Jean Plaidy - The Prince of Darkness

As soon as he looked at her he was as enamoured of her as he had ever been, realising afresh that she had that quality of sensuality stronger than any woman he knew.

He was aware that she had taken a lover. It was for this reason that he had come here. At first he had thought he would come down in secret and catch her in the act; but he had a better idea.

‘Why, you are blooming as a flower does after rain,’ he said. ‘Is that due to my coming?’

‘To what else could it be due?’

‘You are a good wife … always waiting for her husband.’

‘Always,’ she answered, ‘though he comes less often than he once did.’

‘Matters of State, my love.’

‘Is it so then? I had feared it might be matters of another kind.’

‘Are you jealous then?’

‘Continuously so.’

‘There is no need. No matter with whom I bedded I would always prefer and come back to you.’

‘’Tis small compensation when others are taking my place.’

‘Do you sulk, wife?’

‘Nay, I know well the ways of men. None is faithful.’

‘’Tis the wives who must be that,’ he said with a hint of fierceness in his voice.

‘Poor wives! Why should they not be given a little of what the husbands take so freely?’

‘You know full well. And for a queen unfaithfulness is treason. Treason, Isabella! Think of treason to the King. That could be punished with death.’

‘’Tis so,’ she said.

‘And you brood on it often.’

‘’Tis ever in my mind.’

‘And should you be tempted, the thought of that would save you.’

‘You would not have me virtuous because of fear, my lord, I know. Should it not be for love alone?’

‘For love alone,’ he answered.

And he thought: I shall see him this day. He is handsome I know. By God’s ears, he will soon be wishing he had never been born.

They supped together in state and she sang and played to him, her hair falling about her shoulders for she had loosened it, knowing he liked it so. It reminded him of the early days when they had first married and he could not tear himself away from her even for an hour or so.

He said: ‘Tomorrow we shall go to Gloucester.’

‘And I am to accompany you?’

‘I need you with me,’ he said.

She smiled; he was as enamoured of her as he had ever been, she believed.

He looked about the hall and found him. He was certainly young and handsome. He had been told that he had a look of Hugh de Lusignan. By God’s ears, did she still hanker for that man? He knew that she thought of him; he had seen the look in her eyes when she spoke of him. Had she all these years been regretting the loss of Hugh? Hadn’t the crown of England made up for that? Had she during those moments of passion been substituting Hugh for him? The thought maddened him. And this youth had a look of Hugh. It was a strong resemblance. And night after night he had been in her bed. He had risked everything for her. Well, he should pay the price.

Isabella had a surprise coming to her.

She said she would retire to her bedchamber. He took her hands and kissed her, first lingeringly and then with passion. She would go to her bed and wait for him.

Oh, Isabella, you are going to be very surprised, he thought.

She went to her bedchamber. Her women combed her hair and scented it. She was as beautiful as she had ever been, she knew. Bearing three children had not changed that, for if there was a certain fleshiness about her it but added to her attractiveness.

She lay in bed waiting. What had happened to detain him? She had expected him to be here speedily, which was why she had urged her attendants to hurry.

How strange! What was he doing? Had he found some woman in the castle more to his taste than she was? It seemed very strange for surely his kisses had implied that he would soon be with her.

At last she slept and it was dawn when she awoke. The light filtered into the room. As she opened her eyes she remembered and spread her arms, feeling for him beside her. There was no one. So he had not come. She sat up in bed. There was a dark shadow at the end of the bed. She looked closely. She stared in disbelieving horror, then put her hand to her mouth to stop the scream as she fell back nauseated and fainting on her bed.

Hanging from the top rail of the tester as though on a gallows was the naked, mutilated body of her lover.

She was mute. She rode along beside him on the way to Gloucester, feigning to be unaware of him. She knew that there was a malicious smile on his lips, but he said nothing of what he had done.

She was thinking: I hope it was quick. I hope they did not linger over it. I would I had never seen him that I should have brought him to this. They say that John is the Devil himself and it is true. None but the Devil could have thought of such a thing. I shall never forget him as he looked hanging there. All my memories of him will be thus. Why did I let him come to me? I might have known.

They had reached Gloucester Castle which had been built in the time of the Conqueror. In the great hall William Rufus had feasted surrounded by favourite men friends. John’s father Henry II had held many a council here when he was engaged in his forays into Wales. There in the waters of the Severn could be found delicious lampreys. The first Henry had been very partial to a stewed lamprey and had died, they said, of a surfeit of them. And to this castle John had brought Isabella. For what purpose? she wondered.

That he had a purpose she had no doubt. He had said nothing to her yet but he meant to, she knew, for the secret smile continued to curve his lips; he was thinking of the scene between them which was to come.

They supped. Not that she could eat, for the very thought of food sickened her; she could not shut out of her mind the thought of her lover’s body. Had he watched while they did that to him? She guessed that he had. She could hear the cruel words coming from that even crueller mouth.

I hate him! she thought. How I hate him!

He said he would lead her to her chamber. Now she would know what was in store.

‘Behold your prison,’ he said.

‘What mean you?’ she asked almost listlessly.

‘You are under restraint,’ he said. ‘’Tis clear that you cannot be trusted. You are guilty of treason. My father kept my mother a prisoner for sixteen years. It may be that I shall keep you mine as long.’

She shrugged her shoulders and that maddened him.

He wanted her to storm at him, but she refused to though she saw the red blood in his eyes.

‘So you care not?’ he shouted.

‘What would be the use if this is what you wish?’

‘You seem not to care that you have lost your freedom. You witch! You sorceress! What thought you of your fine lover when he came to your bed last night?’

She turned away that he might not see the horror she could not restrain as the vivid picture came back to her mind.

‘What a pretty sight. He screamed, you know. He screamed in horror. You should have heard …’

‘Stop it!’ she cried.

‘Ah, you are moved at last. A pretty boy, I’ll grant you. But at the end it wasn’t worth it for him … even for you.’

‘You have not been the most faithful of husbands,’ she accused.

‘What of that?’

‘Why should I be a faithful wife?’

‘Because I am the King.’

‘Forget not that I am the Queen.’

‘By God’s ears, if you try to foist his bastard on me …’

‘There will be no bastard. It is your privilege to produce those.’

He came to her suddenly and taking her by the shoulders shook her violently. ‘How was he?’ he asked. ‘Was he good? Did you enjoy him?’

She faced him boldly. ‘He was good,’ she answered defiantly.