Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

Drokensford took a long pull from his wine and nodded to himself. ‘I am afraid that I have little influence myself. Certainly not enough to interpose myself between the King and his advisers. Especially his … his most trusted advisers.’

There was no need for him to emphasise the point further. All knew that Despenser was closer to the King than any other man. Most suspected that the two must be lovers. There were even rumours that Despenser had tried to entice the Queen into his bed, according to Piers, although Edmund found that too unbelievable. The idea that the woman would have allowed him close enough to her to make such an improper suggestion was not credible. She hated him — as well she might.

‘And yet all who hold love for our realm must wish to support our territories against our enemies,’ said Edmund.

The Bishop eyed him. ‘The realm is the King’s, and the territories belong to him and the Crown. We are only subjects.’

‘But we must still try to protect his lands.’

‘And how could we achieve this?’

‘There is one way: we must have an ambassador go to the French King. Someone whom he will trust, someone who can speak for our King.’

‘I believe I understand your aims now,’ Drokensford muttered.

It was not new. In the last day the Earl had visited several Bishops and senior peers of the realm to try to put Piers’s suggestion into action, and each of them had listened and then studied him as though wondering whether he had more information he could impart. No one trusted another in this court. The King’s household was wrapped in a miasma of fear. Nobody dared to think for himself, and certainly nobody would think of thwarting Sir Hugh le Despenser.

‘What else?’ he said. ‘We must have the Queen go to France. Who else can achieve anything? If only Earl Pembroke had not died last year, he could have been sent. Stratford has achieved much — but he is not capable of miracles. The only person who can be expected to win over the French is our Queen.’

‘And?’

‘You know as well as I do that the Despenser would not have her sent. He wishes her here. He has never trusted her, and trusts her less than ever now. I’ll wager you that he fights to prevent her being sent.’

‘Come now! He and she appear to be happy in each other’s company.’

‘You think so? Then why …’ He paused.

‘Why what? There is nothing more to be said. Sir Hugh le Despenser is perfectly happy with her, I am sure. They are amiable before each other, after all.’

‘I do know that, my Lord Bishop. In public, I agree, they seem perfectly content. But there is some news which I have heard recently. It concerns me, directly. But I must ask that you keep this to yourself.’

‘What would that be?’

‘What if I were to tell you that Despenser has already sworn to kill me? He cannot bear to think that the truth should ever come out about his malodorous handling of French relationships. The murderous bastard wants me out of the way. Anyway, he’s always been jealous of my Earldom. Despenser has always wanted it for himself.’

Drokensford was looking at him with a cynical twist to his face. The man wanted more. Edmund returned his stare with resolution. There was little else he could say to persuade the man. Grasping at the nearest straw, he blurted, ‘You know what sort of man he is: ruthless.’

‘That is a measure of many a knight,’ Drokensford said.

‘Not many are in his league. If he dares to harm me, to kill me, who would be next? A Bishop? Would there be any who would be safe?’

The Bishop hesitated, his goblet at his lips. ‘You have given me much to consider, my Lord.’

‘No one is safe from him.’

‘And you think the Queen could make a good fist of negotiations in France?’

‘Of course. Ha! She would be grateful too, to be safe from Despenser’s clutches.’

‘Why do you say that? How could it benefit him, were the Queen to die?’

The Earl had not considered this. His words had only been intended to mean that she would be safer from him were she abroad. Now he grew pensive. ‘If she were to die, he would be the King’s sole companion.’

The Bishop looked across at him. ‘You should be more careful with your language, my friend. Such talk could be considered irreverent, even treacherous.’

‘My Lord, you have heard the same rumours as me. It is said that the Queen was evicted from his bedchamber some while ago. While the Despenser …’

‘I do not deal in gossip,’ the Bishop snapped harshly.

‘Neither do I. Very well. There is another reason for him to wish to see the King’s wife dead. She is a great magnate in the land. Her wealth is based in Devon and Cornwall, where she possesses great mining profits and the forestry from the moors. You know how acquisitive the Despenser is. If she were dead, he could perhaps persuade the King to make all that over to him.’

‘It would be hard to envisage such bold treachery!’

Earl Edmund blinked. To his mind such ruthlessness was entirely natural from that evil spirit Despenser.

Seeing his frank surprise, the Bishop was forced to look away. He didn’t honestly doubt that Sir Hugh would be capable of it either. He could not deny that the Earl’s words would make a deal of sense to almost everyone in the land. There was no doubt that if any could consider such a dreadful act, it was Sir Hugh le Despenser. Rumours of his vicious treatment of widows and others who legitimately possessed lands or beasts which he coveted were too numerous to be discounted. He frowned. ‘You are sure the Despenser wishes you dead?’

The Earl glowered. ‘Yes. He knows I would curb his power.’

‘Then, my friend, you must take extreme care in all that you do. He is a most dangerous opponent.’

‘I know that ! In God’s name, can’t you give me better advice than that?’

Drokensford peered at him, and suddenly his Hampshire peasant’s eyes were hard as crystal. ‘Yes. If he has determined to harm you, I would pray to God and prepare your soul for death.’

Queen’s Chapel, Thorney Island

Seeing the girl walking down the passageway towards him, Richard Blaket felt his heart begin to pound just that little bit harder.

Fair of hair as she was fair of face. In God’s name, but she was his soul’s delight. If he could win her heart, he would be glad for ever.

‘Master Blaket.’

‘My Lady Alicia.’ He inclined his head seriously, then grinned as he stood aside.

She looked away, and he felt his heart drop. Still, it was no surprise, not really. They had enjoyed a little banter, but that was common enough in a place like this, where there were so many men and so few women. But perhaps she was offended that he had been too familiar — not in action, but in tone. Even a man’s voice could be regarded as an instrument of love-making, so he had heard.

Well, damn her if she did! It wasn’t as though he had shown any lack of respect, and for her part she had been saucy enough in front of him, so long as others weren’t watching.

And then he saw that behind her was the Queen.

Queen Isabella walked slowly, like a woman on the way to the gallows. Alicia and Mabilla were before her, and Lady Eleanor and Joan followed behind. Many would think that the Queen was merely being accorded the respect due to the most senior woman in the realm, but after listening to Alicia a little, he knew that it wasn’t so. It was merely the guard about the prisoner.

It gave him a stab in the heart to see how this magnificent woman was brought so low. She should be up in the Great Hall, entertaining at her husband’s side, not locked away in these little corridors to moulder.