Paul Doherty: The Poison Maiden

‘I must see the king, I must see the king!’ Chapeleys glanced around at the silhouettes dancing against the walls. A rat scuttled across the chipped tiled floor. Fingers to his lips, he moaned and clutched the chancery pouch more tightly, as if it was a talisman against the menacing gloom. I could not calm him or make sense of the clammy dread that held him fast. I explained that he could not see the king immediately — it was the Eve of the Annunciation and that night Edward intended to feast and celebrate in the great hall, a gesture of friendship towards the Great Lords and the French envoys. In truth, it was a mere sop to prolong matters even further.

‘Yes, yes.’ Chapeleys nodded. ‘What then?’

‘You can stay with me,’ Demontaigu declared. He was studying Chapeleys curiously as if assessing his worth. ‘You are Langton’s clerk?’

‘Of course I am!’

‘His treasure,’ Demontaigu took a step forward, ‘you know where his treasure is?’

Chapeleys would have scuttled away if I hadn’t grasped his arm.

‘Monsieur,’ I gestured with my hand for Demontaigu to stand back, ‘the questions my friend is asking will be repeated when you meet the king. His grace will demand answers. But for the moment, no more questions.’

Chapeleys seemed comforted. He followed us out of the chapel and down into an empty courtyard. We crossed the grounds, up into a wing of the Old Palace where Demontaigu lodged.

‘It’s safe here.’ Demontaigu, breathing heavily as we reached the top of the stairs, pointed down the ill-lit passageway. ‘My chamber is in the corner. It was once part of the royal quarters, so the door is secured by bolts and lock.’

Chapeleys appeared reluctant.

‘There is no other place,’ I explained. ‘You will be safe. I swear that, Master Chapeleys.’

At last he agreed, and Demontaigu unlocked his chamber. The door was heavy, reinforced with iron studs and metal clasps; the hinges were of thick, hard leather. The lock, probably fashioned by a skilled London craftsman, was fitted in the door so the key could be turned from both the outside and the inside. Demontaigu locked it behind us and pulled the bolts across, then stood back, aware of how he must not frighten this cowed clerk any further.

‘Look, sir!’ I pleaded. ‘You will be safe.’

Chapeleys stared around Demontaigu’s chamber. In the poor light, it looked like a monastic cell, the walls lime-washed, a crucifix hanging above the cot-bed, the windows all shuttered. Demontaigu opened two of these whilst I took a tinder and lit the capped candles and lantern horn. Chapeleys went round patting the wall, even checking the shutters; finally he moved into the far recess. Demontaigu’s chamber was unique. It stood on a corner, and in one wall was a small window-door about five feet high and a yard across. In former times it must have been used to draw up supplies from carts waiting in the yard below. Near this a great iron clasp driven into the wall held one end of a coil of rope that could be used to escape from the chamber if a fire broke out. Chapeleys satisfied himself that the window-door was barred and bolted, then came back and sat on a stool, staring around. He still clutched his chancery bag. I was tempted to ask him what it contained, but the man was sorely affrighted.

Demontaigu left, saying he would bring some bread, cheese and a jug of wine. Chapeleys kept to his own musings as I walked around. I sat on the bed, stared at the crucifix, then across at the chancery desk and its high-backed chair beneath one of the windows. Everything was tidy: no parchments, nothing out of place. I went across and lifted the lid of a chest. Inside there were some scrolls and books. I picked one up, a beautifully covered psalter, but hastily put it back, feeling guilty at such intrusion. The chamber was stark and very austere; apart from the crucifix, nothing decorated the walls. The drapes on the bed were neat, the bolsters carefully placed. On a small table beside the bed was a cup, a candlestick and a night light; on a stool near the door more jugs and cups. Demontaigu was both a priest and a soldier, and the chamber reflected this. Yet it wasn’t cold; there was something warm and welcoming about it, safe and secure.

Demontaigu returned. I had bolted the door behind him, and as I now drew these back, Chapeleys jumped to his feet as if expecting a horde of armed men to invade the room. Demontaigu made him sit at the table and poured him a goblet of wine; he even cut his bread and cheese, treating him as tenderly as a mother would a frightened child. I watched carefully. At first Chapeleys was reluctant to eat, but at last he took a generous swig of wine and seemed to relax. Demontaigu pushed a brazier closer to him.

‘Listen, man.’ Demontaigu crouched beside Chapeleys, hand resting on his arm. ‘You may sleep here. If you must,’ he gestured at the dagger still pushed in Chapeleys’ belt, ‘carry that close. Once we leave, do not open that door to anyone except myself or someone we send. Do you understand?’

Chapeleys, his mouth full of bread and cheese, nodded.

‘I will see the king?’ he spluttered.

‘Tomorrow morning after the Jesus mass,’ I reassured him.

Chapeleys, a little more comforted, undid his cloak and let it fall over the back of the chair. Demontaigu followed me to the door.

‘I must go,’ I said, staring up at him. ‘My mistress waits. We must prepare for the banquet tonight. You will come?’

‘I am one of the household,’ he replied smilingly. ‘I must be there. I will settle this anxious soul, then return to my chancery office.’ He lifted my hand, kissed it and opened the door, and I slipped out into the cold darkness. I made a mistake that night. I thought Chapeleys was safe. In fact he was no more than a condemned man, waiting for execution to be carried out.

The banquet later that evening was a splendid affair. Edward had agreed to it at the request of the queen dowager.

‘On that evening,’ he proclaimed, ‘all animosity and hostility will be set aside. We will entertain both the French envoys and the leading lords to a splendid feast in the great dining hall at Burgundy.’

I spent the time before the banquet helping my mistress to prepare for it. Isabella was determined to look magnificent. She did, in a gown of white satin decorated with roses, a crimson girdle around her waist, a golden chaplet of silver lilies with a net of gold sewn with pearls over her magnificent blond hair. She and her husband, also gorgeously attired in a gown of blanched damask embroidered with golden lions, led the principal guests into the hall. Behind them strolled Gaveston, dressed in purple and white silk, holding the hand of his wife Margaret. He bowed to the left and the right as if he was the most favoured person on earth. The rest followed: Queen Dowager Margaret in a high-necked dress of dark green, a white veil framing her prim features; behind her, the principal lords, Lancaster, Lincoln, Pembroke and Hereford, clustered around Robert de Winchelsea, who was garbed in plain brown robes as if he wished to proclaim his austerity and asceticism to all. The Grande Chambre of Burgundy Hall was ablaze with light from hundreds of beeswax candles fixed in their spigots and holders. A range of great Catherine wheels, lowered on pulleys from the raftered ceiling, their rims holding a host of more candles, provided further light. The walls were covered with tapestries and hangings depicting lions and eagles, clear homage to the king and Gaveston, in gold, green, violet and red, whilst silver crowns and golden leopards intermingled with painted scenes from the great romance of Tristan and Isolde. At the top of the Chambre, the royal table on the long high dais was covered by a gorgeous canopy of cloth of gold fringed with silver tassels. The table itself was sheeted with ivory-coloured damask. On this the silver and jewel-encrusted goblets, cups, mazers, bowls and jugs shimmered brilliantly around a magnificent salt cellar carved in the shape of a castle and studded with precious stones. On either side of the dais were ranged two other tables similarly adorned, with a fourth completing the square.