The Traitor's Wife (24 page)

He was relieved from thinking more about the matter by a knock on the door. He smiled as his daughter-in-law entered the room. “Eleanor?”

“The king has heard from the Countess of Gloucester, sir. She is much grieved by her husband's death, and she is inquiring about when she can expect her dower to be set aside.”

Hugh the younger smiled. “That's the Maud I know!”

“And she writes that she is in good health but that she is a little tired, for she is expecting a child.”

F
ORGIVE ME, NELLY, FOR MISSING YOUR LYING-IN! BUT THESE RAINS HAVE been so horrid, I thought I would never get here.”

Hugh's sister Isabel, still damp, bent by the bed where Eleanor lay and kissed her on the cheek. Eleanor laughed. “Edward was no laggard, so I have no cause for complaint, Bella. And it is so good to see you, dear, especially without that horrid black on.”

Isabel's face changed, and Eleanor instantly regretted her words. Her sister-in-law's husband had died suddenly in the spring of 1313 at age fifty-one, leaving her with two sons, Thomas and Hugh, and a daughter, Margaret. “I put off my mourning only because I was told it was time to, Nelly. I miss him so much.”

“I know you do, Bella. I am sorry. But you do look so pretty in that saffron you are wearing, with your dark hair.”

“He was so kind to me, so loving. I will never look at another, whatever I wear.” Isabel's face brightened. “But where is your boy?”

On cue, the wet nurse entered and put two-day-old Edward in Eleanor's arms. “He came so quickly, Bella! The midwife barely had time to get here; Gladys and I thought she would have to deliver him herself. But everything went fine.”

“He looks like Hugh, I think. He must be delighted.”

“He is; he loves Isabel, but a boy is different somehow; men can never have enough, as you well know. He and your father are talking about purchasing a reversion of land for him.”

“How is your sister-in-law Maud? Do you hear from her?”

Eleanor snorted. “Margaret and I went to Tewkesbury Abbey—a most gloomy place, someone ought to put in some stained glass—to see Gilbert buried there, and she treated us as little more than spies, checking on her pregnancy. She certainly wasn't showing it then; chest and bosom flat as a board. I loved Gilbert; once I learned Hugh would be all right, I cried every night over my brother. I am still angry with the king for speaking so hastily to him, although I understand it was a tense time for all. And for Maud to act as if my sisters and I would want to see something befall his heir, so that we can come into his land! It is just too sad. So I do not write to her, and I don't think Margaret does either. Elizabeth might hear from her, seeing as she was married to Maud's brother, but Elizabeth is still in Ireland.”

“Do you plan to return to court after you are churched?”

“Not if I can help it, Bella. I have seen so little of my son Hugh, though my uncle has kindly told me he can stay at court with me if I wish, but with Isabel and now Edward, I do not want to be such a stranger. And I do not enjoy being there much now that Lancaster is there. He makes me uneasy, Bella.”

Isabel nodded, “As well he should. I despise him for the hurt he has caused my father.”

Thomas of Lancaster had publicly attributed the ignominious defeat at the Bannock Burn to the king's failure to observe the Ordinances. At the York Parliament held in September 1314, Edward, in no position to bargain, had capitulated to virtually all of his cousin's demands. He had sworn to abide by the Ordinances, and many of his household officials and most of his sheriffs had been replaced by others. Hugh le Despenser the elder was among those whose removal Lancaster sought. Just days before the birth of his latest grandchild in October 1314, he had returned to Loughborough from that Parliament, looking grim and not a little bit sad. He had served Edward and his father for over thirty years, and though he knew that Lancaster had always wanted to see him gone from court, the moment of dismissal had rankled.

“Whom do you despise, dear?”

Isabel looked up at her father, who had noiselessly entered Eleanor's chamber. “Lancaster, Papa, for making you leave court.”

“Don't trouble yourself, child. Lancaster will give himself plenty of rope, and one day he will hang himself with it.” He kissed Isabel on her cheek. “I was meeting with my council when you arrived. My absence from court does have its advantages; I'm getting much more done here.”

