The Follies of the King

LETTERS FROM ENGLAND

THERE was a royal welcome for Isabella at her brother’s court.

Charles did not look in good health and as soon as she saw him she thought of the curse of the Templars. He possessed those outstanding good looks which came here and there in the family. Isabella herself had them, so had her father, and they had appeared again in Charles. Now there was an air of fragility about him.

He immediately gave her a private audience for he was very eager to hear whether rumours he had heard concerning the King of England were true.

Isabella began by telling him how delighted she was to be in her native land.

She had had a most unhappy life in England and it was all due to the warped nature of the King.

‘He is abnormal, brother,’ she said. ‘You will know that his great favourite was Piers Gaveston. He has been followed by Hugh le Despenser. They were always together. I scarcely saw him.’

‘You have four children,’ said Charles.

‘I insisted that we try to get children and we succeeded.’

‘So he was not with his favourite then.’

‘Can you imagine my humiliation? Daughter and sister to Kings of France to be so treated.’

‘It was well that you had your children― and two sons among them.’

Charles spoke bitterly. The curse of the Templars implied that the line of Capet would end with them. It was all very well to snap one’s fingers at the curse but it was working out. Louis and Philip had gone and left no heirs. If they had children they were sickly. They desperately needed a male heir for the Salic law reigned in France and this decreed that the crown of France was of such noble estate that it could not come to a woman.

Charles could not help being envious of his sister’s two sons. There had been great rejoicing when his wife the Queen had become pregnant. But what bitter disappointment when she had given birth to a girl. People talked of the curse again, and it did seem that the kings were doomed. What would happen when he died without heirs he did not know. He supposed his father’s younger brother Charles of Valois or his cousin Philip would take the throne. It would then be the end of the direct line of the Capets when the House of Valois took over.

But he was not dead yet. There was still hope. But for the miserable curse― Isabella guessed what her brother was thinking but she was little concerned with the affairs of France. Those of England absorbed her.

‘I seized this opportunity to get away,’ she said, ‘so great was my longing to see France and to leave the husband I have learned to despise.’

‘He is a fool,’ agreed Charles. ‘Roger de Mortimer has told me much of English affairs. Now there is a man of vitality. Edward was a fool to let him escape. A fool to make a man like that a prisoner. He should have had his head while he had the chance.’

‘Edward will always make the wrong decisions. He was foolish to send Kent here to deal with important affairs. Kent is too young.’

‘I had thought he would have sent Pembroke.’

‘Pembroke died before he could send him. Ah, yes, it would have been different if Pembroke had come. His old friends are either dying or deserting him. Edward loves the Despensers but no one else does.’

‘He readily gave his consent to your coming here?’

‘Oh, the Despensers were glad to be rid of me, so I was allowed to come.

You see the people like me. They cheer me in the streets. It infuriates Edward because when he rides out they can be very sullen.’

‘And the Despensers?’

‘They would tear them limb from limb if they had a chance.’

‘Not a very healthy state of affairs.’

‘A diseased one I should say, brother. Oh how happy I am to be here.

Everything is so much more elegant. I am going to summon some of the French dressmakers to court. No one makes clothes as they do. See how unbecomingly we dress in England. I look unworthy of you, brother.’

‘I have heard several comment on your beauty. They say you are looking radiant. Not as though you have been ill-treated in England.’

‘It is because I have come home. I wish to have French clothes. You will have no objection to my summoning the seamstresses?’

‘Do so if you will, sister.’

‘Then I shall give orders immediately. Then I must talk with you of state matters. You know I am here to plead for Edward.’

‘I know it well. Can you plead for one whom you so assuredly dislike?’

‘I have a son, Charles. I plead for him. He is young yet, but he is a clever boy. I want him to have a kingdom when the time comes for him to take it.’

Charles alternated between indignation at the manner in which his sister had been treated, amusement at her ability to think of her appearance at such a time, gratification that the King of England had had to send the sister of the King of France to plead for him, pleasure at having the sister for whom he had always had some affection restored to him, and certain doubts in his mind as to whether there was something behind all she said and did.

Now she was exquisitely gowned. She had summoned the finest Paris dressmakers; she had chosen the most magnificent materials and indeed she looked like a queen. Never, even in the days of her early youth had she been so beautiful. She glowed with that inner radiance which had come to her when she had found Mortimer. She was deeply in love; and she was full of plans for success. Never had she lived so fully, so dangerously and so excitingly as she did at this time.

She became the centre of a little court. She discovered her latent fascination.

She lured people to her by her glowing beauty, her wit, her vitality and her charm. It was said that she was the most beautiful woman in Europe.

Mortimer adored her and she was entirely Mortimer’s. But others fell in love with her. There was her cousin Artois for one. He grew more and more indignant at the manner in which she had been treated in England; he told her that his great desire was to serve her.

Those Englishmen whose duty had brought them to France formed a coterie about her. Mortimer was of course at their head, and joining him and Artois were the Bishops of Winchester and Norwich who were acting as Edward’s ambassadors in Paris. Others who were disgusted with Edward’s way of life and despaired of England’s future under him paid homage to his Queen. They guessed that there was something more to her being here than to plead with her brother for her husband. Young Edmund Duke of Kent who was feeling very depressed because of his failures in France came to her and she comforted him, assuring him that what had happened was no fault of his. There was no respect for Edward abroad, she said, and any mission of his must fail while this was the case. She spent several hours with Kent placating him, winning him to her side.

He was one of those who was half in love with her.

‘It is good,’ said Mortimer, ‘to have the King’s brother with us.’

Others like the Earl of Richmond and Henry de Beaumont were in constant attendance. All useful adherents, all enemies of the Despensers who had offended them too often.

So the plan progressed well.

But of course she must appear to be doing the task which she had come out to do.

At length Charles agreed that he would send no more troops into Gascony and would consider returning the conquered provinces to England if Edward came and paid long overdue homage to him for his French possessions.

She had many opportunities of talking to Mortimer because he formed part of that little court which surrounded her and if she could talk in private with her cousin Artois and the Bishops of Norwich and Winchester so could she with Mortimer.

‘What if he comes?’ she asked.

‘The Despensers will persuade him against it.’

‘He and they are eager for peace.’

‘Yes, but they are not going to let him come without them and would they be welcome at your brother’s court? There is an alternative.’

‘I know,’ she said. They looked at each other and marvelled at the manner in which they even thought alike.

‘Do you think he would allow it?’ asked Mortimer. ‘He is fool enough to.’

‘If we had the boy here, we should be half way to victory.’

‘We can try it,’ said the Queen.

‘With the utmost care. Let him think you but do it to ease him and because you think it is time the boy began to realize his obligations.’

‘I will do it,’ said Isabella. ‘But first I must get my brother to agree.’

‘First,’ said Mortimer, ‘let us wait and see what Edward’s answer is. We must by no means seem over-eager for the boy to come in his place. We have to tread very warily, my dear love.’

‘How well I know it,’ replied Isabella.

When the Despensers heard the terms the King of France had set, they were, as Isabella and Mortimer had guessed they would be, very disturbed.

The matter had been before the Council and there it was agreed that Edward should go to Paris. The Despensers were worried. They discussed the matter earnestly together and came to the conclusion that the King must on no account be allowed to go.

‘Without his protection,’ said the elder to the younger, ‘there would be some excuse to seize us. Then I would not give a penny for our chances.’

‘Edward would never allow them to harm us.’

‘My dear son, they would not wait for Edward. Look how they treated Gaveston and even Lancaster was hurried to his death. Once they had us, depend upon it, we should be dead men before Edward could do anything to save us.’

‘To go is the only way he can save his French possessions.’

‘To stay is the only way he can save us. No, Hugh my son, the King must not go to France. You must persuade him against it. He must remain here.

Without him, with the country in the mood it is in, we are lost.’

‘Is it really as bad as you think, Father?’

‘My dear son, you are constantly with the King. You divert him. You are his greatest friend. I have time to look around at what is happening. I happen to know that Henry of Lancaster has been writing to that Adam of Orlton who I am sure had a hand in Mortimer’s escape from the Tower. He had put up a cross to his brother’s memory at Leicester and is circulating more stories about more miracles at Lancaster’s tomb. No, Edward must not go. You must seek means of detaining him. Do not let him give a direct answer.’

Edward was only too ready to be detained. He had no fancy for going to Charles of France and doing homage. It was an act never relished by any of his predecessors.

He was delighted when the communication came from Isabella.

She had spoken with the King of France and he had agreed that if Edward found it difficult to leave his realm at this time he would accept the homage from young Edward. She believed that it was an excellent notion and if the King agreed to send their son it would be a good exercise in diplomacy for the boy and she would take good care of him.

If he agreed, young Edward could be created Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Ponthieu and could then pay homage to her brother Charles for these provinces.

Edward was delighted. The Despensers discussed the matter together. It would keep Edward in England and their lives could depend on that.

‘Let the boy go,’ said Hugh to the King. ‘It will be a good experience for him. He is growing up. It is time he began to take part in affairs. He can lessen your burden, my lord. Yes, let the boy go.’

Edward’s life had been one long series of mistakes, but in sending his son to France he made the greatest mistake of them all.

Isabella and Mortimer could scarcely believe their good fortune. Their plan was progressing beyond their wildest hope.

With what joy she rode to the coast to wait the coming of the Prince!

Mortimer was beside her.

‘Soon,’ he whispered, ‘we shall be going home. We shall go at the head of an army. Nothing could have served us better than the coming of young Edward.

The fact that the King sends him shows that he is unworthy to rule. It is now our task to see that the boy is on our side.’

‘Fear not that I can win him to us,’ replied the Queen.

‘None could withstand your charm,’ Mortimer assured her, ‘least of all a young boy― and he your son.’

It was a wonderful moment when young Edward stepped ashore. He was such a handsome boy, showing promise of Plantagenet good looks. He was going to be tall as his father and grandfather had been; he was flaxen-haired with keen blue eyes, alert, intelligent, eager for life, aware of his destiny and determined to fullil it.

He was accompanied by the Bishops of Oxford and Exeter and a train of knights. All these, thought the Queen, must be won to our cause.

The boy was clearly overwhelmed by his mother. He would have bowed to her but she would have no ceremony.

