The Follies of the King

THE AFFAIR AT LEEDS CASTLE

IN gratitude for another birth and quick recovery, the Queen must go to the shrine of St Thomas in Canterbury to give thanks.

She set out from the Tower and what a joy it was to ride through London where the people cheered her so loyally! She was their beautiful Queen who had remained faithful to the King and bore him children even though he behaved so badly with those leech-like friends of his.

‘God save the Queen!’ they cried, and she was amused to think that if the King had been with her she would still have been the one they cheered.

It was a long way to Canterbury and her marshal suggested that it would be a good idea to break the journey at her Castle of Leeds and he would send a messenger on to warn the custodian, Lord Badlesmere, of their approach.

The messenger arrived at Leeds but unfortunately Lord Badlesmere was away and Lady Badlesmere was in charge.

The Badlesmeres were firm adherents of Lancaster’s cause and stood firmly against the King. They had been incensed by Edward’s attitude towards the Despensers, and Lady Badlesmere who was a very forthright woman had been heard to declare that royalty was only to be respected when it was worthy of respect.

Lord Badlesmere had given instructions that none— no matter who― should be allowed into the castle unless they carried an order from him or from the Earl of Lancaster. And when she heard from the Queen’s messenger that the visitor was to be Queen Isabella, she decided that she was not going to swerve from the orders she had received even for her.

‘Begone!’ she cried to the messenger. ‘I will admit none to the castle unless he bears an order from my lord or the Earl of Lancaster.’

‘My lady,’ replied the messenger, ‘do you understand this is the Queen of England?’

‘How can I be sure of that? How do I know that you may not be an enemy in disguise?’

‘You will see for yourself when the Queen arrives.’

‘My good man, go back to your mistress. Tell her that I shall admit no one— no one, do you understand― unless they come from my husband or the Earl of Lancaster.’

The perplexed messenger was wondering how he could go back and tell the Queen that she was denied access to the castle when he heard the sounds of approach. The Queen’s party had arrived at the castle walls.

‘The Queen is here,’ said the messenger. ‘My lady Badlesmere, have you considered that this castle belongs to the Queen and your husband is merely the custodian?’

‘I repeat my orders and these I intend to carry out,’ insisted Lady Badlesmere. ‘If this is indeed the Queen, she must needs find lodging in some other place.’

The Queen hearing the dispute was astounded and commanded her guards to approach the drawbridge, but Lady Badlesmere gave an order to her archers and from the castle walls came a stream of arrows which struck six of the Queen’s company, killing them.

Before the furious Isabella could advance, one of her bodyguards seized the bridle of her horse and forced her to retreat.

‘We must escape from this mad woman, my lady,’ he said and galloped off with her.

The Queen was shaking with anger. How dared a subject behave thus to her!

She knew Lady Badlesmere of old. A woman who thought she was always right and knew how to manage other people’s affairs.

‘By God,’ she cried, ‘she shall be taught a lesson for this.’

The Queen’s party minus the six dead, rode away to spend the night with more hospitable hosts. Lady Badlesmere was in truth, a little disturbed when she found the six dead at the gates. She had them removed and immediately sent a messenger to the Earl of Lancaster.

She knew that there would be trouble. The Queen had been grossly insulted and six of her servants had been killed. Perhaps, thought Lady Badlesmere, she had been a little rash. She believed though that Lancaster would be delighted with this insult to the royal family. After all, she had been acting on his orders and it was yet another proof that he was more important than the King.

She waited a long time for a reply from Lancaster and finally she sent another messenger. This time the answer came back. It had been folly to deny the Queen admittance to her own castle. The Queen was seething with rage and unlikely to allow the matter to pass. Lancaster dissociated himself from the affair. The Badlesmeres alone would have to face the storm they had stirred up.

He, Lancaster, had had no hand in it and he did not intend to become involved now.

Even Edward was roused from the lethargy into which he had fallen on the banishment of the Despensers.

Isabella raged at him. ‘It must not be allowed to pass. What would the people think of a King who did not avenge such an insult to his wife?’

Yes, he agreed, something must be done. Lancaster had declared he was not involved so it should not be a difficult matter to take Leeds and let Isabella have her revenge on the Badlesmeres.

When the people of London heard of the insult to the Queen they were enraged. They marched through the streets demanding she be avenged. Many of them were strong able-bodied men and had taken part in battles when the need had arisen. They were ready to do so again for their darling Isabella.

Edward caught their enthusiasm and within a short time he was marching at the head of a sizeable army to Leeds. It was exhilarating to find that his men were with him. They could not wait for the battle. They were determined to take Leeds and then let those who had dared behave so callously to their beloved Isabella begin to say their prayers.

Leeds Castle had been built on two islands in a lake of about fifteen acres in size. The islands were connected by a double drawbridge but the two separate buildings were capable of making a separate defence. The water passed between the buildings in three places, which was of great use to the defenders.

Nevertheless Edward had brought up a formidable army and they made a fierce attack. Within a few days Lady Badlesmere was forced to surrender. Her husband had given her his support in what she had done but he had not returned to the castle to help her withstand the siege.

The army stormed in, at its head Edward the King.

Lady Badlesmere was brought before him. She faced him boldly, and showed no sign of fear.

‘What made you treat the Queen in this way?’ he asked.

She answered: ‘I was custodian of the castle in my husband’s absence. It was my right to say who and who should not enter.’

‘You are mistaken, woman. Leeds Castle belongs to the Queen. Yet you denied her admittance. That is treason.’

She did not flinch even then, knowing the penalties. She said: ‘Lord Badlesmere will support me.’

‘We will leave it to him to cut down the rope on which you shall hang on your battlements.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘So be it,’ she said. ‘I shall be another victim to the tyranny of kings.’

Edwards was astonished that she could talk thus in face of death and in his heart he knew it would be impossible to put such a woman to death.

In fact he could not bring himself to hang a woman. She should be imprisoned, he said. Let her be taken to London and lodged in the Tower.

His advisers shook their heads. She deserved hanging. Think what she had done to the Queen. But Edward would not listen. Instead they hanged the seneschal Walter Colepepper and eleven of his servants, which was grossly unfair for they had merely obeyed their mistress’s orders.

However punishment had to be meted out to someone.

The bold Lady Badlesmere was taken to London and as she passed through the streets the people came out to jeer at her and throw rubbish at her and threatened her with what they would do to her.

The guards managed to protect her from the angry crowds and she was taken to a dungeon in the Tower.

Edward was triumphant. The capture of Leeds was his first success in battle.

He felt like a conqueror.

Isabella was delighted. He had acted for her and for the first time had shown he had some regard for her. She received him warmly in London. It was good that the Badlesmere woman had not been hanged but had been brought to the Tower. Had she been hanged they could have made a martyr of her.

‘You must take advantage of your success,’ she told him. ‘Look you, Edward, the whole of London is on your side. The barons will see this and perhaps not be quite so eager to stand against you.’

She was right. Several of the barons who had been dismayed that the Queen should have been denied access to her own castle now came to the King with their followers to show him that they had had enough of Lancaster’s vacillating.

‘Now is the time to break Lancaster’s power,’ said the Queen.

They were together, she and Edward, as they had never been before, but if he thought she would forget past insults at the turn of fortune he was mistaken.

The victory at Leeds had been an easy one— an army against one woman defending a castle— and the Queen was working towards a goal which did not include the King. But she would make use of him now; and as Lancaster had proved to be no real friend to her― although in the beginning it had seemed that he might be― she was ready to eliminate him.

‘You know Lancaster is a traitor,’ she said to the King.

‘I have had ample evidence of that,’ replied Edward. ‘He has been against me constantly.’

‘And have you wondered why in their raids the Scots never touched his lands?’

‘I know there are rumours that he has an understanding with Robert the Bruce.’

‘An understanding with Robert the Bruce! When he is your subject!’

She said: ‘We must if we can, lay hands on the letters which have passed between Bruce and Lancaster and if we do― oh if we do― then who can deny that we have a traitor in our midst?’

Edward’s mood had changed. He was all set for success now. He marched up to the Welsh border and the Mortimers’ land.

The Mortimers immediately sent word to Lancaster that the King’s army was on the march. They should join together and then they could defeat him.

Edward was not famous for his prowess in battle and with the might of their two armies they would be invincible.

Lancaster’s reply was that this would be so but he failed to send his army, and without him the Mortimers were not strong enough to face those thousands of the King’s supporters who now that they had a more resolute Edward at their head (since his victory at Leeds), were ready to their hearts into the fight.

The result of the encounter was the débâcle of the Marcher men and much to Edward’s surprise he found that two of his most formidable enemies were his prisoners— Roger de Mortimer, Lord of Chirk, and his nephew, Roger de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore.

They were immediately sent to the Tower.

It was success such as Edward had never dared dream of. He knew now how his father had felt throughout his long fighting life.

