Dispensation of Death

Chapter Forty-Two

Wednesday after the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary¹

Thorney Island

The Queen was the first to be told of the new proposal — after Sir Hugh, the Bishops, her son and the King’s ambassadors.

She was startled to receive an invitation to see her husband. His chambers were so close, and yet she had grown accustomed to the fact of their separation over the last months.

‘You are sure he wants me?’ was her only response to the request.

The marvellous painted hall in which he waited for her was a welcoming chamber. The fire in the hearth was roaring, and although she had left a pleasantly warmed room behind her, this was so much hotter that Isabella was forced to shed her cloak.

‘My Lord, you asked to see me?’ she enquired, giving him a courtesy and keeping her eyes demurely downcast so he might not read the anger in her eyes.

‘Lady, I have come to a conclusion.’ It sounded as though he had drunk poison, for the words almost choked him. ‘Your brother has demanded that I should go to him to swear homage for Guyenne and the Duchy. I feel I cannot go at present, not while our countries are at daggers drawn. So I have decided that you shall go in my place.’

‘You have?’

‘I and the parliament. We are sure that your good offices will aid our negotiations. I wish you to leave within the month.’

‘But there is so much to prepare! Surely the Pope could send another to act for you? Would not a Bishop or Archbishop carry more weight than a mere woman?’

‘The Pope suggested you,’ the King spat.

She looked up then, so that he could read the contempt in her eyes. She had known that all along. It was pathetic of him not to think of the many ways in which a prisoner might learn news of the world. For her part, it was easy. Drokensford kept her well-informed, as always.

‘You will go in the first week in March,’ the King said, containing his own rage with difficulty. This woman was a she-wolf. Cunning, evil, cruel, she was the embodiment of all that was unnatural in a woman. He could see that she had known about all this beforehand — well, let her think that she had won. When she came back from the French court, when she had done his will over there and won back Guyenne for him, she would return to her prison in England. Not here, though, where she could plot with her friends. Somewhere else, farther away from power. Perhaps in Castle Acre. Norfolk was a county for which she had always asserted a liking. She could go there and fester.

‘I suppose I shall be forced to travel with people chosen for me?’ she said after a moment.

‘I will wish to keep the costs of the embassy at a minimum.’

‘Naturally. Yet I would have some men I can trust.’

‘You have my word that all will be honourable and trustworthy.’

‘Your word? I am reassured.’

He grated his teeth, but swallowed his anger at her sarcasm. ‘You wish for a senior man? A Bishop? Earl?’

‘Will our son travel with me?’

The King smiled. ‘No. He will come later, provided that all the negotiations are successful. I will send him on to you when all the plans have been set out clearly.’

For Sir Hugh, it was the best of all worlds. As he had hoped when he first tried to tempt Earl Edmund into plotting against him, persuading the fool through Piers that Sir Hugh did not want the Queen to leave the country, in reality it was clearly impossible for him to be seen to attempt to prevent her going. The only effective manner of his preserving his power was for the Queen to be apparently supported by him so that the French did not have any more incentive to seek his death.

It would have been best for him to have seen her killed here, but it was not to be.

‘My Liege.’

The King took his arm with a smile. ‘Come, look at this, Sir Hugh.’

At the window, Sir Hugh looked out. From here they had a view of a magnificent royal barge. ‘That is marvellous!’

‘Isn’t it?’

It was painted in red, with glints of gold where gilt licked the decoration. Cushions were spread about, and Sir Hugh could see that there was a great awning to keep the King and his guests sheltered in the worst of weathers. At the stern was a comfortable-looking seat with padded arms and thick cushions for the King. Beside it, a comfy, but lower chair.

‘I had it made for the summer, and wanted to view it beforehand. I hope you and I will be able to use it in the warm months.’

‘Yes, I am sure …’

‘So no more attempts on the Queen’s life, Sir Hugh,’ the King murmured.

Sir Hugh smiled. ‘You need not worry about that.’

‘No, I do not — do I?’ the King said, but this time — for the first time — Sir Hugh heard that special note in his tone: it was the same tone he had used when pronouncing death on Sir Andrew Harclay; when he told his cousin, Earl Thomas of Lancaster, that he must die; when he spoke to his wife. It was the sort of voice he used for people whom he had once trusted, when he learned of their faithlessness.

There was only one thing for Sir Hugh to do, and he did so hurriedly. Dropping to his knees, he bent his head almost to the floor. ‘My Lord, don’t blame me! I only sought what I was sure was best for you.’

‘Yes — and you, eh? No more, Sir Hugh. It is tedious to have to seek out such men. And they do bleed an inordinate amount.’

Sir Hugh looked up at his lord and lover. ‘It was you?’

‘So no more, Sir Hugh. I have lost my wife. I would not lose you too.’ He paused. ‘You must pay. You will buy me a new carpet. My last one was soiled.’

Richard Blaket stood aside as the Queen returned to her chamber, Alicia in attendance. As the Queen entered, Alicia remained outside with him.

‘We shall be travelling soon,’ she said.

‘To Eltham?’ Richard asked. He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but failed. The guards set about this island were all selected from the area and would not travel with the household when it was moving across the countryside.

‘No. We are to go to France. France!’ She clapped her hands and smiled in delight.

‘France?’ he said dully. ‘How long for?’

‘We won’t be there all that long,’ she said, suddenly quiet as she saw his pain. ‘The Queen has to go to discuss things with their King, and then we’ll be back.’

He nodded sadly. It was natural that she would be glad to travel to France. It was the centre of culture, of beauty, all that was lovely to a woman.

‘You aren’t happy?’

‘How can I be happy when I’m going to have to wave you goodbye?’

‘I will be returning.’

‘Yes,’ he said. But all he could think of was the long months of loneliness while she was gone.