‘My son,’ she cried. ‘My dearest son, it makes me so happy to see you. So handsome, so healthy. Oh my dear boy, I am so proud of you!’

Young Edward coloured faintly. He had always admired his mother; she was so beautiful and she had always made it clear that he was the favourite of her children. He had heard it said how patient she was in enduring her humiliations.

He was beginning to understand his father’s way of life and deplored it. He knew that there was trouble in the country because of it and that one day he would be the King. When that time came it would be different. He would make sure of that. He had heard a great deal about his grandfather and he wanted to be like him.

Walter Stapledon, Bishop of Exeter, had talked to him of his duty and had impressed on him that his life must be dedicated to the service of his country. So he was delighted to be with his mother and to ride beside her to Paris. He was not sure how he should feel towards Mortimer. He knew that the Earl had been his father’s prisoner and had escaped from the Tower. But his mother seemed very friendly with him and Mortimer certainly made a great effort to please the young Prince. And even his uncle, the King of France, showed affection for him and told him bow glad he was that his father had agreed that he should come.

On a September day in the Castle of Bois de Vincennes near Paris young Edward paid homage to Charles IV of France in place of his father. It was an impressive ceremony and enacted with a show of amity, but the French King was too wily to stick entirely to his bargain. He might restore Gascony and Ponthieu but he had suffered considerable losses in the action, he complained, and for this reason, he thought it was only fair that he should keep the Agenais.

Isabella and Mortimer looked on with pleasure at the ceremony. The trouble was that now the homage had been paid and the King of France satisfied, there was no longer any reason why the English party should remain in France.

To leave would mean saying good-bye to Mortimer. Moreover if she went back to England Isabella would be in the same position as she had been before.

Of course she must not return and the task now was to gather as many people as possible to their banner, and when they had a considerable army, then would be the time to strike.

There already existed a nucleus of discontented people from England and this grew daily. But it was not an army. Isabella wondered whether her brother would help, but Charles was disenchanted with war and he had no intention of carrying on one in England.

He had offered hospitality to Mortimer because he thought he could supply useful information about England; moreover Mortimer was a declared enemy of Edward so therefore it was wise to have him at hand. Naturally he received his sister who was also Queen of England but he did not expect even her to outstay her welcome.

Mortimer and Isabella realized that although the first part of the mission was accomplished, they had had incredible luck. But now they had to conjure up an army from somewhere. How?

It was true the cause was growing. Many of the people who formed part of their circle could raise men back in England.

The situation grew more and more difficult every day. Even the King was beginning to wonder why the English party did not make preparations to leave.

Isabella and Mortimer had anxious meetings together. They would not be separated. Moreover it would be very dangerous for her to leave now. There were surely spies at court and it might well be that someone had noticed the relationship between them and had reported it to Edward.

‘It would give him an opportunity to be rid of you,’ said Mortimer and added with a shiver: ‘He could accuse you of treason. Time is what we need, my dearest. Time.’

‘Then we must find it,’ replied Isabella firmly. ‘We shall not falter now.’

‘Stapledon has a great influence over young Edward,’ Mortimer pointed out.

Isabella agreed. ‘I am a little concerned about Stapledon,’ she added.

‘He makes it dear that he regards me as a traitor,’ added Mortimer.

‘The old fool. I am going to sound him out. I am determined to discover what is in his mind.’

‘Go carefully.’

‘You may trust me,’ replied Isabella.

‘Edward must have had a high opinion of him to have trusted young Edward to him.’

‘Edward would always put his trust in the wrong people. I will see what can be done with the old Bishop.’

Mortimer agreed. Isabella’s power to fascinate had grown since she had come to France. She had changed from the humiliated Queen who at every turn was shown by her husband how much more attractive he had found his male friends.

Walter Stapledon, Bishop of Exeter, was reckoned to be a man of integrity.

He was learned and a member of the University of Oxford. He was, in fact, the founder of Exeter College which at this time was known as Stapledon Hall. He had taken a great interest in the rebuilding of his cathedral and had spent a part of his income on making it beautiful.

He had gone into politics some years before when Edward the First had sent him on a mission to France. Later he had returned to France, this time with Edward the Second; he had deplored the differences between Lancaster and the King, and had tried to bring about a reconciliation between them; and Edward’s trust in him was shown by his sending his son to France in his care.

The Queen approached him carefully.

‘My lord Bishop,’ she said, ‘how think you my son responds to his responsibilities?’

‘He has done well, my lady,’ answered the Bishop.

‘I am glad you agree with me. It is said that he will be another such as his grandfather. I pray this may be so.’

The Bishop did not meet her eye. He said: ‘There is a resemblance between the Prince and his father and grandfather.’

‘I trust he may be like his grandfather,’ said the Queen firmly.

The Bishop was alert. He had heard rumours. Could it be true that the Queen was engaged in an adulterous liaison with Mortimer? There was that in their manner when they were together to suggest this might be true. Mortimer— a traitor to the King— a man who had escaped from prison where he had been condemned for treachery, and to be received as he was, to be honoured by the Queen and the Court of France― it was a state of affairs which made the Bishop very suspicious.

The Queen went on: ‘My lord, like so many good men you must be saddened by what is happening in England.’

She waited for his response but it did not come and she went on somewhat impatiently: ‘You cannot be happy about the King’s obsession with Hugh le Despenser.’

‘I respect the King’s right to choose his ministers,’ replied the Bishop rather coldly.

‘Ministers, my lord,’ said the Queen rather hotly. ‘Would you call pretty Hugh a minister?’

‘He holds the office of Chamberlain bestowed on him by the King, my lady.’

‘My lord Bishop,’ retorted the Queen, ‘you must not think I should consider it treason if you were to speak your mind.’

‘I can assure you, my lady, that my thoughts are not treasonable.’

The Bishop bowed with dignity and asked leave to retire. She saw at once that she had made a mistake. He was not with them. He had the sort of blind loyalty which told him he must support the King at all cost.

She went at once to Mortimer and told him of the interview, repeating it word for word.

‘He could be dangerous,’ agreed Mortimer. ‘And he will talk to Edward.’

‘My dear love, what can we do about it?’

Mortimer stared into the distance. ‘If he is a danger to our cause, he must be removed.’

‘How?’ whispered the Queen.

‘We must find the answer to that one, my love. It must not appear that we have a hand in it. This is too important a cause to be spoilt by a priest with a misplaced sense of duty.’

Walter Stapledon went to his chamber and shut himself in. It’s true, he thought. The Queen with Mortimer is plotting to overthrow the King. It is for that reason they wanted the Prince here; this is why they will not go back to England but make excuse after excuse to stay.

What could they be planning to do? Raise an army? Invade England? How far was the King of France involved?

And the Queen knew that he was aware of what was happening. She and Mortimer― her paramour― Guilty of disloyalty and adultery― They would stop at nothing. In the moment when he and the Queen had faced each other she knew that she had betrayed her evil schemes to him.

Walter Stapledon, he said, your life is not worth one little groat.

Perhaps even now the assassin was lurking in readiness for him.

He sent for his servant— a man whom he could trust.

‘Have you some of your garments which would not look too ill on me?’

The man stared in astonishment.

‘I will tell you something,’ said the Bishop. ‘I have to get away from the court with all speed. I need a good disguise. Can you procure something― for yourself and for me. Then, my good friend, we will make for the coast with all speed and take ship to England.’

‘If it is your wish, my lord.’

‘It is not only my wish but my need.’

Luck was with the Bishop. He and his servant reached the coast without mishap and quickly found a ship to take them to England.

He went to his lodging and there discarded his disguise and garbed in his bishop’s robes sought an audience with the King.

As might have been expected Hugh le Despenser was with him.

Edward expressed surprise and consternation at the sight of him.

‘My lord Bishop, your mission was with the Prince. Is he with you?’

‘I left the Court of France in a hurry, my lord,’ said the Bishop, ‘and disguised. Had I not done so I should never have been allowed to get away to tell you what is happening there.’

The King was puzzled but Hugh was alert.

‘Pray go on, my lord Bishop,’ he said.

‘My lord, I hesitate to say this. Nor would I if I did not firmly believe it to be truth. The Queen and Mortimer are engaged in an adulterous intrigue.’

‘Mortimer!’ cried the King. ‘Mortimer and Isabella!’

‘It is clear that she had a hand in effecting his escape. They had planned this.

They schemed to get the Prince with them and once they did were more careless than they had been before. They are gathering malcontents and their plots bode no good for you, my lord.’

‘This is wild talk, Bishop,’ said the King.

But Hugh had laid a hand on his arm. ‘It smells of truth, dear lord,’ he said.

‘As you know, I have long suspected the Queen.’

‘What good can she do?’ asked Edward.

‘Is the King of France with her?’ cried Hugh.

‘I know not. As soon as I realized that my suspicions were correct, I thought it my duty to make haste to you. I implied that I would not work with them and for that reason my life was in danger.’

‘It is monstrous!’ cried the King. ‘What can we do?’

‘We must recall the Queen and the Prince without delay,’ said Hugh.

‘Mortimer cannot stand without them.’

‘1 wonder how far it has gone,’ mused Edward.

‘My dear lord,’ replied Hugh, ‘it is nothing which we cannot handle. The King of France will not send men to England. He might help with arms and sympathy, but he will not be able to do anything against the army we shall raise.

But first let us not make it known that we are aware of their villainy. Let us get the Queen and the Prince back. When they are here it will be necessary to restrict the Queen. I doubt the poison has seeped very far into the Prince’s mind.

We must be thankful to my lord Bishop for his loyalty.’

‘My dear Bishop,’ said the King, ‘it shall not be forgotten.’

‘I seek not rewards for my loyalty, my lord,’ said the Bishop with dignity.

‘I know it well,’ replied Edward warmly. ‘I thank God that I have many good friends in my realm on whom I can depend and who will serve me no matter who comes against me.’

On the advice of both Hugh and the Bishop the King that day wrote to the King of France telling him that now that the matter of homage was settled he would be glad of the return of his Queen and son.

The King of France sent for his sister and when she came, he embraced her coolly and said: ‘It is time you went back to England.’

Isabella looked as distressed as she felt.

‘It grieves me to think of returning,’ she said. ‘It has been so wonderful for me to be here in my native country. Life is so different here. If you but knew, brother, what I have had to endure.’

