A Silver Mirror

by Roberta Gellis

  “He might like it, but he would never do any harm to them,” Barbara said.

  “Oh, yes, you are right about that. Hugh is too holy to commit a crime without an order. But he is worried sick and has been ever since the Marchers got Gloucester’s permission to delay their exile.” She held up a hand before Barbara could speak, or, more significantly, not speak. “I do not want to hear anything about Gloucester. What I do not know, I cannot tell—and you know Hugh can make me babble.”

  Barbara was silent for a moment, sick at heart. “Then you must have something to tell him,” she said. “Why not say I talked of how kind Gilbert is to me, and of how all the women’s tasks in St. Briavels had been left undone after the old castellan’s wife had retired to a convent, so I was utterly taken up with that work. You can say that no one came to visit Gilbert at St. Briavels—that is true—and that he kept Alphonse with him to practice jousting and swordplay. That is less true, but they certainly spent a good part of their time pounding at each other. Men are all mad, I think. They come in all black-and-blue with bruises, caroling of how much they enjoyed themselves.”

  Aliva did not smile at Barbara’s attempt to lighten the mood or lift her eyes from her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. “I will tell you what I have heard,” she said. “Hugh is angry because your father has not come to court. He says Norfolk is currying favor with the king, just waiting for a chance to stab Leicester in the back. Your cousin Roger has not come to London either.”

  Barbara was appalled by the dark flush that rose up Aliva’s throat when she spoke, but she leaned forward and patted her friend’s hands. “Papa must have forbidden him because he did not want to seem to send a deputy.”

  “Do you really think so?” Aliva’s eyes flashed up, then down again.

  “I do,” Barbara said, “but you must not think about Roger, love. You have your duty and he has his. For his sake and that of some innocent girl, I must hope that he does not think about you. Papa will soon choose a wife for him.”

  “Not soon!” Aliva exclaimed. “He is only twenty, and I think your father will wait until the situation in the country is more settled. Oh, Barby, so many people are angry at Leicester. They say he wants to eat up everyone’s land. The castellans of Richmond and Montgomery and Shrewsbury and others, too, never came to yield up their castles as they were bidden. And Hugh was furious when he heard that the king’s clerk, the one who went to take back the land Derby had seized from Peter de Montfort, was taken prisoner himself, and the land is still in the hands of Derby’s man. Hugh is not only angry, he is afraid. Why should he be afraid if his friend Leicester is so all powerful? No, no. Your father will not choose a girl for Roger yet.”

  “Love…” Barbara pleaded, but Aliva looked away.

  “I will tell you everything I hear,” she repeated stubbornly, “and give you free leave to repeat it to anyone you think can make use of it.”

  That was how Barbara learned that Leicester had given his sons permission to reschedule the tournament he had canceled at Dunstable in February to be held on April 20 at Northampton. Despenser had argued with Peter de Montfort about the wisdom of that decision—ignoring the presence of his meek and silent wife—and thus Barbara learned that Leicester intended to bring Edward west with the army if Gloucester did not come to the tourney.

  Barbara knew Gloucester would wish to accept the challenge of the younger Montforts, partly out of a desire to fight them and partly in the hope of using the disorder, which always seemed to accompany tourneys, to free Edward. But the countryside around Northampton was loyal to Leicester, and Barbara feared that the prince would be caught and returned to his gaoler even if he did escape. In the west, Edward’s own allies were more numerous than Leicester’s and escape might mean real freedom. Gloucester must be warned to stay away from the tourney at Northampton so that Edward would be moved west, nearer his friends.

  The news Aliva had passed was important enough that Barbara had to repress an impulse to rush off to Westminster palace and ask to see her husband. To do so would have shrieked aloud that she had something of great importance to tell him. Alphonse had leave from his service to Edward to visit his wife two nights each week, so only a dire emergency could require that she ask he be excused from service.

