The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

Chapter Seventeen

Beauvais

Baldwin and Simon were glad to be installed in a large, comfortable bed. The previous night had been uncomfortable before the adventure of the explosion and Enguerrand de Foix’s death, and sleepless thereafter, so a bed with a real rope base and a soft mattress over it was an almost undreamed-of luxury. It was worth the risk of lice and fleas to sleep in comfort again.

‘How’s your face?’ Simon asked.

‘Not too bad. The Queen’s salve helped.’

‘It was good of her to bring that stuff to you.’

‘Yes.’

It had been late in the morning when Alicia appeared before them on a little mare.

Baldwin had bent his head to her courteously. He had liked the Queen’s lady-in-waiting when he first met her in London. ‘My lady.’

‘My queen saw how dreadfully scalded you were after last night. She thought a little of this salve might help you,’ Alicia said, holding out a small pottle of some thick juice.

‘The Queen?’ Simon repeated, awed.

‘She was once burned badly,’ Alicia said by way of explanation. ‘She found this mixture always soothed her and took away the pain.’

‘I see. That is most kind of her. Would you give your lady my deepest thanks.’ Baldwin bowed. He could remember hearing that ten or eleven years ago Queen Isabella had been caught in a fire in a tent, and her arms had been dreadfully scarred. She still suffered from burns, it was said.

‘I will.’

‘Do you find the journey pleasing?’

Alicia gave a small smile. ‘How could I fail to? We are out of London and away from all the trials and sorrows that place has brought us.’

‘I only pray that our queen may find more ease when we are returned,’ Baldwin said with feeling.

‘That is not likely,’ Alicia said with a regretful shake of her head. She graced them with a smile each before riding away to rejoin the Queen.

‘She meant Despenser?’ Simon said.

‘Of course. He poisons all whom he meets,’ Baldwin said.

‘But if the Queen succeeds in her mission, that will surely put her back in the King’s favour?’

‘Does he have favour for her any more?’ Baldwin had responded.

Now, though, as he sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated the candle burning on its spike set into the wall, he wondered whether he was being unreasonable. Maybe he was doing his king a disservice by assuming the worst of the man. After all, King Edward had fathered four children on this woman. If she could return to England in honour, with a treaty that did not shame him, would that not make him respect her again? And when a man respected a woman, love was surely never far behind. Possibly this would be the making of them both.

There were only the two options: if the Queen failed to win back the Gascon territories her standing would be destroyed, for if she could not even benefit the King in his dealings with France she was of little value; but if she managed to win back Guyenne and agree a peace, then the whole reason for her marriage to King Edward would be confirmed, and she could go home to England with her head held as high as the skies.

And yet …

The few times Baldwin had seen her during this ride, her excitement, her apparent repressed glee, had been a little out of place. It must be that she was glad to be free again, he thought.

He would have mentioned it to Simon, but when he turned to look at his old friend, he saw that Simon was already asleep.

Baldwin blew out the candle and lay staring up at the ceiling. All he could see was the body of Enguerrand, Comte de Foix, the blood forming a cushion for his head on the snow. Two dead men already, he told himself. The musician in London, as Blaket had said, and now the Comte.

There was nothing for him to trouble himself about, though. No. He rolled over on the bed, and was soon asleep.

They had let Jack go. There was little point in trying to maintain the charade that he was in danger, not when he lay on his belly and smiled at them, as though knowing that they would like to harm him but in truth did not dare. Disgruntled, Ricard had jerked his head, and all had released him.

Philip was the last to speak. He held his fist under Jack’s nose. ‘See this? See this, little mystery man? When I have the chance, one day I’ll use this on you, and you’ll not know what day of the week it is, I swear!’

‘Fearful,’ Jack said, eyeing the clenched fist closely. ‘Wash it first, would you?’

‘You …’ Philip swung twice, hard, the fist striking on the cheek, the nose. Jack was just able to roll his head enough to absorb the blows, but the blood began to trickle from his nostrils.

Ricard grabbed the fist before it could swing again. ‘Philip, get out of here.’

‘Just leave me with him for a little. I’ll find out what he’s about.’

‘Leave him! You want the Queen to hear you’ve been brawling? She’ll abandon you here without a penny. You want that?’

‘He’s a spy. He killed Peter, and now he’s here to spy on us all.’

‘Who’d want to spy on us?’ Janin asked reasonably.

‘I’ll bet he killed the Frenchie too,’ Philip spat, pointing at Jack. ‘And because he says he’ll see us dead, you let him get away with it all!’

Jack watched him throw his hands in the air, then stride angrily from the room. The others were eyeing him cautiously, as though he might at any moment turn and kill them all.

‘Is there any truth in what he says?’