Charles tapped the letter in his hand. ‘Edward reminds me that it is time you returned. You should make your preparations.’

She hesitated. She wanted to tell him of their plans. How so much was going in their favour yet how they needed time.

‘If you do not go,’ went on the King, ‘Edward will think I hold you against your will.’

‘Does he say that?’

‘No. He implies that the reluctance is on your part.’

‘How right he is! Oh Charles, you do not know how I have suffered through those Despensers.’

‘You have mentioned it now and then sister,’ replied Charles with increasing coolness.

Oh God help me, thought Isabella. He is going to send me back.

‘You want me to leave do you?’ she asked bluntly.

‘My dear sister, you have been long here. Your business is settled. It is natural that you should return to your husband.’

‘You mock me. My husband! You know what he is.’

‘You and your son should return to your home.’

‘He asks that you send us, does he? In what terms?’

‘He asks why there is the delay in your returning and mentions that you have been away long enough.’

‘Charles, I am afraid.’

‘You Isabella― afraid! I know you are many things but I am surprised to find you afraid.’

‘They will kill me if I go back,’ she said quietly.

‘Kill you? My sister. They would have to answer to me if they did. I do not think they would wish that.’

‘Charles, it would not seem like murder. But it would be. The Despensers hate me. You know what it was like before I came. I was almost their prisoner.

That is what they wish. Oh, they will not cut off my head. Nor will they give me a dose of poison which immediately removes me― but they will kill me nevertheless. They will imprison me and slowly they will take my life away from me.’

‘Isabella, you over-excite yourself.’

‘Would you not be over-excited brother if you were faced with murderers?

Let me stay here, only a little longer I promise you. I will make plans― but I cannot go back to Edward and the Despensers yet.’

She had fallen to her knees and raised her eyes supplicatingly to his. She was very beautiful and she was his sister and they were the only two left of their father’s children. Charles himself felt none too secure with the Templars curse hanging over him.

He raised her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

‘Do not be so dramatic, Isabella. Certainly, you may stay a little longer. I will write something to Edward. But you must not get up to mischief. Do you understand?’

‘Mischief?’

‘There are rumours. I have heard that you are over-friendly with Roger de Mortimer.’

‘What calumnies! Of course I am friendly with the English here in France.’

‘You have gathered a good many about you.’

‘Indeed why should they not speak with me? They are unhappy about the King even as I am.’

‘I would not wish my court to be the plotting ground.’

‘Dear Charles! You are going to be my good brother. I promise you that I shall make my plans for departure and as soon as I can bring myself to do so I shall leave.’

‘And when you go take your malcontents with you.’

‘And you will write to Edward.’

‘And tell him that your departure has been temporarily postponed but that within a few weeks you will be making your plans to leave.’

The King of France was frowning over a letter he had received from the King of England. A few weeks had passed since he had told Isabella she might remain a little longer, but so far she had said nothing about her departure.

Very dear and beloved brother, wrote Edward, ‘We have received and well considered your letters― It seems that you have been told, dearest brother, by persons whom you consider worthy of credit that our companion, the Queen of England, dare not return to us, being in peril of her life, as she apprehends from Hugh le Despenser. Certes, dearest brother, it cannot be that she can have fear of him, or any other man in our realm. If either Hugh or any other living being in our dominions would wish to do her ill, and it came to our knowledge, we would chastise him in a manner which would be an example to all others― We also entreat you, dearly beloved brother, that you would be pleased to deliver up to us Edward our beloved eldest son, your nephew― We pray you to suffer him to come to us with all speed for we have often sent for him and we greatly wish to see him and speak with him, and every day we long for his return― Charles’s brow was wrinkled. The letter was genuine enough and although he despised Edward as an incompetent ruler, he could not believe he was capable of plotting the murder of his wife. Whereas he could believe of his sister that she was concerned in some mischief.

And whatever it was, he wanted no part in it. He felt weak in health, lacking in vitality; he doubted he would ever get a son and heir. The curse of the Templars sat heavily upon him and he was not going to look for trouble outside his realm.

Isabella would have to take her problems elsewhere.

By the same messenger there were letters for Isabella and young Edward.

Isabella, with Mortimer beside her, read hers aloud.

‘Lady, Oftentimes have we sent to you, both before and after the homage, of our great desire to have you with us, and of our grief at heart at your long absence; and as we understand that you do us great mischief by this, we will that you come to us with all speed and without further excuses.

Before the homage was performed you made the advancement of that business an excuse and now that we have sent by the honourable father, the Bishop of Winchester, our safe conduct to you “you will not come for fear and doubt of Hugh le Despenser” whereat we cannot marvel too much― And, Certes, lady, we know for truth, and so know you, that he has always procured from us all the he could for you, nor to you have either evil or villainy been done since you entered into our comradeship― and we are much displeased, now the homage has been made to our dearest brother, the King of France, and we have much fair prospect of amity, that you, whom we have sent to make the peace, should be the cause (which God forfend) of increasing the breach between us by things which are feigned and contrary to the truth. Wherefore we charge you as urgently as we can, that ceasing from all pretences, delays and false excuses, you will come to us with all the haste you can. Our Bishop has reported to us that our brother, the King of France has told you in his presence “that, by the tenor of your safe conduct, you would not be delayed or molested in coming to us as a wife should to her lord”― Also we require of you that our dear son Edward return to us with all possible speed for we much desire to see him and speak with him― Isabella finished reading and looked in dismay at Mortimer, who said: ‘It is clear that he is becoming anxious.’

‘He will have written to my brother,’ replied Isabella. ‘My dear love, soon it will be impossible for us to remain in France.’

‘And it is equally impossible for you to return to England. We must gather together an army. We must be certain of a good reception when we do return to England. If only we had a few more months.’

‘My brother cannot force me to go.’

‘I fear he can. And he doubtless will if Edward continues to demand your return.’

‘There must be a way,’ cried Isabella. ‘We have come so far we cannot throw everything away now. Moreover in spite of Edward’s protestations, I would not give much for my chances with the Despensers if I returned to England.’

‘Let us not show panic. Let us see what is the effect of the letters Edward will have sent to your brother.’

‘There is something else,’ cried Isabella. ‘He will have written to my son.’

There was silence. ‘I must go to Edward and see what his father has written.

The boy is asking direct questions.’

‘He will not wish to leave you,’ Mortimer assured her. ‘You have cast a spell over him as you have over us all.’

‘It is true that he loves me well, but he is clever. He thinks often of when he will be King.’

‘There is no harm in that. The sooner he is, the better.’

‘Still, Stapledon instilled some filial feeling in him. A curse on that man!

These letters are the direct result of his escape and reporting to the King.’

‘It is done. Let us go on from where we now stand.’

‘You are right, my love. I will go at once to young Edward.’

The young Prince was at that moment reading the letter from his father.

Very dear son, As you are young and of tender age, we remind you of that which we charged and commanded you at your departure from Dover and you answered then, as we know with good will “that you will not trespass or disobey any of our injunctions in any point for any one.” And since that your homage has been received by our dearest brother, the King of France, your uncle, be pleased to take your leave of him and return to us with all speed in company with your mother, if so be that she will come quickly and if she will not come, then come you without further delay, for we have great desire to see you and to speak with you; therefore stay not for your mother, not for anyone else on our blessing― Of course they must return to England, thought Edward. He wondered why his mother waived the matter every time he suggested it. It had been pleasant at the Court of France but he was looking forward to returning home. He would speak to his mother at the earliest possible moment.

He did not have to wait long. As he was putting the letter into a drawer his mother came into the room.

‘Oh Edward, dear son,’ she cried embracing him, ‘did you enjoy the hunt? I hear you brought in a fine buck.’

‘I don’t think I ever saw a finer,’ replied Edward enthusiastically. ‘My lady, I have heard from my father.’

‘So have I.’

She waited and Edward said: ‘He is impatient for my return. He wants us to leave as soon as we possibly can.’

She went to him and slipped her arm through his.

‘Edward, my dearest,’ she said, ‘I have begun to rely on you. I look upon you as my protector. You wouldn’t allow any harm to come to me, would you?’

Edward flushed. ‘I would protect you with my life.’

‘Oh my darling child, what should I have done without you? Mine has not been a happy life you know. Your father and I―’

Edward frowned. He hated to be disloyal to his father. Walter Stapledon had impressed on him that the King was supreme and must always be obeyed. But at the same time he had been taught to protect the weak; and he had sensed that of late he had become very important to his mother and he knew that she spoke the truth when she said she relied on him to be beside her. When he came into a room her eyes sought his at once. An understanding always passed between them. She was saying to him, he fancied, that she felt safe now he was there.

And he replied to her that he would always be at her side if she needed him.

‘This is not easy for me to say, dear Edward. May I proceed?’

‘You must do as you wish, my lady.’

‘You will understand I hope and not think badly of me.’

‘I could never think badly of my beloved mother,’ answered the boy.

‘Then I will speak― but with reluctance. You know there is much discontent in our country.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Your grandfather, whom you so strongly resemble, knew how to keep the barons in order. England needs a strong King, Edward. You are going to be a strong King. I have heard it said that it is a pity you are not older and that the crown is on your head.’

‘But my father has many years before him yet.’

‘Dear love, it is your father of whom I must speak. That is why I hedge and prevaricate because I cannot bring myself to say it.’

The boy was suddenly firm, giving a hint of what he would be when he came to the throne. ‘You must tell me. It is not fitting that I of all people should be kept in ignorance.’

‘So thought I as I wrestled with my conscience. You shall know. Your father is not like your grandfather. Your grandfather was a good and faithful husband.’

‘My father is unfaithful to you!’

She nodded. ‘Not with women. Dear Edward, you must have heard of Gaveston. He was the love of your father’s life while he lived. Those who cared for this country’s well-being took him out to a hill and cut off his head. Then he was replaced by Hugh le Despenser. You are old enough to know what humiliation I suffered.’

‘Oh, my dear mother!’

‘I knew your sympathy would be for me. For years I endured this humiliation. I even forced myself to bear children because I thought it was my duty to provide heirs for the country. Now my life is in danger. If I go back to England, the Despensers will kill me.’

‘They would never dare!’

‘They would do it subtly, as I have tried to explain to my brother. Edward, if we return to England now, in a few months time you will have lost your mother.’