  Fortunately Barbara only had to wait one day or she might have burst with impatience. She even waited until their belated evening meal had been laid out for them and Chacier and Clotilde had left Gloucester’s own bedchamber, which Thomas had invited them to use. The lines of tension that for two weeks had added years to Alphonse’s eyes and mouth disappeared when Barbara told him her news.

  “We have it,” he said softly, heaving an enormous sigh. “We have a chance to free Edward. This is worth sending a letter to Gloucester.”

  Barbara glanced longingly at her slice of pasty and cup of wine. She was hungry and wanted to eat before she wrote, since the letter could not go until morning, but she got her writing desk without protest. She addressed the letter to Isabella Bigod, Norfolk’s wife, at Strigul, but Lewin, who would carry it, was ordered to take it to Gloucester at St. Briavels. If disaster befell Lewin and the letter was delivered to Isabella, she would probably burn it without reading it because it was from Barbara, whom she abhorred. Also, the letter, though dictated by Alphonse, was in Barbara’s hand and written as if Isabella had demanded it.

  “As you commanded, madam,” Barbara wrote, “I will send such news as I have regarding the Earl of Leicester’s intentions toward the Earl of Gloucester. My husband tells me that there is no sign that any trap will be laid for Gloucester during the tournament at Northampton. Alphonse thinks Leicester means this tourney to be a peace offering, a replacement for the one he canceled in February. Alphonse also thinks Gloucester will be able to make peace with Leicester if he wishes to do so, and very likely Leicester will be more careful of offending Gloucester in the future. However, Gloucester will certainly be required to yield Bamburgh and to enforce the exile of the lords Marcher. Alphonse has not spoken to Leicester himself, but Peter de Montfort and Hugh le Despenser have both asked him what Gloucester desires and told him at length why all of Edward’s property must be held by Leicester or a direct deputy appointed by him and why the Marcher lords must go into exile. Alphonse has also heard that even if Gloucester does not send an early answer, the whole court will move to Northampton to await his coming to the tourney. Alphonse says that if Gloucester does not come, Leicester will take it as an act of defiance. Leicester will then send out summonses for the feudal hosts of Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester to assemble and will march west at once. The better to rouse the country against Gloucester, Leicester will bring the king and the prince west with him.”

  The words were innocent, a simple recounting of news and rumor, but even if Barbara’s device was suspected—many knew that Norfolk’s wife would not ask her for anything or even deign to command her—and her letter was seized and read by Leicester, what she said would seem a simple warning to Gloucester. In a sense it was. Alphonse explained that he wished to let Gilbert know that the door to reconciliation with Leicester was not yet shut. However, the warning was really a mask for the news in the last line of the letter.

  The closer the prince was to the holdings of the lords Marcher, the better was the chance of keeping Edward free after his escape. And the need to free Edward was very great. As long as Leicester had Edward and the king in his power, he could make any order he gave seem legal. Thus, in the king’s name he could raise a feudal host to attack Gloucester, whose own allies would be forced into the “king’s” army by law and custom, virtually guaranteeing that Gloucester would be defeated. However, if the prince was free and could send out conflicting orders, saying that his father was under duress—which most knew but could not prove—serious questions would be raised about the legality of Leicester’s orders. Any who wished to avoid the conflict could, ignore Leicester’s call to arms and later plead confusion between the two royal order
s for their inaction. Many, more daring, would take arms and join Gloucester’s force to fight for Prince Edward, again with the excuse that the prince’s writs had confused them.

  “I suppose Leicester had to allow Edward to come to Northampton,” Barbara said as she handed her little knife and the splintered quill to Alphonse to have its point mended. She picked up her slice of pasty, saying hastily before she bit into it, “The prince’s love for tourneys is widely known.”

  Alphonse chopped the splintered point from the quill, glanced at her and then down again, “Well, if Edward is not present at the tourney, all pretense that he has regained his freedom will be ended. Then Leicester’s seizure of the prince’s lands would seem gross theft and that would add to the growing resentment.” He handed back the quill, resharpened and neatly split.