THE END OF LANCASTER

HE now turned his attention to Lancaster.

Letters had been found. It was true that Lancaster had been in communication with the King of Scotland and in the letters he had sent to Bruce he had signed himself King Arthur. That was ominous and Isabella was right.

He must destroy Lancaster. There could be no peace for him until that was done.

With this object in view he planned to march north.

It was now clear that Lancaster was taking a firm stand against the King. He did indeed parley with the Scots whose great desire was to see a civil war in England. Sir Andrew Harclay, who was the warden of Carlisle, was aware of this and came in great haste to Edward to inform him of what was happening.

Edward sent him back to Carlisle with instructions to attack the English traitors and inform him at once if they were joined by the Scots.

Action took place at a long bridge which crossed the River Ure. This bridge was very long but narrow and at its approaches, the Lancastrians came face to face with Sir Andrew Harclay and his force which was drawn from the counties of Cumberland and Westmorland. These man had very good reason to hate the Scots and their allies; and that the latter should be English incensed them.

Humphrey de Bohun, Lord Hereford, attempted to take the bridge on foot, while Lancaster tried to cross the river on horseback and attack Harclay’s men from the flank. Lancaster however found Harclay too strong for him and he suffered great losses. Meanwhile de Bohun while on the bridge was killed by a spear being run through a gap in the planks of the bridge from below and entering his body.

The Battle of Boroughbridge had ended in the annihilation of Lancaster’s forces and his own capture.

At Pontefract Edward was waiting to receive his cousin.

Lancaster faced him with a lack of animation. He knew that the long battle between them was over. He despised Edward and wondered what the future held for him. He shrugged his shoulders. Whatever it was it would have no consequence for him.

He did not attempt to remind the King of their relationship; he would not plead for his life.

It was over. He had enjoyed power but he had not possessed the talents to keep it.

‘Your trial will take place at once,’ said the King. Lancaster bowed his head and was led from the King’s presence.

The trial was quick and Lancaster was found guilty of conspiring with the Scots against the King. He had used the soubriquet of King Arthur in his dealing with Robert the Bruce. King Arthur! the court tittered. It was clear that Lancaster had had a high opinion of himself and where his ambitions lay.

Papers had been found addressed to Bruce containing a suggestion that he come into England with a good army and Lancaster would see that a good peace was made.

Edward sat watching his cousin, and he was thinking: You killed Perrot. You boasted of it. Yes, you were proud of it. And when he thought of that beautiful body being destroyed he almost wept. But this was revenge. This would be the end of Lancaster.

He could almost hear Perrot laughing beside him. Dear Perrot, he should be avenged.

Edward listened to the words of the prosecutor.

‘Wherefore our Sovereign Lord the King having duly weighed the great enormities and offences of the said Thomas, Earl of Lancaster and his notorious ingratitude has no manner of reason to show mercy―’

He was to die the traitor’s death, that horrible one, which had now become the custom— hanging, cutting down alive and burning the entrails after which the body was cut into quarters and distributed for display.

But in the case of noblemen the sentence was diverted to death by beheading, and as Lancaster was royal this should be done to him.

They put him on a grey pony, and thus he rode through the town where the people came out to jeer at him and throw at him anything they considered disgusting enough. Stones cut his face and he turned neither to right nor left and it was as though he was completely unaware of the blood which ran down his face.

‘King Arthur,’ cried the mob, ‘where are your knights, eh? Why don’t they come and rescue you? Let them take you back to your round table.’

He looked straight ahead. Gaveston had suffered a similar fate to this ten years before. Was this why they were taking him to the hill? Was this why they made him ride on the little pony, why they sought to rob him of his dignity?

All men must die at some time, but it was sad that a royal earl should come to it this way. Then suddenly the enormity of what was happening to him seemed too strong for him.

‘King of Heaven,’ he murmured, ‘grant me mercy for the King of Earth has forsaken me.’

They reached St Thomas’s Hill outside the city of Pontefract. He saw the block. He was aware of the watching faces avid for blood, eager to see the ignoble end of one who had not long before been the most powerful man in the land.

He turned his face to the east.

Someone cried: ‘Turn to the north, man. That’s where your friends are.’

He was roughly pushed. Now he was looking ahead to where beyond the border was the land of the Scots.

He knelt and placed his head on the rudely constructed block.

The axe descended and Lancaster was no more.

Warenne brought the news to Lancaster’s wife.

Alice de Lacy looked at him with disbelief.

‘‘Tis so,’ said Warenne. ‘He was found guilty of plotting with the Scots and that has been his undoing. He was sentenced to the traitor’s death but because of his noble birth he was not hanged drawn and quartered but taken to St Thomas’s Hill near Pontefract where they cut off his head.’

‘Pontefract,’ she murmured. ‘It was his favourite spot.’

‘Well, it is over, Alice. What now?’

‘I am free,’ she said. ‘It is what I and Ebuio have longed for. But I wish it could have come about in a different way. Poor Thomas, he was so proud― and clever in a way, but he did not understand how to treat people. It has been his downfall.’

‘There is no longer the need for you to remain in hiding.’

‘I have so much to thank you for.’

‘Lancaster was my enemy, you know. It was my pleasure to disconcert him.’

‘I think you had a certain kindness in your heart for a woman placed as I was.’

‘It could be so,’ he answered. ‘And now?’

She answered: ‘I am going to Ebulo. We shall be married.’

‘The daughter of the Earl of Lincoln, the wife of royal Lancaster to marry a humble squire!’

‘Even the daughters and wives of earls have a right to marry for love,’ she answered.

Very shortly afterwards the nobility was astonished to learn that the Countess of Lancaster had married Ebulo le Strange, a squire who was not only far below her social standing but who was also lame.

THE LOVERS IN THE TOWER

THE lust for power had now seized Edward. It was as though with Lancaster’s death he himself had taken on new life. Moreover the truce with Scotland had come to an end and Robert the Bruce was celebrating this by attacking the English towns in earnest. When he came as far south as Preston it was decided that it was time to attempt the invasion of Scotland once more.

Everyone was astonished by the change in Edward. The Londoners were with him to a man. He had avenged the insult to Isabella and they liked him for that. The Despensers were banished. A plague on them. Now perhaps the King had outgrown his follies and was going to show them that he was a true son of Great Edward.

At one point the English crossed the border into the Lothians. They reached Holyrood House and took it. They should have been astonished by the lack of resistance of a commander like Bruce. It was too late when they realized that he had crossed the border and had come as far as Yorkshire, his object being to attack Edward’s army from the rear.

Isabella was travelling with the army and was staying outside the town of York. She was in a pensive mood. Events were changing her outlook rapidly.

Edward was winning the confidence of the people. For him the affair at Leeds Castle had been a blessing in disguise. By avenging her, he had won general approval and particularly that of the Londoners and was enjoying a popularity which he had never known before.

Whatever happened now she did not want Edward. The plan which had been forming in her mind for some time was not yet fully developed, but nothing Edward could do now would make her want to change it. In brief it was that Edward should be deposed and their son Edward take the crown, with his mother beside him as Regent. But if Edward was going to reform his ways? If he was going to be a victorious king and a faithful husband, what then?

I shall never forgive him for the humiliation I have suffered at his hands, she thought.

Even as she sat brooding she heard the sound of arrivals and there was an urgency about those sounds. She rose and went down to the great hall to see what was happening.

At the sight of her one of the men who had just come cried out: ‘My lady, make haste. We must go from here. The King’s army is routed and the Scots are on their way to take you prisoner.’

It was the old pattern. Why had she thought for a moment that Edward would become a successful general?

No, he had failed once more.

Never mind. That made it all the easier for her to continue with her plan.

Hastily she prepared to leave. After the gallop to Tynemouth she boarded a boat. It was a rough passage but she did not care.

It could not be long before events began to go her way.

There was despair in the north among those who had been loyal to Edward for it was clear that he was no match for Robert the Bruce. Once again he had been put to flight and had narrowly escaped. He was not meant for battle.

England’s tragedy was that the old King had borne such a son and had himself died before he had been able to complete his task.

Edward was impatient. He wanted no more war with Scotland. He disliked war. Only briefly had he had good fortune and that was when he had attacked Leeds Castle which was held by a woman.

There was disillusion and it was disconcerting that his supporters in the north were now beginning to realize the futility of depending on him.

They were actually attempting to come to private terms with the Scots because it seemed likely that the harrying of the border would continue for a very long time.

The Bishop of Durham and the monks of Bridlington sent their valuables south and were attempting to make a treaty with Bruce, a fact which showed clearly that they had no confidence in Edward and were looking out for themselves. Edward was deeply shocked when he heard that Andrew Harclay, the Earl of Carlisle, had actually travelled to Dumfries and held a conference with Bruce in which he offered to recognize him as King of Scotland in return for peace between them and security from attack for his own property.