‘What, that I may have killed this man Peter? I never even met the man. And as for the Frenchman — why would I do that? No, I’m innocent, just an ordinary drummer. That’s me.’

Alicia was content enough with the large room she shared with the Queen and the other ladies.

It was hard to find a moment to speak to the Queen without being overheard, but as she washed the dust from her mistress and brushed it from her hair, she could whisper a little.

‘Have you seen him again?’ Isabella asked. Her lips scarcely moved.

‘Yes. There was a shadow down in the doorway when I fetched the water, and Lady Joan was there.’

‘Joan of Bar. My husband’s niece. He does me the honour of a noble spy, at least.’

Alicia smiled at that. Of all the ladies-in-waiting, she was the least by birth, and if it were not for the fact that the Queen had insisted on her presence, she would never have been brought along. The Queen already had Lady Joan of Bar and Alice de Toeni, the Dowager Countess of Warwick. King Edward had pointedly asked why she should need any more people, and Alicia had smiled to herself at the Queen’s indignant response.

‘Why, would you have the King’s ambassador arrive at my brother’s door like a beggar? If you seek a peace with my brother and would have me treat with him as an equal, you will need to allow me to appear as though I have some status in your eyes, my lord. You would grudge me my own maid?’

It was a telling comment. The Archbishop Reynolds supported her, as did Henry Eastry, prior of Christ Church. There were enough men who would be unwilling to see her humiliated before her own brother for the King to acquiesce, finally, albeit with a bad grace.

But there were spies about her at all times.

‘Is she back yet?’

‘No, my lady.’

There was another pause while the Queen considered. ‘She is the King’s lady. She could be sending information to him, but if so, she is also telling Despenser. We must remain careful.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you see him?’

‘Thickset, broad-shouldered, with a slow sort of mien. I would not think him a nobleman. He didn’t have that kind of breeding.’

‘His face.’

‘Didn’t see it. He was in shadows. Lady Joan was between him and the torches.’

Queen Isabella nodded faintly. ‘Watch her, then, and let me know if you see him again.’

‘I will, my-’

‘You are taking your time, child. Is our queen’s toilet complete?’

‘Lady Alice, I think I can decide for myself when my toilet is complete. Where is Lady Joan?’

‘I do not know. She went out a little while ago.’

‘Perhaps you should send someone to ensure that she is quite safe? And while you are out there, you could send for my musicians. I think I need a little music to lighten my mood. I find myself a little distraite.’

‘Very well. Alicia, you go and-’

‘Countess Alice, I think I asked you to go,’ the Queen said. In her voice was a hint of steel. Although she did not turn her head to look at the Dowager Countess directly, there was enough menace in her tone to make Alice de Toeni colour.

‘I should insist, my lady. I am of noble blood, and it would be better if I did not leave you alone. We are in a foreign country, and-’

‘Lady Alice, this is the land of my birth. You suggest that my own countrymen would harm me? For sooth! Now, begone. If there is any trouble, you may point out that it was the absence of Lady Joan that forced you to leave me alone. Now, go!’

As soon as the door had slammed, she gave herself over to giggling. ‘Did you see her face? She was like a stuffed frog!’

Alicia was more concerned. ‘But what if she causes you trouble? She could tell the King that you sent her away like a serf.’

‘She will. With fortune, it will be too late,’ Queen Isabella said with a cold certainty, and Alicia wondered at that. It was not the first time she had heard that hard, ruthless edge to her mistress’s voice, but it was the first time that she had seen the glitter of certainty in her eyes.

While the Queen waited for her musicians, Alicia noticed that she appeared unsettled. Usually Alicia would leave to go about other duties while the musicians played, but tonight she was unusually tired. The effect of the journey and the feeling that she must spend her time in cautious observation of all those about her, she supposed.

The men trooped in, a very motley band. Still, as the first struck a tune on his gittern, and another started to saw on his rebec, she warmed to them. They might be the tattiest churls ever to have been scraped from the kennel, but they could certainly play their instruments. Even when they had been in a fight. The man with the bodhran was looking quite battered, although he stood there with his head turned away from the drum, his ear near the skin as he beat out the rhythms, like a man with nothing on his mind whatever, other than the urgent need for the music he had to play. Then the rebec player glanced over at the others in turn, each nodding to him, and he ducked his upper body and sawed faster on his fiddle, and as though by magic all the others joined in at the same time, this time playing a furious, quick dance tune. Alicia’s foot could not keep still — it began to tap in time.

But all the while her mind was not on the music. It was on the Queen, sitting here so close to her, her head moving, smiling all the while.

There was a fresh change of tempo, and now it was the gittern player who initiated it. He looked at the rebecman, then to the drummer and the recorder. All nodded.