  Holding the remaining piece of her pasty away from the parchment, which she secured with her left elbow, Barbara dipped the quill in the ink horn, wiped the excess ink off on the edge of the horn and added, “Written this third day past the ides of March by Barbara d’Aix, née Bigod.” Then she handed the parchment to her husband and said, “But it seems mad to me for Leicester to take Edward west.”

  “Leicester has only poor choices.” Alphonse shrugged and was quiet for a while as he read over the letter. “What a barbarous French you write,” he remarked.

  “Gloucester will understand it much better than what you think is French,” Barbara snapped.

  He laughed at her and handed the letter back to be folded and sealed, saying thoughtfully as he watched her, “The whole point in this mockery of liberating the prince is to pacify those who are horrified by seeing Leicester swallow Edward’s property and power. Thus, the prince must seem to be truly liberated. No one would believe Edward would remain behind of his own will if the king really wished to fight Gloucester.”

  “And if destroying Gloucester is not truly the king’s will, those who lose nothing by a quarrel between Gloucester and Leicester will not answer the summons to war.”

  “That is just right, my love,” Alphonse replied. “And with whom can Leicester leave Edward? He dare not seal him into Kenilworth again. He needs all his sons and trustworthy allies if he cannot count on a good response to the summoning. So Leicester must take Edward. He may have visions of the prince managing to call together an army, even with the limited freedom he is allowed, and attacking him from behind.”

  “You were counting on this, were you not?”

  “We were hoping for it, yes,” Alphonse replied. “From Gloucester or Hereford or almost any of the western keeps, it is only a short flight to the Welsh hills. But I think your duty must be considered done, dear heart. Now you had better go back to St. Briavels.”

  “No.” Barbara answered before she knew why, only realizing after she spoke that she had not felt the tightening in her gut that marked the thought, is he tiring of me?

  Alphonse smiled slightly. “I do not wish to be parted from you either, but Simon and Guy will be in Northampton. We have been fortunate that they were both busy bringing Edward’s orders to submit to the keeps he yielded to Leicester, but they must be in Northampton if they are the challengers in the tourney. I will not be able to protect you because I will truly be a prisoner with the prince while we wait for Gloucester. You cannot lodge alone. It would be dangerous.”

  Barbara had hardly heard him. She was taken up with surprise at her lack of fear. Jealous, yes, that nasty pricking was there, but she felt no real fear of loss. She watched her husband, leaning back and swirling the remains of the wine in his cup as he spoke. He was at ease, he was content, he did not need to measure every word he said. He might be drawn by a well-shaped body, lovelier features, a purer skin, but it was to her fireside he would return with his troubles and his laughter. She smiled.

  “Do you want Guy to abduct you?” Alphonse asked with sudden sharpness.

  Startled, Barbara shook her head vehemently. “I like the idea of encountering Guy and his drunken armed band even less than you do, but I must follow the court. Aliva le Despenser and I are together almost every day, so her husband would know I was gone, and Leicester would hear from him. Would my absence not imply I had been waiting for this news and had gone to tell…someone?”

  “If you leave at once, before any announcement of the tourney is made—”

  “No, that might get Aliva in trouble. If Hugh remembers she was there when he was talking about the tourney with Peter, he will beat her for betraying him.”

  “What a stupid man!” Alphonse exclaimed, his full lips curving down with disgust. “That is only a path to a worse betrayal.” Then he shook his head. “But no business of mine, which is to convince my wife, in a different way, that she is more precious to me even than the escape of the prince and I had rather see that enterprise fail than hear she had been insulted by Guy de Montfort.”

  But Barbara had sat up suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. “I have thought of the perfect solution. I will seek shelter with Aliva and complain to Hugh le Despenser that Guy annoys me. He will not dare allow me to be affronted while I am his guest, and might even whisper a word in Leicester’s ear.”

  “Are you sure?” Alphonse rose and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up and kissing her. “I mean it when I say I would rather take the chance of sharpening Leicester’s suspicion than of endangering you.”

