The Queen's Spy Read online

  By the same author

  The Pearl of France

  The Fair Maid of Kent

  The queen’s spy

  Caroline Newark

  Copyright © 2018 Caroline Newark

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries

  concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  Matador

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  Tel: 0116 279 2299

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  ISBN 9781789011364

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  In memory of

  Howard Liam Harbord

  1963–1986

  Contents

  List of main characters

  Prologue

  1 Paris 1325

  2 England 1322 -1324

  3 Paris 1325

  4 Conspiracy 1326

  5 Hainault 1326

  6 Invasion 1326

  7 Vivat Rex 1327

  8 York 1327

  9 Berkeley Castle 1327

  10 An Unexpected Death 1327

  11 Sir John Pecche 1328

  12 Ludlow 1328

  13 Endgame 1329

  14 Arundel 1330

  15 Westminster 1330

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Caroline Newark

  Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Notes

  List of main characters

  Edward II

  King of England

  Isabella

  his estranged wife

  Edward, Earl of Chester

  his son and heir

  Edmund, Earl of Kent

  his half-brother

  Sir Hugh Despenser

  his chamberlain

  Eleanor Despenser

  Hugh’s wife and the

  king’s niece

  Margaret, Lady Comyn

  a widow serving

  Isabella

  Thomas, Lord Wake

  Margaret’s brother

  Henry, later Earl of

  Lancaster

  the king’s cousin

  Jeanne de Bar,

  Countess of Surrey

  the king’s niece

  Roger Mortimer,

  Lord of Wigmore

  the king’s enemy

  John of Brittany

  Earl of Richmond

  Charles IV

  King of France and Isabella’s brother

  Madame of Evreux

  Charles’s third wife

  Robert of Artois

  Isabella’s cousin

  Jeanne de Valois

  Countess of Hainault

  Philippa

  her daughter

  Sir John

  the Count of Hainault’s brother

  Adam Orleton

  Bishop of Hereford

  Thomas, Earl of Norfolk

  Edmund’s brother

  Alice, Countess

  of Norfolk

  a coroner’s daughter

  Margery, Lady

  Abernethy

  Margaret’s friend

  Sir Thomas Gurney

  Lord Berkeley’s man

  Sir John Pecche

  Constable of Corfe Castle

  Sir Ingelram Berenger

  a Despenser adherent

  William, Lord Zouche

  his friend

  William Montagu

  a friend of Edward

  Earl of Chester

  Nicholas Langeford

  Margaret’s gaoler

  Prologue

  Sir Hugh Despenser watched as his wife let down her hair. After nineteen years of marriage she no longer aroused him the way she once had but he remained acutely aware of her latent sensuality and its value to his current plans.

  He spoke quietly. ‘There is something I need you to do.’

  Eleanor paused, a hairpin held lightly in her fingers. Somewhere in her slanting green eyes it was possible to detect a flicker of alarm but the gentle rise and fall of her breasts remained constant and nothing altered the slight upward curve of her lips. Living with a man who reminded her of one of her uncle’s caged beasts had taught her early the wisdom of stillness.

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘The task is a little more delicate than usual.’

  Eleanor Despenser raised her elegant eyebrows. Her husband was not known for his subtlety. In her opinion it was his only weakness. He was ruthless and violence came easily but he lacked finesse.

  ‘Is my uncle proving difficult?’ she enquired.

  ‘Not at all. He may be king but he is my servant in all things and does what I require of him. My concern is the interference of the queen. I need her out of the way.’

  Eleanor’s position as the queen’s senior lady allowed her unprecedented insight into her mistress’s private feelings and, although nothing had been said, she knew Isabella both disliked and mistrusted Eleanor’s husband. To Isabella the king could do no wrong thus any infringement of her position as her husband’s consort and chief counsellor was the fault of her husband’s chamberlain, Sir Hugh Despenser.

  ‘I have arranged for her to go to France. She will negotiate a peace accord with her brother.’

  ‘You wish me to accompany her? Report on whom she meets, what letters she receives?’

  ‘No, that will not be necessary. I need you here.’

  ‘And my task?

  ‘I wish you to be kind to the king.’

  She blinked in surprise.

  ‘You wish me to be kind to my uncle?’