He turned to her and put his arms about her. She embraced him fiercely.

‘You will not let that happen to me, my son.’

‘I would kill any who attempted to harm you.’

‘So thought I. Cursed was I in my husband but blessed am I in my son.

Edward, I have good friends here. You know how they rally round me. Good men all. They knew what was happening in the court. They understand the power of the evil Despensers. I must stay here for as long as I can. Will you bear with me? Will you turn from your father’s pleas?’

‘I swore to obey him.’

‘Yes, dearest son, but it will not be your father whom you are obeying, it will be the evil Despensers. He is in their power. They have woven a spell over him. Trust me, dear son. Trust me― just for a little while and then I will prove to you the truth of all I have told you.’

She leaned against him and wiped her eyes. Edward was overcome with emotion. That his clever, beautiful mother should be so treated was unendurable!

‘You will stand with me, dear Edward,’ she pleaded.

‘Dear Mother,’ answered the boy, ‘I will defend you against all who come against you.’

‘All?’ she asked.

‘All,’ he replied fervently.

‘You have made me so happy,’ she told him, and when she had taken her leave of him went straight to Mortimer.

‘Edward will be with us,’ she said. ‘He will never stand against me.’

‘That is good work,’ said Mortimer. ‘Now let us be patient while we look to the future. We must find some means of raising an army. My spies from England tell me that the country grows more and more angry against the Despensers. If we could land with a reasonable force we should be welcomed.’

‘It will come,’ said Isabella firmly. ‘Meanwhile, as you say, patience.’

FOUR SISTERS OF HAINAULT

It was an uneasy situation, thought the King of France. He was gratified in a way that his brother of England was in an uncomfortable position, but from the first days of the marriage it had been clear that Edward preferred handsome young men to his beautiful wife. Isabella’s French relations had been quite angry about it at the time. They had known of the existence of Gaveston of course but had believed that once the King was married to a beautiful woman like Isabella, that side of his nature would be suppressed.

On the other hand Charles had no wish for his court to be used as the centre of rebellion. He wanted peace and such a situation could so easily erupt into war. Edward was writing more and more letters; they were coming every day.

He was quite dearly growing restive.

In the last one he had referred to Mortimer and there was a hint that Isabella and Mortimer were lovers.

We would wish you to remember, that we have at different times signified to you by letters, how improperly your sister, our wife, has conducted herself in withdrawing from us and refusing to return at our command, while she so notoriously has attached her company and consorts with our traitor and mortal enemy, the Mortimer― That could mean one thing. Isabella and Mortimer were carrying on an adulterous intrigue in his court.

Edward was growing more and more determined and, doubtless on the advice of the Despensers, had informed the Pope of the most unsatisfactory state of affairs. The result of this was that the Pope had written to Charles— he would never have dared to write to Charles’s father so, but the monarchy had grown debilitated since Jacques de Molai had been burned to death and uttered the Curse— declaring that excommunication would be considered if he kept his sister at his court where it was rumoured she was living in adultery with Roger de Mortimer.

This frightened Charles. Excommunication allied to the curse would be the end of him.

He would write to Isabella. He knew her wiles too well to try to convey what he must do verbally.

Accordingly Isabella received a note from her brother in which he commanded her to leave his kingdom without delay or he would be forced to make her go.

She was filled with rage when she read her brother’s command. That he should behave so to her and not even see her, shocked her deeply.

‘I do not believe he will force me out,’ she said to Mortimer. ‘He would never have the courage. He is getting weaker every day. I have a feeling my brother will not last very long.’

‘The Pope is threatening him with excommunication.’

‘Let him threaten. We will delay a while yet.’

During the following evening Isabella received a visitor. It was her cousin Robert d’Artois. He came in great haste and wished to speak to her urgently and privately.

No sooner were they alone than he said: ‘I come to warn you, fair lady.

There is a plot to take you and the young Prince prisoner and to send you back to England without delay.’

‘You mean my brother―’

Robert nodded. ‘I could not resist my desire to come and tell you, though it would cost me my life doubtless if the King knew I had done this. He has said that the only way to avoid trouble is to force you to leave. You are therefore to be put in restraint and sent back to England.’

‘When?’ she asked.

‘Tomorrow. You have little time.’

‘Oh Robert, how can I thank you for this?’

‘You know I would serve you with my life.’

She put her arms about him and for a moment he held her in a passionate embrace.

‘Dearest cousin,’ he said, ‘you know full well what you mean to me, and have for some time.’

‘You have always shown yourself a friend―’

‘A friend― a mild way of describing my feelings! I know Mortimer has your heart and you his. But my feelings for you are so deep, and so tender that I will say to you, Fly― Fly with him now. Tomorrow may be too late. Make for one of the independent states. There you may well find refuge until you can gather together the army you need.’

‘Oh, my cousin, how can I thank you?’

‘It is I who thank you for allowing me to serve you.’

Such devotion was stimulating.

She went at once to Mortimer. They must not hesitate, she said.

They would go during the night, replied Mortimer. She, he and young Edward, with as many of their friends as they could muster. The rest could follow.

That night they crept quietly to the stables and fled from the Court of France, making their way towards the province of Hainault.

They had not ridden far from Paris when they were joined by the rest of their company who had been warned of her flight and had come to join her. All agreed that it would be safest for them to get as quickly out of France as possible and it was with great relief that they crossed the border into Hainault.

Weary with the day’s riding and feeling now that they could afford to rest awhile, they came to the town of Ostrevant and stopped at a house which proved to belong to a knight named Sir Eustace d’Ambreticourt. When he realized that the lady was the Queen of England he was overcome with the honour of meeting her and he and his family insisted that she rest in their house with the few of her followers whom they could accommodate and lodging should be bund for the rest within the town.

Isabella was delighted with such hospitality. How different, she said to Mortimer, from the way in which we were treated in France!

‘Ah, my love,’ laughed Mortimer, ‘we were well received by your brother until we stayed too long. But I agree the welcome of this simple knight warms my heart.’

Sir Eustace said that he must inform the Count of Hainault that he had such august visitors for he was sure that the Count would wish to greet the guests.

The Count’s response was to send his brother to meet the party and offer them the hospitality of his castle. It was thus that Isabella first met Sir John Hainault.

Sir John was young, romantic, idealistic and eager to prove himself a chivalrous knight, and here was a lady in distress. And what a beautiful one!

Isabella quickly summed up his nature and decided to appear feminine and pathetic. She played her part well and he was overcome with the desire to serve her.

‘It is so good of you to come to me thus and offer such kindness,’ she told him. ‘I have been treated harshly of late where I would expect to have received love and understanding.’

‘My lady,’ cried Sir John, ‘rest assured that you will know nothing but warmth and affection in this land.’

Isabella allowed the tears to show becomingly in her beautiful eyes. Sir John saw them and was most distressed.

‘Lady,’ he declared, ‘you see before you a knight who swears he will do everything in his power to aid you. He will not hesitate to the in your service.

Though everyone else should forsake you I will be there.’

This was fulsome devotion on such a brief acquaintance but Isabella knew that Sir John in his youthful exuberance meant what he said. It was gratifying and she felt better than she had since she had discovered her brother really meant to turn her out of his court.

Sir John went on: ‘Lady, you can rely on me. I will help you back to England with your son when you wish to go. When I have stated your case to my brother, he will give you men and arms, I am sure. He will want to help you― even as I do. I will risk my life in adventure for your sake. I promise you, you will have no need to fear either the King of France or the King of England.’

The Queen rose from her chair and so overcome with delight was she that she would have cast herself on her knees at the feet of Sir John, but with a horrified gesture he prevented her from doing so.

‘God forbid that you should kneel to me, Madam. Be of good cheer. My promise to you stands firm. My brother will listen to you. He has expressed admiration for you many times. I will take you to him and present you to his Countess and their children.’

The Queen wiped her eyes. ‘You are kinder to me than I dreamed any could be. You have shown me goodness of heart and courtesy. I promise you, this I shall never forget. My son and I will be eternally grateful to you and we shall ask you to help us govern England as it should be governed.’

They talked awhile and it was clear that the young man was completely overwhelmed by the charm and beauty of the Queen and meant what he said when he declared again and again that he would the in her cause.

He was eager to take her to his brother and she said a grateful farewell to Sir Eustace d’Ambreticourt, telling him that when she returned to England she wanted him to come there and bring his family and she would see that they were entertained right royally.

She then rode out with Sir John who took her to the court of his brother Count William of Holland and Hainault. There with his wife the Countess Jeanne who was the daughter of Charles of Valois, a son of Philip III of France and therefore related to Isabella, he received the company very warmly and took great pleasure in presenting Isabella to his four young daughters, Margaret, Philippa, Joanna and Isabel. They were rosy-cheeked, merry, typically Flemish girls, homely, skilled in domestic arts and charmingly innocent.

When Isabella proudly presented Edward the girls dropped curtsies to him and Isabella was immediately struck by the lack of formality in the family.

Edward was approaching fifteen years old— an outstandingly handsome boy, already tall for his age, long-legged, fair-haired and blue-eyed.

The girls, the eldest of whom was about his own age and the youngest not so much younger for they had quickly followed each other in getting born, were clearly intrigued by such a handsome boy and Edward was amused by them and their efforts to please him.

The Countess was eager to show that they could entertain their guests at Hainault as lavishly as they could in France which she remembered as a girl and a great many feasts, banquets and general entertainments were given.

Meanwhile Edward was left a great deal with the four girls. They rode together, played games, introduced each other to the customs of their countries and it was an enjoyable time for them all. Edward felt he had been lifted out of the fearful doubts which beset him. He knew that his mother was working against his father. He loved her dearly but he was uneasy; and to rest awhile in the rather simple but honest court of Hainault, where the Count and Countess were devoted to each other and their four merry daughters had no conception of family conflict, was for him a wonderful respite.

Of the four girls Edward selected Philippa as his favourite but he was too polite to show his preference. However when they rode out into the forest together he did contrive to get Philippa to himself.

‘Let us lose the others,’ he said.

Philippa’s habitually rosy cheeks were a shade deeper. ‘Do you think we can?’ she asked.

‘If you would wish it,’ answered Edward. ‘Would you?’

‘Oh yes,’ she cried, too honest to say anything but the truth.

