Виктория Холт - The Follies of the King

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.’

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.’