Isabella heard the news and said to herself that this man of the north showed good sense. Anyone who relied on Edward was a fool. They had at last learned the lesson. Let the whole country learn such lessons. They would be all the happier to see him go.

She had many friends to support her. The chief of these and the one in whom she placed most reliance was Adam of Orlton. He hated the Despensers as much as she did and had rejoiced to see them banished. Since the arrest of the Mortimers he had been in some danger, for now that Lancaster was dead and the Mortimers imprisoned people were looking to him as the most important man in the party which had stood against the Despensers. Edward hated him and had wanted him out of the way, and had even managed to bring him before a lay tribunal— the first time this had ever happened to a Bishop. He might have been condemned to death if he had not been under the protection of the Archbishops of Canterbury and York who must naturally protect their Bishops— for they commanded that violent hands should not be laid on a man of the Church. The King, however, insisted on the trial’s proceeding and Adam was found guilty and although he could not be condemned to death, his possessions were confiscated. He was at this time protesting to the Pope and was living in the Tower, not exactly a prisoner but as one who would have been, but for the influence of the Church.

Isabella often visited the Tower and stayed in the apartments where her daughter Joanna had been born. She was in constant communication with Adam.

In spite of what was happening in the north Edward could have changed the whole course of his life at that time. His enemies were either dead or imprisoned. The chief of these were Thomas of Lancaster who was dead and the Mortimers who were in the Tower, though with his usual lack of vision he underestimated Roger de Mortimer the younger. Edward could have had him executed and given the traitor’s death instead of which, in his usual dilatory manner, he allowed him to remain a prisoner in the Tower.

Poor Edward, thought Isabella. He would never learn from his mistakes.

One would have thought that having seen the country brought almost to civil war through Gaveston and then through the Despensers, he would have recognized the signs of danger.

But it seemed he could not. The small success which had brightened his career of failure had blinded him to facts. He recalled the Despensers.

Alas, there was no one now to stop him. He was no longer merely the King in name. Lancaster was dead and it was he, Edward, who now gave the orders.

The Despensers responded with alacrity, and it was not long before they were flaunting their authority as blatantly as they had ever done.

It was they who ordered a friend of Harclay’s to call on him at his castle and when he arrived, to arrest him in the name of the King. Thus this brave soldier, who would have served the King if he had not seen the hopelessness of such service, after a brief trial suffered the agonies of the traitor’s death.

It was with the Despensers’ help that Edward obtained a thirteen-year truce with Bruce and congratulated themselves on having won the peace, forgetting that it was the state of Bruce’s health— the dreaded disease of leprosy was now apparent to all― which had been the main reason for his agreement.

Then it was a return to the old ways. The Despensers must be placated at all costs. The King was beside himself with joy to have his dear Hugh back with him. He was never, never to go away again, declared Edward.

The Queen had taken up temporary residence in the Tower. She liked, she said, to be near her good friends the people of London. In truth, now that the Despensers had returned, she was getting impatient for action and she wished to have secret conferences with her good friend, Adam of Orlton.

A gloomy place, the Tower of London. Strange that it should contain a prison and a palace. Here many prisoners had lain in despair. At night, the fanciful believed they could hear the moans of those long dead. It was said that on the winding staircases and in the cold dank rooms ghostly figures appeared, men and women who would never rest until they had restitution from those who had given them a life of hell-on-earth in these dark walls. There was no place in the country which was so haunted.

William the Conqueror had ordered it to be built and Gundulf, the Bishop of Rochester, had designed it. It had stood a symbol of the Conqueror’s power to a conquered people. Of course it had been added to since then and was no longer the bleak fortress it had been in the days of William. It had been surrounded twenty years after the first fortress had been erected with an embattled stone wall and a deep ditch. Then that inveterate builder Henry the Third, the King’s grandfather, had built the Lion Tower and added to the improvements to the White Tower. The moat had been enlarged by Edward’s father. It seemed that every King must make his mark on the Tower of London. Not the present one though, thought the Queen grimly; Edward was too indolent. The Tower to him was just a strong fortress to which he could retire when his subjects were in revolt against him.

There was a melancholy about the place but there was something which excited her too. From the narrow windows she could look out on the river and see the good merchants going about their business and it comforted her to realize that they were her friends.

There was no reason why anyone should speculate because of her presence there. It was after all one of the most important of the royal residences. Young Edward was in the good hands of Richard de Bury who had been appointed his tutor and guardian; the other children were at Pleshy in Essex in the household of the Earl of Hereford who was their guardian. She was not exactly a doting mother and made no pretence of being. It was true that she kept a firm hand on young Edward and saw him frequently. She was eager that he should feel dc.

pendent on her and she was careful to do everything to win his devotion.

From her window she could see one of the small gardens of the Tower shut in by tall pales and one day there appeared there a tall dark, somewhat emaciated, man in the company of Gerard de Alspaye whom she knew as the sub-lieutenant of the Tower. There was something about the manner in which he held himself which attracted her attention. She thought: He is obviously a prisoner but he walks like a king.

She watched for him and saw him on another occasion and on impulse she sent for Alspaye and asked him who the distinguished-looking prisoner was.

Alspaye looked confused and she guessed that it was against orders that the prisoner had been given an airing.

‘You need have no fear,’ she said. ‘I’ll swear this man is one of the King’s prisoners, and I know that you made sure no harm could come of his taking the air.’

‘That is so, my lady. He has just become bereaved. His uncle who shared his dungeon has died.’

‘Of what did he die?’

‘The rigours of prison, my lady. Lack of food. The dungeon is airless, without one window; the walls run with damp; it is stifling in summer and bitterly cold in winter.’

‘What was the crime of these men?’

‘They were captured in battle.’

‘By the King?’ She could not keep the note of contempt from her voice but Alspaye did not seem to notice.

‘In the Marcher country, my lady.’

‘Then he is―’

‘Roger de Mortimer, my lady, Earl of Wigmore, and his uncle recently dead was the Lord of Chirk.’

‘I have heard much of these Mortimers,’ she said. ‘I can remember the surprise when they were taken.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘I should like to speak with this man. Do you take him into the garden again soon?’

‘I would take him there when you wished, my lady.’

‘Walk there with him tomorrow and I will join you. Do not let him know that I have mentioned this. Let it be as if by accident.’

‘It shall be as you wish, my lady.’

She was filled with an unaccountable excitement. Ideas flashed into her head and were discarded almost before they came. Roger de Mortimer, one of the great Marcher barons! She had heard Edward talk of the Mortimers with something like fear in his voice. Yes, he had certainly regarded the Mortimers with awe. The uncle and the nephew. They lived as kings in their territory.

Edward had said it was a mistake to allow those not royal to hold such power.

And now, one of them was dead and the other, this emaciated prisoner, still held himself like a conqueror.

The next morning she took a ride through the streets of London— always a heartening experience. She had taken great pains with her appearance. It was gratifying to hear the shout for Isabella the Fair. Whatever happened, she thought, the people of London would be on my side.

In the afternoon she went to the garden. True to his word Alspaye was there with Roger de Mortimer.

The Queen stood looking at them, her eyebrows raised as though in surprise.

Roger de Mortimer stepped forward and bowed low. ‘Pray tell me who you are,’ she said regally.

‘Mortimer at your service, my lady.’

Alspaye had taken a step backwards and she turned to him. ‘One of your prisoners?’ she asked.

‘My lady, the Earl of Wigmore has recently suffered a great bereavement.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said the Queen, ‘the Lord of Chirk. The rigours of prison were too much for him.’

‘He was an old man, my lady,’ said Mortimer.

She nodded. ‘And you are being given a little exercise in case you too should succumb. Is that so, my lord Lieutenant?’

‘It seemed a merciful thing to do,’ was the answer.

‘It was so. My lord Mortimer, take a turn with me.’ She glanced at Alspaye who withdrew a few steps. Then to Mortimer: ‘Come, my lord.’

‘You have been here some time, I believe,’ she said.

‘Some two years, my lady.’

She looked at him closely. The pallor of his skin accentuated the fierce dark brows; and she thought how handsome he was in spite of the privations he had suffered.

‘You have felt deeply the death of your uncle, I’ll swear,’ she went on.

‘We had been together so long. My father died when I was seven years old and from that time my uncle was a father to me. Yes, my lady, indeed I feel his loss deeply―’ He clenched his fist. ‘One day―’

She felt an exultation gripping her. He was a man of violent passion, this Mortimer.

‘Yes, my lord, one day?’

‘My lady, you must pardon my emotion. This was a beloved uncle― one who had been as a father to me. I have been long in prison―’

‘I know it,’ she answered gently. ‘But you could say you were fortunate.

The King might so easily have condemned you to death.’

‘He did, but— and it seems strange to me— he commuted the sentence to life imprisonment.’

‘Life imprisonment! Perhaps death would have been preferable.’