And then she saw something else. It was so swift, so fleeting, that at first she thought she had been wrong. The bodhran man looked up quickly. Just for a moment, but Alicia saw it, and she also saw his slight nod. It was a momentary thing, but enough, she thought, to be over-familiar. Except Isabella did not seem to mind. Instead, she too nodded. A spasm of the neck that made her head move a fraction, only for an instant.

Alicia felt the breath in her lungs turn to ice. Isabella had a plan to which even Alicia was not privy. It was the first time Alicia had realised that there could be secrets which the Queen would keep even from her.

In the street outside the Queen’s apartments, Adam and the other musicians stood and counted their coins again. Ricard knew he ought to go back to their room and make sure that little Charlie was safe, but somehow it seemed hard to move his legs just now.

‘My God,’ Adam breathed. He stared at the coins glittering and shining in Ricard’s hands.

‘I know,’ Janin said. He could not believe what he held. He stared at the coins with a kind of longing. They were so beautiful, he hardly dared to put his rosin-stained hands near them. Large, solid coins. Fifty of them.

For his part, Ricard was all but speechless. It was only after he had stood there with the pile of coins in his hands for a while that he shook his head and muttered, ‘Keep this up, we’ll be able to retire in comfort.’

‘She must have been in a good mood tonight,’ Jack said.

‘She’s a queen. What’s there for her to be anxious about?’ Adam said, his eyes still fixed upon the mound in Ricard’s hand. ‘Can I feel one, Ric?’

‘She usually gives us a few coins, doesn’t she? One or two shillings for an evening’s banging and scraping. And tonight she gives us ten apiece, and you’re not interested in why?’

‘Just leave her alone, is what I say. She’s a lady, and she doesn’t deserve some arse like you sniffing around her,’ Philip said.

‘Me? Ho hum. So you still think I’m a spy now, do you?’

‘I don’t know what you are, but I know damn sure I don’t trust you,’ Philip snarled.

‘Ah, now, there’s a pity. When I could be such charming company, too,’ Jack said lightly.

‘Just leave the woman alone. She has enough to cope with.’

Adam gave a small sniff of contempt. ‘Like what? She’s a queen, Philip. She’s never been left out in the open with her instruments getting warped in the rain, has she? Never had to worry about where her next meal’s coming from, neither. Don’t see what you reckon-’

‘Have you wool in your head? You heard what Peter used to say. She’s been suffering a lot recently, what with her children taken away and her friends all gone. Despenser hates her, that’s what they say. So yes, she has plenty to worry about, I’d reckon.’

‘Let her worry. What do we care, as long as she keeps paying us?’ Jack said.

‘You shouldn’t keep talking about her as if she was just some slattern from the stews!’

‘Was I disrespectful, old man? Ah, now there. I hadn’t realised that talking amongst friends could be so dangerous. If I’ve upset you, that’s a shame.’

All was delivered in a calm, disinterested tone, as though Jack was absolutely unconcerned what Philip might think, and it was enough to make Philip forget where they were. Here, in the street, in the dark, it was hazardous to brawl where the Watch could catch a man, but he was past caring.

He growled low in his throat, and launched himself forward, his hands reaching out like a campball player’s¹⁴ to grab Jack. But as he sprang at him, Jack slipped aside and punched once, sharply. His fist connected with a solid-sounding thud just under Philip’s ear, and he fell to the ground like a pole-axed ox.

‘I think you’d best take care of him now, fellows. Don’t think he’d like me to be around when he wakens, eh?’

The last they saw of Jack that night, he was strolling away as though he had not a care in the world. It was only Adam who saw the figure slip from the shadow of a doorway further up the street and join Jack, walking in step with him as far as a bend in the road. They both stopped there and turned back to look at the musicians before walking on.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked.

‘What?’ Ricard had been carefully replacing the coins one by one in the neat purse, and looked up now as Janin tried to lift Philip to a sitting position.

‘Up there. I could have sworn it was William de Bouden, but … they’ve gone now.’

‘What of it?’ Janin demanded, puffing a little as he rolled Philip on to his back. ‘Give me a hand, Ricard.’

‘De Bouden was watching us, as if he knew Jack was going to be here,’ Adam said. ‘When he wandered up, Bouden stepped out, all friendly, and joined him. Why?’

‘Because the bastard’s in league with Despenser, that’s why!’ Ricard snapped. ‘So what’s new? He’s probably spilling all he’s seen in the Queen’s chamber tonight. Then Bouden can relay it all back to London.’

‘You really think that he’s dishonourable enough to do that?’

Ricard stopped, turned, and stared at him.

Adam coloured. He felt foolish enough. But if he’d seen round the bend in the street, to where de Bouden and Jack had halted as they met the third man, he would have felt still more confused.

As would Ricard.