‘Whore! ‘

Isabella had pretended not to hear but she saw the faint colour in the Earl’s face. He looked disconcerted and she fancied she noticed a tightening of his lips.


* * *

She sought out Mortimer. In such circumstances she always turned to Mortimer. He would soothe her and know what to do.

‘The people are turning against us,’ she said.

‘Why concern ourselves with them?’

‘Dear Mortimer, they could rise against us.’

‘They would never dare.’

Looking at him she could believe that. He looked so powerful, so important and so splendid. The glory of his apparel increased every day. He never went anywhere without an array of knights almost as splendidly clad as himself, proclaiming his wealth and importance.

She told him what the Earl of Kent had said. ‘I could see speculation in his eyes. If the people turned against us, his royalty could make him a leader.’

‘Kent! He would never lead anyone.’

‘I believe he might,’ said Isabella.

‘The man’s a fool.’

‘That may be but he is Edward’s half-brother.’

‘The people have never liked him.’

‘They have never disliked him.’

‘No, he is neither this nor that.’

‘But he would be a figurehead. Others would decide on policy. I fear him, Mortimer. He talked about the King. He has been making enquiries I believe.’

Mortimer narrowed his eyes. ‘Maltravers, Gurney and Ogle are out of the country.’

‘Yes, I know. What if he discovered where and they talked?’

Mortimer was silent for a while and then he said : ‘We will make an example of one of them. We will let them see what happens to those who meddle.’

‘An example of whom?’ asked Isabella.

‘My choice falls on Kent,’ said Mortimer.

‘Kent! The King’s half-brother. Edward’s uncle.’ ‘It is always best, my love, to strike at the top.’


* * *

Edmund Earl of Kent was twenty-nine years old. He had been six years old when his father, Edward the First, had died. He had seen very little of that great warrior who was always away from home on some military enterprise and he and his brother Thomas of Brotherton, Earl of Norfolk, who was just one year older than he was, had been brought up by their gentle French mother Marguerite.

It was only natural that when the new King, Edward the Second, married a French wife that he should be drawn to her. She was beautiful and gracious and everyone said what a good and docile wife she was to a husband who was far from admirable.

When Edward had become so unpopular through his association with the Despensers Edmund had become a member of Lancaster’s party to stand against them, which meant being opposed to the King. He had been on an unsuccessful mission in France when Isabella had visited her brother’s court and he had joined the malcontents who gathered round her. Thus when she came to England with her army he was with her; and he had been faithful to her cause until now.

Mortimer however was becoming intolerable. There was murmuring against him all through the country just as there had been with Gaveston and the Despensers in the previous reign. This Marcher Baron had set himself up as a king and even had he been a rightful king he would have caused discontent by his behaviour. Moreover he was Isabella’s paramour and, although none would have raised any great objection if the liaison had been carried on with discretion, it was intolerable that Mortimer, freshly risen from Isabella’s bed, should strut about as few kings had ever had the temerity to do.

It had to stop.

He had conferred with Henry of Lancaster, his cousin, and his brother, Thomas Earl of Norfolk, and they had agreed with him. At that same time they had reminded him that the King was very much under his mother’s influence and that meant Mortimer’s. The situation was full of dangers and they all agreed they must go warily.

It was at this time that a Friar called at the house of the Earl of Kent in Kensington and he asked for a private audience with the Earl for he had something to tell him which he was sure would be of the greatest interest.

As soon as they were alone together the Friar said: ‘My lord, this seems incredible but I know it to be true. Edward the Second is not dead. He still lives.’

Kent was speechless and the Friar continued: ‘I can tell you where he is, my lord. He is in Corfe Castle. The Governor of the castle is well known to me and I have his word for it that the King still lives. He is kept a prisoner there and he longs to be in touch with those whom he can trust. He looks to you, my lord, as his brother.’

Kent spluttered: ‘I ... I cannot believe this to be true. I must go to him at once.’

‘My lord, forgive me, but you must act with the greatest care. The Governor goes in fear of his life. He regrets already having let me into the secret. If you did go to Corfe it would have to be with discretion.’

