The Follies of the King (36 page)

Edward was only too ready to be detained. He had no fancy for going to Charles of France and doing homage. It was an act never relished by any of his predecessors.

He was delighted when the communication came from Isabella.

She had spoken with the King of France and he had agreed that if Edward found it difficult to leave his realm at this time he would accept the homage from young Edward. She believed that it was an excellent notion and if the King agreed to send their son it would be a good exercise in diplomacy for the boy and she would take good care of him.

If he agreed, young Edward could be created Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Ponthieu and could then pay homage to her brother Charles for these provinces.

Edward was delighted. The Despensers discussed the matter together. It would keep Edward in England and their lives could depend on that.

‘Let the boy go,’ said Hugh to the King. ‘It will be a good experience for him. He is growing up. It is time he began to take part in affairs. He can lessen your burden, my lord. Yes, let the boy go.’

Edward’s life had been one long series of mistakes, but in sending his son to France he made the greatest mistake of them all.

Isabella and Mortimer could scarcely believe their good fortune. Their plan was progressing beyond their wildest hope.

* * *

With what joy she rode to the coast to wait the coming of the Prince!

Mortimer was beside her.

‘Soon,’ he whispered, ‘we shall be going home. We shall go at the head of an army. Nothing could have served us better than the coming of young Edward.

The fact that the King sends him shows that he is unworthy to rule. It is now our task to see that the boy is on our side.’

‘Fear not that I can win him to us,’ replied the Queen.

‘None could withstand your charm,’ Mortimer assured her, ‘least of all a young boy― and he your son.’

It was a wonderful moment when young Edward stepped ashore. He was such a handsome boy, showing promise of Plantagenet good looks. He was going to be tall as his father and grandfather had been; he was flaxen-haired with keen blue eyes, alert, intelligent, eager for life, aware of his destiny and determined to fullil it.

He was accompanied by the Bishops of Oxford and Exeter and a train of knights. All these, thought the Queen, must be won to our cause.

The boy was clearly overwhelmed by his mother. He would have bowed to her but she would have no ceremony.

‘My son,’ she cried. ‘My dearest son, it makes me so happy to see you. So handsome, so healthy. Oh my dear boy, I am so proud of you!’

Young Edward coloured faintly. He had always admired his mother; she was so beautiful and she had always made it clear that he was the favourite of her children. He had heard it said how patient she was in enduring her humiliations.

He was beginning to understand his father’s way of life and deplored it. He knew that there was trouble in the country because of it and that one day he would be the King. When that time came it would be different. He would make sure of that. He had heard a great deal about his grandfather and he wanted to be like him.

Walter Stapledon, Bishop of Exeter, had talked to him of his duty and had impressed on him that his life must be dedicated to the service of his country. So he was delighted to be with his mother and to ride beside her to Paris. He was not sure how he should feel towards Mortimer. He knew that the Earl had been his father’s prisoner and had escaped from the Tower. But his mother seemed very friendly with him and Mortimer certainly made a great effort to please the young Prince. And even his uncle, the King of France, showed affection for him and told him bow glad he was that his father had agreed that he should come.

On a September day in the Castle of Bois de Vincennes near Paris young Edward paid homage to Charles IV of France in place of his father. It was an impressive ceremony and enacted with a show of amity, but the French King was too wily to stick entirely to his bargain. He might restore Gascony and Ponthieu but he had suffered considerable losses in the action, he complained, and for this reason, he thought it was only fair that he should keep the Agenais.

Isabella and Mortimer looked on with pleasure at the ceremony. The trouble was that now the homage had been paid and the King of France satisfied, there was no longer any reason why the English party should remain in France.

To leave would mean saying good-bye to Mortimer. Moreover if she went back to England Isabella would be in the same position as she had been before.

Of course she must not return and the task now was to gather as many people as possible to their banner, and when they had a considerable army, then would be the time to strike.

There already existed a nucleus of discontented people from England and this grew daily. But it was not an army. Isabella wondered whether her brother would help, but Charles was disenchanted with war and he had no intention of carrying on one in England.

He had offered hospitality to Mortimer because he thought he could supply useful information about England; moreover Mortimer was a declared enemy of Edward so therefore it was wise to have him at hand. Naturally he received his sister who was also Queen of England but he did not expect even her to outstay her welcome.

Mortimer and Isabella realized that although the first part of the mission was accomplished, they had had incredible luck. But now they had to conjure up an army from somewhere. How?

It was true the cause was growing. Many of the people who formed part of their circle could raise men back in England.

The situation grew more and more difficult every day. Even the King was beginning to wonder why the English party did not make preparations to leave.

Isabella and Mortimer had anxious meetings together. They would not be separated. Moreover it would be very dangerous for her to leave now. There were surely spies at court and it might well be that someone had noticed the relationship between them and had reported it to Edward.

‘It would give him an opportunity to be rid of you,’ said Mortimer and added with a shiver: ‘He could accuse you of treason. Time is what we need, my dearest. Time.’

‘Then we must find it,’ replied Isabella firmly. ‘We shall not falter now.’

‘Stapledon has a great influence over young Edward,’ Mortimer pointed out.

Isabella agreed. ‘I am a little concerned about Stapledon,’ she added.

‘He makes it dear that he regards me as a traitor,’ added Mortimer.

‘The old fool. I am going to sound him out. I am determined to discover what is in his mind.’

‘Go carefully.’

