“Gilbert must have—”
“Gilbert told me only that you’d had too much to drink and were acting rather foolishly. He didn’t tell me that you’d all but invited the king into your bed. That I’ve heard from others, all of this afternoon.”
“Hugh! I wouldn’t have known the king from the Pope at the time.”
“Well, that raises an even more interesting picture, though certainly not a more pleasing one. In any case, we can discuss this later, as I’ve an invitation for you that you need to attend to now. Not from the king, you might be distressed to hear—”
“Hugh!”
“—and not from the Pope either, by the way. I don’t think you’d be able to guess if you tried, even if you could try in your present state. The she-wolf herself, otherwise known as our gracious lady the king's mother.”
Bess frowned, a painful process. “Queen Isabella? What on earth does she want with me?”
Hugh shrugged. “Maybe she wants to apologize for turning you out of your chambers last night. She’ll probably offer you excellent wine, if my memory from when I was a page at court serves me right.”
“Hugh—”
“I’ll call in your ladies. They’ve got a lot to work to do on you, my dear.”
Eschewing the elaborate gowns she had had made for her visit to court, Bess ordered that her ladies dress her in an older traveling gown that made her look as frumpy and matronly as she could at her age. Arranging her hair into her customary headdress would have been far too painful, and brought back faintly distasteful memories besides, so she settled for a simple veil and wimple and proceeded toward the dowager queen's chamber. Her sister-in-law, Joan of Kent, was hobbling up one flight of stairs as Bess hobbled down them. “Joan? Are you all right?”
“I wish I were on my deathbed.”
“So do I.”
Even Joan of Kent's beauty, Bess observed with muted pleasure, did not hold up well under a massive hangover. And had she really seen Joan with Thomas Holland? Given Bess's own conduct with the king, not to mention whatever sinful act she must have instigated on the bearskin rug, she supposed that she was not in a position to be censorious.
Joan was not so bleary-eyed, however, as to miss Bess's voluminous wimple, the sort that was no longer seen in fashionable company except on nuns and ladies over sixty. “What in the name of God is that on your head?”
“Go to the devil, Joan,” said Bess, thinking that their conversation had taken a peculiarly circular turn.
The ornate entrance to Queen Isabella's apartments was so different from the simple one to hers and Hugh's that no sober person could have mistaken the two. A page showed her in, and Bess sank to a curtsey, though every bone she had resisted. She spoke the words that she had been rehearsing since Hugh had given her the news. “Your grace, I beg your pardon for my inexcusable and disgraceful behavior last night. I assure you it shall never happen again.”
“Inexcusable and disgraceful? Ridiculous will do, Lady Despenser.” The queen waved her to a stool. “Sit there. You brought some needlework with you, I see? Show it to me.”
“It is for our portable altar, your grace.”
“Very pretty. You work very nicely. Don’t look so frightened, child. I didn’t call you here to upbraid you. So you are wondering, no doubt, what did I call you here for?”
“My head aches so badly, your grace, I could hardly figure it out if I tried.”
Isabella laughed. “Well, it's no mystery, Lady Despenser. You are the eldest daughter of my son's favorite earl and wife to one of the wealthiest men in England. It would be remiss of me not to take some notice of you.” She settled back with her own work. “I gather you haven’t been to court much.”
“No, your grace. I have mostly stayed on my father's lands and now my husband's.”
“And you have visited your husband's aunt, Lady Elizabeth de Burgh. She is an old friend of mine. She has spoken very highly of you.”
“There were no opportunities for me to make a fool out of myself when I visited her. I suppose that is why.”
Isabella chuckled. “She said you were a clever girl. So was I, at your age. I noticed you and your pretty sister-in-law looking at me quite intently last night.”
Bess blushed. “We did not mean to be rude. It is just that your grace is so handsome, and the king's mother, and so seldom seen, and—”
“A wicked woman, I am sure you have been told. I suppose if I were a young lady again I would stare at me too.” She paused. “Don’t fear, Lady Despenser. I won’t force you to turn confessor. I have a perfectly good one of my own.”
Relieved and disappointed at the same time, Bess concentrated on her needlework. To break the silence, she said, “If it is not being impertinent, is it strange for you to be back at court after all this time?”
“Why should a girl who embraces her king in front of a hall of people worry about being impertinent? I miss very little, you see.”
“Your grace—”
“Oh, I blame my son entirely. He shouldn’t have filled the hall with ladies, half of them who have never been outside their little shires before, brought out his best wines, and not expected half of them to make fools of themselves. My husband had the right idea. He discouraged women from spending time at court, unless they were among my ladies and damsels.”
She spoke of her husband as if she were an ordinary widow, Bess noted with fascination.
