Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

The rest of the afternoon passed as had the morning. Men stood and made their feelings known, while the matter of whether the Queen should be permitted to cross the water and negotiate with her brother exercised all the minds there in the chamber.

‘This is pointless,’ Simon muttered to Baldwin. ‘Surely they’re all aware that something must be done, and if they want to send anyone, isn’t the sister to the French King the best possible ambassador?’

‘Only for those who are convinced that she will act as a free and fair agent on behalf of the King,’ Baldwin muttered back.

‘Who could doubt that?’

But once more Baldwin was saved from responding to a difficult question by the King, who nudged Sir Hugh in the ribs and pointed to Baldwin.

Sir Hugh nodded and motioned towards him. ‘Sir Baldwin. The King would hear your opinion.’

To Simon’s eye the whole room became still as people craned their necks to stare at him and his friend. Colouring quickly, he felt more conspicuous than his friend under their steady contemplation. He wished that the ground would just open up so he could wriggle away through the mud and filth which was where, he reckoned, all these grand men assumed he must live.

Baldwin was in no way affected in like manner. He bowed to the King. ‘My Liege, I think that there is no possible alternative to your using your greatest asset in these negotiations. You must either go yourself, or send an ambassador, but if you are to send someone, you should use the one to whom the French King is mostly likely to listen. It is clear who this must be.’

‘You would send the Queen?’

‘Certainly.’

‘And what if she were to prove more devoted to her brother than to her husband?’

Baldwin did not flinch. ‘I am sure that my King would not have given her reason to commit petty treason, any more than I would think her capable of such a betrayal.’

‘You may find yourself nailed to a door by those words, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Perhaps. But I think it better to behave towards others as a Christian should, and hope in that way that others will also treat me honourably, Sir Hugh,’ he said firmly, and there was a sudden laugh at the rear of the room, quickly stifled.

The King sat in his chair, unspeaking, but pale as he stared at Baldwin. For his part, Baldwin obeyed etiquette and did not meet his gaze, but instead kept his eyes firmly welded to Sir Hugh. And then the moment of tension passed as Sir Hugh moved over to speak to another man behind Baldwin.

Drokensford sniffed and glanced at Baldwin. ‘I have to say, Sir Knight, there are not many in here would have tested their balls against that man. You are a bold fellow, sir.’

‘No. Just one who senses he has little to lose. Backing down before him in a room full of my peers and superiors would not help me.’

‘True enough.’ Drokensford turned away, but as he did so, he rested a hand on Baldwin’s shoulder. He spoke very quietly. ‘You should know that there are many rumours that the woman Mabilla was a spy for Sir Hugh. He didn’t even trust his wife on her own. He had Mabilla watching his own wife as well as the Queen.’

The debate in the Great Hall moved on, forwards and back. There were many Bishops who demanded that the King do all in his power to prevent war again. He should go to France to prevent the loss of his French assets. Others were vehemently opposed to such a course, pointing out that their King would be entering a den of thieves and criminals, set upon the destruction of the English throne.

A scowling, black-haired Lord from the North spoke; Baldwin later learned that he was called Leicester, the brother of Lancaster, although he had not been allowed to inherit the title of ‘Earl’ after his brother’s execution by his cousin, the King.

He agreed with those who counselled against Edward going to France.

‘It is a ridiculous suggestion! You want the King to throw himself upon the mercy of a household of traitors, felons and murderers? The French court is little better than the house of a mercenary knight. In God’s name, if you send our Lord there, you may be sending him to his doom, and I for one oppose it with all my strength.’

It was at this point that Earl Edmund pushed himself forward. He had been talking with a slender, short fellow in a corner, Baldwin had noticed, and now he held up a hand and spoke loudly and clearly. ‘My Liege, my Lords, there is surely an easier option. Rather than disputing whether the King should himself go or not, why should we not seek the easier option? Another who could pay homage in his place?’

‘Whom do you suggest? You want to visit the French King again?’ someone jeered from the rear of the room, and Edmund’s face worked a moment.

‘Since you ask, Stratford, no. I do not propose to return there to be insulted by the man who broke my army while I waited for reinforcements which did not come. No, I suggest that if my Lord the King cannot go to Paris, as indeed he cannot, why do we not perhaps send his wife to negotiate the arrival of another.’

‘We’ve already agreed to send the Queen to discuss your peace treaty,’ Despenser said with an unkind chuckle.

‘Yes. And would it not make sense for her to negotiate the arrival of the man who holds the Duchy of Guyenne?’

‘The King will not go!’ Despenser spat.

It was interesting, Baldwin thought, that the man was growing so agitated about this. Clearly he was determined that Edward, his protector, should not leave the country. He must appreciate his own danger, were he to let the King away from his side. And no number of safe passages would convince him that it would be safe for him in France, whether with the King or not. Some years before, he had been forced into exile from the King’s side, and he had turned pirate, robbing several French ships. Ever since, he had been a wanted man by powerful French mercantile interests.

‘No,’ Edmund agreed. He turned to glare at Despenser. ‘If you would listen to your betters, you might gain some understanding of my proposal, sir ! I say, my Lord King, that you allow your good lady Queen to travel to France so that she may negotiate the arrival of her son — your son — whom you shall elevate as Duke of Guyenne. In that capacity, he can give homage to the French King. The French will not harm him, for he is King Charles’s own nephew and has no dispute with him. The Queen will herself aid and protect her son — your son. And when it is time, they can travel homewards together. What more elegant and simple solution to our problems could there be?’

It was an enormous relief when the King stood, a short while later. All those in the chamber bowed, facing him, and waited while the King’s footsteps passed through their midst and out to the main doors at the rear of the hall. Then, and only then, did the room begin to empty. Suddenly there was a lessening of tension, the occasional chuckle or muttered joke to relieve the mood.

Baldwin was still musing over Bishop Drokensford’s final words about the Despenser having his own wife watched, as Simon and he made their way through the screens passage and out into the light of the Green Yard.

‘Ach, standing in that place made my head ache,’ Simon groused. ‘Sweet Jesus, but the smell of other men in there was overwhelming.’

‘Did you hear what the Bishop of Bath and Wells said to me?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No. Why?’

Baldwin quickly told him what the Bishop had said about Mabilla being a spy for Sir Hugh.

‘You recall what the Earl told us about her?’ Simon asked.

‘Of course. That she drew him on, and when he showed her some interest, she fled.’