‘Follow me,’ he told her.

He heard her high-pitched laugh as he spurred his horse. She obeyed and very soon they had galloped away and had come to a clearing in the forest. He pulled up and they were silent for a moment, smiling at each other.

‘Are you glad we came here?’ asked Edward.

‘Oh yes. It was so dull before you did. Do you find it dull here, Edward?’

‘Not when I am with you.’

She blushed charmingly and smiled at him shyly. ‘Do you really mean that?

But you must, must you not, since you say it? You mean the others as well, I suppose. Margaret is much cleverer than I and Joanna and Isabel prettier.’

‘That is quite untrue,’ he answered.

She looked astonished and he realized that she had really meant it, and was finding it hard to accept the fact that he really preferred her to her sisters.

‘What strikes me most about you,’ he told her, ‘is your honesty. Do you never say what you do not mean?’

‘What would be the point of that?’ she asked. ‘Speech is to express what we feel.’

‘I like you, Philippa,’ he said. ‘You are different from other people. I begin to fear that I live in a world of deceit.’

He was frowning. He could not tell innocent Philippa that he believed Mortimer was his mother’s lover and that his father had treated her badly because he would surround himself with favourites whom he loved better than he loved her.

‘What do you mean, Edward?’ asked Philippa, but he shook his head.

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It is too beautiful a morning to talk of such things.

Tell me about your childhood here. It was a happy one, I know. Your father and mother love you and each other dearly.’

‘But of course. We are all one family.’

He felt an impulse to lean forward and kiss her which he did.

She drew back blushing a little.

‘I like you so much,’ he explained.

‘I like you too, Edward.’

‘As a girl,’ he went on, ‘you will have to leave your home and marry one day.’

Her brow clouded. ‘I know my parents think of it sometimes. I heard my father say to my mother that she wanted to keep us all children forever.’

‘And do you want to stay a child forever?’

She was thoughtful. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not now. Besides it would be no use, would it? I dare swear one day I shall have to go away. Margaret will go first because she is the eldest.’

‘Boys are more fortunate, especially heirs to crowns. They do not have to leave their countries.’

‘No. You will stay in England and your bride will come to you. But she will have to leave her home of course. She will not mind that, though.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know she won’t mind once she sees you.’

‘Philippa, would you mind?’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I should be glad.’

Then she feared she had said too much for his eyes had taken on a deeper shade of blue and he was smiling.

It seemed as though there was a sudden silence in the forest. Then Philippa said: ‘You will be a King and a King of England. They will have to find you a very grand princess to be your Queen.’

His mouth was firm and his shining eyes rested on her as he said: ‘I shall choose my own.’

Philippa was a little afraid. Instinct warned her that she should not be alone here with the Prince. Her mother would say it was wrong for her to allow herself to be led away. She had always obeyed her mother.

Instinctively she turned away, urging her horse forward. Edward walked his horse beside her and soon they were out of the clearing.

Before they returned to the castle they had joined the rest of the party.

The Queen knew that she could not stay too long even when offered such hospitality. The Count and Countess treated her like an honoured guest and Sir John hovered adoringly, but, as she said to Mortimer, they must move on.

However, she had a notion that coming to Hainault was going to prove one of the best courses they could have taken. She was going to speak to the Count of her predicament but first she would confer with Sir John. Sir John was only too delighted to enjoy a tête-á-tête with her, and posing as the pathetic lady in distress— which was the role in which he liked her best, she fancied she gave him a long account of her sufferings during her life with Edward and how it had come to the point when she could endure it no longer. He turned pale with horror when she mentioned the fear she had of the wicked Despensers and how she believed that if she set foot in England that would be an end of her.

‘You must not go back without adequate protection,’ he declared.

‘You are right of course, my dear good friend, but how can I find that protection?’

‘I will go with you.’

‘You are so good to me, but one man alone, however valiant, could not save me.’

‘I shall not go alone. I shall take an army with me.’

Isabella’s heart leaped in triumph. ‘You would do that?’

‘It would be my joy and my privilege.’

‘An army―’ she began.

‘Yes, an army to join your own. We would march on Westminster and force the King to offer up those despicable men. I shall not rest until we have their heads for I see that you will be unsafe while they live.’

‘I cannot believe anyone could be so good to me as you are.’

‘You will see,’ he promised. ‘You will see.’

‘Do you realize, my dear Sir John, that this means going to a foreign country and fighting someone’s else’s cause?’

‘It is fighting your cause, my dear lady, and I ask nothing better than that.’

‘You would have to have your brother’s consent.’

‘Fear not, I shall speak to him.’

Her heart sank. This was a romantic young man. His brother, the more mature Count who controlled Sir John and his armies, might not consent.

‘Do you think he will agree?’

‘I shall beg and implore him and continue to do so until he becomes so weary of my importunings that he will be glad to be rid of me.’

‘Oh how I thank God for throwing me into your path.’

He kissed her hand. He would go at once to his brother, he said, and tell him that he proposed to go to England with her in order to set her son on the throne and depose that Edward who had lost the confidence of his people― and most heinous sin of all had ill-treated the most wonderful woman in the world.

While he was sympathetic, the Count was far from enthusiastic at the project.

‘My dear brother,’ he said, ‘you are proposing to go into a foreign country and embark on a war which is really no concern of yours.’

‘The fact that Edward of England has ill-treated a lady is surely of concern to any knight.’

‘You are young and romantic,’ replied the Count. ‘That is not good politics.’

‘What would you suggest I do?’

‘Escort the lady to the coast. Wish her well. Offer her friendship but not an army.’

‘I could not do that.’

‘You cannot involve Hainault in English affairs.’

‘It is not a matter of politics. It is one of chivalry.’

‘Oh, brother, I fancy the Queen of England is a very astute lady. She will know how to look after herself. No, I cannot give you permission to take an army to England.’

‘ I should raise that army. It would be my responsibility.’

‘You are my brother, remember. No, I could not give my consent.’

Sir John’s lips were stubborn. For the first time there was a coolness between him and his brother. The Count thought: If I do not give my consent, he will act without it. That much is certain.

Isabella, knowing that the interview had taken place, was eager to know the result. She waylaid Sir John and was immediately struck by his dismal looks.

‘You have spoken to your brother?’ she asked anxiously.

Sir John nodded gloomily. ‘He is against it. Oh, believe me, he has the utmost sympathy for your predicament. He would do a great deal to help you―’

‘But his generosity would stop at sending an army.’

‘That is what he says. But I do not despair. I shall persuade him―’

‘And if he will not agree―’

He kissed her hand. ‘I should never desert you,’ he answered.

Isabella sought an opportunity of talking to the Count alone, but she did not mention the fact that his brother had spoken to him.

She said: ‘It has been a great pleasure to rest awhile under your roof, Count, and do you know what has pleased me as much as anything? It is to see the friendship which has sprung up between our children. Edward is quite enchanted by your delightful daughters and I fancy they are not displeased with him.’

The Count was alert. He had a great respect for Isabella’s strategies. ‘He is a charming boy. Handsome, tall, strong and of noble character. That much is clear.’

‘It is gratifying,’ she answered, ‘to perceive these qualities in the heir to a great crown.’

‘He is indeed kingly in his bearing.’

‘I am eager that he should make a good marriage,’ went on the Queen, ‘and by that I mean a happy one. I shall never forget my own arrival in a strange country and what was revealed to me when I came.’ She shuddered. ‘I want Edward to have a little choice when it comes to his marrying. I would like him to have met his bride first and found that he was fond of her before the ceremony.’

The Count’s heart had begun to beat fast. Was she suggesting one of his daughters might be Queen of England? It was a dazzling prospect. He and Jeanne wanted good marriages for their girls but happy ones at the same time and it was clear that all four girls were already a little enamoured of the handsome Edward.

He came straight to the point: ‘My lady, do you mean that you would consider one of my daughters as a bride for your son?’

‘That was what was in my mind,’ answered Isabella. ‘I believe you would consider it a worthy match.’

‘I will not pretend, my lady, that I should not have thought of looking so high. I have heard however that the King of England is in progress of arranging a match for the Prince with Aragon.’

‘What the King arranges will be of no moment when justice is done. It is I who will decide whom my son shall marry. When I take an army to England my aim will be to remove the villain Despensers from the King and if he protests, then it will be my duty to my son and to England to transfer the crown from the worthless father to the worthy son. Oh rest assured, my lord Count, it will not be Edward, at present King of England, who will decide whom my son shall marry.

I shall do that. My son will listen to me, not his father; and if the lady is one of his choice― believe me, there will be no difficulty.’

‘I confess,’ said the Count, ‘that your suggestion has taken me by surprise.’

The Queen bowed her head. Indeed it must have done. The future King of England to marry the daughter of a Count of Hainault! But anything― anything for an army.

‘I should like to discuss this with the Countess,’ went on the Count. ‘She has always been most concerned about our girls’ future.’

‘Do so,’ said Isabella. ‘But remember that this happy state of affairs could only come about if I were successful in ridding the country of the Despensers.’

She did not add: And by deposing the King and setting my son on the throne.

But that was what she meant.

The Count hurried to his wife and they discussed the matter long into the night.

‘There would never be such another opportunity,’ said the Count.

The Countess agreed. ‘Moreover,’ she added, ‘the girls are all of them already enamoured of Edward. He is a most attractive boy. I confess I should be very proud for him to become our son-in-law. And then― the crown of England.’

‘What if the Queen’s attempts to depose the King should fail?’

‘If she had enough men to go against him why should she fail? You know how matters stand in England. Our friend there tell us that people are turning against the King every day.’

‘Yes, but they are really against the Despensers. If he sent them away―’

‘He never will. The weaker he grows the more he relies on them.’

‘But to be involved in a war against England― for that what it amounts to!’

The Countess was astute. ‘There is a way,’ she said. ‘You could provide the army without being personally involved.’

‘How so?’

The Queen of England wishes her son to marry one of our girls. We agree to this. You will provide the dowry which will be enough for the Queen to raise an army among our people. Then― if aught should go wrong you have merely supplied a dowry not an army.’

The Count looked at his wife with admiration.

‘It is the answer,’ he said. They were silent for a while, both thinking how glorious it would be on the day when one of the girls became the Queen of England.

