Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

‘None, my Lord. I was not on duty last night.’

‘Have all the guards who were on duty been assembled?’

‘Yes.’

‘I want them all questioned for this … this …’ Before he could find the right words, he saw the woman at the doorway and motioned impatiently to the guard to leave him. ‘Your Highness, you have my deepest condolences for the loss of your maid.’

Sweet Mother of God, he thought. This is all I need.

When Queen Isabella walked in, her face might have been forged from steel, for all the emotion she displayed. Behind her was Eleanor, Despenser’s wife, and he threw her a look, but she merely raised her brows and shrugged in expression of her bewilderment.

‘Sir Hugh, I would discuss matters with you in private,’ the Queen said.

‘My Lady, I would be delighted,’ he lied. Motioning to the chairs, he graciously invited her to sit.

All he wanted just now was time to consider what had happened. Jesus! Jack had never failed before, but this time he’d killed Mabilla instead of the Queen, and Sir Hugh had no idea why. True, the woman was the one whom the Queen wanted removed, and her death was opportune from that point of view, but no one had told bloody Jack to kill her. Although it was a damn good job he had got the wrong victim. Sir Hugh was confused, and confusion made him angry. He wanted to talk to Ellis and see what the fool had done. More than that, he wanted to find Jack, grab him warmly by the throat and both congratulate him and shake the truth from him. How could he have missed the bloody Queen?

‘Sir Hugh, you and I both know that even in a magnificent hall like this there are places where a man might secrete himself and hear all he wished. No. I should prefer that you walk with me in my cloister for a while.’

‘Let me just fetch …’

‘There is no need for a guard in my cloister,’ she interrupted coldly. ‘Besides, I am sure that you would be an adequate defence against any assassin, would you not?’

He had no answer to that. Mutely he followed her as she led the way from the hall and out into the Lesser Hall, thence into her cloister. Eleanor started to follow them, but the Queen stopped and stared at her. ‘You are not required, my Lady. You will remain here.’

Despenser nodded to Eleanor. There was no need for her to join them.

It was a quiet little corner of the palace, this cloister of the Queen’s. He had always imagined that Isabella would have had it decorated in some gaudy colours, for with her French ancestry, she had a love for all fashions. It was not Sir Hugh’s way. He had been raised in the court of King Edward I, and there all things martial tended to be exalted, rather than the vanities of the modern court. But much of that was the responsibility of the King, not his wife.

‘Sir Hugh, you are investigating the murder last night?’

‘Yes. I have men all over the palace to find the culprit, and I am sure that the maid will be avenged.’

‘Are you? I am not so sure. It would be useful, I think, if there was no great effort to locate the guilty man, hein ?’

He did not know how to respond to this. Having grown up as the son of a courtier, he understood the dangers of politics better than any other. His man Jack atte Hedge had failed in his original task, but still, he had succeeded in one way. Sir Hugh would like to know why , but the result was beneficial. There was a small line of defence and attack here which he could use to his own advantage.

‘That may not be quite correct, my Lady. Actually, I have already heard that Mabilla had teased a man and flaunted herself at him, but when he tried to respond, she deliberately snubbed him.’

If there was one thing this Queen always adored, it was a salacious rumour. ‘Oh? Who?’

‘I fear I have been told it was Earl Edmund of Kent,’ Sir Hugh said smoothly, lowering his voice. ‘You know how downcast he has been since the ridiculous way he was ejected from Guyenne. Well, I think he grew enamoured of her, and pressed his suit too keenly. She was horrified to see how he had misunderstood her flirting, I think, and refused him. There was a guard who witnessed it all.’

‘Ah. So perhaps I misunderstood, you mean?’ She almost looked as though she was about to laugh. ‘Mabilla’s removal was not your act? In truth, I applaud you, Sir Hugh. You have such skill and wit in the way in which you play with people!’

They parted shortly after that, and it was a curiously contemplative Despenser who entered the small chamber near the Lesser Hall, where he had a parlour. In there he took a seat. Perhaps the Queen was coming round to liking him, after all. There was something renewed in her eyes when she spoke to him — a certain regard, or perhaps respect. She had wanted a sign, and Mabilla’s death was the proof of their pact.

Her manner had definitely changed for the better. Perhaps it was his straightforward approach with her. She could see that here was a strong man with whom she could deal, not some feeble-minded dollypoll who relied solely on bribery and violence, as she might once have believed. It was an odd thought, but perhaps he could collaborate with her, after all. She would be a marvellous ally.

His wife entered just as he was reaching this conclusion, and she stood before him, her breast rising and falling with emotion. Although she was silent, he found her presence enough of a distraction to make him look up.

She was furious. It was in her eyes.

‘Husband!’

‘Eleanor, my love. She didn’t want much — I’ll let you know later.’

‘Husband — was it you?’ she burst out.

‘Eh?’ Despenser was so surprised at her question that he felt unable to answer immediately. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you try to have the Queen murdered? Because if you did, you killed my maid Mabilla!’

‘Woman, be quiet,’ he hissed. ‘That is not the kind of accusation I want to hear in here.’

‘And I don’t want to have any more of my maids slaughtered before my eyes!’

‘Madam, you overstretch the mark.’

‘Sir, I will not have any more of my women servants killed.’

His jaw clenched, and then he reached out to her. All his frustration at recent events boiled in his blood. On his feet in a flash, he grabbed her by the throat and spun her around, throwing her against the nearest wall, his fingers tightening.

‘ Bitch , you don’t speak to me like that. Ever. And if I hear you talking about me being involved in the death of anyone at all, I shall be seriously unhappy with you. You do not want me to be so angry with you … so be still. You have duties. Go to them!’

She dropped, choking, from his grasp, and almost fell on all fours, but he was heedless of her as he strode back towards the Great Hall. He had other things to consider.

‘Ellis? Ellis!’ he roared. ‘Where in the name of Satan is he?’

Friday, Vigil of Candlemas 1

Thorney Island

Richard Blaket was bleary-eyed, weariness battling his fear as he listened to the men talking about the sort of punishment that could be meted out to anyone who held back.

All the guards from last night were down here. The men from the walkways, those from the New Palace Yard, those from the Green Yard, and those from indoors too. First to be grabbed and drawn away was old Archer from the southern wall. The stupid son of a Sheppey goatherd didn’t have the brains he was born with. Every night he was wont to put a pack under his head, wrap himself in a blanket, and snooze his duty away. No one minded too much. All the lads on the walkway said that he was a hopeless old sod, and they might as well let him sleep. He’d only get in their way if he was awake.