‘Of course, of course,’ cried Kent. ‘What is their motive?’ ‘It is to tell the world that he is dead that they may rule through the young King as they wish.’

‘But Edward gave up his throne to his son.’

‘Yes, but young Edward was loth to take it and he could not happily wear the crown while his father lived. So ... they devised this plan ...’

‘Isabella ... and Mortimer

The Friar nodded.

‘I will set out for Corfe without delay,’ said the Earl.

‘I will accompany you, my lord, but you will understand that our mission must be entirely secret.’

The Earl promised this should be so and did not even tell his wife where he was going.

During the journey the Friar told Kent that Edward was a prisoner and that Mortimer’s idea was to get rid of him as soon as he could conveniently do so.

The Earl of Kent was a simple man. He had swayed from side to side during the troubles which had beset the country during the reigns of Gaveston and the Despensers. He had always been gullible and it might have been that was why Mortimer had selected him to be his example rather than his elder brother, Thomas of Norfolk. Norfolk had never been so embroiled in conflicts. Although he had supported Isabella on her return to England he had soon retired to his estates and had not taken a great part in the struggle. Kent was different : he was all enthusiasm one day and doubts the next.

Now he was ready to believe this story of Edward’s captivity in Corfe, though when he arrived at the castle the reception he received would have warned any other man that there was something contrived about the whole matter.

At first the Governor did not wish to let him in and he reproached the Friar for having brought him, but at last after a great deal of talking the visitors were allowed inside.

‘Is it true that you have my brother here?’ demanded Kent.

The Governor floundered, stammered and looked down at the floor, up at the rafters and anywhere but at the Earl of Kent.

‘I cannot believe it,’ said Kent. ‘There has been some mistake.’

‘It is not so,’ declared the Friar.

‘It is all very strange,’ said the Earl. ‘Until I saw my brother here I would not believe it.’

‘My lord,’ cried the Governor, ‘I dare not ... I could not ... I do not know whether ...’

‘You must tell me the truth,’ cried the Earl.

The Governor at length said: ‘If you would communicate with the King you must do so by letter.’

‘So you admit that he is here.’

‘I say that if you wrote a letter and it was delivered to the one for whom it is intended then you would know for yourself whether the prisoner here is the King.’

‘So you admit to having a prisoner.’

The Governor was silent.

A warning flashed into the Earl’s mind. They were making such a mystery of this. Why? Of course they were making a mystery. The matter was mysterious. But he was not putting anything into writing until he was certain.

He said as much.

‘My lord, I dare not take you to the King. He has refused to see anyone. He thinks all who come are his enemies, sent from the Earl of March.’

‘I know,’ said the Friar, ‘that the King will see no one but would it be possible for my lord Earl to see the King ... perhaps from some point where he himself would not be observed.’

‘I will consider whether this could be possible,’ said the Governor.

Edmund spent a restless night in the castle. It was all too involved and mysterious for comfort and he did not greatly care for the Governor.

At dusk the next day the Friar said that if he looked through a peep-hole above the room where the King was lodged he would see him for himself.

‘Why should I not visit him?’

‘My lord, the King has moments of desolation when he is not quite lucid. This matter of a rescue will have to be broken to him gently, by letter preferably. Come with us and assure yourself that it is your brother who is lodged in this castle.’

It was very strange, but the Earl told himself that if he could see Edward he would believe the story. He was conducted up a spiral staircase and taken to a room. Here a hole was revealed in the wall. It was small, just enough for an eye to peer through, and looking in the Earl saw a room with bed, table and a chair. On the chair sat a man. Although he was seated it was easy to see that he was exceptionally tall and his greying hair had been very fair. The resemblance was strong, but the light was feeble. However the Earl of Kent was very ready to be deceived.

He left Corfe Castle the next day to consider what he had seen, and thoughtfully returned to Kensington. He wondered whether he should tell his brother. Could he really have been the King, that man who was seated in the chair at the table in the room at Corfe Castle? But why should anyone want to deceive him?