  ‘Perhaps I didn’t make myself plain. Did you not understand?’ A slight edge of menace had crept into her husband’s voice.


  ‘Oh no, my lord. I understand completely. How kind would you like me to be?’

  ‘How kind would you think?’

  Eleanor thought rapidly. Kindness towards another man would mean bestowing favours normally reserved exclusively for a husband. But her uncle?

  ‘My lord, I realise the king has needs which the queen does not meet.’

  ‘Yes? His voice was dangerously quiet.

  Eleanor wondered if what she’d learned from the servant she paid for information, was true. She thought it probably was. ‘Do you not satisfy his requirements in that department?’ She paused. ‘It is said …’

  Hugh Despenser’s face betrayed nothing. He knew exactly what was said about his closeness to the king and it pleased him to keep his wife guessing.

  ‘As I told you, I have him precisely where I want him.’

  Eleanor was aware that her husband’s desires and ambitions had no boundaries and he would always do what needed to be done. To her it was what made him a worthy husband.

  ‘And my role?’

  ‘With the queen absent, the king will lack female companionship. You will be his chère dame. There will be no-one else. I need him to be soothed, to be compliant and you will of course be very, very kind. You will provide him with whatever he wants. Can you do this?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. It will be my pleasure.’

  She showed no hesitation. She’d always done what Hugh asked of her, however distasteful. But this? Was not a connection with an uncle forbidden by the church? Naturally a bishop’s disapproval would not worry Hugh. He was not overly concerned with the salvation of his soul but the fear of eternal damnation lay ever uppermost in Eleanor’s mind. And there were others to consider.

  ‘My uncle has a certain tenderness for me, my lord, but what of his brothers? What if they should object to our closeness?’

  ‘Thomas is a wild young fool and can be bought.’

  ‘And Edmund?’

  ‘Edmund bungled the peace negotiations in Paris last year and has made a mess of the war in Gascony. He’s in disgrace. You’ll get no interference from that quarter. But my lady, do not forget whose interests you serve. I should not like to be forced into administering a reprimand.’

  From a letter dated 1st December 1325 written by Edward II to his estranged wife, Isabella

  “Lady, oftentimes we have sent to you, both before and after the homage, of our great desire to have you with us, and of our great grief of heart at your long absence; and, as we understand that you do us great mischief by this, we will that you come to us with all speed and without further excuses. Before the homage was performed, you made the advancement of that business an excuse, and now that we have sent, by the honourable Father the Bishop of Winchester, our safe conduct to you, you will not come for the fear and doubt of Hugh le Despenser … Wherefore we charge you as urgently as we can that, ceasing from all pretences, you come to us with all the haste you can.”

  From a letter dated 1st December 1325 written by the English bishops to Queen Isabella

  “Most dear and potent lady, the whole country is disturbed by your news, and the answers which you have lately sent to our lord King; and because you delay your return out of hatred for Hugh le Despenser, everyone predicts that much evil will follow. Indeed, Hugh le Despenser has solemnly demonstrated his innocence before all, and that he has never harmed the queen, but has done everything in his power to help her; and that he will always in future do this, he has confirmed by corporeal oath.”

  1

  Paris 1325

  I crept through the darkened room as far as the half-closed door. Despite the silence, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I hadn’t been followed. It was early and most in the palace were asleep or at their morning prayers, but it was always wise to be careful especially in our current circumstances. I took a step closer.

  A man’s voice. ‘D’you think she calls him uncle while he’s fucking her?’

  The reply, a smothered high-pitched giggle.

  ‘Course she’d hardly call him, your grace, would she? Not with her skirts up round her ears.’

  ‘You’re lying. A king would never, not with his niece.’

  ‘It’s true, as God’s my witness. Mind you, mightn’t be the lady. Might be the lady’s husband.’

  ‘But he’s a …’

  ‘A what? A man? You’re a big lad, you’ve heard of men like that. Anyway, he’s an Englishman. Bumfuckers the lot of them.’

  They were talking in the local patois and their words were utterly disgusting but after six months I was accustomed to their way of speaking and could understand them easily enough.

  The deeper voice again. ‘There’s many likes both. Not inclined that way myself. Never fancied a man. A pretty young boy? Well, that’s a different matter, ‘specially if he’s got a tight little arse like yours.’

