A Tapestry of Treason, page 20
There was no doubt of its provenance. I looked again, my thoughts taking an unfortunate turn. Was Thomas wearing this garment when he was imprisoned? Did he wear it for his summary execution? My belly clenched nauseously until I called my emotions to order. If Thomas had been wearing this hanselyn it would have been stiff and black with his blood, the brilliants dimmed for ever. It would have been torn to pieces by the Bristol mob, the pearls picked over by the guttersnipes.
‘At least Ramsey did not wear it when he brought Henry’s orders to me,’ I said. ‘I would have stripped it from his back, using a dagger.’
Joan was not listening. ‘And there. Look at that.’ Her disgust continued to wax.
I did. William Flaxman, another Court minion, resplendent in a heavily furred gown of motley velvet and damask. Another garment made to be noticed.
‘Thomas wore that at Christmas. He said he liked the weight of the velvet and would have another made.’ I watched as Will Flaxman stroked his hand over the fur cuff. ‘So the division of spoils has begun. Henry has seen fit to reward his household with garments from my lord’s back.’ Bitterness welled up, fierce as a storm wave.
‘That’s the way of the world of treachery.’
Joan flushed when I turned my regard on her. ‘Treachery is too close to you for such flippancy.’
But her return gaze was steady. ‘You mistake me. Unlike you, I am rarely flippant, particularly when I am in despair over my brother’s death.’
‘While I am merely full of wrath. Let us take ourselves out of sight of those monstrosities. I am of a mind to accost Henry and demand their return…’
‘Don’t do that!’
‘I am not so lacking in judgement.’
Many would say that I was. The consequences of the Revolt of the Earls had proved vast and humiliating.
There were to be worse repercussions for me than seeing Thomas’s garments gracing the King’s esquires. The burden of Henry’s revenge, delivered to me by the obnoxious Ralph Ramsey, returned daily to haunt me, as was the intention. It coloured every nook and cranny of my life in black rage, for the whole range of Despenser estates, the length and breadth of England and Wales, was declared forfeit. Every castle, every manor, every tract of land. My dower rights were taken from me. Every item of value that I owned, from jewels to silver and gold plate, was confiscated. In effect I was penniless and landless. Even King Richard’s reversal of the sentence delivered in 1326 against the Despenser ancestors was revoked. The tarnished Despenser name, with all its old guilt of greed and uncontrolled ambitions, had been explicitly and deliberately resurrected.
Henry’s revenge. My name was likewise diminished.
That was not all, for I had lost control of Richard, my son, now named as a royal ward who would be raised under the auspices of King Henry.
Nor could I hope for any support from my Despenser tenantry over this loss. There had been no outcry against Henry’s decision. Thomas’s tenants changed sides as fast as an arrow could be delivered at the hand of a master bowman. It was prudent for them, this seamless changing of allegiance. They saw no reason to die in a futile uprising against the King’s judgement.
Through it all, through all the disinheritance and forfeiture, I had waited. I waited for the King to summon me to explain my own investment in the plot that nearly killed him; my knowledge of events. Anticipating Henry’s declamation of a more personal punishment became a wearing drag on my spirits when I was ignored. When I requested an interview, to know sooner rather than later, I was refused. I was acknowledged at Court, but only by an inclination of the King’s head, his cool eyes surveying what my next plot might be. My future hung over my head like the mythical Sword of Damocles. Every night, while I imagined its fall, a fatal blow, Henry remained as silent as a hunting owl, and I was too proud to make a scene, to accost him and demand my rights as an innocent widow. I thought it would have entertained the Court immeasurably. I had too much dignity.
Denied an interview, I wrote petition after petition, showering the King with them, demanding the return of my dower rights, demanding the items of personal jewellery and plate that were mine and had always been mine. I sent my petitions to the royal apartments, to await the King when he met with his Council, to be there before him when he knelt in prayer in the chapel at Westminster, to be there beside his plate when he sat at supper. I would not allow him to forget that he had a cousin whom he had made destitute.
‘He’ll probably lock you up to shut you up,’ Dickon suggested.
‘At least I will know what he intends. This constant not-knowing is heavy on my heart.’ I eyed him. ‘It should be heavy on yours too.’
‘How should it? Everyone knows I had nothing to do with the plot, and since our brother Edward is all things magnificent to the King, why should I worry?’ He smirked, his spirits recovered. ‘You could throw yourself at the royal feet. Edward might pick you up even if the King doesn’t. He’ll keep you in black silk.’
‘And they might both walk over me.’ I could not forgive Edward. I could not ever see myself forgiving him. ‘Can you imagine the sanctimonious crowing of the Court if I kneel before Henry of Lancaster? I will not.’
‘You don’t need to do it in public!’
And so I wrote again. I requested at least the restoration of the wardship of my son. Was I not fit to care for him?
In your mercy, my lord, in your understanding of the need of a woman and a widow to have her son’s future in her own hands…
There was no mercy.