‘Nay, my lady, I think not. It is true I am the King’s prisoner. I spend my days in a hideous dungeon― except when my good friend Alspaye gives me a breath of fresh air. But I still would cling to life. I still hope, my lady, that one day I shall be free of this place.’

‘You think the King would pardon you?’

‘Not while the Despensers are with him. But it may be they will not always be there.’

‘You think he will rid himself of them?’

‘Nay, my lady, but it may be that others will. Did they not despatch Piers Gaveston somewhat hastily to his Maker? But I talk too much. Forgive me. I have been shut away so long. It is years since I have had the good fortune to speak with a lady and yet here I am― in this prison garden talking and walking with the queen of them all.’

‘You have not forgotten how to pay compliments, my lord.’

‘In your presence, my lady, they would rise naturally to the lips of any man.’

‘So you know who I am?’ she asked.

‘My lady, I have been long in this noisome prison. They say that many have suffered from visions. I cannot but help wonder whether that is what is happening to me now. It may be that this is a dream from which I shall shortly wake. In this dream I am speaking to the most beautiful woman in England and France and in the whole world, I dareswear. The Queen herself.’

‘Yes, indeed you pay pretty compliments. I am no vision, Mortimer. I am your Queen. I will say adieu. The lieutenant is bewildered.’

‘My lady, if I could―’

‘Yes, Mortimer, what would you have of me?’

‘I am afraid to ask it.’

‘You afraid? I doubt it. You have the look of a man who knows little of fear.’

‘If I could see you again―’

‘Who knows. It may come to pass.’

She turned away and left the gardens.

In her apartment she went to a window and looked out. He was still in the garden and talking earnestly to Alspaye. As for herself a wild excitement had taken possession of her.

What fierce eyes he had— large dark passionate eyes. She had sensed the vitality of him— the essential masculinity. ‘All that time incarcerated in the Tower,’ she murmured. ‘Recently bereaved of a beloved uncle and yet I never saw a man who had more fire in him. How his eyes flashed when he spoke of Gaveston and the Despensers! How such a man as he is would despise such as them. How he would despise Edward!

Mortimer— the King of the Marcher lands. Such a man― she thought― I have wanted to meet all my life.

She must see him again soon. She would make Alspaye understand that he was to be taken to the garden on the next day and she would be there.

Perhaps she should be a little more discreet. But she was tired of discretion.

She had been humiliated too long and it might well be that this was the time for action.

She scarcely slept that night. She could only think that somewhere in this Tower he too was sleeping.

Alspaye was eager to please the Queen. He was also under the spell of Mortimer; she saw that and she was not surprised. Alspaye was delighted that the Queen was interested in his prisoner.

The Queen joined them in the gardens.

‘You see your vision has returned, Mortimer.’

‘To put such hope in my heart that I dare not believe in it,’ he replied.

‘You would dare anything,’ she answered.

‘I was once known for my daring,’ he agreed.

‘And will be again, I doubt not.’

‘That is for the future.’

‘And you believe in your future?’

‘I am beginning to, my lady.’

‘Rest assured, your faith will not be displaced.

‘You are good to me,’ he said.

‘I like your kind, Mortimer,’ she answered.

He understood at once that this was a reference to the King and his kind.

He answered: ‘When a man has lost his freedom he is reckless of what else he might lose. He speaks his mind. I will say this that I have always felt deeply for you. If you had raised an army to drive out of the country those who displeased you, I should have been at the head of that army.’

‘Yes, Mortimer, you speak rashly indeed when you talk of raising armies.’

‘How could I raise armies, madam, when I am a poor prisoner?’

‘But a moment ago you admitted that was but a temporary state. One of these days―’

He turned to her and they faced each other. Some understanding passed between them. In that moment they both realized the deep significance of this encounter.

‘Mortimer,’ she said, ‘I believe there is much you and I should say to each other.’

‘Standing here with you,’ he answered, ‘is for me, complete delight. Here am I a prisoner, death could steal up on me at any moment, yet I can say that I never was as happy in the whole of my life as I am at this moment.’

‘And why is this?’

‘Because I have found you.’

She was shaken with emotion and she said: ‘It was I who found you, was it not?’

‘Let us say we found each other.’

‘We have met but twice and that in this prison garden with Alspaye keeping guard on you.’

‘Alspaye is a good friend to mc. He hates the Despensers.’

‘How many people in this country hate the Despensers?’

‘Myriads. We have but to find them― to rouse them. Then I swear to you in a very short time the pretty Despenser will go the way of Gaveston.’

‘How you hate the Despenser.’

‘I hate him more than ever now I have spoken with my incomparable lady Queen.’

‘The King is as he is―’

‘It is no way for a King to be.’

‘He has done his duty. You know I have a fine son― two sons.’

‘Young Edward is growing up. That is a matter for rejoicing.’

‘You are speaking treason, Mortimer.’

‘I know it. How could I help but be treasonable to the King when I am standing so close to the Queen.’

‘You mean―’

‘I mean what is best not said. But being a woman as well as a queen you will know.’

She said: ‘I must not stay here. What if we were seen?’

‘It would be noted.’

‘And then we should meet no more.’

‘My lady, we must meet again.’

He had taken her hand and the pressure of his fingers thrilled her. She thought: I have waited too long. Mortimer is the man for me.

She said in a somewhat breathless voice: ‘I will arrange it.’

She sent for Alspaye.

‘Your prisoner Mortimer interests me,’ she said.

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘When I talked with him in the gardens he spoke very freely.’

‘Prisoners become reckless, my lady.’

‘It occurs to me that I should have further talk with him. I should discover what is in his mind.’

Alspaye bowed his head. ‘Do you wish to go to his cell?’

‘That would create certain speculation, would it not?’ She thought of the cells, damp on the walls, airless and stuffy. No, that was not the place where she and Mortimer should be together.

‘If I sent for him to my apartments―’

‘He would come with his guards, my lady. The King’s orders were that he should be very specially guarded.’

‘Yet he walks with you in the gardens.’

‘Twas so, my lady, but the guards were behind the doors which led to the gardens. It was only because he was with me that they allowed him out of their sight.’

‘And if I sent for him, to have talk with him― here― say in my apartments―’

‘Then I should bring him and stay within call, my lady.’

‘And his guards?’

‘They would expect to escort him and be at hand.’

She felt irritated. There was no way in which she and Mortimer could be alone without its being known.

.She did not mind Alspaye’s knowing. He was a man of discretion and had already witnessed their meeting in the garden. But she must be free to be alone with Mortimer. The desire for excitement and adventure, having been suppressed all these years, would remain so no longer. She was ready to take any risks.

‘I doubt not the guards take a little wine now and then.’

‘When they are on duty my lady they take very little. There is much carousing when they have their free time though. Life in the Tower seems to give them a fancy for wine.’

‘Let them be given extra wine and make sure that it is potent.’

‘Drugged, you mean, my lady?’

She did not answer but her smile was enough. ‘When they are asleep let Mortimer be brought to me― by you. I will be responsible for his safety.’

‘If you will be responsible for him, my lady―’

‘I have told you I will.’

‘Then I will see what can be done.’

‘Not only see,’ she retorted, ‘but do it. I shall remember you with gratitude, Lieutenant.’

He came into her apartment. He looked different. He wore his confidence like a garment.

He came swiftly towards her and taking her hand, kissed it fervently. His lips were warm. Then he raised his shining eyes to her face.

She stepped towards him and laid her hand on his shoulders. It was enough.

The next moment he had picked her up in his arms and held her closely against him.

She felt his lips on hers, demanding, certain of himself ― Impertinence! she thought indulgently. Am I not the Queen? She was laughing to herself.

‘Mortimer,’ she murmured. ‘This is part of the vision perhaps.’

‘Nay, nay,’ he said. ‘Since I first saw you it has happened often in my dreams― now comes the reality.’

‘I― the Queen,’ she began.

‘My Queen,’ he said, ‘my Queen for evermore.’

He was a practised lover. He had known many women, she guessed that.

And what had she known? Reluctant Edward! How she hated Edward, more so now she knew what it was to lie with a real man.

‘Mortimer, Mortimer,’ she moaned, ‘my dearest Mortimer from the first moment I knew it was you―’

His answer was in his fervent lovemaking. They lay side by side, fingers entwined.

‘There is so much we should talk of,’ she said.

But there was no time for talk. They must make love again and again.

Nothing else would satisfy him― or her.

How she wished that she could hold back time! How was she going to live without Mortimer after this? She was a passionate woman who had been stifling her real emotions for too long. Now they were breaking forth. It was a flood which was bursting the banks; it was flowing over her resolutions, her ambitions, everything. There was nothing in her life just now but her need of Mortimer.

It was more than consummation of their love. It was the beginning of a new life for her. Mortimer was going to be more than her lover. That was something they both knew instinctively; and she would never forget that although he was aware of this yet he must cast it all aside that they might first shake this fierce desire which possessed them both.