‘It must be Margaret,’ said the Countess firmly. ‘She is the eldest and it is fitting that she should be the first to be married.’

‘It shall be as you say,’ replied the Count.

Isabella and Mortimer were overjoyed. The opportunity had come at last.

‘Oh what a blessing,’ cried Isabella, ‘that the Count of Hainault has four marriageable daughters!’

Sir John was ecstatically happy because the matter had been so cleverly arranged, and immediately set about getting army together.

The fact that the dowry provided by the Count enabled this to be paid for was not mentioned and neither Edward nor the girls realized that marriage had been discussed.

They carried on meeting frequently and often Philippa and Edward managed to slip away undetected when they were riding with a party.

He told her a great deal about his youth and that there was trouble at home now because of a conflict between his father and mother. Philippa was most sympathetic. She could imagine how distressing that must be. He said he would like to show her England and that when he went home and all the trouble was over he would insist on her coming there. He would enjoy showing her his country.

‘You will be King of it one day,’ she said, her blue eyes wide with a kind of wondering admiration.

‘I shall have to wait until my father dies. I mean to be a great King, Philippa.

I am going to be like my grandfather―’

He stopped, remembering that he was repeating what had been said to him so often and that it was disloyal towards his father. Philippa immediately understood. She and her sisters had become very interested in England since Edward and his mother had come to Hainault and they asked a great many questions about England. They had gleaned that there was something unusual about the King of England but they did not know what.

‘He is not like your father,’ the Countess had said firmly and left it at that; but she had implied that there must be something very wrong with someone who was so emphatically not like their father.

With Sir John’s exuberance and the determination of the Queen and Roger de Mortimer the army was ready in a very short time.

The day came when they must leave.

The four girls, all saddened by the departure of the young Prince, stood beside their mother as the Queen took a fond farewell of them and said that she would never, never forget the kindness she had received from the Count and her dear cousin in her hour of need. She embraced the girls and at last it was Edward’s turn.

He stood before them, startlingly handsome, looking as some noted; already a king.

He took leave of the Count and Countess and then turned to the rosy- cheeked girls.

He was telling them how much he had enjoyed his stay with them, how he would never forget their kindness, when he saw that the tears in Philippa’s eyes had started to flow down her cheeks; and then suddenly before she could stop herself she was, sobbing bitterly.

The Prince went to her and laid his hands on her shoulders.

‘Do not weep, little Philippa,’ he said, but she had covered her face with her hands. Then he said: ‘Look at me.’

She lowered her hands and he said: ‘We shall meet again. I promise you.’

The Countess had laid her arm about her daughter’s shoulders while the Queen thought how informal they were in Hainault. She was glad that Philippa had been so overcome. It was most affecting.

But she was eager to be away.

She had her armies― two of them― the English contingent led by Mortimer and the men of Hainault by Sir John. She was all set for conquest.

THE QUEEN’S TRIUMPH

THE Queen and her armies had arrived at Dort where they embarked on the ships which were waiting for them.

With Mortimer beside her the Queen watched the loading of the ships; the wind caught her hair and with the bush of triumph in her cheeks she had never seemed so beautiful.

‘Gentle Mortimer,’ she said, ‘I have a feeling that God is with us this day.

So much for which I have longed has come to pass. Thank God for Edward who shortly will be our King.’

‘And whose betrothal to one of the giggling Flemish girls has given us our armies.’

‘Forget not, dear Mortimer, that one day one of those girls will be the Queen of England.’

‘You are the cleverest woman on earth as well as the most beautiful.’

‘And you are the wisest man on earth, Mortimer, for joining with me.’

Mortimer left her to supervise his army. The Prince was with him and Sir John was similarly engaged.

Soon they were sailing away and the coast of Holland was lost from sight.

Alas, a storm arose and some of the ships were badly battered. Then the Queen was terrified that the elements were going to destroy all her well-laid plans. She prayed to God not to desert her now. For hours the storm raged delaying their journey— there were moments when she believed this was the end. But her joy was overwhelming when she at last beheld the coast of England and she went on deck and looked about her. She saw at once that many of the ships had suffered considerable damage, and some of them had actually been smashed to pieces by the fearful tempest. It now remained to get ashore and assess the damage in detail.

It was noon when she had glimpsed the coast but midnight before everything was brought ashore. Although some men and arms had been lost a considerable force remained. Her knights and attendants made a tent for her from carpets and they lighted a fire for her to warm herself. The wind was strong and it was an uncomfortable night but she was relieved to hear from Mortimer and Sir John that the damage and loss had been less than they had at first feared.

As soon as day broke they were anxious to move from the windy shore and in a short time they were in the town of Harwich where Isabella’s brother-in-law, Edward’s half-brother Thomas of Brotherton, came to greet her.

She had always been on very friendly terms with Edward’s half-brothers, Edmund of Kent and Thomas of Brotheron; their French mother, Edward the First’s second wife Marguerite, was of course closely related to Isabella.

Marguerite had brought up her boys to observe certain French customs and this meant that there had been an immediate rapport between them and Isabella.

At times like this that was very apparent and it was fortunate for her that they were more ready to be on her side than on Edward’s. Moreover, like so many people in England they were with anyone who was against the Despensers.

The news of her arrival spread through the countryside, She was the wronged wife of a pervert King, it was said; she had flown from England out of fear of the wicked Despensers who had bewitched the King even as Gaveston― of evil repute― had done. They rallied to her banner; not only the common people but the barons who had for a long time been determined to take the first opportunity of getting rid of the King’s favourite.

Adam of Orlton, Bishop of Hereford, who had done so much to help Roger de Mortimer escape the Tower, was overjoyed when he heard of the arrival of the Queen and her army. He had been living uneasily in England, protected only by his calling; and he knew that if the King and his friends ever had a chance of taking revenge on him they would seize it, Now that the Queen had arrived with her army that chance even receded even farther.

He set out to meet Isabella, to assure her of his devotion, which was unnecessary really; he had shown that when he had so ably assisted Mortimer’s escape.

He was received with affection by the Queen and Mortimer and the very next day preached a sermon in their presence to which the people flocked so that the church was filled to overflowing and the people crowded into the porch and at the windows to hear him.

He took the opportunity of thundering against the King and took his subject from the fourth chapter of the second book of Kings when the man complained of the sickness in his head and shortly after died.

‘When the head of a kingdom becometh sick and full of disease,’ thundered Adam, ‘it must be taken off and it is useless to resort to other remedies.’

The congregation listened in awed silence. The Queen glanced at Mortimer who was smiling quietly. The Prince was anxious but he now fully believed that what his father was doing was against the good of England and each day he was becoming more and more sure of his destiny.

He believed now that what was good for England must be done, and here was a Holy Bishop in his pulpit confirming all that he had learned from his mother.

It was sad. It was tragic. But it was right.

The King was in the palace of the Tower of London when news was brought to him of the Queen’s arrival in England with one army led by Roger de Mortimer and another by John of Hainault.

And they came against him!

He sent at once for Hugh. He had never seen Hugh so disturbed before.

Hugh had always comforted him, refusing to believe in harm, always seeing the bright side of life. It was one quality Edward especially loved about him.

‘They will not succeed,’ cried Hugh. ‘We will raise an army.’

‘How?’ asked his father.

‘We will do it,’ insisted Hugh. ‘First we must get away from here. The Londoners have always disliked you and loved the Queen. Once the news reaches London it will be too late.’

Although it was a mild September day it was chilly as always in the Tower and yet the sweat was on Edward’s brow and there was a terrible fear within him. They were going to take Hugh away from him. He would never allow that.

He would accept anything rather than that.

He turned to Hugh with appealing eyes. ‘We must stay together,’ he said.

‘So shall we, my lord. But we shall have to leave London without delay.’

‘The children―’ began Edward.

His son John of Eltham and his two daughters Eleanor and Joanna were in their apartments in this very Tower. Could they take them with them?

Hugh shook his head. ‘My wife will take charge of them,’ he said. ‘We should escape and as soon as possible.’

‘And what of London? Who will defend it?’

‘Good Bishop Stapledon has shown himself a friend to us. Let us leave him here to hold the City for you.’

‘Excellent,’ cried Edward. ‘Let that be done.’

‘I suggest,’ said the elder Despenser, ‘that we make for Bristol. Then, if the need should arise we can take ship to Ireland.’

‘It must be so, I suppose,’ sighed the King. ‘Who would have believed it possible that my own Queen should so turn against me!’

‘She was always jealous of me,’ replied Hugh.

‘But she did not appear to mind. She was always so ready to be with me―’

‘We did not realize, my lord, that we had a she-wolf in our midst.’

‘And she has Edward with her! That I find hard to bear.’

‘She has John of Hainault and Mortimer―’

‘That traitor! There shall be a price on his head. Oh God, why did I not have that head when I had a chance to take it?’

Edward sighed and looked back over a reign of lost opportunities but there was no time for regrets now. The Earls of Arundel and Hereford had arrived at the Tower. They had come to warn the King.

‘I have some friends left then,’ said Edward.

They agreed that the best plan was to leave London with all haste and make for Bristol.

It was impossible to keep the departure a secret and very soon it was being whispered throughout the streets of London that the King had fled and the Queen was on the way.

The streets were full of shouting people. ‘Down with the King! Down with the Despensers! Long live the Queen and Prince Edward!’

There was no doubt that, to a man, London was for the Queen.

Walter Stapledon was deeply disturbed by the shouts he heard in the streets of London and was making his way towards the Tower, the custody of which the King had left to him. He was wondering whether the royal children there would be safe in charge of Hugh le Despenser’s wife and thought that perhaps she had not been a good choice. Anyone connected with the Despensers would be unpopular with the mob.

He intended to fortify the Tower lest the Londoners should attempt to take it. He must act quickly.

As he was hurrying along he heard his name spoken.

He shivered. Someone had recognized him. He quickened his pace but he realized that he was being followed.

‘Stapledon,’ he heard. ‘The King’s Bishop! He spied on the Queen.’

He was in the midst of his enemies. He hurried through an alley and changed direction. He would make for St Paul’s and sanctuary. If the mob were aroused against him it would be the end.

But he was too late. They were all around him.

‘It is the traitor Bishop,’ they jeered. ‘Dear friend of Edward and the Despensers. We know what to do with such like, do we not, even if he be a Bishop?’