“In any case, to answer your question, it is very strange being back at court. It is full of ghosts. No, my child, I’m not addled in the head. I mean the ghosts of men and women who live in their children. My son is the living image of his father as a young man, although they’re not the same in character. Your husband is another such one as to his wicked father. My granddaughter Isabella could have been me when I first came to England, the older people say. And I could think of a dozen other examples. Yet all these ghosts are wandering around in a very different world than the one in which I lived. And none of them seem to know what to make of me. Fortunately, I still have some friends who have aged with me.”
The dowager queen studied her work for a moment or two. “I spoke just now of your husband. I have known him since he was a small boy, though last night was probably the first time we have spoken in twenty years. Is he good to you?”
“Very good, your grace.” She batted back a tear.
“I daresay he is or you would have been beaten black and blue last night. Of course, his father treated his mother well too, and he was a blackguard. So that proves very little, I suppose.”
“He is a good man, your grace, and not just to me.”
“Aye? I once wanted him dead, you know. Too dangerous to have him alive, I thought, and I can’t say it was unpleasant thinking of him dead either, not with that father of his. But he held out in that castle long enough to allow me to change my mind and to let him live. And the king didn’t want to execute him either, as they are cousins. Sir Hugh was lucky.”
“No,” said Bess. “He was brave.”
“Brave, but lucky too. He could have been executed straightaway like his father, or if he had been let out after a few months as that mother of his requested, God knows what sort of treason he might have got up to. He might have ended up dead with the Earl of Kent. I assume that you are close to your sister-in-law Joan?”
“Yes. We spent much time in the same household while growing up.”
“Does she ever speak of her father?”
Bess decided not to mention Joan's remark about Isabella killing her father. “Very seldom, your grace. She was such a child when he died, she never knew him, really.”
“No. His death is something I do regret.”
Bess hardly heard the words, they were spoken in such an undertone. The dowager queen continued, “Well, as far as your Hugh goes, I bear him no ill will. He has served my son the king loyally. Some might have borne a grudge in his circumstances, or simply sulked, and I have to give him credit for not doing so. Perhap
s you can tell him someday that I wish him nothing but well. I have sometimes thought of doing so myself, but it would probably be an unpleasant experience for both of us. Too much happened for us to ever want to meet more than superficially. Last night was quite enough for me and for him as well, I daresay.”
“I will tell him, your grace.”
“Good. Seeing him last night put me in mind of what I had left unsaid. It was probably the true reason I asked you here, as a matter of fact. I thought I should say it now, for I don’t know when we shall meet again after these festivities are over. My son the king does not force me to live on my lands, as I have heard ill-informed people say, but I find that it is better for all concerned that I spend most of my time on them. Queen Philippa is very gracious, but I suspect I make her uneasy. Her and all the younger women here.”
“Your grace—”
“There is no need to lie to make me feel better, child. As I said earlier, I can’t blame them, or you. And it is uncomfortable for me too. I envy all of you innocent girls, with your simple lives. It reminds me of what I lost through my own stupidity. And my stupidity was great indeed, for I am not naturally a stupid woman.” She gazed at Bess severely. “I trust this confidence shall not be the talk of the court tomorrow?”
“Of course not, your grace,” said Bess, a little hurt.
“Good. I never thought it would be—your father is an honorable man, and I suppose he imbued it in you—but one never knows. In any case, I have had my say.” She gazed at Bess again, this time appraisingly. “They will be holding the tournament soon, so we must be getting ready. I do hope your husband is not mean with all of his money? For that dress and wimple are fit only for a soggy day in Wales, Lady Despenser.”
When Bess returned to her chamber, Hugh and one of his clerks were working on some of his correspondence to and from his estates. She listened to him as he finished dictating a letter. His voice was listless, and twice he had to go back and amend what he had just said. “Hugh, can I see you alone?”
The clerk looked relieved. Hugh shrugged. “Might as well. Nothing much is getting accomplished at the moment.” He waited until the clerk left. “Well?”
She sat down. “You’re not at the tournament,” she said lamely, though it was not much of a surprise. Hugh had grown up at the court of the second Edward, who had discouraged tournaments, and when they had been revived by Mortimer and Isabella, he had of course been imprisoned. Once he had been freed, it had taken a while for him to feel welcome in the lists. Though he now acquitted himself reasonably well on the tournament field, he’d never developed the passion for jousting that the king and others had.
“I had some business to attend to here, and I’m not to take part today anyway. Tomorrow, I think. Is that what you wanted me to clear the room to ask?”
“No. The queen told me that she once wanted you dead.”
He shrugged. “No surprise there.”
“Hugh, that would have been terrible!” In spite of Hugh's inhospitable look, she perched herself on his lap and put her arms around him protectively.
“Well, you wouldn’t have been around to know,” Hugh said. She frowned and held him more tightly. His voice softened. “Why, Bess, I think you’ve grown to like me after all.”
“A bit.” Even as she attempted to banter with him, she felt tears begin to come to her eyes. “Hugh, last night with the king meant nothing! Nothing! I was so addled, and thinking that I was beautiful and witty, that is all. I would never be unfaithful to you. I would never even think of it. I can’t bear to have you suppose that I am that type of woman. I did not mean to shame you.”