‘Have you any doubt,’ murmured Mortimer, ‘that you and I were made for each other?’

‘None,’ she answered. ‘Oh my dear one, how thankful I am that I have found you.’

But they must part. How frustrating that was. If only they could have lain together through the night and talked in between bouts of lovemaking. What bliss that would have been.

‘Yes, at least we have had this. Let us not forget that,’ said Mortimer.

‘And when shall we be together again?’ cried Isabella. ‘Alspaye will know what has happened.’

‘1 believe we can trust Alspaye.’

‘And the guards? We cannot drug them every night.’

‘Nay, but we must find a means.’

‘How? Where? In the garden? In your cell? No, gentle Mortimer, my love, we must find a means for I cannot endure to be away from you. You have shown me what I have missed. Oh Mortimer, why were you not the son of the King of England?’

‘My Queen, my Queen! I could never have believed there was such a woman. I would I could carry you off to my Marcher country. There I would hold you against all who came to take you from me.’

‘One day, Mortimer― One day. I swear to it. I swear. Oh there is so much to say. But you are here. We must free you― That is the first thing. We must free you from the Tower.’

‘When can I be with you again?’

‘We must go carefully. There is so much at stake.’

‘But I must see you soon. How can I stay away from you after this?

Knowing that we are both in this Tower together and these thick walls divide us―’

‘I shall arrange something. Dear Mortimer, you must dress now. You must go back to your dungeon. Alspaye cannot wait much longer. The guards will be awakening from their sleep. Dear Mortimer, your life is the most precious thing on earth to me. It must be preserved― for the future. One day, my love― one day―’

He saw that she was right. They dressed hastily. One last embrace and Alspaye came in to conduct him to his dungeon.

She was being driven mad. She had seen him in the garden but what could they do there but touch hands? She could stand close to him, feel the strength of his body. It maddened her, and he shared her feelings. They had wakened such massive floods of passion in each other that it was almost impossible to restrain them.

‘What can we do?’ cried Mortimer in despair.

It was not easy to arrange another night even with Alspaye’s connivance. He had of course guessed the state of affairs and understood the Queen’s emotion.

Poor woman, had she not been married to Edward all these years?

There was one night when it was arranged that a few doors should be unlocked and the guards drunk again and this time when the lovers had slaked their passion to a certain degree, Isabella insisted that the first thing that must be done was to arrange Mortimer’s escape from the Tower.

‘I will go to the Marcher country and you will join me there,’ he said. ‘We will raise an army against the King.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘not the Marcher country. That could be unsafe. You must go to France.’

‘And you?’

‘I would find some means of joining you there. My brother would help us.

And we would come against Edward and the Despensers. I will get my son with me and I shall be fighting to put him on the throne. You and I, gentle Mortimer, will rule for him until he is of age.’

‘If this could but be achieved―’

‘Why should it not? The people love me―’ She paused. They had loved her because they said she was not only beautiful but virtuous; she had allowed herself to be humiliated by Edward and had still borne him children. When they knew that Mortimer was her paramour would they love her just the same? But of course they would. She would charm them with her beauty and she would only be giving them her son— so like his grandfather— in place of their dissolute King.

‘Yes,’ she went on, ‘the people would be on my side. They hate the Despensers. They want them banished. We should have the people with us.’

‘It shall be,’ cried Mortimer. ‘Oh, my Queen, you have brought love such as I never dreamed of into my life and with it hope.’

She had never been so excited. Everything she had always wanted was coming to her. She had always known that hers was a sensuous and passionate nature and she marvelled that she had been able to suppress her natural desires so long. But then she had needed a Mortimer to arouse them. And here he was and with him came the possibility that the dreams she had long cherished were about to come true.

What she had wanted was a strong man to stand beside her. Here he was without the slightest doubt. And this man, who was to have her complete trust and who was to stand beside her no matter what happened to them, must inevitably be her lover.

Life had never seemed so promising.

Now she must give herself to the task with her unbounded energy. It would help to take her mind from the yearnings of her body.

And that task was to free Mortimer from the Tower.

She rode out of the Tower. She was leaving the palace for a few days. It was better so in case there should have been talk. Moreover she had work to do. She was going to see Adam of Orlton, the Bishop of Hereford.

It was never easy for the Queen to go anywhere without taking with her a large company so it was fortunate that Adam was at this time in London and she could ride out as though merely taking the air.

The Bishop received her warmly. He was in disgrace with the King but the Queen had never been unfriendly towards him. He was against the Despensers and none could be more so than she was. She believed that she could rely on Adam’s help.

He himself would have been in the Tower if it had not been that he was a churchman and under the protection of Canterbury and York so she could be sure of his sympathy.

‘My lord Bishop,’ she said, ‘I have matters of great moment to discuss with you. I need your help.’

‘My lady,’ replied the Bishop, ‘if it is in my power to give it, that help is yours.’

‘I can no longer endure the rule of the Despensers.’

‘My lady, you are not alone in your feelings. If it could be put to the country I’ll warrant there would be few who did not agree with you.’

‘It is time they went. The King should never have recalled them.’

‘Alas, he has done so.’

‘My lord Bishop, it is clear to me that if we rid ourselves of the Despensers before long they would be replaced― even as this young Hugh has replaced Gaveston.’

The Bishop nodded in agreement.

‘It must not be allowed to happen, my lord Bishop,’ insisted the Queen.

‘My lady, can it be prevented?’

‘In one way. The King’s son and mine is growing fast.’

‘But a boy yet, my lady.’

‘Old enough to be crowned King. There have been others of his age.’

‘A Regency?’ asked the Bishop eagerly.

‘Chosen with care. My lord Bishop, what we talk of is of the utmost secrecy.

It is only because of the dire need that I would speak thus.’

‘I know it well, my lady. But these matters are in men’s minds and it is well that they be spoken of― among those who could have it in their hands to avoid disasters.’

‘Even so. I need your help, Bishop. There is a man in the Tower who has sworn to stand with me.’

The Bishop raised his eyebrows and waited.

‘Roger de Mortimer.’

Adam nodded. ‘A strong man, indeed. He ruled the Marcher lands with his uncle and he was as a king there they say.’

‘His uncle has perished in his prison. His nephew still lives.. He is young and vigorous. He would stand with us.’

‘You have tested him?’

The Queen smiled slowly: ‘Aye, my lord Bishop, I have tested him.’

‘Yes,’ said the Bishop, ‘a strong man. He could rouse the Marcher country.’

‘He must first escape.’

‘From the Tower! I’ll swear he is most rigorously guarded.’

‘He has friends.’

‘Who, my lady?’

‘The Sub-lieutenant, Gerard Alspaye.’

‘That is good. He could do much.’

‘My lord Bishop what could you do?’

‘Nothing from inside the Tower. Outside. I could have horses waiting at an agreed spot. I could have a boat waiting to take him across the river to that spot and another at the coast.’

‘And would you do this, my lord?’

‘I would do my best for you, my lady.’

‘I thank you with all my heart.’

‘If we can rid this country of its evil influences the whole of England will thank you with all their hearts.’

‘I can and will with the help of God and my very good friends.’

‘Then the first thing is to get Mortimer from the Tower. What will he do in France?’

‘Go to my brother. Let him know how I am held here. Get help from him. I shall try to join him― if that is possible. But I must have my son Edward with me.’

‘I see. It would mean civil war.’

‘If the King can find any to stand with him.’

‘There will be some I doubt not. The Despensers will be there and mistake not behind the pretty face is a wily mind.’

‘I know it well. But first we must free Mortimer. I pin my hopes on him. My lord Bishop I rely on you to provide what we shall need once Mortimer is free of the Tower.’

‘Let the rest be arranged from within and then we must be sure that we work together.’

‘God’s blessings on you, Bishop. You are a good friend to me and to your country.’

With God’s help, my lady, I will serve you both until He sees fit to take me.’

She was satisfied. Her excitement was intense. All was going as she could wish.

There were whispered conversations in the darkness of the night. They were getting reckless. The need to be together obsessed them; as did the knowledge that soon they must be parted. Alspaye was getting anxious. It was possible to arrange these meetings but they must necessarily become increasingly dangerous as suspicions must inevitably arise. It might be feasible one night, or even two, to leave a door unlocked, a corridor unguarded, to make guards sleepy with wine. But these occasions were becoming too frequent.

‘We must not jeopardize the plan,’ said Mortimer.

‘Indeed we must not,’ agreed Isabella, ‘but when you are in France we shall no longer be together.’

‘But you must follow me. You must use all your skill to do so.’

‘I shall. I shall. You may rely on me.’

They embraced passionately; they talked earnestly; and they continued to meet.

Gerard de Alspaye was uneasy. What would happen to him, he wondered, when such an important prisoner as Roger de Mortimer escaped from the Tower? He would be blamed. His head would not be worth much he was sure.