‘You may trust me,’ replied Isabella.

‘Edward must have had a high opinion of him to have trusted young Edward to him.’

‘Edward would always put his trust in the wrong people. I will see what can be done with the old Bishop.’

Mortimer agreed. Isabella’s power to fascinate had grown since she had come to France. She had changed from the humiliated Queen who at every turn was shown by her husband how much more attractive he had found his male friends.

* * *

Walter Stapledon, Bishop of Exeter, was reckoned to be a man of integrity.

He was learned and a member of the University of Oxford. He was, in fact, the founder of Exeter College which at this time was known as Stapledon Hall. He had taken a great interest in the rebuilding of his cathedral and had spent a part of his income on making it beautiful.

He had gone into politics some years before when Edward the First had sent him on a mission to France. Later he had returned to France, this time with Edward the Second; he had deplored the differences between Lancaster and the King, and had tried to bring about a reconciliation between them; and Edward’s trust in him was shown by his sending his son to France in his care.

The Queen approached him carefully.

‘My lord Bishop,’ she said, ‘how think you my son responds to his responsibilities?’

‘He has done well, my lady,’ answered the Bishop.

‘I am glad you agree with me. It is said that he will be another such as his grandfather. I pray this may be so.’

The Bishop did not meet her eye. He said: ‘There is a resemblance between the Prince and his father and grandfather.’

‘I trust he may be like his grandfather,’ said the Queen firmly.

The Bishop was alert. He had heard rumours. Could it be true that the Queen was engaged in an adulterous liaison with Mortimer? There was that in their manner when they were together to suggest this might be true. Mortimer— a traitor to the King— a man who had escaped from prison where he had been condemned for treachery, and to be received as he was, to be honoured by the Queen and the Court of France― it was a state of affairs which made the Bishop very suspicious.

The Queen went on: ‘My lord, like so many good men you must be saddened by what is happening in England.’

She waited for his response but it did not come and she went on somewhat impatiently: ‘You cannot be happy about the King’s obsession with Hugh le Despenser.’

‘I respect the King’s right to choose his ministers,’ replied the Bishop rather coldly.

‘Ministers, my lord,’ said the Queen rather hotly. ‘Would you call pretty Hugh a minister?’

‘He holds the office of Chamberlain bestowed on him by the King, my lady.’

‘My lord Bishop,’ retorted the Queen, ‘you must not think I should consider it treason if you were to speak your mind.’

‘I can assure you, my lady, that my thoughts are not treasonable.’

The Bishop bowed with dignity and asked leave to retire. She saw at once that she had made a mistake. He was not with them. He had the sort of blind loyalty which told him he must support the King at all cost.

She went at once to Mortimer and told him of the interview, repeating it word for word.

‘He could be dangerous,’ agreed Mortimer. ‘And he will talk to Edward.’

‘My dear love, what can we do about it?’

Mortimer stared into the distance. ‘If he is a danger to our cause, he must be removed.’

‘How?’ whispered the Queen.

‘We must find the answer to that one, my love. It must not appear that we have a hand in it. This is too important a cause to be spoilt by a priest with a misplaced sense of duty.’

Walter Stapledon went to his chamber and shut himself in.
It’s true,
he thought.
The Queen with Mortimer is plotting to overthrow the King. It is for that reason they wanted the Prince here; this is why they will not go back to England but make excuse after excuse to stay.

What could they be planning to do? Raise an army? Invade England? How far was the King of France involved?

And the Queen knew that he was aware of what was happening. She and Mortimer― her paramour― Guilty of disloyalty and adultery― They would stop at nothing. In the moment when he and the Queen had faced each other she knew that she had betrayed her evil schemes to him.

Walter Stapledon,
he said,
your life is not worth one little groat.

Perhaps even now the assassin was lurking in readiness for him.

He sent for his servant— a man whom he could trust.

‘Have you some of your garments which would not look too ill on me?’

The man stared in astonishment.

‘I will tell you something,’ said the Bishop. ‘I have to get away from the court with all speed. I need a good disguise. Can you procure something― for yourself and for me. Then, my good friend, we will make for the coast with all speed and take ship to England.’

‘If it is your wish, my lord.’

‘It is not only my wish but my need.’

* * *

Luck was with the Bishop. He and his servant reached the coast without mishap and quickly found a ship to take them to England.

He went to his lodging and there discarded his disguise and garbed in his bishop’s robes sought an audience with the King.

As might have been expected Hugh le Despenser was with him.

Edward expressed surprise and consternation at the sight of him.

‘My lord Bishop, your mission was with the Prince. Is he with you?’

‘I left the Court of France in a hurry, my lord,’ said the Bishop, ‘and disguised. Had I not done so I should never have been allowed to get away to tell you what is happening there.’

The King was puzzled but Hugh was alert.

‘Pray go on, my lord Bishop,’ he said.

‘My lord, I hesitate to say this. Nor would I if I did not firmly believe it to be truth. The Queen and Mortimer are engaged in an adulterous intrigue.’

‘Mortimer!’ cried the King. ‘Mortimer and Isabella!’

‘It is clear that she had a hand in effecting his escape. They had planned this.

They schemed to get the Prince with them and once they did were more careless than they had been before. They are gathering malcontents and their plots bode no good for you, my lord.’

‘This is wild talk, Bishop,’ said the King.

But Hugh had laid a hand on his arm. ‘It smells of truth, dear lord,’ he said.