He heard the ribald laughter; he saw the leering faces― he was conscious of the merciless mob.

Someone tore at his cloak. In a few seconds they had his shirt from his back.

He was naked before their jeering eyes.

‘There stands a spy and a traitor to our lady the Queen.’

He felt the stab of a knife piercing his flesh. The blood was trickling down his face and he was swaying before them.

He fell and they kicked him; they trampled over him; vaguely he could hear their jeering voices. ‘Spy! Enemy! Friend of the minions― Bishop or not he must die―’

He believed he was praying but he was not sure. But he did know that he was dying. They meant to kill him but not too quickly. They wanted first their sport. They were dragging him along the ground. His body was mangled and cut in places. Obscenity was in the air. Were they speaking of him? What did it matter what they did to him? He was slowly slipping away.

‘He’s finished,’ said a voice in the crowd.

‘What shall we do with him now― our fine Bishop?’

‘We’ll carve him up and send his head to the Queen― a gift from the loyal people of London. Would we had the Despenser here.’

So they marched to the Tower carrying the bleeding head of the Bishop and there they demanded that Prince John and the two Princesses be given into their care to be sent to join the Queen.

This was a token of London’s love for that lady.

The messengers were brought to Isabella in the castle of Gloucester, one of them carried the head of Walter Stapledon.

Isabella stared at it and remembered how the owner of that head had refused to join her in Paris and had slipped away to report her deeds to the King. ‘His just reward,’ she said.

‘With the compliments of the people of London, my lady,’ said one of the messengers.

‘Return to them and tell them that I love them even as they have shown they love me.’

The messenger bowed and left.

Another messenger was brought to her. He told her that the people of London had released her children from the Tower and because they believed she would wish to have them with her, they had sent them to Gloucester.

‘My blessings on them,’ she cried. ‘Let my children be brought to me.’

She embraced them fiercely. It seemed so long since she had seen them: ten-year-old John, eight-year-old Eleanor and five year-old Joanna. They clung to her for they had been frightened by everything that had been happening. Their father had gone away suddenly and left them and there had been a great deal of shouting outside the Tower before people had burst in. Then they had been told that they were being taken to their mother.

‘It is my friends who have brought you here, my darlings,’ cried the Queen.

‘There. All is well now. You shall see your brother Edward, for he is here with me.’

‘When shall we see our father?’ asked John.

‘Of that we cannot be sure,’ answered their mother glibly. ‘Never mind, you are safe with me now.’

Joanna was ready to be happy but the two elder ones were uneasy, thinking of their father. He had been strange when he and Hugh had gone away and he had told them to do all that Lady le Despenser told them to; and Lady le Despenser had been crying a great deal so they knew that something was wrong.

John had comforted the little girls and told them that it would be all right when they saw Edward, and they were going to see Edward now.

At the moment they could not help being overawed by their beautiful mother who had suddenly grown so fond of them though she had never taken much notice of them before. All her attention had been for Edward. But they forgot that now. It was pleasant to be embraced by her and made much of and told how glad she was to have them with her.

They were presented to Roger de Mortimer and Sir John of Hainault, both of whom smiled affectionately at them and made as though they were delighted to see them. So they had suddenly become important which was very gratifying.

Delighted by the arrival of the children and the head of the Bishop of Exeter, Isabella was anxious to show the Londoners her appreciation.

She told Mortimer that she intended to appoint a new governor of the Tower and a Mayor of London and she believed he would approve of the choice.

‘You remember the two merchants who were so helpful when you escaped from the Tower?’

‘Indeed I do. I don’t think we could have managed so well without them.’

‘Adam arranged it of course.’

‘Ah yes, a good friend Adam, but we do owe a good deal to de Bettoyne and de Gisors.’

‘So thought I. That is why I have decided to appoint de Gisors Constable of the Tower and de Bettoyne Mayor of London.’

‘An excellent choice,’ smiled Mortimer.

‘It will show them that I remember those who serve me well,’ murmured Isabella.

Edward, accompanied by young Hugh, retired to the Castle of Bristol leaving old Hugh and the Earl of Arundel to hold the City for him.

There was not a hope that Bristol would resist the invading forces of the Queen. The people had no wish to. Like the rest of the country they were against the King.

So the Queen’s army was welcomed and the people came out to cheer the troops as they marched through the streets with Roger de Mortimer at their head.

When he discovered that old Hugh was in the town he was delighted. Now had the time come to settle old scores.

‘There must be no delay,’ he said. ‘Despenser and Arundel with him must be tried and sentenced immediately.’

The Queen agreed with him and the two men were brought before her and the barons, at the head of whom were Mortimer and Sir John of Hainault, for she said that they must be judged according to their deeds.

Sir Hugh lifted his head high and met her gaze unflinchingly.

‘Ah, my lady,’ he said quietly, ‘God grant us an upright judge and a just sentence. And if we cannot find it in this world, we may find it in another.’

Death was imminent, he knew, for he could not expect pity from either the Queen or her lover. The fact that he was a man of sixty-four did not move them in the least. He was one of the Despensers loathed by the Queen and the country. He had been avaricious, it was true, but he had tried to do what he thought was right for the country providing it did not interfere with his personal gain. He was not a good man, not a great man; he had committed sins; but there were many who prospered and were more deserving of death than he was.

This was what he wanted to tell his judges, but they were not interested in his defence. They had determined at the start of his brief trial to prove him guilty.

They did and he and Arundel were sentenced to the cruel death which it had become the custom to bestow on traitors. They believed right to the end that their nobility would save them from that barbarous end and beheading be substituted. But this was not to be.

There should be no mercy for a Despenser and those who upheld them, decreed the Queen and Mortimer.

So the two men were taken out and hanged, drawn and quartered.

The Queen was exultant. ‘There is one Despenser the less,’ she said.

‘And still one to suffer a similar fate,’ replied Mortimer grimly.

Edward in Bristol Castle was almost mad with grief and fear.

Hugh from a window in the castle had heard the shouts of the people. He had seen the body of his father dangling on a rope and he knew what tortures followed.

He felt sick with grief. He and his father had worked together all their lives; they had revelled in each other’s triumphs and commiserated with each other’s failures. And to think of that revered old man in the hands of his rough executioners was more than his son could bear.

Edward tried to comfort him, but there was no comfort for Hugh.

What there was, was the awful realization that very soon they would come for him and he knew well that a similar fate awaited him.

Edward clung to him in terror. ‘Hugh, they have done that to your father! Oh they are devils! They will burn in hell for this. Your dear, dear father―’

Hugh said quietly, ‘They will come here seeking me and you will see that they will do the same to me.’

‘No,’ cried Edward shrilly. ‘I would never allow it. I should forbid it. They would have to listen to me― the King.’

Hugh looked at him sadly. He thought: They will never listen to you again, poor Edward. This can be the end of you and if it is for you it is for me also.

But they were not taken yet, though it could only be a matter of hours before their enemies came. They would watch the hideous spectacle of his father’s execution and then they would come to take him and make him the next chief actor in their grisly performance.

He stood up suddenly. ‘There is time yet. Edward we must not stay here.

They will march on the castle. It may be they are preparing to do so now. We must get away.’

‘Where to?’ asked Edward. ‘You mean just the two of us? Oh where are all my loyal friends? There must be some of them left.’

‘My father is dead. Arundel is dead. And they died cruelly. No, Edward, we have no one but ourselves. We must get away. There is a boat on the shore.

Perhaps we could go to Lundy.’

‘To Lundy, yes. To Lundy. We shall be safe there, Hugh.’

‘Come then. There is not a moment to lose. Take a thick cloak. You may need it. Stop for nothing more. It may be that they are already at the castle gates.’

Swiftly and silently they made their way out of the castle and came to the shore.

The boat was there. They got in and Hugh seized the oars. The strong wind caught at their hair but they were free.

‘To Lundy!’ cried Edward. ‘Once there we will make plans. Perhaps we can escape to France. Oh, this will not last, dear Hugh. The people will turn against that she-wolf whom I made my wife. My son Edward would never work against me.’

Hugh did not remind the King that young Edward was with his mother and had come with her to Bristol. It might be that the boy would turn against such perfidy in time, but at the moment he was under the spell of his beautiful mother and while he was with her he must work against his father.

The wind grew fierce and the boat could make no progress. Again and again it was blown back towards the shore. It was no use trying to row against such a sea.

They would never reach Lundy at this rate.

Hugh shook his head sadly. They would have to abandon all hope of leaving the country. With some difficulty Hugh brought the boat back to land and they disembarked on the coast of Wales.

Hugh and the King slept the night in the shelter of a wood and the next day they walked until they came to the town of Cardiff. Hugh sold a jewel to buy them food and they rested at an inn where they talked with men who had heard of the Queen’s coming to England and setting herself up against the King.

‘‘Tis no more than a whore she be,’ said one man. ‘The true King will rise up, depend on it, man. God will not be with those that live in adultery.’

Such talk tempted the King to reveal his identity and he was warmly welcomed and several men swore they would stand with him. His father had defeated the Welsh but he had brought good rule to the country and they wanted no adulteress and her paramour ruling them.

The King was filled with hope. Hugh was more realistic. A few men at an inn would count for little against the armies the Queen had raised.

Still it was good to see Edward in better spirits and they talked through the night of how they would raise men and Edward should win back what he had lost.

In the morning they were less sanguinary. The terrible fate of the elder Hugh had sobered both of them. Edward was terrified more for his friend than for himself. He was certain that they would not dare harm him.

‘What we must do,’ said Hugh, ‘is to disguise ourselves, sound the people and if many feel as this innkeeper and some of his friends do we may raise men to fight for us.’

‘You are right, dear Hugh,’ said Edward. 1 think we could take the innkeeper into our confidence,’ replied Hugh.

They did and the man was clearly excited to be drawn into the conspiracy.

Welshmen of strict morals, he reiterated, will never support a whore and her paramour.

For some days they lived in high hope. Edward pinned his faith on his son.

‘He is but a boy yet,’ he said. ‘When he is a little older he will never stand against his father, that I know.’

‘But he has to grow up and much can happen before that,’ Hugh reminded him.

There were days when their cause seemed hopeful but although there were some who sympathised with him they had no desire to go to battle for his sake.

