‘Yes.’
‘Blaket was plainly the man who killed Mabilla. He confessed as much. Jack was killed in the King’s chamber. We know that too. However, Despenser is not so good an actor that he could feign anxiety and rage. He did not know what had happened to his assassin. I am sure of that.’
‘But then … Oh, in Christ’s name, you don’t mean-’
‘Of course. The King is no fool. He heard about the spying and was none too pleased about it. I dare say he was happy enough to see Mabilla removed. But no matter what, he is a politician too. He was furious to learn that an assassin had been hired to kill his wife. It would ruin any chance of regaining Guyenne.’
‘How would he learn of the assassin?’
‘Simon, we already know of one double-agent — that man Piers. There are others here who would act in the same manner, finding all they can from one master to sell to another. But let us assume this Piers realised that there was such a plan in motion, and he told the King. Edward saw how much damage this must do, so he himself sought the assassin. He warned a few trusted guards to keep their eyes open. One of them was Blaket. He met Jack and persuaded him to meet with Despenser in a small chamber, near the King’s hall. But inside was not Despenser but the King himself. There Jack was murdered, and that obscene mutilation committed.’
‘Why that, though? If the King is so fond of other men as you have said, why do that?’
‘It was nothing to do with sodomy, Simon. That was a sign of the King’s great displeasure at such treason. Castration is common for those who try to commit such offences, as the Queen herself told us.’
‘So you mean that Blaket saw all this, and then returned to the Queen’s door to kill Mabilla?’
‘That was his duty, as he saw it. He loves two ladies, Simon. Alicia with his body, but the Queen with his heart. You saw how devoted he was to her. When she wanted peace, we could approach no further than to him. Passage beyond him would have involved someone’s death. Yet he took us to the King when he found us in the Queen’s rooms.’
‘So will you denounce him?’
‘What, Blaket or the King? To denounce one means also affirming the guilt of the other. Would you and I live if we succeeded in that, Simon? I do not think so. No. We should consider ourselves fortunate to have escaped this place with our lives.’
‘One point, though,’ Simon said after a few moments. ‘You said that Despenser could not act well, that he wouldn’t be able to dissemble in that manner, but you’re happy to accuse the King of exactly that. What makes you think that our Liege could do so when Despenser could not?’
‘Simon, do you remember the day we first arrived here and saw the roads? I mentioned the King’s pastimes, didn’t I?’
‘Ah — you said that he enjoyed acting!’
‘Precisely.’
And that, Baldwin had hoped, would be an end to the matter. He was disgusted with the council of the King, distrusted all those who sought power and advancement from the King, and felt threatened by the King’s own most trusted adviser.
There was nothing here for him. He could not alter the decisions being made, because the decisions were made by a few powerful people before ever any meeting was held. Even men whom he had once trusted, like Bishop Walter Stapledon, were proven to be more interested in preserving their own power than in seeing justice done. That might be a harsh view of the Bishop’s motives in concealing the indenture, but all Baldwin knew was that the Bishop had held that scrap in trust, and had then passed it on to Despenser, the man whom it accused.
But although Baldwin’s own desire was to leave the city and make his way back to Devon, to his wife and children, at all possible speed, events were shortly to take a turn which he had not predicted.
Chapter Forty-Two
Wednesday after the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary1
Thorney Island
The Queen was the first to be told of the new proposal — after Sir Hugh, the Bishops, her son and the King’s ambassadors.
She was startled to receive an invitation to see her husband. His chambers were so close, and yet she had grown accustomed to the fact of their separation over the last months.
‘You are sure he wants me?’ was her only response to the request.
The marvellous painted hall in which he waited for her was a welcoming chamber. The fire in the hearth was roaring, and although she had left a pleasantly warmed room behind her, this was so much hotter that Isabella was forced to shed her cloak.
‘My Lord, you asked to see me?’ she enquired, giving him a courtesy and keeping her eyes demurely downcast so he might not read the anger in her eyes.
‘Lady, I have come to a conclusion.’ It sounded as though he had drunk poison, for the words almost choked him. ‘Your brother has demanded that I should go to him to swear homage for Guyenne and the Duchy. I feel I cannot go at present, not while our countries are at daggers drawn. So I have decided that you shall go in my place.’
‘You have?’
‘I and the parliament. We are sure that your good offices will aid our negotiations. I wish you to leave within the month.’
‘But there is so much to prepare! Surely the Pope could send another to act for you? Would not a Bishop or Archbishop carry more weight than a mere woman?’
‘The Pope suggested you,’ the King spat.
She looked up then, so that he could read the contempt in her eyes. She had known that all along. It was pathetic of him not to think of the many ways in which a prisoner might learn news of the world. For her part, it was easy. Drokensford kept her well-informed, as always.
‘You will go in the first week in March,’ the King said, containing his own rage with difficulty. This woman was a she-wolf. Cunning, evil, cruel, she was the embodiment of all that was unnatural in a woman. He could see that she had known about all this beforehand — well, let her think that she had won. When she came back from the French court, when she had done his will over there and won back Guyenne for him, she would return to her prison in England. Not here, though, where she could plot with her friends. Somewhere else, farther away from power. Perhaps in Castle Acre. Norfolk was a county for which she had always asserted a liking. She could go there and fester.
‘I suppose I shall be forced to travel with people chosen for me?’ she said after a moment.
‘I will wish to keep the costs of the embassy at a minimum.’
‘Naturally. Yet I would have some men I can trust.’
‘You have my word that all will be honourable and trustworthy.’
‘Your word? I am reassured.’
He grated his teeth, but swallowed his anger at her sarcasm. ‘You wish for a senior man? A Bishop? Earl?’
‘Will our son travel with me?’
The King smiled. ‘No. He will come later, provided that all the negotiations are successful. I will send him on to you when all the plans have been set out clearly.’
For Sir Hugh, it was the best of all worlds. As he had hoped when he first tried to tempt Earl Edmund into plotting against him, persuading the fool through Piers that Sir Hugh did not want the Queen to leave the country, in reality it was clearly impossible for him to be seen to attempt to prevent her going. The only effective manner of his preserving his power was for the Queen to be apparently supported by him so that the French did not have any more incentive to seek his death.
It would have been best for him to have seen her killed here, but it was not to be.
‘My Liege.’
The King took his arm with a smile. ‘Come, look at this, Sir Hugh.’