* * *
I entered my chamber after Mass, casting off black veil and gloves, handing my cloak to one of my waiting-women. It was the coldest January I ever recalled. I wondered how Richard was faring in Pontefract. No one spoke of him and I did not dare. Dickon lounged along a window seat, long limbs stretched, yawning, aping, had he realised it, Edward at his most annoying. He watched me as I walked to a small coffer that had been placed for my attention just beside the fireplace. Light from the flames flickered, bringing the enamelled hounds to life, as if they would spring into action at my command.
‘What is it?’ Dickon asked, sitting up as I crouched beside it.
‘I have no idea. I’m surprised that you have not already investigated.’
But there was a royal seal on the latch. Breaking it, I lifted the little domed-lidded casket, and placed it beside Dickon, who shuffled his legs out of the way, suddenly interested, as I opened the lid.
‘Does the King send you money? Perhaps he is thawing towards you.’
There was a note inside, clearly not written by Henry but at his behest.
Here for the hand of Constance, Lady Despenser, is the sum of thirty pounds in gold and silver, found to be in possession of Thomas, Lord Despenser, when taken prisoner on board ship.
I lifted the leather bag, which chinked with the coins.
‘It was with him when he was captured,’ I said.
‘But not enough to buy his life.’ Dickon took the bag and weighed it in his hand. ‘I know Thomas was not well liked, but I’d have taken his money.’
‘Would you?’ I asked, surveying the youthful features which could hide a multitude of resentments. ‘It’s blood money. Thirty pieces of silver.’
‘It’s more than I ever see in one place. If you do not want it, give it to me.’
I took the bag from him and replaced it in the coffer.
‘I have a need for it. A better use than to line your pockets, little brother.’
‘You would not miss the odd coin.’
‘Oh, but I would. Go away, Dickon, while I think.’
‘Bribery, is it?’
‘Who’s to know?’
I sat and thought of the value of this gift. Henry was not closed to my circumstances after all, but his silence was a constraint in itself. Driven by a need to be free, I acknowledged that I needed help, and there was only one obvious source.
* * *
To do him justice, Edward came within a day of my summons.
‘Edward.’
I was cool but not hostile.
‘Constance.’ He bowed, expression unreadable. ‘I expect you need something from me.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would I be amenable, whatever it is? You have cast me in the role of enemy.’
‘Sometimes a woman has a need to negotiate with the enemy.’
‘But the enemy does not always need to comply.’
I lifted the leather bag from the coffer and shook it gently to advertise the contents.
‘Sometimes the enemy can be persuaded.’
‘How much?’
‘Enough. I think that you owe me at least one favour.’
Within two days I was escorted into the presence of my cousin Henry. My father on one side, my brother Edward on the other. A fine trio of questionable allegiance, the Lancastrian collars of ‘esses’ glinting a mockery on three breasts. My coin of thirty pounds had passed from my hands into Edward’s as a sweet bribe. If it could buy me forgiveness and mercy it would be well spent, even though it was an amount I was reluctant to give.
So here we were, in one of the audience chambers, servants, couriers and courtiers bustling in the background, Henry making it as uncomfortable as possible for me. Before me, small and vulnerable, my hands on their shoulders, stood Richard and Elizabeth. I would make every appeal I could lay my hands on. This was for them, for the Despenser inheritance. Control your emotions, Bishop Henry Despenser had advised.
We made an appropriate obeisance. My children mirrored our actions, well trained, watchful. I felt Elizabeth tremble under my palm, and pressed a little harder to reassure. Henry nodded. He was like a cat with a nestful of mice. Not exactly hostile, not playful. His claws were sheathed but we all knew who had the power here.
‘Well?’
The Duke of York stepped forward. ‘My daughter has a request, my lord.’
‘The problem with your daughter, sir, is that I doubt both her honesty and her innocence.’
‘If you were in such severe doubt about her loyalty, perhaps you would already have incarcerated her, my lord.’ My father, at his formal best, had all the weight of a royal uncle. I was impressed. I kept my eyes lowered in subservience. Edward on my right said nothing at all.
‘It is still in my mind to do so.’
‘You have taken everything else of value from her, my lord.’
‘It was deserved. It is what is expected for a traitor’s widow.’
‘Is there nothing I can say in my daughter’s defence, sir?’
‘Nothing that would persuade me to exonerate her.’
There was no moving him. Well, I would do it. With much grace, I sank to my knees, pulling my surprised children with me.
‘I am here to beg for your mercy, my lord.’
He was not impressed. Irritably he gestured for me to rise.
‘In God’s blessed name stand up, Constance. And your children. They look terrified. I do not eat children, whatever you tell them.’ He smiled grimly at them. ‘I appreciate the pretence to call on my mercy, but they should not be here.’ He gestured to some passing esquire. ‘Take them to the window. Feed them, talk to them, entertain them. As long as they are quiet.’
Looking startled, the squire chivvied them away. I watched as he lifted them to sit on a window seat, then sat beside them. From somewhere a platter of sweetmeats arrived.
‘What do you want from me?’
I stood. How could he not know? Had he not read my letters?
‘I have written, my lord.’
‘As I am aware.’ He gestured to one of his servants who came forward, bearing a whole package of letters. They were mine. I could not tell whether he had actually opened them and read them. ‘Tell me in your own words.’