It was not long before the Queen and Mortimer heard of his adventures.

Mortimer said: ‘It is a pitiful attempt, but it would be wiser to put an end to his wanderings. Moreover, we want the Despenser. We will send a force to take them and bring them to us. A certain amount of harm can be done by these wanderings.’

‘Let us send Henry of Lancaster, Edward’s cousin. That will show that people of authority are with us. Lancaster should not have much difficulty in finding him.’

The news that Henry of Lancaster had come into Wales in search of the King quickly spread and Hugh suggested that they go into hiding because he was not altogether sure who were their friends.

They disguised themselves as peasants and left the small band of supporters they had managed to muster to wander the country like two itinerant farm hands.

They were discovered by a farmer sleeping in one of his fields. He wanted men to help dig a field and they would be given food and lodging in payment for their work, he told them.

Hugh said quickly that they would be glad to earn a lodging and a meal but they were so urgently in need of the latter that they must eat before they worked.

The farmer studied them suspiciously and at length agreed as he said to humour them, so they were given cold bacon and bread with ale which due to their hunger tasted good to them.

Then they were set to work. Strangely enough it was Hugh rather than the King who betrayed them. Edward was quite handy with a spade. As a youth he had gloried in physical labour as a release from lessons. He had enjoyed working with the blacksmith and had often helped with thatching and digging trenches. In those days too he had sought the society of grooms and workmen, so he slipped naturally into the role of farm worker.

Not so Hugh, and it was very clear to the farmer that he had an unusual pair in his house.

There had been rumours about the King and the Despenser and he had heard that they were in the neighbourhood. He wanted no involvement in these matters. God alone knew where they could lead a man. Someone would be calling him traitor next.

He sent one of his workers into a nearby town with a message for the mayor.

He had a strange pair working for him and he thought it was his duty to tell someone who was wiser than he was and would know what a man should do in such circumstances.

The messenger was asked questions. Indeed the itinerants were interesting.

They sounded uncommonly like that much sought after pair, the King and his favourite. Bearing in mind what had happened to the latter’s father— and the whole country was aware of that— no one wanted very much to do with these matters. Careless dabbling could bring a man to the terrible fate of that new law against traitors which made honest men shudder in their beds to contemplate.

It was not long before Lancaster’s men arrived at the farm.

‘We are betrayed,’ said Hugh. ‘My lord, this will be the end.’

The King was treated with respect. Not so Hugh. He was roughly seized by men who delighted in heaping indignity upon him.

‘Come, pretty boy,’ they said. ‘It will be rather different for you now.’

They dragged him away from the protesting King. ‘Where are they taking him?’ demanded Edward.

‘To his Maker I’d take wager, my lord,’ was the answer. Edward covered his face with his hands. He wanted to shut out the sight of Hugh’s appealing eyes as he was dragged out of his sight.

He was courteously treated. He was to go to the castle of Llantrissaint, he was told.

‘On whose orders?’ he asked.

They did not answer.

‘You forget that I am your King,’ he said.

And they were ominously silent.

But he was not really interested in his own fate. He could only think of what they had done to Hugh’s father. Oh, if they should do that to Hugh, he would die of despair.

So they were parted at last. Their attempts to escape had come to nothing, as they might have known they would.

And he was to go to bleak Llantrissaint Castle, the prisoner of someone— his wife, he supposed. Mortimer?

Meanwhile Hugh le Despenser was on his way to Bristol to be delivered to the Queen.

Hugh stood before them. They were seated on chairs like thrones— the powerful beautiful Queen who had once made a show of humility and had been so careful to hide her hatred from him, and Mortimer, strong, bold, virile, as different from Edward as a man could be. It was said that the Queen was besottedly enamoured of him and their association was now of some duration.

Looking back Hugh could see that it had been inevitable from the moment they had met. They were a match for each other— passionate ambitious people. The Queen was as ruthless as her father who had destroyed the Templars.

What did she plan for Edward? He trembled to think. That it would be diabolical, he did not doubt. Her father had brought on himself the curse of the Templars. Perhaps she would bring retribution on herself too.

And young Edward? Where was he?

If I could but see young Edward, he thought, there might be a chance. I could move him to pity for his father’s plight.

‘So here is Hugh le Despenser,’ said the Queen. ‘You look less happy, my lord, than when I saw you last.’

‘That was a long time ago, my lady.’

‘Indeed it was. Why then you were like a petted dog. You sat on your master’s satin cushion and were well fed with sweetmeats.’

‘There will be no more sweetmeats for Hugh le Despenser,’ put in Mortimer grimly.

‘I do not expect them,’ replied Hugh with dignity.

‘Well, you gorged yourself while they were led to you,’ laughed the Queen.

‘Oh, it is going to be very different for you now, you know.’

‘So I had thought.’

‘We are going to London,’ said the Queen. ‘We are going to receive the homage of my good and faithful people. Alas for you, I fancy they do not like you very much.’

For a moment he thought of good honest Walter Stapledon and wondered what his last hour had been like in the hands of the London mob.

‘I must accept my fate for all come to that.’

‘He relinquishes his life of luxury much more easily than I had thought he would,’ commented the Queen.

‘Oh he has much to learn yet,’ responded Mortimer grimly.

Hugh was praying silently: Oh God give me strength to meet what is coming to me.

‘Take him away,’ said the Queen.

They left Bristol for London. Isabella rode at the head of her army with Mortimer on one side and Sir John of Hainault on the other. Adam of Orlton was with them. He was determined to have a say in affairs.

Among the Queen’s baggage was the head of Walter Stapledon. Mortimer had suggested it be placed on London Bridge but the Queen was too wily for that.

‘No,’ she had said, ‘he was a churchman and many would say he had been a good man. He was our enemy and he never pretended to be otherwise. Such men have a habit of becoming martyrs and I fear martyrs more than soldiers. Nay. I shall show my virtue by sending it to Exeter and having it buried in his own cathedral. It will be remembered in my favour.’

‘You are right, my love,’ replied Mortimer. ‘But are you not always right?’

She smiled at him lovingly. She wished as she had so many times that Mortimer had been the son of the King and she had come here to marry him instead of the unworthy Edward.

Hugh le Despenser rode with them. It had been their delight to find an old nag for him to ride on. He and the King had always cared so passionately for horses and they had once possessed some of the finest in the kingdom. This poor mangy animal called further attention to his degradation and in case any should fail to be aware of it as they entered the town through which the processions passed Isabella and Mortimer had commanded that there should be trumpets to announce the arrival of Hugh le Despenser and attention be called to him as he ambled along on his wretched nag.

Hugh felt sick with despair. He knew that a fate similar to that given his father was awaiting him and he knew there was no way of avoiding it. He fervently hoped that he would be able to meet his death with courage.

He had eaten nothing since he had been taken. He was growing thin and ill with anxiety more than from lack of nourishment.

Isabella watched him with apprehension.

‘He looks near death,’ she said. ‘Are we going to be cheated of our revenge?’

‘He could be,’ agreed Mortimer. ‘Indeed he looks near to it. I’d say there was a man who was courting death.’

‘He need not go to such lengths. He does not need to court death.’

‘We should not wait to reach London. I doubt he will outlast the journey.

We should stop at Hereford, and try him there. It would be safer.’

‘Alas, I wanted to give my faithful Londoners a treat. How they would have enjoyed the spectacle of pretty Hugh on the scaffold.’

‘I’d say it was Hereford or just quiet death.’

‘Then it must be Hereford,’ said the Queen.

They had reached Hereford and there they halted for the trial of Hugh le Despenser.

His guards told him that the day of his judgment was at hand.

‘Little did you think when you sported with the King that it would bring you to this,’ taunted one of them.

He was silent. He felt too tired to talk. Besides there was nothing to say.

He was taken to the hall where his judges were waiting for him. They were headed by Sir William Trussell, a man who could be relied on to show him no favour. Trussell had fought against the King at Boroughbridge and when Lancaster had been overthrown he had fled to the Continent. He had returned to England with Isabella and had become one of her firm adherents.

He now harangued Hugh, listing the crimes of which he was accused. He had mismanaged the affairs of the kingdom in order to gain money and possessions; he had been responsible for the execution of that saint Thomas of Lancaster and had attempted to hide the fact that miracles were performed at his tomb. His inefficiency had been the cause of the defeat of Bannockburn. In fact any ill which had befallen England since the death of Gaveston and the rule of the Despensers had been because of Hugh’s wickedness.

Of course there was no hope for him.

‘Hugh, all good people of this realm by common consent agree that you are a thief and shall be hanged and that you are a traitor and shall therefore be drawn and quartered. You have been outlawed by the King and by common consent and you returned to the court without warrant and for this you shall be beheaded; and for that you made discord between the King and Queen and others in this realm you shall be disembowelled and your bowels burned; so go to your judgment, attained wicked traitor.’

Hugh listened to this terrible sentence almost listlessly. It was no surprise. It had happened to his father. It was their revenge and he had known from the moment they had taken him that it was coming.

All he could do was pray for courage, that he might endure what was coming to him with fortitude.

There was to be no delay, ordered the Queen. Delay was dangerous. He might die and defeat them of their satisfaction. Almost immediately after the sentence had been passed, he was dressed in a long black robe with his escutcheon upside down. They had said he should be crowned because he had ruled the King so they placed a crown of nettles on his brow to add a little more discomfort and he was dragged out of the castle.

As they prepared to hang him on the gallows which was fifty feet high in order that as many as possible might witness the spectacle, the Queen took a seat with Mortimer and Adam of Orlton on either side of her that they might gloat over the pain inflicted on the King’s favourite.

The handsome body now emaciated beyond recognition dangled on the rope and Isabella feared that he might die before they could cut him down and administer the rest of the dreadful sentence.

To her delight she saw that Hugh’s lips were moving slightly as they laid him out and bared his body for the fearsome ordeal.

This is the man he preferred, thought Isabella . I was humiliated for his sake.

He took away my friends; he deprived me of my rights. And now he is in my hands these are his just deserts.

There was little satisfaction though, for Hugh was so quiet. Once she heard a faint moaning, but there were no cries for mercy.

She reached for Mortimer’s hand. He seized it and pressed it.

This was the end of Hugh, they were both thinking. There remained the King.