Isabeau, A Novel of Queen Isabella and Sir Roger Mortimer Read Online Free PDF

of Evesham.”
    “Evesham?” I scoffed. “Evesham was fifty years ago, Uncle. My grandfather fought for Longshanks then. Saved his life – it was you who told me so. Surely King Edward will know of that?”
    “Hmph, a Plantagenet’s memory is not that long. But Despensers ... they do not forget.” He slammed his stick down hard once, emphatic. “ Watch him .”
    I belted my tunic and sat down on the chest. “I am more concerned for the king than for myself.”
    He replied with a visceral grunt.
    “Despenser and I are on the same side – unlike our grandfathers.”
    “For now. But be careful. If you offend the king’s favorite, you offend the king. Edward has hardly forgotten what they did to Gaveston.” He drew a kerchief from his sleeve and wiped his nose. “Now, tell me about Bannockburn.”

    “Later, I told you.” I slipped my shoes on and went to the door. “I’m going to go find my wife. Have a look at my children.” And count them again.

3
     
    Isabella:
    Tower of London – August, 1321

    ONCE, LONG AGO, I dreamt of a happy marriage. But how quickly that dream had been quashed. First, Gaveston had owned Edward’s attentions. Now it was Hugh Despenser upon whom he lavished titles and treasures. Whenever I spoke up, I was chided by Edward, spurned even – as if he resented my presence altogether. Yet time after time, when things were at their worst and there was nowhere else to turn, it was me Edward called upon. Me, who salvaged the shattered bits of his life and pieced them together like shards of pottery into a mosaic. My one reward for enduring such perpetual misery had been my children, four of them. Four joyful blessings that gave some purpose to this misery of a marriage.
    Beyond the Salt Tower, dawn’s first blush showed against a brightening sky. Armed sentries peered sleepily down at us from their posts along the walls of the outer ward. To the west, a pair of guards clutching poleaxes glanced through the open gate behind them. The groan of a winch rumbled in the morning silence. Iron scraped stone in a drawn-out screech as the portcullis of the Middle Tower went up.
    Puffy-eyed and yawning, my nursemaid Ida cradled a tiny bundle in the crescent of her plump arms. I peeled back the edge of the blanket to gaze upon my little Joanna’s pink face. She wriggled a hand free to grasp my thumb, a bubble of spittle forming around her tiny mouth. When I smiled down at her, she cooed, bursting the bubble, and laughed. If only I could know such happiness, too.
    “My lady?” Aymer de Valence, the Earl of Pembroke, cleared his throat in a signal of impatience and swept a hand toward the waiting carriage, which was surrounded by a mounted guard of three dozen fully armed men. Impatient hooves tapped on the cobbles. Bits jangled. Pembroke had returned from Paris only a week ago, having just wed my cousin Marie, a daughter of the Count of Saint Pol. Although he was nearly two decades my senior, I regarded Pembroke as a dear friend, but I sorely regretted that he was being tossed into the lion’s den of disorder that was Edward’s court so soon upon his return. By evening, we would arrive in Westminster. Worse than leaving my youngest child behind, who was barely now a month old, I dreaded the purpose of this journey.
    Reluctantly, I tugged my thumb free of my daughter’s grasp. Her forehead puckered like a grape that has shriveled under the sun’s rays. Red fists flailing, she stretched her lips taut across toothless gums. An ear-splitting wail emanated from bottomless lungs.
    “You’ll come back soon, my lady?” Ida rocked her arms gently to soothe the babe. When that did not seem to work, she bounced on her heels, making her too heavy bosom jiggle inside her unbelted gown. There was a fleeting moment of peace as Joanna inhaled, but too soon another demonic howl ensued.
    “Take the babe outside for fresh air as often as you can,” – I stepped back, guilt weighing down my heart like a