The Prince of Darkness

Chapter XVIII JOHN’S REVENGE

Isabella was in love. He was young and handsome. Often she would compare him with John and marvel at the differences between them. He reminded her of Hugh the Brown and after he had left she would lie in bed and think: This is how it would have been with Hugh.

At first in her thoughts she called him Hugh; and later she told him this. ‘It suits you. You will be Hugh to me,’ and ever after she called him by that name.

She had been afraid for him, although when she had first taken lovers she had liked to test their courage by telling them that their punishment would be terrible if the King ever discovered. Sometimes when they were with her she sensed their fear; at first it gave a zest to her desire.

She took a delight in hiding her adventures from John but sometimes it occurred to her that he knew and that he was waiting to trap her. Outwitting him in itself was a pleasant exercise. She hated him. Perhaps she always had although she had revelled in the early years of their relationship. It had been flattering that he should neglect his State duties because he could not leave their bed and to know that the stories circulated round the world that he was losing his kingdom under the bed quilt.

What a compliment to her powers of attraction! For long he had been a faithful husband which in itself was something of a miracle. And she had made this possible – she with her great fascination. She wondered if Hugh ever thought of her now. Did he reproach himself for his sloth in not taking her when she was there ready and willing, waiting for him before John had come?

At first it had been so exciting. To be Queen and to be so desired. But she had been a queen for a long time now and desired by many. And there were more handsome men in the world than John.

Her thoughts were now for the handsome young man, the Golden Youth she called him, the Hugh-Shadow – Hugh would no longer be young, as she was not, but women such as herself were perennially attractive and men such as he was retained their charm.

Her lover was coming to her bedchamber more frequently now. He was so much in love with her that he gladly risked his life … or worse. She had told him often of the terrible danger he was facing and he brushed that aside. It was worth while … anything that could happen to him was worth while for this.

He was a good lover. There could not have been a better. He was tender as John had never been, not even in the beginning when she was a child. This adoration, this idolising, was delightful. She revelled in it. She loved her Golden Youth.

As they lay in her bed in the early morning before the dawn – for he must be gone by then since it would be fatal to be seen by the light of day – she said to him as she twirled a lock of his golden hair through her fingers, ‘My love, how long will you continue to come to me?’

He answered as she knew he would: ‘For ever.’

‘What if the King comes here?’

‘Then I must perforce wait until he is gone.’

‘What do you know of the King, Hugh?’

‘All know of his tempers.’

‘There never was such temper. They say it even exceeds that of his father and greatly did men fear that. He must never find out, Hugh, never.’

‘If he did, it would have been worth while.’

‘While his servants were doing fearful things to you would you think that?’

‘Aye.’

‘Nay, my dearest love, you think so now. But what are the feelings of a man, think you, to be deprived of his manhood, for methinks that is what John would do to any who had enjoyed me.’

‘I had rather die.’

‘If John knew that, he would not let you. His revenge must suit his mood and his moods are diabolical. Perhaps he would put out your eyes. He wanted to do that to Arthur, you know. His sin was that he was the son of John’s elder brother and some thought he had a greater right to the throne.’

‘He cannot have such thoughts about me.’

‘Nay, but he would hate you more than he ever hated Arthur. Sometimes I tremble for you.’

‘Then I rejoice, for it shows you love me.’

‘I want you to know what you risk, my Hugh. Think of these things.’

‘To be with you for one hour is worth a lifetime of agony.’

‘Youthful words spoken by the young in the hour of ecstasy. What would you say during the lifetime of misery, think you?’

‘It shall not be,’ he said, kissing her.

And while she loved his recklessness, she wanted him to know what he risked.

He had been successful in reaching her. They had devised several hiding places where he could be secreted in a hurry. She might lift the floorboards and he could cower beneath. She had made sure of that and she barred her bedroom door when he was with her.

She would get him away in safety, she promised herself, if he were in danger of being surprised.

But she had many attendants and they knew her secrets.

John came to the castle. She was down at the gates to meet him.

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

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

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

‘To what else could it be due?’

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

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

‘Matters of State, my love.’

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

‘Are you jealous then?’

‘Continuously so.’

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

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

‘Do you sulk, wife?’

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

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

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

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

‘’Tis so,’ she said.

‘And you brood on it often.’

‘’Tis ever in my mind.’

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

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

‘For love alone,’ he answered.

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

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

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

‘And I am to accompany you?’

‘I need you with me,’ he said.

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

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

Isabella had a surprise coming to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Behold your prison,’ he said.

‘What mean you?’ she asked almost listlessly.

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

She shrugged her shoulders and that maddened him.

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

‘So you care not?’ he shouted.

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

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

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

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

‘Stop it!’ she cried.

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

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

‘What of that?’

‘Why should I be a faithful wife?’

‘Because I am the King.’

‘Forget not that I am the Queen.’

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

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

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

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

He threw her from him in a burst of rage.

‘I shall send his corpse to you here to keep you company in your prison.’

‘That will not hurt him.’

‘There will be no one else. You may stay here and think of me … with others who please me more than you do.’

‘I wish you joy of them.’

‘You are not old, Isabella, and you are lusty. Did we not know that? What will you do without lovers, Isabella?’

‘If I do not have to endure you I shall be happy.’

‘You will endure what I say.’

‘Why do you not kill me too? I know. I have friends and family. The King of France would say: He has killed his wife as he killed his nephew.’

‘Not a word of that.’

‘He haunts you, does he not, John? Poor Arthur. How did he die? So many would like to know. You, his murderer, could tell them.’

‘You are asking me to do you an injury.’

‘Why do you not?’

‘Because I have not finished with you yet. I would not hurt the body which has much to give me yet.’

‘Oh, so I am not to be exiled?’

‘Not from me. I shall think of you here waiting for me. We’ll have children yet. We have but three. I want more from you. If you are carrying a bastard, I’ll have him murdered. You taunt me with murder, well, know this, if any offend me they shall be removed. You too if you should be in my way.’

‘And am I not?’

‘Assuredly not. When you are you will know it. I have my pleasure when I will and I want no other wife. I’ve got my heirs, and a fine daughter. I’ll get more on you yet. And you will wait patiently here for me to come to you and if ever you secrete a lover into your bedchamber again that which happened to your fine young man will be mild compared with what I will do to the next.’

She said: ‘I understand. I am a prisoner here. I have had a lover. I do not deny it. You have murdered him most cruelly and you have tormented me so much that I shall ever be haunted by memories of his body hanging there at my bed. I hate you for this.’

‘Hate and love,’ he said. ‘They are close. Isabella, there is no one but you. Know you this: I would not hurt you. That was why I had to do what I did to him. I had to make sure that never again should he take the place which is mine … mine. Others there have been, but not one like you. Where is there one like you?’

His arms were round her; he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

How strange that the passion should rise within her at such a time; but it was there between them, as strong as it had ever been.

In the morning he said to her: ‘If you should bear a child of his, that child shall not live. You know this. Had I the softest heart in the world, which you may doubt to be true as I do myself, it could not live. Ah, my Isabella, you know there was never sport such as we two make together. It is only my children that you shall bear. I shall be here again and we’ll get us a child … but not until we know that dangling corpse is not a father.’

She shook her head. ‘There is no child,’ she said. ‘I know it.’

But he laughed at her.

And when he rode away she was a prisoner.

He came back later and they were together for two days and nights and he scarcely left her bed during that time. She knew that he thought constantly of her lover and that in his perverse way he took some pleasure in contemplating that which enraged him.

When he left she was pregnant and in due course she gave birth to a daughter. She called her after herself, Isabella.

And she remained the King’s prisoner.