  More giggles, a scuffle and then silence.

  I despaired. If the servants were talking then by tomorrow the state of the English queen’s marriage would be common currency on every street corner in Paris.

  Treading softly I moved away from the door and retraced my steps, thankful to be done for the moment with the disagreeable business of spying. However glorious my present surroundings, and I had to admit the rooms were truly magnificent, I was weary of Paris, weary of the fabled palaces of the French king and weary of the constant discord and malicious gossip which pervaded our daily life. I would have liked to go home to England but my place was with the queen and we both knew it was much too dangerous to return.

  I walked quickly through the outer rooms, hoping to reach the queen’s chamber unobserved, but at the head of the stairs had the misfortune to encounter the heavy bulk of the countess of Surrey, Lady Jeanne de Bar.

  ‘Lady Margaret,’ she purred in her low confiding voice as she deliberately stepped into my path. ‘We must talk.’

  ‘Countess.’ I inclined my head. I liked Lady Jeanne, you could even say we were friends, but I was reluctant to have private words with her in case I repeated something I’d regret. Spying for the queen meant keeping secrets and the countess was well known for her loose tongue and equally easy manner.

  ‘You must tell me,’ she urged, leaning a little closer and placing a surprisingly firm grip on my arm. ‘What is going on?’

  The countess had been out of England for most of the past ten years - escaping from her English husband so everyone said - and must know little of how things stood at home.

  ‘In what way, my lady?’

  ‘The king and the queen. Their marriage. This intruder Isabella speaks of. Who is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry, my lady, but I don’t know.’

  She gave me a shrewd look from her deep-set brown eyes. They were placed rather close together and gave the unwarranted appearance of slyness.

  ‘Come, Lady Margaret, that cannot be true. When you were in England you practically lived in the queen’s privy chamber. You will have heard things. I cannot ask Isabella. There are conversations which even the most intimate of friends do not have and this matter of her marriage is one of them. But you must know and I insist you tell me. Is it the king’s niece, the Lady Eleanor?’

  I didn’t like Eleanor Despenser. She was a green-eyed serpent with a poisonous temper who had made my life a misery with her spiteful insults. She had served Isabella from the earliest days of the royal marriage and regarded herself as the queen’s most senior lady.

  ‘I believe the king has a great affection for the Lady Eleanor,’ I said cautiously. ‘But he is her uncle and what doting uncle does not love his niece. He showers her with gifts and there is talk that he dines in private with her away from the court, but …’ I paused, wondering how blunt I should be, ‘… whether there is anything improper, my lady, it is impossible to say.’

  The countess pursed her lips, savouring for a moment the thoug
ht of Lady Eleanor’s likely impropriety. Then said sharply, ‘I have also heard mention of Eleanor’s husband.’

  ‘Sir Hugh Despenser? Yes, he is the king’s chamberlain and his very special friend.’

  My words had the immediate effect of arousing her suspicions. ‘How special a friend can a chamberlain be?’

  I doubted Lady Jeanne was privy to servants’ tittle-tattle but there had been a steady stream of visitors from England to the French king’s court these past months, ready to drip poison into the ears of anyone who would listen. And Lady Jeanne was a very good listener.

  ‘Sir Hugh is constantly at the king’s shoulder, my lady,’ I said. ‘The king favours him above all others and, as you know, the king is famed for his generosity. When the spoils are given out he rewards Sir Hugh with the lion’s share and people grumble Sir Hugh now owns half of England. It is said he is favoured beyond what anyone would expect of a chamberlain.’

  ‘But nothing more? No familiarity? He does not overstep the boundaries of what is proper? He does not … touch the king?’

  It was difficult to explain to the countess how any familiarity came not from Sir Hugh but from the king himself who was constantly placing his hand on his chamberlain’s arm or on his shoulder or around his manly waist. Perhaps in private, when the candles were doused and the bed curtains drawn, he placed his hand on other parts of Sir Hugh’s body but that was something nobody could know for certain. There were rumours and the bishops were said to be unhappy but …

  ‘The king appears very taken with Sir Hugh, my lady. It is said his chamberlain has only to ask for something and it is given willingly. There are times when Sir Hugh is impatient for his reward and doesn’t ask, he just takes. Then woe betide anyone who gets in his way. Yet the king does nothing.’