Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

‘I have little experience of such things, Lady. My wife will see to it.’

‘Good. And you may see to the guards about me: I would have them increased. Otherwise,’ she gave a light laugh, ‘some may suggest that you could wish me to be removed.’

‘My Lady! Why should I want that?’

She turned and looked him very directly in the eye. ‘We both know where we stand, I think. I am not so foolish as to believe that I am safe, but I will swear this to you: if you aid me in this, I will shield you from accusations too. My brother, the King of France, would be pleased to learn that you had helped to protect me. As pleased as he would be enraged and vengeful against any man who sought to harm me.’

‘But that is all I intend to do, my Lady.’

‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘Then we have an accord. I shall serve you as best I may, and you will keep me safe from any attacks. Yes?’

He nodded and rose as she left, his mind in a turmoil. Was it possible that she was telling the truth — that she had managed to get a message to her brother? Of course it was! He kicked at the chair, sending it flying across the room. There were always people willing to take money to deliver messages, if the price was right. Any number of people could have done so. It was deeply irritating. But perhaps there was something to be salvaged from the mess.

Jack must be told not to continue with this commission. Somehow, Sir Hugh must track him down and let him know that the attempt must be postponed — perhaps indefinitely. How could he call Jack off, though? Well, that was a matter for Ellis.

‘Ellis?’ he bellowed. ‘Get in here! Now!’

There was one foolproof way to ensure that the Queen knew he was serious about their agreement. Dangerous, yes, but necessary if he wanted to save his own skin.

‘Shit! Ellis, find Jack and tell him it’s off. He can’t attack the Queen.’

‘How? He’s gone to ground — I’ve no idea where he is. You know, how he works, Sir Hugh. He could be anywhere right now.’

‘Well, find him — any damned way you can. Find him and stop him. And in the meantime, double the guards. We can’t take the risk you may miss him. He must not harm the Queen!’

The early hours of Wednesday before Candlemas 1

Thorney Island

Earl Edmund sat contentedly in his chamber in the Palace of Westminster. Earlier, he had enjoyed a very pleasant evening meal. The face presented to the world by Sir Hugh le Despenser had shown his bitterness and rage, and anything that could have put that bastard in such a foul mood was balm to the Earl’s soul.

What the reason for the long face was, Edmund had no idea. Perhaps it was the rumour of yet another attempt on his life, for there had been several in recent months. It was said that the traitor Mortimer had paid a necromancer to try to kill him by magic. Truly, Sir Hugh had very few friends in the world.

Long may it continue, the Earl thought, yawning. There was no one whose death he would have been happier to hear about.

Walking to his bedchamber, a small room near the King’s own chamber, he saw a shadow thrown by a torch, and stopped. There were dangers in a place like this so late at night: too many dark corridors, places of concealment in alcoves and behind drapery … and he was one man who had determined to live as long as possible. His hand reached for his sword even as he saw the pale face peering down the hallway at him.

‘Piers! Dear God, what are you doing wandering about the place like this?’ he demanded.

‘Earl, my Lord, I have terrible news. Terrible!’

Lady Eleanor de Clare walked into the Great Hall with the letters gripped in her hand, and looked to the far end, where her husband, Sir Hugh le Despenser, stood talking with one of the clerks of the Exchequer.

They were a pasty lot, those clerks. She had never had much regard for them, what with their unhealthful complexions and their minds made up of numbers. Nothing seemed to excite them so much as finding a mistake in a colleague’s calculations, and none had the faintest idea about honourable pursuits, let alone the finer aspects of courtly love.

Her man was a very different type altogether. Tall, handsome, and with that dangerous look in his eye, he was every inch a knight. Powerful, strong, fair of hair and with a brilliant mind that measured all he saw in a moment. He would assess a man or woman in an instant and always be right. She had seen it.

And now he had seen her. He finished his words with the clerk, and crossed the hall to meet her in a quieter corner, away from the shouting. It was necessary here. Apart from the men calling to each other about the long marble table, the Chancery, there was also the King’s Bench and the Court of Common Pleas in this hall, and the din was appalling.

Two men were with him — Sir Hugh always tended to have one or two henchmen with him for protection now — but he waved them away. There was no need of a guard against his own wife.

‘My Lady, I hope I see you well?’

She gave the faintest of shrugs. ‘You are always considerate, my Lord. Yes, I slept well for the most part. She disturbed my slumbers a little, but not too much.’

‘She disturbs all,’ he said in a low voice, looking away.

‘She will keep up her keening about her children. Since you took them from her, I don’t think she’s slept a full night.’

‘You still have one of the pups in your care with her. Point out to her that he could be taken away as well, and see if that will shut her up.’

Eleanor nodded. He was right, after all. The silly woman should have been grateful. Princess Eleanor and Princess Joan had both gone to be looked after by the Monthermers, but her eight-year-old son John of Eltham was still here.

‘Any news for me?’ he muttered.

‘Two letters,’ she replied. ‘She is not happy that I look through her correspondence and tried to keep this one secret, but I saw it.’

‘What does it say?’ he demanded eagerly, reaching for it.

‘It is a series of complaints.’ Eleanor passed the letter to her husband and spoke quietly as he glanced over the sheet. ‘She protests about her lands being taken and losing her income, she complains that all her own servants have been taken from her, and says that you have taken her husband’s love from her.’

‘That’s all?’ he chuckled.

‘She does describe the King as — what was it? Ah, yes, “a gripple miser”.’

‘A man who has been parsimonious towards her, but abundantly generous to another, eh? I wonder whom she could mean!’

‘She has demanded that her seal be returned to her.’

‘You have it still?’

Eleanor took it from within her bodice, where it hung on a cord. ‘Always.’ It was understandable that the Queen should resent this latest humiliation. Eleanor was not sure how she herself would feel, were she to be kept under the supervision of another, with all her letters read, all her servants removed, her children too, her income drastically reduced, and even her private seal confiscated so that no private or personal correspondence could be sent. For a Queen, the daughter of one King and now effectively the estranged wife of another, it was a proof of how low she had sunk. She was being systematically stripped of all her assets.

‘With luck we shall not have to keep her much longer,’ Despenser said, smiling at her.

But there was something in his eyes which alerted her to his real feelings. ‘My love, is something worrying you?’

‘She has been a nuisance at all times, and never more so than now,’ he sighed.

‘What has she done?’

‘Nothing. It is nothing.’ His thoughts were far away now, she saw. This foolish Queen was troubling him.