There was only one course of action for him to pursue, said Isabella. When Mortimer went, he must go with him.

Alspaye’s spirits were considerably lightened at the prospect.

There were meetings with Adam outside. He had engaged the help of two rich Londoners, John de Gisors, and Richard de Bettoyne, who would provide the boat which would take Mortimer and Alspaye across the river and the horses which could carry them to the coast. They would see that these were waiting ready at the appointed places. Speed was essential and the fugitives must get to France immediately, for it would be dangerous for them to linger in England for even one day longer than they need. As soon as the disappearance was discovered the hue and cry would follow and even Edward would realize the danger of letting a man like Mortimer escape from his clutches.

‘Well, let it be soon,’ agreed the Queen, and she added that it was fortunate that summer had come.

Alspaye said: ‘On the night of the first of August the Tower guards always celebrate the feast of St Peter ad Vincula.’

‘On this occasion,’ Mortimer interrupted, ‘it should be a specially merry feast. We must make sure that the wine flows freely.’

‘I shall put two notorious imbibers in charge of my lord,’ went on Alspaye, ‘and shall see that they are well supplied with liquor. I’ll warrant it will not be long before we have them in a drunken stupor. That will give us an opportunity to make our preparations.’

Many plans had been discussed and discarded and they had come to the conclusion that the safest way was for Mortimer to escape by means of a rope ladder. He had, of course, to get out of his cell and although most of the guards would be drinking heavily there could be one or two abstainers and it was logical to suppose that on such an occasion they would be especially alert.

Mortimer’s dungeon was next to the kitchens and from these it was possible to get out onto a roof of an inner ward. This was where the rope ladder would come in. For several weeks Mortimer with the help of Alspaye had managed to loosen a portion of the stones in the wall. It was not difficult for Alspaye to say he wished to speak with the prisoner and dismiss the guards while he did so.

During the time they spent together the two men worked on the wall so that by the first of August it was a simple matter to lift out the stones which they had loosened and make a big enough hole for them to pass through.

They would then be in the kitchens where Alspaye must make sure that the servants were either carousing with their guards or too drunk to notice what was happening. From the kitchens they could reach one of the inner wards and there it was that they would need the rope ladder to take them into the outer ward and they could from there make their way to that spot on the river where the London merchants, John de Gisors and Richard de Bettoyne, would have a boat waiting.

They had gone over the plan in their minds, looking for possible defects. To be discovered would mean certain death for Mortimer and Alspaye. But they were determined they would succeed.

The Queen was perhaps the most anxious of the three. She had seen in Mortimer her great hope. Moreover she was passionately in love with him and to have found a man who was not only her lover but her saviour seemed miraculous to her.

She was terrified that something would happen to him.

The first of August dawned. She went along to the little church of St Peter ad Avincula on Tower Green and asked the saint’s help in this project.

During the morning Mortimer was allowed to walk in the garden and Alspaye dismissed the guards with instructions to wait by the palings and while he and Mortimer walked they ran through the details once more.

The Queen joined them.

‘I know I should not have come,’ she said, ‘but I had to. After tonight it will be long ere I see you both.’

‘We must make sure that it is not too long,’ said Mortimer. ‘I shall be unable to endure it. I shall find some way to escape to France.’

‘It would be better if it did not appear to be an escape,’ said Mortimer. ‘If you could come on some pretext and bring young Edward with you.’

‘I will do it. I will do it.’

They clasped hands. It was the nearest to an embrace.

She was amazed and delighted by Mortimer’s calm. He was a man of action and he could not help but be exhilarated at the prospect of escaping from imprisonment even though it would mean a temporary separation from the Queen. He had no doubts of the success of the venture.

Nor, when she was with him, had she.

They did not linger too long in the gardens. Alspaye escorted Mortimer back to his dungeon and in her apartments the Queen told her attendants that she wished to be alone. She was too tense for light conversation and she was afraid that her manner might betray something.

Throughout the Tower the festive spirit was apparent. St Peter ad Vincula was a very special saint and the warders and guards told each other it was only right that on this day he should be honoured.

Dusk fell. Now was the time. There were sound of revelry throughout the Tower. The Queen said she was pleased that the servants of the Tower should celebrate the occasion but she would retire early and rest.

She waited. Everything had been timed perfectly. She prayed that there might be no hitch. Alspaye had seen that those guards in the vicinity of Mortimer’s dungeon had been given a wine which was particularly potent; it had also been laced with some special herbs reputed to add to the soporific effect.

It would be soon now.

She visualized the scene in the dungeon. The guard at the door slumped on the floor. Alspaye and Mortimer removing the stone, slipping quietly through to the kitchens. Would there be a hitch there? Suppose one of the cooks was not completely drunk? Oh, but they would be. They, like the guards, had had their wine specially treated.

How much they owed Alspaye! This could never have been arranged without him. They had been clever. Help from within, help from without. It was certain to succeed.

Wrapping a concealing cloak about her she came out of her palace quarters and made her way to the inner ward.

There was no sign of them. Her heart seemed as though it would fail her. If anything went wrong she felt she would die, for if Mortimer were caught trying to escape there would be no hope for him.

Oh what a fool Edward was to have imprisoned him in the first place! Oh, but thank God for Edward’s folly! Anyone but Edward would have recognized Mortimer’s superb qualities and never have let him live. Oh thank God again and again for Edward’s folly.

A sound behind her. A movement. There they were. Relief flooded over her.

Safe! The most difficult part accomplished.

They saw her and Mortimer ran towards her. He had her in his arms.

‘Oh, gentle Mortimer,’ she cried, ‘if I could but come with you.’

Alspaye said: ‘There is no time to lose. At any moment they could discover we have gone.’

‘Where is the ladder?’ said Mortimer.

It had been her task to bring that to them. She produced it and Alspaye threw it over the wall.

‘Now, my lord Mortimer, you go first.’

‘Let me hold it for you,’ said the Queen. ‘Good-bye, dear gentle Mortimer.’

One last embrace. ‘To France and our meeting,’ he said. ‘Pray God it be soon.’

He was over. She looked down and saw him standing there safe on the other side of the wall.

It was Alspaye’s turn. In a few seconds he was standing beside Mortimer.

She threw down the rope and returned to her apartments to await the discovery of the missing captives..

It was not difficult to find their way to that spot where the boat was to be ready for them. The merchants had not failed them. It was there.

‘We have done it!’ cried Mortimer.

‘Not yet, my lord,’ replied Alspaye. ‘We have escaped from the Tower― no mean feat, I agree. But we cannot boast of our success until we are safe in France.’

Indeed they had good friends. The horses were waiting for them— fresh and ready for the journey, with seven men from Mortimer’s household attending them.

This was indeed good fortune.

‘My lord,’ said Alspaye, ‘you have friends who love you dearly.’

‘Or mayhap hate the Despensers,’ replied Mortimer. They rode through the night until they reached the coast of Hampshire.

Out at sea lay a ship. It was the one which would take them to France.

It was not difficult to hire a small boat.

Mortimer bade his men be cautious for by this time it might well be that his escape had been discovered and warning given to look out for anyone leaving for the Continent.

‘Tell them,’ he said, ‘that we want a small boat to go to the Isle of Wight.’

This was done, the boat procured and very soon it was skimming across the water.

Mortimer boarded the big ship. The Captain who had been waiting for him gave orders to sail as soon as the tide and winds were favourable.

Later that day Roger de Mortimer and Gerard de Alspaye landed in France.

As they drank wine in a riverside tavern and congratulated themselves on their good fortune, Mortimer said: ‘We have come so far. Now the real work begins.’

THE QUEEN PLOTS

EDWARD was in Lancashire when a messenger arrived from London with the news that Roger de Mortimer had escaped from the Tower.

A fury seized him. He realized at once that he should never have allowed this to happen. Oh what a stupid thing to have done! To have allowed Mortimer to keep his head.

It was because dear Hugh had not been with him at the time of Mortimer’s capture, and Mortimer had been in the Tower by the time Hugh was back. Hugh was so clever. He foresaw disaster. And now Mortimer was free!

Hugh came in to see him and was clearly perturbed by the news when he heard it.

‘Never mind, sweet lord, we need not fear him. We shall stand against him and all his Marcher barons.’

‘I know, Hugh, I know. But to think he was allowed to get away from the Tower. What could have happened?’

‘The feast of St Peter ad Vincula was it? You know what these people are.

Give them a chance to carouse― and they forget their duty.’

‘Someone should answer for this.’

‘They will, dear lord, they will.’

When they learned something of how the escape had taken place they were even more disturbed.

‘He could only have done it with help from within,’ declared Hugh.

‘Help from within and without!’ agreed the King. ‘It would appear we have enemies.’

Hugh smiled sadly. Enemies! They surrounded him and they were the King’s enemies because of him.