“Bess, I know. I was harsh earlier. It’d been tedious, with my friends telling me that you couldn’t possibly have meant any harm and everyone else speculating on when and with whom you would cuckold me if you hadn’t already.”
“Oh, Hugh.”
“But you need to be more careful from here on, everywhere and not just with the king. You’re not a child, you’re a lovely woman. It's not hard to lead a man where he's tempted to go anyway, sweetheart. Being a man, and having been tempted myself, I speak with the best of authority on the subject.”
“Hugh, I am so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’ll be forgotten by tomorrow. There will more feasting tonight, and I’m sure there will be enough making fools of themselves to supply plenty of fodder for the gossips in the morning.”
“Not I. Does Papa know? And Mama?”
“I haven’t seen your mother, but your father spoke to me in private. I told him that it was nothing, just a silly drunken dare between you and Joan of Kent. He nodded and said that you and Joan had gotten into scrapes before and he wasn’t at all surprised. He's got something else on his mind, anyway. Some grand idea of the king's of which he won’t say a word.”
“Thank you, Hugh.” She rested her still-throbbing head against his shoulder.
He stroked her cheek. “Truth is,” he admitted. “I didn’t go to the tournament because I was hoping you would come back here.”
“I am so glad that I did.”
“So what else did the dowager queen say to you?”
“She was quite civil to me, Hugh, and she gave me a message to you.” She told Hugh of their conversation.
Hugh smiled ruefully. “Well, I’m glad the she-wolf has a conscience. I’ve tried to put aside my own hate for her, and I like to think I succeeded some time ago. If not, perhaps I can now.” He glanced outside the window. “Shall we go to the tournament now? I know you haven’t been to many of them.”
“No.” She put her lips to his and slid a little forward on his lap, feeling his reaction as she did so. She kissed him lazily as his hands began to rove. “Do you know what else the queen told me? That my dress was dowdy.”
“Then by all means let's get you out of it.”
Their lovemaking was much the same as usual: easy, gentle, and loving, though perhaps with a certain edge that had been missing before, Bess thought. “Better than the tournament?” Hugh asked as they lay in each other's arms afterward. They could hear it in the background, a gentle rumble.
“Much better. But—Hugh?”
“Sweetheart?”
“What did happen on that mangy-looking rug? Was it very sinful?”
Hugh laughed. “Bess, sweetheart, I was teasing you. You did arrange yourself on the rug, most fetchingly. Then you fell fast asleep; it's a wonder you weren’t out long before that. I picked you up and carried you to bed. Nothing you have to trouble your confessor with, I promise.”
Still, Bess thought, she would have any bear rugs on their estates destroyed straightaway.
At the end of the three days of jousting, the ladies awarded six prizes, three going to the king, who all agreed deserved them. Bess was pleased to see that Hugh's cousin Philip le Despenser, the only son of his father's long-dead brother, won one of the remaining prizes.
With the jousts seemingly over, Bess thought the festivities would soon be breaking up, but the king, it appeared, had other thoughts in mind. In a booming voice, he announced that the company was to remain at Windsor and that all were to assemble the next morning near the chapel, where he planned to make a great announcement. Bess was not overly enthusiastic to hear this news, for after her giddy first evening at Windsor, she had soon wearied of the feasting and jousts, especially since she had taken a cue from her mother and learned to get through a seemingly endless night of revelry on a couple of cups of heavily watered wine. Now she was eager to get back to her own estates, to ride around in her everyday dress and see how the tenants were faring and to admire the new babies, animal and human, that had been born in her absence. Nonetheless, she was as curious as anyone else about what the king would have to say. Surely nothing that would send Hugh away from her again, she prayed.
Since her foolish display several nights before, Bess had scarcely looked at the king. Now as the king came out of the chapel where he had been hearing mass, Bess could not take her eyes
off him, nor could anyone else. He might have been going to his own coronation, Bess thought, so splendid were his velvet robes. Behind him walked Queen Philippa, heading toward stoutness but tall enough that she still could carry off her own splendid garments; Queen Isabella, dressed so as not to outshine the younger queen but somehow managing to give the impression that she could certainly still do so if she pleased; thirteen-year-old Edward, made Prince of Wales the year before; Henry of Grosmont, assuming the role of steward of England in the stead of his aged, blind father, Henry of Lancaster; and the king's earl marshal, Bess's own father. Bess's eyes misted with tears of pride as William de Montacute took his place by a huge book on which the king laid his hand. Not until now had she fully grasped how high her father was in the king's favor.
“God has given England much success in these past years, but there is still much to be done,” the king said. “To do this we must be as one. We look around us today and we are well pleased at what we see—the finest and best knights in England, and the fairest group of ladies ever to be assembled in one place. We look around us, and we are reminded of the glorious days of King Arthur himself.
Hugh and Bess Page 17
