‘It is monstrous!’ cried the King. ‘What can we do?’
‘We must recall the Queen and the Prince without delay,’ said Hugh.
‘Mortimer cannot stand without them.’
‘1 wonder how far it has gone,’ mused Edward.
‘My dear lord,’ replied Hugh, ‘it is nothing which we cannot handle. The King of France will not send men to England. He might help with arms and sympathy, but he will not be able to do anything against the army we shall raise.
But first let us not make it known that we are aware of their villainy. Let us get the Queen and the Prince back. When they are here it will be necessary to restrict the Queen. I doubt the poison has seeped very far into the Prince’s mind.
We must be thankful to my lord Bishop for his loyalty.’
‘My dear Bishop,’ said the King, ‘it shall not be forgotten.’
‘I seek not rewards for my loyalty, my lord,’ said the Bishop with dignity.
‘I know it well,’ replied Edward warmly. ‘I thank God that I have many good friends in my realm on whom I can depend and who will serve me no matter who comes against me.’
On the advice of both Hugh and the Bishop the King that day wrote to the King of France telling him that now that the matter of homage was settled he would be glad of the return of his Queen and son.
The King of France sent for his sister and when she came, he embraced her coolly and said: ‘It is time you went back to England.’
Isabella looked as distressed as she felt.
‘It grieves me to think of returning,’ she said. ‘It has been so wonderful for me to be here in my native country. Life is so different here. If you but knew, brother, what I have had to endure.’
Charles tapped the letter in his hand. ‘Edward reminds me that it is time you returned. You should make your preparations.’
She hesitated. She wanted to tell him of their plans. How so much was going in their favour yet how they needed time.
‘If you do not go,’ went on the King, ‘Edward will think I hold you against your will.’
‘Does he say that?’
‘No. He implies that the reluctance is on your part.’
‘How right he is! Oh Charles, you do not know how I have suffered through those Despensers.’
‘You have mentioned it now and then sister,’ replied Charles with increasing coolness.
Oh God help me, thought Isabella. He is going to send me back.
‘You want me to leave do you?’ she asked bluntly.
‘My dear sister, you have been long here. Your business is settled. It is natural that you should return to your husband.’
‘You mock me. My husband! You know what he is.’
‘You and your son should return to your home.’
‘He asks that you send us, does he? In what terms?’
‘He asks why there is the delay in your returning and mentions that you have been away long enough.’
‘Charles, I am afraid.’
‘You Isabella― afraid! I know you are many things but I am surprised to find you afraid.’
‘They will kill me if I go back,’ she said quietly.
‘Kill you? My sister. They would have to answer to me if they did. I do not think they would wish that.’
‘Charles, it would not seem like murder. But it would be. The Despensers hate me. You know what it was like before I came. I was almost their prisoner.
That is what they wish. Oh, they will not cut off my head. Nor will they give me a dose of poison which immediately removes me― but they will kill me nevertheless. They will imprison me and slowly they will take my life away from me.’
‘Isabella, you over-excite yourself.’
‘Would you not be over-excited brother if you were faced with murderers?
Let me stay here, only a little longer I promise you. I will make plans― but I cannot go back to Edward and the Despensers yet.’
She had fallen to her knees and raised her eyes supplicatingly to his. She was very beautiful and she was his sister and they were the only two left of their father’s children. Charles himself felt none too secure with the Templars curse hanging over him.
He raised her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
‘Do not be so dramatic, Isabella. Certainly, you may stay a little longer. I will write something to Edward. But you must not get up to mischief. Do you understand?’
‘Mischief?’
‘There are rumours. I have heard that you are over-friendly with Roger de Mortimer.’
‘What calumnies! Of course I am friendly with the English here in France.’
‘You have gathered a good many about you.’
‘Indeed why should they not speak with me? They are unhappy about the King even as I am.’
‘I would not wish my court to be the plotting ground.’
‘Dear Charles! You are going to be my good brother. I promise you that I shall make my plans for departure and as soon as I can bring myself to do so I shall leave.’
‘And when you go take your malcontents with you.’
‘And you will write to Edward.’
‘And tell him that your departure has been temporarily postponed but that within a few weeks you will be making your plans to leave.’
The King of France was frowning over a letter he had received from the King of England. A few weeks had passed since he had told Isabella she might remain a little longer, but so far she had said nothing about her departure.
Very dear and beloved brother, wrote Edward, ‘We have received and well considered your letters― It seems that you have been told, dearest brother, by persons whom you consider worthy of credit that our companion, the Queen of England, dare not return to us, being in peril of her life, as she apprehends from Hugh le Despenser. Certes, dearest brother, it cannot be that she can have fear of him, or any other man in our realm. If either Hugh or any other living being in our dominions would wish to do her ill, and it came to our knowledge, we would chastise him in a manner which would be an example to all others― We also entreat you, dearly beloved brother, that you would be pleased to deliver up to us Edward our beloved eldest son, your nephew― We pray you to suffer him to come to us with all speed for we have often sent for him and we greatly wish to see him and speak with him, and every day we long for his return― Charles’s brow was wrinkled. The letter was genuine enough and although he despised Edward as an incompetent ruler, he could not believe he was capable of plotting the murder of his wife. Whereas he could believe of his sister that she was concerned in some mischief.
And whatever it was, he wanted no part in it. He felt weak in health, lacking in vitality; he doubted he would ever get a son and heir. The curse of the Templars sat heavily upon him and he was not going to look for trouble outside his realm.
Isabella would have to take her problems elsewhere.
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.’