Never mind, the King was his very dear friend; he could not do enough for his beloved Hugh. They were together through the days and nights and Hugh and his father were becoming the richest men in England. It was so rewarding to have royal patronage and when that patronage grew out of a doting fondness then indeed a man was fortunate.

‘He will have gone to the Marcher country, I’ll swear,’ said Edward.

‘His home of course. That is where he will rally support.’

‘Let us plan a campaign to the Welsh coast. We’ll get him, Hugh, and this time it will not be a dungeon in the Tower for him.’

‘He is a handsome man, that Mortimer,’ mused Hugh, ‘but I doubt he will be so handsome without his head.’

Meanwhile Mortimer, having landed safely in Normandy, was on his way to Paris.

By great good fortune Isabella’s involvement in the escape of Mortimer did not occur to her husband. There had been some in the Tower who had seen the meeting between the pair and the Queen’s connection with Alspaye who was now branded a traitor as it was soon discovered that he had escaped with Mortimer. Adam of Orlton, too, was suspected as the outside influence who had helped to make the escape possible. No doubt it seemed incredible that Isabella should have taken a hand in the affair, and it was presumed to be merely a coin-cidence that she had happened to be in the Palace of the Tower at the time.

However her attitude towards the King had changed. She made it clear that she wanted no more intimacy with him. Not that he pressed that. It had only occurred because of the need to give the country heirs. They had stalwart Edward who was nearly thirteen years old and growing conscious of coming responsibilities.

They, will come sooner than you think, my son, thought Isabella grimly.

For the rest of the children she had little time to spare. That they were well and happy was all she wanted to know. Young Edward was her concern and she did make a point of being often with him.

Her great desire was to get to France, to join Mortimer, and to begin the plan of action which was to depose her husband.

She could tell herself that she had right on her side. The country was going from bad to worse. The Despensers were an evil influence. Edward and his hated favourites must go. Isabella visualized an ideal state of affairs with her and Mortimer ruling through young Edward.

She was beginning to build up a little coterie about her— all enemies of Despenser, all with the same grievances against the King, and since the Queen had suffered more humiliation than any through this unfortunate liaison, it was to her they were beginning to look. They all had one aim in common, to destroy the Despensers who, it was believed, were at the very heart of the King’s unworthy kingship— just as in the earlier years of his reign Gaveston had been.

Thomas Earl of Lancaster was remembered and it was beginning to be said that he had been wrongfully treated. He had been humiliated and beheaded in a manner very unseemly for one in his position. Stories about his goodness— which had little foundation in truth— were circulated about him. Isabella could scarcely believe her ears when she heard that he had been called a saint. It was not long before miracles were being said to be performed at his grave.

His brother Henry, now Earl of Lancaster, came to see the Queen and to tell her how much he understood her dislike of the Despensers.

It was significant. Henry of Lancaster— certainly not the fighter and leader his brother had been— was offering her his support. Even the King’s two half-brothers Thomas Earl of Norfolk and Edmund Earl of Kent came to see her and to pay her very special homage because they too were heartily tired of their brother’s preoccupation with the Despensers.

‘It will not be easy to bring about his banishment,’ she told her brothers-in-law.

‘It should be done,’ replied Kent.

‘The King would fight to the death to save them,’ said Isabella.

‘Still,’ repeated Kent steadily, ‘it should be done.’

It was an indication of the way people were thinking and of great gratification to Isabella.

She was desperately looking for an opportunity which would take her to France where she could rejoin Mortimer.

Although the Despensers seemed at times to rush madly down that path of folly which had led Gaveston to disaster, they were shrewd. They had noticed a change in the Queen’s attitude towards the King. They had been well aware that she previously tolerated them and had received the King for the sole reason of getting children. They understood that now she had four she had decided that was the end.

This was reasonable enough but she was turning more and more against the King— a fact which would have been no cause for concern but for the popularity she enjoyed with certain people.

The chief of these were the Londoners who had always favoured her and had particularly disliked the King’s handsome young men. The Londoners were at this time annoyed with the King because he had removed a plaque from St Paul’s which had been set up to applaud the good deeds of Thomas Earl of Lancaster. Since he was dead— and had died so ignobly ― they had decided to make a saint of him. They forgot his indolence and incompetence; they endowed him with virtues he had not possessed; they were constantly telling each other that if he were there life would be different. It was dangerous and particularly so when miracles were said to take place at that spot where the plaque had been as well as at Lancaster’s tomb. It was a sign of the times.

Their chief cause for concern was Isabella.

‘Everywhere the Queen goes the people cheer,’ complained Hugh.

‘They have always thought very highly of her,’ replied Edward.

‘Yes, at your expense! I like that not.’

‘Dear Hugh, you are too mindful of me.’

‘And should I not be of my liege lord?’

‘There, I have made you scarlet with indignation.’

‘Indeed I am indignant at anything which bodes ill for my lord.’

‘What bodes ill now, dear nephew?’

Edward had taken to calling Hugh nephew. He said it was a pleasant relationship and some people would take it from the name that he regarded Hugh in that light.

‘The Queen, I think, my lord.’

‘The Queen! In what way?’

‘She is restive. She is jealous of me. She sees too many people.’

‘What should we do? You tell me, Hugh.’

‘Let us consider her.’

‘Do so, Hugh.’

‘Her brother is the King of France and she writes frequently to him. There are complaints in her letters of your treatment of her.’

Edward shrugged his shoulders. ‘I doubt her brother has time for her gossip.’

‘The King of France would always have time to hear evil spoken of the King of England.’

‘She speaks no evil. She merely complains that I spend more time with you than with her. Well, I do not intend to spend more time with her if it means missing your company.’

‘I know it and rejoice in it. I wonder whether the Pope would grant an annulment.’

‘An annulment! And she the sister of the King of France.’

‘No, he would be afraid of France. He would never grant it. But we might try.’

‘It would have to be in secret.’

‘It would be. But I believe you should take over some of her lands. She is very well endowed.’

Edward nodded. ‘Then let it be done.’

‘It is unwise that she should keep her French servants. How can we know that these may not be spies for France?’ ‘What would you suggest?’

‘That they be sent away. Her allowance should be cut to twenty shillings a day and that is enough for her. With more she might use it to make mischief. I believe she is in correspondence with someone in France.’

‘She writes now and then to her brother I know.’

‘Yes― and maybe others.’

‘What mean you, Hugh?’

‘I am not sure, but for your sake, I should like to put a watch on her.’

‘A watch, dear boy?’

‘I thought my wife might be her― what shall we call it― keeper of the household. She will be able to report to us what is going on there.’

‘Would she undertake such a task?’

‘She would if she were told to.’

Hugh’s wife was the daughter of the Earl of Gloucester and the Princess Joanna, daughter of Edward the First and therefore Edward’s niece. Hugh had already come into his share of the Gloucester estate through her, so he was pleased with his marriage. Whether Eleanor le Despenser was as gratified with it was another matter.

However she could be made to act as keeper of the household for Isabella and report where her correspondence went.

So it was arranged.

The indignation of the Queen when she realized what was happening was great; but much to the surprise of those about her she made little complaint. She was biding her time. Soon she would be the one to call the tune.

How maddening it was that she should be submitted to such indignity. The King’s niece to be her guardian— that foolish little creature who was afraid of her mincing husband! How dared she! And yet of course the poor little thing was afraid to do otherwise. She had an idea that the silly girl tried to take her letters and give them to her spying husband. Did she think Isabella would be such a fool as to allow her to do that? Did she think she had not friends who would take what she wrote in secret and deliver it unopened to its destination?

Charles, the last of her three brothers, was now the King of France. He was known as Charles the Fair having inherited the good looks of his father Philip IV. It was said that he was doomed as were all the descendants of the direct line of the Capets and really it seemed that the curse was working. First her father, then Louis le Hutin, then Philip the Tall and the only one who was left was Charles.

He still lived but like the people of France she was ready to hear that some catastrophe had overtaken him.

She wrote fiercely to him, letters which were for his eyes alone. Could he stand by and see his sister— a Princess of France— treated thus? He already knew— the whole world knew that her husband preferred the couch of his chamberlain to hers. Her husband was a miser. He had robbed her of lands and possessions; he had ordered that she should receive a pittance. He was depriving her not only of her status as a Queen but of everything she possessed. The greatest indignity of all had been to set a keeper of the household over her. A woman who— poor creature― had been married as a child to Despenser on account of her fortune. This woman’s task was to spy on her, to steal her letters, to treat her as a prisoner. Could he, her brother and King of France stand by and see this happen to a member of the great royal family of France?

Charles le Bel decided that he could pacify his sister by reminding Edward that he owed him personal homage for the provinces he held in France and he considered it the duty of the King of England to come to France and do his duty.

‘Depend upon it,’ said Hugh le Despenser, ‘the Queen has stirred up trouble.

Letters from her have got through to the King of France and this is the result.