  “Hugh might refuse to have me as a guest,” she admitted. “I will let you know as soon as the move to Northampton is announced. I will send you a note.” She put the writing desk aside and got up. “Yes, that will solve all the problems. If Aliva cannot offer me lodging, I can say I cannot stay alone in so crowded and dangerous a town. That will be my excuse, and yours, too, for my going. I will, of course, go to St. Briavels, but I cannot say that to Aliva. Now, where can I say I will wait for you?”

  “I do not know the country,” Alphonse said, “but it should be somewhere that implies you do not know that Leicester intends to travel west.”

  “St. Albans,” Barbara said at once. “It is on the road from London to Northampton, so I will seem to expect you to come back, and it is a large, very rich abbey where guests may have every luxury.”

  Alphonse pulled her against him. “I cannot think how I lived without you for so many years. I do not wish to do without you even for a few weeks. So smile prettily at Despenser and keep your eyes and voice down. Perhaps you can cozen him into forgetting what you really are so he will be willing to invite you.”

  Barbara had no need for any pretense, however. By the end of the week, news of the court’s move to Northampton was on everyone’s lips. It was safe, when Barbara dined with Aliva and her husband, for her to broach the topic of her desire to accompany Alphonse and to confess her fear of Guy de Montfort. Hugh invited her to stay with them almost before the words were out of her mouth, and Aliva looked startled but very happy. Later, however, she began to look less and less happy and finally suggested they ride into London to buy a length of cloth. When they were safely alone by the mercer’s counter, Aliva having sent the shopkeeper to fetch another bolt, she warned Barbara that Hugh had made the offer because he wanted to be able to watch Alphonse.

  Barbara patted her hand. “I am delighted to learn that poor Alphonse may be allowed to visit me. We both feared he would be held on as short a leash as the prince, but Hugh may watch us all he likes. Neither Alphonse nor I will do anything he might disapprove while in Northampton.”

  When she spoke of Despenser’s disapproval, Barbara was thinking only of communication with Edward’s friends or Gloucester’s allies. She had for the moment forgotten that they might do other things that would displease Despenser, because she had forgotten all about Guy. He remained totally absent from her mind over the next few busy days as she prepared to leave for Northampton and during the journey, too.

  Spring was finally in the air. Although showers were frequent, their damp was compensated by the beauty of the rainbows sparkling on every new blade of g
rass and newly unfolded leaf. And the sun that lit the rainbows was growing warm enough to drive off the damp swiftly. Barbara was absorbed by the miracle of rebirth, amused by the presence of her friend, charmed by an accidental meeting now and then with her husband as the cortege moved and halted, now this portion now that coming forward or falling back. She had not a single thought for the unpleasant ugliness that was Guy de Montfort.

  Because Barbara had forgotten him so completely, she agreed eagerly to accompany Despenser’s party to the great hall of the castle after dinner the day they arrived in Northampton. She had news for Alphonse, if she could find a private moment for a whisper. She had heard Despenser say that orders had already been written to the sheriffs of Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, and Herefordshire—before the date when Gloucester was due to answer the challenge of the tourney—to summon the posse comitatus, the whole armed forces they commanded. Did this mean that Leicester was sure Gloucester would not arrive and was simply saving time? Or was that army to be a trap laid to capture Gloucester on his way home—if he was not mortally injured “by accident” at the tourney?

  Barbara was sick with fury over the implications of the information Hugh had dropped. So swiftly did she set out to greet Alphonse, when she caught sight of the tall prince whose head topped the many people in the hall that she left Aliva behind. That was not intentional. She knew Aliva would deliberately immerse herself so completely in conversation with the prince himself or with his other attendants that she would not hear anything Barbara said or notice what she did. Her sudden movement and Aliva’s soft gasp of dismay—she had just caught sight of young Simon de Montfort—drew Despenser’s attention. He saw Alphonse wave at his wife and start toward her, noticed Aliva following Barbara, and after a moment’s hesitation, he also moved toward the prince’s party, not on Barbara’s heels but at an oblique angle.