Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

The King stepped forward as she entered, and taking her hand asked how she fared, how her journeys had been. ‘Welcome, my fair sister!’ She attempted to kneel before him, not once, but three times, at each occasion held up by him. ‘You are my sister, my equal. You shall not kneel for me.’

Baldwin saw the tears running down her face as the King led her to a seat and installed her, commanding wine and sweetmeats for her, and for all his loyalty and devotion to her, he could not help but reflect that she was a more consummate actor than any he had seen displaying his craft on a wagon at the miracle plays each year.

‘Well?’ Simon demanded as Baldwin walked out into the yard later. As a mere yeoman, Simon had not been invited to the audience. Not that he cared a whit. As far as he was concerned, kings were above his usual rank of companion, and he was content to leave such people to Baldwin’s acquaintance.

‘It was tedious. The Queen met her brother. That is about it.’

‘What did she say? Was he excited? What is he like?’

‘She said hello. He was happy as any monarch who now holds the secret to upsetting a rival; and he is tall, handsome, and as ruthless and avaricious as any king,’ Baldwin said.

‘Ruthless and what?’

‘Simon, he has one interest and one interest only. He is a devoted Christian, and he is determined that he shall become the Holy Roman Emperor. His only rival for the position has already been excommunicated, I hear, so he is likely to win that race. And then no doubt he will launch a new crusade. I think that is what he desires above all else.’

‘And meantime, if they get on so well, then with fortune we can leave here and get back home before too long?’ Simon said optimistically.

‘Perhaps so,’ Sir Charles said. He had followed Baldwin from the room, and now stood at the bottom of the steps to the hall. ‘I should not hold out for that to be very soon, though, old friend.’

‘Surely, if he still loves his sister, he will not refuse anything she asks for?’

‘Simon, dear fellow, that is what we must hope will happen if he wants peace with the English. It has little to do with his sister’s wishes, though. If she were to win what she desired, we’d be in great trouble, and would be forced to remain here a damned sight longer.’

Simon frowned. ‘I don’t …’

‘What the king of England wants is his territories returned, at no cost, and without having to pay homage to King Charles. What King Charles wants is any pretext to keep the lands and force the English king to pay allegiance to him. What the Queen wants is somebody to remove and preferably execute Sir Hugh Despenser so that she can return to her husband again.’

‘But the French have no power over whether our king turfs Despenser out.’

‘Quite so. Which means that the Queen must be disappointed. Will that make her keen to assist her husband? I somehow doubt it. No. You have to pray that the self-interest of the French will make them try to force our king to agree to accept back his lands, while still coming here to pay allegiance for them.’

‘But he won’t,’ Baldwin said. ‘The last man he would ever trust is his brother-in-law.’

‘Why?’ Simon asked, baffled.

Sir Charles sighed slightly, glancing at Baldwin as though unbelieving that any man could be so far behind the realities of the nation’s politics. ‘Simon, the two of them are neighbouring kings. Both wish to lead Christendom. That means that they hate each other. It’s not helped by the fact that the English still rage about the French stealing Normandy from us; now they want to steal Guyenne. They are dishonest and unreliable.’

‘You do not like the French, do you?’ Baldwin asked mildly.

‘When dead, they make tolerable companions,’ Sir Charles said with chilling amiability.

‘Baldwin, you don’t believe all that, do you? I mean, we’ll be home again early in the summer, won’t we? It shouldn’t take long for the Queen to knock together some sort of deal with her own brother, will it? They love each other, after all.’

‘Simon, I don’t know what he feels towards her. You have heard of the matter of the silken purses?’

‘I think so, but I don’t know …’

‘There was a meeting in France some ten or eleven years ago. The Queen, our Queen Isabella, was there, and she met her father. Now she had given some purses to her sisters-in-law a while before. They were all embroidered in silk, so easily recognisable to her. Imagine her feelings when she saw them, not in her sisters-in-law’s hands, but bound to the belts of some knights with whom they were dancing.

‘She worried about the matter for some little while, I expect, but her conscience wouldn’t let her be. She decided she must tell her father, for if these women were committing adultery it was not only a matter of cuckolding their husbands, it meant that they could be compromising the succession of the royal line of Capet. They could be raising bastards to take the crown. That was enough to make her, a daughter of that royal house, bridle. She told her father, he arrested the men concerned, and they died as any man would, guilty of such an appalling crime.’

His tone was reflective, precise, unemotional. Simon knew that although Baldwin was a firm believer in justice, he also detested unnecessary cruelty, to man or beast. He knew the necessity of eating, but he preferred his venison to be killed swiftly and cleanly. That was why he maintained a good pack of hounds and raches, to bring down game quickly and kill it cleanly.

‘The women, though, were made to suffer still more, perhaps. The two women who were found guilty of adultery were imprisoned in the Château Gaillard. One was her brother Charles’s wife. He has been unfortunate. Some little while ago he managed to have his marriage to her annulled, and I think he rejected any children she’d borne in case they were sired by another. The second wife died in childbirth last year, I believe, and now he hopes to marry again. Given those circumstances, Simon, how glad would you be to meet your sister again? How keen would you be to grant her any favours?’

‘But the fact that the favours she craves are to please her king? Surely the king who is Charles’s closest neighbour must have some impact?’

‘I think I need not reiterate the words of Sir Charles,’ Baldwin said lightly. ‘Consider this, Simon: the man is already insulting King Charles. He has accepted as his own closest adviser and friend a man whom King Charles has declared outlaw. Sir Hugh le Despenser robbed French shipping for a while when he was exiled from England. Taking him as a close confidant is a gross insult. Just as is King Charles’s response in taking in and protecting our king’s worst enemy, Roger Mortimer. The two have no desire to help each other. No, I think that King Charles will have all the English territories, and our mission here is a farce. I do not know why I agreed to come!’

Jean gave up for the day. He had been inside the town, watching the gates carefully to see if there was any sign of Arnaud or le Vieux, but as he wandered the streets it became clear that, if the two were here, they must be staying in the palace itself.

Well, no matter. He could be patient. There was plenty of time. He found lodgings in a mean little chamber not far from one of the town’s gates, and settled down to sleep. But his dreams were not good. He woke, stifling a scream, as once more he saw Arnaud and Berengar running from the castle, and walked down to find the bodies outside the guard rooms again. And he wept for the men who had been slain by that madman, Arnaud.

He must kill Arnaud.

Saturday before Palm Sunday 18

Poissy