Let your young half-brother Edmund go to France. It will keep him out of mischief. He can explain to Charles le Bel that you are too engrossed in matters of state here to make the journey just yet.’

Edward always made a point of taking Hugh’s advice and Edmund Earl of Kent was sent to France.

Charles received the Earl with a show of hospitality and gave some magnificent entertainments in his honour.

The young Earl was no match for the King of France. Moreover, while Kent was on a visit to Aquitaine, Charles de Valois, younger brother of Philip the Fair and uncle of the King, invaded the Duchy and so successful was he that the earl was forced to agree to a peace which was greatly to his disadvantage and gave the French possession of almost the whole of Aquitaine.

Isabella watched these events very closely and believed that she saw through them the chance she had been waiting for.

Humbly, she sent word to Edward asking if she might see him. He could scarcely refuse such a request and he was surprised to see how meekly she came.

Hugh was wise as usual, he thought. They were treating her in the right manner.

She made no reference to his neglect of her. She came straight to the point and said how grieved she was to see the conflict between him and her brother.

She could not understand what her uncle was thinking of to attack Aquitaine so villainously.

‘The French have always been after it,’ said Edward. ‘I’m afraid my brother Kent was not experienced enough to handle the situation.’

‘Poor Edmund, he did his best.’

‘His best was poor statecraft,’ said Edward.

She wanted to laugh. And you, my fine man, she thought, what of your statecraft? Edmund’s ineptitude is nothing when compared with yours!

‘My brothers were always fond of me,’ she went on. ‘Edward, I believe that if I went to Charles I could put your case to him. I believe I could make him see reason. Perhaps I could bring my uncle to reconsider the treaty. It would please me to try.’

‘ You go? That would be useless. They would never listen to you.’

‘I was always treated with great respect in my father’s court,’ she said with pointed dignity. ‘I doubt I should receive anything less in my brother’s.’

Edward looked at her thoughtfully. She had managed to win the approval of the Londoners. Hugh had been talking about that the other day. He had said she had always been careful never to do anything which might lose that respect.

‘It is a matter I should have to consider,’ he said.

Oh yes, she thought, ask Master Hugh whether he will allow your Queen to visit her brother.

Her spirits dropped. She might have been able to delude Edward. Hugh le Despenser was another matter. In spite of the fact that he allowed his acquisitive nature to bring him more and more unpopularity every week, he was shrewd. He could surely not have connected her with Mortimer’s escape. She had been very careful about Mortimer. She had not written to him at all. That would have been too dangerous even though she had her faithful friends whom she could trust to deliver important letters. She had been afraid of putting him in danger. No, Hugh le Despenser could not know of the relationship between her and Mortimer.

There was nothing to be done but let Edward consult with his dear Hugh.

Meanwhile she must pray that she could get that permission to leave. It would be so much more satisfactory than attempting to escape, for they were not quite ready yet to come out into the open.

Hugh considered the matter.

‘So she wishes to go to her brother?’

‘That is what she said. She would mediate for better relations between us.

This treaty my brother has made is disastrous for us.’

Hugh was silent and Edward went on, ‘She has proved herself in the past to have a certain grasp of affairs. I believe too that her brother is fond of her. He might listen to her.’

‘He is going to insist on your going out to do homage to him.’

‘I shall not go.’

‘It could mean trouble if you don’t.’

‘That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to let Isabella go and see what she can make of things. I am sure she is eager to impress us.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Hugh. ‘She has changed of late. She has become resigned.

There was a time when I thought there was a smouldering lioness inside her, waiting to strike. Now, she has changed.’

‘It was having the children. She dotes on young Edward you know.’

Hugh nodded. ‘Let her go then. I see no harm in it.’

‘She shall go,’ replied Edward.

When Isabella heard the news she could scarcely believe her good fortune.

She lost no time in setting out for France.

She could scarcely restrain her exultation as she made her rapid preparations. The scheming of years was coming to its climax. How clever she had been! How wise to act so discreetly through the years! Now she had her son, her little Edward― not so little, old enough to be crowned King, with hands to guide him― hers and Mortimer’s.

Oh gentle Mortimer, soon to be with him, to embrace him, to lie at his side, to make love, to make plans.

Nothing must go wrong now.

May was a beautiful month with the trees in bloom and the birds mad with joy— a manifestation of her own feelings. This was the springtime of her life— although she was twenty-nine years of age. It was a beginning, and twenty-nine was not old. A little mature perhaps but one needed maturity to plan carefully. She was inclined to think that everything was set fair.

Her company consisted only of Lord John Cromwell and four knights, apart from her personal attendants. The wind was with them and as she stepped onto French soil she could not restrain her expressions of joy. Lord John remarked that a love of one’s native land was something which never left one. And she allowed him to think that this was the reason for her exultation. If he but knew, her thoughts were in England― but not England as it was today ruled by an effete King and his minion.

She was happy. Soon she would be with Mortimer.

It was sooner than she had dared hope, for he had heard of her arrival and came in haste to greet her.

He bowed low. He must not show undue familiarity before the company, but in his eyes she saw all she wished to know.

‘My love,’ he whispered as he bowed before her. ‘So long it has seemed.’

‘At last I am here.’

Then he was saying that he had heard of her arrival and had come to escort her to her brother’s court in Paris.

Mortimer had arranged for them to stay the night at a château put at her disposal by her cousin Robert d’Artois who had heard a great deal of her humiliation at the hands of her husband and had been incensed that a daughter of the royal house of France should be so treated.

As they rode along Mortimer talked to her of his adventures since he had left England. He had found favour with her brother the King, which was perhaps not surprising for French Kings were always ready to favour the enemies of the Kings of England. He had told Charles a great deal about the influence Hugh le Despenser wielded over the King and naturally Charles, seeing clearly Edward’s folly, was not displeased about that.

‘I am happy to say,’ said Mortimer, ‘that the King your brother has shown nothing but friendship towards me.’ He bent his head and whispered.

‘Tonight― It must be tonight.’

And she answered, ‘Tonight.’

When they arrived at the château her cousin was eager to give her a royal welcome. He made it clear that he was very impressed by her beauty. She felt that she had come to life, recognized for what she had always known she was, a charming and desirable woman.

Lord John Cromwell was a little uneasy about what he called Mortimer’s undue familiarity. ‘He was, my lady, the King’s prisoner,’ he explained to Isabella. ‘Now he is an exile. If he were to return to England he would lose his head.’

‘True enough, my lord,’ answered Isabella and appeared to reflect. ‘But it seems to me that I am on a difficult mission. I have to get good terms for my husband from my brother and if Mortimer speaks truth he is on friendly terms with Charles. I shall need all the friends I can get. It would not be wise to alienate Mortimer.’

Lord John agreed with this. ‘But I would not trust him too far if I were you, my lady, if you will forgive my mentioning the matter.’

‘You are forgiven, Lord John. I know that you are faithful to me and to the King.’

‘The Mortimers were always a wild family, my lady. They ruled the Marcher land and it is in them to rule.’

‘I agree with you. Trust me, I shall be careful.’

How she laughed when that night she lay in Mortimer’s arms.

The reunion had been one of complete satisfaction. The fact that it had been planned with care gave it an added delight. They talked in whispers through the night for before dawn he must be gone. It would never do for any to guess at this point that she had come to France to join her lover.

‘I shall never go back without you,’ she told him.

‘When we go back it will be with an army. We shall succeed.’

‘Of course we shall succeed.’

‘Gentle Mortimer, it must be so. You and I together and Edward with us― my young Edward. We must find a way of getting him here.’

‘How does he feel about his father?’

‘Bewildered. He is but a boy. But a clever one― one who knows his destiny. He hears gossip of Hugh le Despenser. It disturbs him.’

‘Oh, my love― my love,’ cried Mortimer. ‘What a happy day when I was sent to the Tower!’

‘In the gardens that day I knew I had been waiting for you all my life.’

‘None ever loved as we do.’

‘And none ever planned such a great project as they lay in their bed of love.’

‘How long till dawn? I would I could hold back time.’

‘The future is for us, my love.’

‘Ah,’ he answered, ‘for us.’

‘The day will come,’ she said, ‘when you will not have to creep away before the first streaks of light appear in the sky.’

He wondered then if she meant she would marry him. Could the Queen of England marry a Mortimer? He had a wife. She had a husband. But such obstacles could be removed.

Ambition. Love. How glorious when these two walked together. To make love! To make plans! Life was good. Never had either of them dreamed of such bliss as life now offered them.

‘Would we could stay like this for ever,’ said Mortimer.

‘Nay, my dear love,’ answered the Queen. ‘This is but the springtime of our union. Glorious summer lies before us.’

‘And autumn and winter?’ he said.

‘Autumn will come with the fruits of our endeavours,’ she said. ‘And if there is winter we shall know how to keep each other warm. What talk for lovers; let us make talk when we cannot make love. Do you agree, dear Mortimer?’

Mortimer agreed.