Hugh smiled sadly. Enemies! They surrounded him and they were the King’s enemies because of him.
Never mind, the King was his very dear friend; he could not do enough for his beloved Hugh. They were together through the days and nights and Hugh and his father were becoming the richest men in England. It was so rewarding to have royal patronage and when that patronage grew out of a doting fondness then indeed a man was fortunate.
‘He will have gone to the Marcher country, I’ll swear,’ said Edward.
‘His home of course. That is where he will rally support.’
‘Let us plan a campaign to the Welsh coast. We’ll get him, Hugh, and this time it will not be a dungeon in the Tower for him.’
‘He is a handsome man, that Mortimer,’ mused Hugh, ‘but I doubt he will be so handsome without his head.’
Meanwhile Mortimer, having landed safely in Normandy, was on his way to Paris.
By great good fortune Isabella’s involvement in the escape of Mortimer did not occur to her husband. There had been some in the Tower who had seen the meeting between the pair and the Queen’s connection with Alspaye who was now branded a traitor as it was soon discovered that he had escaped with Mortimer. Adam of Orlton, too, was suspected as the outside influence who had helped to make the escape possible. No doubt it seemed incredible that Isabella should have taken a hand in the affair, and it was presumed to be merely a coin-cidence that she had happened to be in the Palace of the Tower at the time.
However her attitude towards the King had changed. She made it clear that she wanted no more intimacy with him. Not that he pressed that. It had only occurred because of the need to give the country heirs. They had stalwart Edward who was nearly thirteen years old and growing conscious of coming responsibilities.
They, will come sooner than you think, my son, thought Isabella grimly.
For the rest of the children she had little time to spare. That they were well and happy was all she wanted to know. Young Edward was her concern and she did make a point of being often with him.
Her great desire was to get to France, to join Mortimer, and to begin the plan of action which was to depose her husband.
She could tell herself that she had right on her side. The country was going from bad to worse. The Despensers were an evil influence. Edward and his hated favourites must go. Isabella visualized an ideal state of affairs with her and Mortimer ruling through young Edward.
She was beginning to build up a little coterie about her— all enemies of Despenser, all with the same grievances against the King, and since the Queen had suffered more humiliation than any through this unfortunate liaison, it was to her they were beginning to look. They all had one aim in common, to destroy the Despensers who, it was believed, were at the very heart of the King’s unworthy kingship— just as in the earlier years of his reign Gaveston had been.
Thomas Earl of Lancaster was remembered and it was beginning to be said that he had been wrongfully treated. He had been humiliated and beheaded in a manner very unseemly for one in his position. Stories about his goodness— which had little foundation in truth— were circulated about him. Isabella could scarcely believe her ears when she heard that he had been called a saint. It was not long before miracles were being said to be performed at his grave.
His brother Henry, now Earl of Lancaster, came to see the Queen and to tell her how much he understood her dislike of the Despensers.
It was significant. Henry of Lancaster— certainly not the fighter and leader his brother had been— was offering her his support. Even the King’s two half-brothers Thomas Earl of Norfolk and Edmund Earl of Kent came to see her and to pay her very special homage because they too were heartily tired of their brother’s preoccupation with the Despensers.
‘It will not be easy to bring about his banishment,’ she told her brothers-in-law.
‘It should be done,’ replied Kent.
‘The King would fight to the death to save them,’ said Isabella.
‘Still,’ repeated Kent steadily, ‘it should be done.’
It was an indication of the way people were thinking and of great gratification to Isabella.
She was desperately looking for an opportunity which would take her to France where she could rejoin Mortimer.
Although the Despensers seemed at times to rush madly down that path of folly which had led Gaveston to disaster, they were shrewd. They had noticed a change in the Queen’s attitude towards the King. They had been well aware that she previously tolerated them and had received the King for the sole reason of getting children. They understood that now she had four she had decided that was the end.
This was reasonable enough but she was turning more and more against the King— a fact which would have been no cause for concern but for the popularity she enjoyed with certain people.
The chief of these were the Londoners who had always favoured her and had particularly disliked the King’s handsome young men. The Londoners were at this time annoyed with the King because he had removed a plaque from St Paul’s which had been set up to applaud the good deeds of Thomas Earl of Lancaster. Since he was dead— and had died so ignobly ― they had decided to make a saint of him. They forgot his indolence and incompetence; they endowed him with virtues he had not possessed; they were constantly telling each other that if he were there life would be different. It was dangerous and particularly so when miracles were said to take place at that spot where the plaque had been as well as at Lancaster’s tomb. It was a sign of the times.
Their chief cause for concern was Isabella.
‘Everywhere the Queen goes the people cheer,’ complained Hugh.
‘They have always thought very highly of her,’ replied Edward.
‘Yes, at your expense! I like that not.’
‘Dear Hugh, you are too mindful of me.’
‘And should I not be of my liege lord?’
‘There, I have made you scarlet with indignation.’
‘Indeed I am indignant at anything which bodes ill for my lord.’
‘What bodes ill now, dear nephew?’
Edward had taken to calling Hugh nephew. He said it was a pleasant relationship and some people would take it from the name that he regarded Hugh in that light.
‘The Queen, I think, my lord.’
‘The Queen! In what way?’
‘She is restive. She is jealous of me. She sees too many people.’
‘What should we do? You tell me, Hugh.’
‘Let us consider her.’
‘Do so, Hugh.’
‘Her brother is the King of France and she writes frequently to him. There are complaints in her letters of your treatment of her.’
Edward shrugged his shoulders. ‘I doubt her brother has time for her gossip.’
‘The King of France would always have time to hear evil spoken of the King of England.’
‘She speaks no evil. She merely complains that I spend more time with you than with her. Well, I do not intend to spend more time with her if it means missing your company.’
‘I know it and rejoice in it. I wonder whether the Pope would grant an annulment.’
‘An annulment! And she the sister of the King of France.’
‘No, he would be afraid of France. He would never grant it. But we might try.’
‘It would have to be in secret.’
‘It would be. But I believe you should take over some of her lands. She is very well endowed.’
Edward nodded. ‘Then let it be done.’
‘It is unwise that she should keep her French servants. How can we know that these may not be spies for France?’ ‘What would you suggest?’
‘That they be sent away. Her allowance should be cut to twenty shillings a day and that is enough for her. With more she might use it to make mischief. I believe she is in correspondence with someone in France.’