What the reason for the long face was, Edmund had no idea. Perhaps it was the rumour of yet another attempt on his life, for there had been several in recent months. It was said that the traitor Mortimer had paid a necromancer to try to kill him by magic. Truly, Sir Hugh had very few friends in the world.
Long may it continue, the Earl thought, yawning. There was no one whose death he would have been happier to hear about.
Walking to his bedchamber, a small room near the King’s own chamber, he saw a shadow thrown by a torch, and stopped. There were dangers in a place like this so late at night: too many dark corridors, places of concealment in alcoves and behind drapery … and he was one man who had determined to live as long as possible. His hand reached for his sword even as he saw the pale face peering down the hallway at him.
‘Piers! Dear God, what are you doing wandering about the place like this?’ he demanded.
‘Earl, my Lord, I have terrible news. Terrible!’
Lady Eleanor de Clare walked into the Great Hall with the letters gripped in her hand, and looked to the far end, where her husband, Sir Hugh le Despenser, stood talking with one of the clerks of the Exchequer.
They were a pasty lot, those clerks. She had never had much regard for them, what with their unhealthful complexions and their minds made up of numbers. Nothing seemed to excite them so much as finding a mistake in a colleague’s calculations, and none had the faintest idea about honourable pursuits, let alone the finer aspects of courtly love.
Her man was a very different type altogether. Tall, handsome, and with that dangerous look in his eye, he was every inch a knight. Powerful, strong, fair of hair and with a brilliant mind that measured all he saw in a moment. He would assess a man or woman in an instant and always be right. She had seen it.
And now he had seen her. He finished his words with the clerk, and crossed the hall to meet her in a quieter corner, away from the shouting. It was necessary here. Apart from the men calling to each other about the long marble table, the Chancery, there was also the King’s Bench and the Court of Common Pleas in this hall, and the din was appalling.
Two men were with him — Sir Hugh always tended to have one or two henchmen with him for protection now — but he waved them away. There was no need of a guard against his own wife.
‘My Lady, I hope I see you well?’
She gave the faintest of shrugs. ‘You are always considerate, my Lord. Yes, I slept well for the most part. She disturbed my slumbers a little, but not too much.’
‘She disturbs all,’ he said in a low voice, looking away.
‘She will keep up her keening about her children. Since you took them from her, I don’t think she’s slept a full night.’
‘You still have one of the pups in your care with her. Point out to her that he could be taken away as well, and see if that will shut her up.’
Eleanor nodded. He was right, after all. The silly woman should have been grateful. Princess Eleanor and Princess Joan had both gone to be looked after by the Monthermers, but her eight-year-old son John of Eltham was still here.
‘Any news for me?’ he muttered.
‘Two letters,’ she replied. ‘She is not happy that I look through her correspondence and tried to keep this one secret, but I saw it.’
‘What does it say?’ he demanded eagerly, reaching for it.
‘It is a series of complaints.’ Eleanor passed the letter to her husband and spoke quietly as he glanced over the sheet. ‘She protests about her lands being taken and losing her income, she complains that all her own servants have been taken from her, and says that you have taken her husband’s love from her.’
‘That’s all?’ he chuckled.
‘She does describe the King as — what was it? Ah, yes, “a gripple miser”.’
‘A man who has been parsimonious towards her, but abundantly generous to another, eh? I wonder whom she could mean!’
‘She has demanded that her seal be returned to her.’
‘You have it still?’
Eleanor took it from within her bodice, where it hung on a cord. ‘Always.’ It was understandable that the Queen should resent this latest humiliation. Eleanor was not sure how she herself would feel, were she to be kept under the supervision of another, with all her letters read, all her servants removed, her children too, her income drastically reduced, and even her private seal confiscated so that no private or personal correspondence could be sent. For a Queen, the daughter of one King and now effectively the estranged wife of another, it was a proof of how low she had sunk. She was being systematically stripped of all her assets.
‘With luck we shall not have to keep her much longer,’ Despenser said, smiling at her.
But there was something in his eyes which alerted her to his real feelings. ‘My love, is something worrying you?’
‘She has been a nuisance at all times, and never more so than now,’ he sighed.
‘What has she done?’
‘Nothing. It is nothing.’ His thoughts were far away now, she saw. This foolish Queen was troubling him.
‘Is there something I can do to help?’ Eleanor asked.
Despenser glanced back at her. ‘Dear Eleanor!’ he murmured. He would have liked to confide in her, but how could he explain?
Ellis had already been to many of the inns and taverns where they knew Jack had stayed before, but there was no sign of the man. Even now, Ellis was riding over the Surrey side of the river in search of another tavern where they thought Jack might have billeted himself.
The trouble was, Sir Hugh thought moodily, Jack had always insisted that he should be left alone to do his work. When he took a commission, he would fade away, sometimes for days or weeks, and it was impossible to know when or where he would strike. His attacks were inevitably successful, but this time Sir Hugh wanted to stop him — and couldn’t!
‘I’ll have to make sure Ellis mounts double the guards — keeps men at the Queen’s side at all times. There’s nothing else to do, if we don’t find the bastard,’ he told himself, but even as he thought it, he heard the door open and automatically bowed low, as did all others in the hall.
Eleanor took her cue from him, removing her hand from his forearm and curtseying. Not that there was any need for her or anyone else to bother, as she knew. The King had eyes for only one person in that great chamber.
Eleanor stood a little back as Edward walked straight to her husband, and it was only when she noticed his hand at her husband’s arm, how he kept it there affectionately and drew Despenser to his side, that she felt that niggle of jealousy once more.
And the squirm of revulsion.
Earl Edmund was at the rear of the room with Piers de Wrotham and Edmund’s brother, Thomas of Norfolk. The latter was slightly taller than Edmund, a fact that had never failed to annoy him.
When they were growing up, Edmund had found his older brother’s abundant self-confidence and jokes at his expense annoying, but more recently he had grown immune to them. Ever since their joint attack and siege of Leeds Castle, there had been a mutual regard between them. Until, of course, Edmund had been sent to Guyenne to protect the Principality from the invasion of Charles Valois.
Shit, the bastard had walked all over Edmund and his men. Whenever he demanded help from England, from Sir Hugh le Bloody Despenser, the man was too busy stealing lands and property from the legitimate owners to give a stuff. So Edmund could do nothing, just hung about twiddling his thumbs while the King lost his sole remaining territory in France. It was enough to make a man weep.
Not that it reflected badly on the King’s favourite, of course. No shit had ever stuck to his blanket. No, instead of that it was Edmund who must bear the brunt of the King’s reproaches. As soon as he had returned to England, he had realised how the land lay. The King was sulky and uncommunicative — unless Sir Hugh was there, of course. And that jumped-up little prick was all too keen to make fun of the King’s brother.