I did not hesitate. This was what I had worked for.
‘I ask what any woman and widow in my position would ask. Restoration of my dower rights despite the forfeiture of the Despenser estates. Custody and wardship of my two children, Richard and Elizabeth. They are too young to be parted from me.’ I placed my hand on my belly, hoping that he would not prove cold-hearted against my final plea. ‘I carry another child for my dead lord. I need to raise them as loyal subjects, in knowledge of royal mercy.’
‘A specious argument. I cannot argue against that.’
Well, it was not hopeless so far. I continued:
‘I ask for restitution of the jewels and plate that were mine during my marriage. I would ask for restitution of some manors that my son will inherit. I acknowledge my husband’s guilt. I ask that it will not be visited on his children or his widow.’ I swallowed. ‘If you need proof of my loyalty, it is that I am here today, with my father and brother to speak for me.’
Henry visibly sighed.
‘Do you stand for your daughter, my lord of York?’
‘I do, my lord.’
To Edward: ‘And you will tell me she had no part in the plot.’
‘None to my knowledge, my lord.’
‘A very pragmatic answer, Rutland. But then all your answers are so. I will consider it.’
‘It would not be right that my sister live in penury, my lord.’
I felt like reminding him that he had received thirty pounds from me without any sense that it would reduce me to penury.
‘So you will not keep her on your charity. As you do your younger brother.’
‘I will if there is no alternative. But I would rather the proud name of Despenser be considered worthy of a royal pardon.’
‘The treasonous name of Despenser is worthy of no such thing.’ Henry surveyed me, his chin tilted. ‘You would not consider taking the veil, I suppose. It would solve a major problem for me.’
‘No, my lord. I would not. Nor would it be appropriate for me to wed again, with this child in my belly.’
Edward intervened before I could say more.
‘We appreciate the need for time for you to decide on Constance’s future. But it would be to all our advantage.’
‘And how is that?’
‘Constance will be a burden to no one if she receives what should be hers.’ He slid a glance in my direction that held a command that I remain silent. ‘Her gratitude would ensure her loyalty, and that of her offspring for all time.’
‘Which would be a miracle worthy of Saint Thomas Becket himself.’ A pause. Clearly he did not believe a word of this. ‘I have an invasion of Scotland to consider.’
‘Then it would be good to leave a grateful and loyal Court in London, my lord.’
‘As you say.’
Henry turned and stalked to the window, where he spoke soft-voiced to my children before looking out in the general direction of Scotland. Edward now nudged me into furthering my own plea.
‘If it please you, my lord…’
‘No more, Constance! I have heard enough.’
Driven by my conscience I said: ‘It is not for myself but for my younger brother, Richard of Conisbrough. His annuity from King Richard, his only source of income, has come to an end. Would you consider restoring it? It would mean little to you, and so much to him. It is only one hundred pounds a year.’
I held my breath. Henry walked back. ‘Very well, I will restore some of your property so that you have an income of your own. I will restore your son and his inheritance to you. There was never any doubt in my mind that your daughter would remain in your care. Further, I will consider an annuity for your brother.’ All a mark of favour that turned my thoughts upside down. Why had Henry been so generous? And as if he read my thoughts: ‘I have treated you with generosity. It will please me if you keep your nose out of my affairs. Spend your time on your estates when they are returned to you. As your brother said, it will be to both our advantages.’
Victory bloomed warmly beneath the detested livery chain. I had what I wanted. I would have to thank Edward, I supposed.
‘I kneel at your feet in gratitude, my lord.’
Instead he came even closer, so close that I could read the disfavour in his eyes. Placing a hand on each of my shoulders, he leaned to apply a cousinly salute to first one cheek and then the other. His grip on my flesh was hard, his lips cold. There was no affection here. It was done to make an impression, so that all the Court would know.
‘There is no need. I won’t demean your pride further. Sufficient to say, in the eyes of the Court, you are restored to my good graces, Cousin Constance. Your King accepts your apology and welcomes you back into the fold. All I ask is that you will be a loyal subject.’
‘Indeed, my lord. You can rely on it. You have all my gratitude.’
Although he looked askance, he stepped back, releasing me. It was over. I pulled Edward away from where the King and the Duke began to talk of troops and armaments for the march north.
‘Now what?’ he asked, looking wary.
‘King Richard, of course.’
‘Shh. Why would you risk being overheard, when by your profession of loyalty you have just persuaded Henry that you have no interest in Richard’s future?’
‘What are you going to do about him? Are you planning a rescue attempt?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going north with Henry for this Scottish campaign? You could find an opportunity to visit and see his circumstances.’
‘I could. I might. But I will not launch an ill-advised rescue. Stay out of this, Constance. Count the blessings that you have just achieved.’
‘It seems wrong that we have abandoned our true King.’
‘Not wrong. Just—’
‘Just pragmatic. I know.’
No use belabouring him when he would not be moved. Edward was shallow. Untrustworthy. But he had helped to restore some semblance of dignity to me.
‘My thanks, Edward.’
‘Anyone would think that I was returned to your sisterly affection, along with your dower and your jewels.’
