No, John, they are staying in convents. They are—nuns now.”

“
Nuns?
”

Edward, who had become fiercely protective of Eleanor in the last few weeks, put himself in front of her. “Drop it, John. You'll upset my mother.”

“Edward! Don't be rude. He means no harm.” Eleanor managed a smile. “The queen thought it best that they be veiled.”

“Oh.” John winced. At ten, he was not yet that good at reading faces, but he was good enough to see that Lady Despenser was very, very sad about her girls. He coughed and decided to change the subject. “I wanted to bring you something, Lady Despenser, but I wasn't sure what. I couldn't bring too much or it would be missed. But I did think you might like these.”

He held out a basket full of marzipan animals. Gilbert all but knocked the others down to grab a particularly fat cow, and even Edward's face crinkled into a half smile as he bit into a pig. “Thank you, John. This is so sweet of you!”

“Sweet to bring sweets?” John smiled. He and Lady Despenser had enjoyed playing with words.

Gilbert in between bites informed John, “Mama is to have another baby.”

John's eyes widened. “Really, Lady Despenser?”

Eleanor helped her youngest son with his rooster. “Yes, John, in June I think, please God.”

“I wish you didn't have to have it here. I do ask Mama and my brother often to let you out, you know.”

“I know you do, John, and I thank you.”

John dropped his eyes and said formally, “I am sorry about Lord Despenser, Lady Despenser. I know you all must miss him.”

“We do, John, thank you, but he is in a better place now, and someday we shall be reunited there, please God.”

This was not the prognosis of Lord Despenser's fate that John had heard from his mother, but he kept a diplomatic silence, which Eleanor broke by saying, “Tell me, John. Do you hear from your father?”

It was John's turn to look sad. “I haven't seen him. They say he is—not quite right in his mind, that he needs to be away from other people for a while.”

Good Lord, could not Isabella even have the decency to let Edward see his children? “I am sure he will be better soon. When he is, and you get to see him, I want you to give him my love. If you can do so in private, of course.”

He grinned, a conspirator again. “I will try.”

After answering a few inquiries from Eleanor about his pets and his knightly progress, John sighed with regret and rose. “I had best go. I told my brother's bargemen that I wanted to see the menagerie and that then I would go. I don't know when I'll be back, Lady Despenser. I think the court will be going north soon. The Scots.”

Eleanor had heard something of this. The very day her cousin Edward was crowned—Eleanor had the greatest difficulty calling the boy the king—the Scots had attacked Norham Castle. Though the raid had failed, there were rumors that future incursions were planned by Robert Bruce. Good, she thought viciously, let Isabella and Mortimer themselves fight the Scots. With luck, they would be sent back south with their tails between their legs…

She stifled these unpatriotic thoughts and hugged John. “I want you to know that your visit today meant everything to me. Thank you.”