Michael Jecks - The King of Thieves

But it was one thing to have a sworn and bitter enemy of the English here in France to twist the tail of the English King, quite another to have a man who appeared to be inveigling his way into the Queen of England’s affections, if not yet her bed.

The Bardi spies were usually the best, but those which the King had set to watching Mortimer were the finest, the most skilful at their craft. And having once been forced to wear the cuckold’s horns, King Charles was sensitive to any suggestion that his sister might be doing the same to her husband while here at the French court.

It was not to be borne.

Wednesday before the Feast of the Archangel Michael *

Bois de Vincennes

Stapledon walked up and down the chamber, while his clerks watched anxiously. There were three of them, all sitting at the large table, waiting for instructions, but for now there was nothing. The Bishop didn’t trust his voice still. The embarrassment of the previous day sat like bile on his soul. So now he paced, his hands clasped before him as though in prayer, but the language which rolled about in his mind was not that which he would usually use in the presence of God.

It was not his fault. The King had decided to send him here to see to the diplomatic problems involving the Queen, and ask that she return home. He even had access to the King’s bankers so that he could raise money to cover her present expenses and those of her journey. But she was a dangerous, difficult woman — sly, cunning and hard to deal with. The vixen !

‘Ha! Me lord Bishop, I think she has you there!’ Sir Richard declared as he entered. He crossed the floor to the sideboard, where he inspected the dishes in the hope of finding something sustaining.

‘Sir Richard, I do not need your advice on the matter,’ Bishop Walter said coldly. ‘Where are Sir Baldwin and the Bailiff?’

‘With the Earl, and keeping an eye on the others with the King, I dare say. The Queen’s a pretty little thing, but I wouldn’t want my son left with her and her brother as my boy’s guardians, so I suggested that the two of them stayed with Earl Edward. I believe they were going to go falconing.’

‘And you didn’t want to join them?’

‘Me? Chase after a bird? No, although give me some good greyhounds and a fleet destrier, and I’ll chase deer all over the place. I’ve been asking, and there are quite a good number here. Perhaps I’ll have a chance of setting the hounds on ’em, eh? That would be a glorious ride. In the meantime, I’ll have to just occupy meself as best I can around here,’ he added mournfully.

The Bishop nodded curtly and strode to the large table. On it were the letters which he had been asked to bring. A clerk looked up hopefully, and received a baleful glare in return, as the Bishop picked up the sealed parchment for the bankers.

Leaving the chamber, with Sir Richard wandering behind him like some enquiring mastiff, the Bishop swept through the corridors until he came to the Queen’s chambers. He knocked, and the little blonde woman, Alicia, the lady-in-waiting who was so often at the Queen’s side, opened it.

‘Tell your mistress that I would speak with her,’ he said abruptly.

‘I think she may be a little indisposed, my Lord Bishop,’ Alicia said.

‘I have funds for her if she makes herself available.’

As he had expected, the letter in his hand was the key to opening her chamber, and in a short while he and Sir Richard were in the Queen’s gracious apartment. She stood, dressed as a widow, all in black, as the two entered. Behind her were Alicia, Lady Alice de Toeni and Joan of Bar, King Edward’s niece. And all stared at him without expression.

Dear God , he thought, the bitch has poisoned all of them against me!

It had been almost a year ago now that he had argued with the King that her household should be broken up, and new maids brought in to serve her. As Stapledon had said, the woman might be Queen of England, but she was still French by nature. Her heart was French. All those who were French should be removed from her household, and replaced with loyal English servants. That was why he’d been forced to demand a full safe-conduct from Queen Isabella when the King first suggested that he come here to treat with her. Until then there had been threats that he would be captured and tortured if he ever set foot in France, for his offences to the Queen.

‘I hope I see you well, my Queen.’

‘I am well. Alicia said you have money for me? That is good. I need funds to maintain myself in the manner to which a Queen should be accustomed.’

‘Yes, my Lady. I am to help you here as I may, so that you can return home to your husband all the more speedily.’

‘I shall consider the matter as soon as I have my debts paid,’ she said firmly.

‘My Lady, your husband, the King, has asked that you return home forthwith. Here is his letter.’

‘I do not wish to read it, Bishop, but I will have my money, if you please?’

He looked down at her hand and then back up into her eyes. Cold, they were, as ice. ‘No.’

‘You refuse me , your Queen ?’

‘I was told quite definitely to give you money only when you agreed to return to England. I am not at liberty to give you money to support you here while you refuse. Especially after the manner of your refusal yesterday. That was a sad embarrassment to me, to your husband’s loyal servant!’

‘Then it would appear that there is little more to be discussed.’

‘Quite so,’ the Bishop said. He was shivering, he was so cross. That this damned woman could dare to deny him — and her King — what they reasonably asked, was outrageous. Quite outrageous!

‘What are your plans, my Lady, if you will not go back to the bosom of your family and your husband?’ he asked with frigid calm.

‘I have much still to do, my Lord Bishop. There are matters to negotiate with the King here. Fortunately he is prepared to help support me as a Princess should be. I am safe here in France, you see. Safe from attack — and from the depredations of those who would rob me of all my properties and income.’

Bishop Walter curled his lip at that, but said nothing. He knew that his reasonable and sensible actions in seeing all her lands in Devon and Cornwall sequestrated had rankled, but that was not his concern. ‘And how long do you intend to hold this charade?’ he said, indicating her widow’s clothing.

‘Until the King is free of the base traitor Despenser and I can once again take my throne in Westminster Hall.’

‘Come home now.’

‘You heard me yesterday. I will not.’

‘Then all support is cut off. The King will advance you nothing.’

He stared at her hard, and then span on his heel and strode out, Sir Richard, grinning broadly and winking at Alicia, following more slowly.

‘Sir Richard?’ the Queen said as he reached the door.

‘Yes, my Queen?’

‘Do be careful around the Bishop. There are many here in France who do not like him.’

‘I’m always careful, my Queen,’ he said with a smile. He left the room just as Sir Henry de Beaumont appeared in the corridor outside. ‘Ha! Sir Henry. You coming to see the Queen too?’

Sir Henry had paled, before smiling in return and nodding effusively. ‘Yes. I was here to speak with her and ensure that she was safely guarded. Can’t have just anyone breaking in on her.’

‘No, there are too many Frenchies here for my liking!’ Sir Richard chuckled, and set off in the Bishop’s wake.

But Sir Richard, for all his amiability and an exterior composed apparently of elephant hide, was a law officer, and as astute as any. The hesitation of Sir Henry had not been missed.