“You shall soon be back, sir,” said Eleanor.

“Indeed I shall. In the meantime, it has stopped raining for a moment or two. I thought I would take your and Bella's boys riding.” He nodded toward Edward, sleeping in Eleanor's arms. “Present company excepted, of course.”

After his death, Gaveston had been embalmed, but he had not been properly laid to rest. Aside from his dying excommunicate, Edward had vowed not to see him underground until his death had been avenged. By January 1315, however, Edward had at least gotten the sentence of excommunication reversed, and although Piers's death had by no means been avenged, the king had healed enough to bear his friend's funeral. He was buried at Langley, the king's and Gaveston's favorite retreat.

Lancaster and Warwick, needless to say, did not attend, but Pembroke and Hereford did, along with Henry de Beaumont, the Despensers, and many other dignitaries. The king made no attempt to hide his emotion, and as for the cost—Lancaster be damned! He'd not give the dearest person in the world a mean burial just to appease cousin Thomas's miserly little soul.

March arrived, still rainy, and every day, Eleanor awaited word of Gilbert's heir. March departed, still rainy, and no word was heard from Maud at all. “Surely she would tell us, would she not, Hugh?”

“To gloat if nothing else. Eleanor, I've held my tongue, for I was sorry to see Gilbert fall. But now I must tell you that I think this whole pregnancy is a fraud.”

“Hugh?”

“Nine months have passed, Eleanor, and that's assuming she became pregnant just before the Bannock Burn, although from what Gilbert let slip one night when he'd had too much wine, I don't think they'd had relations in a while, so shrewish had she become.”

“But you don't know; they might have made it up, especially with Gilbert facing battle.” Eleanor thought this most likely, for she had been careful to send Hugh off to Scotland with the happiest of marital memories. “And babies can be late, Hugh.”

“True.”

“And why, Hugh le Despenser, would Maud do such a silly thing? For shame, Hugh! You are so cynical.”

Hugh shrugged. “So I am, always will be. But if you're making clothes for this one, I wouldn't bother.” He strolled out, shaking his head, as Eleanor frowned at her work basket, which indeed contained a beautiful swaddling blanket for her latest niece or nephew, embroidered with the Clare arms. She picked it up, finishing the last of the stitching defiantly.

After Parliament met in the spring of 1315, Lancaster, much to Edward's relief, returned to his estates for a while, having first forced the king to void all royal gifts made in the past few years, but Warwick, now on Edward's council, remained at Edward's side, an ever-present reminder of what Edward could not bear to think about: Gaveston's last days in the dungeons of Warwick Castle.

Warwick's snarling Black Dog days were behind him, however. He was scrupulously polite to the king now, with none of the insolence that surfaced from time to time on Lancaster's part. He was too polite, thought Edward; had he not been it would have been the king's obligation and pleasure to knock him flat. Instead, he had to sit patiently on a rainy day in late May while Warwick droned on and on in his respectful monotone about problems in Scotland, problems in Ireland, problems in Wales, problems in Bristol, famine caused by the never-ending rain, food prices, Warwick's fool nephew seizing Tonbridge Castle in Kent—

The king started. “Your nephew?”

“The younger Despenser.” Warwick was politely apologetic. “Your grace recalls he is my late sister's son. I was rather fond of the lad when he was a pup, but we haven't had much contact lately.”

“Why in God's name has he seized Tonbridge Castle? Who would even want to seize Tonbridge Castle?”

“He refuses to speak of the matter to anyone but you and your council, your grace.”

Edward was on the verge of turning to the seat to his left and asking the elder Despenser what his son was up to, when he remembered that Despenser had been dismissed from his council. He sighed sharply. “Have him brought here, then.”

“Your grace, here are the keys to Tonbridge Castle. Easy come, easy go.”

Edward stared at the young man in front of him. “Hugh, what is the meaning of this fool stunt of yours?”