Isabella: Braveheart of France Read Online Free PDF Page B

cannot ignore this, Edward. It is clear your barons will not back down. You must listen to them and come to some concord with them or they will make an arrangement of their own.”
    He stares at her, then shakes his head and laughs. “Listen to you. How old are you? And you see fit to lecture me about politics?”
    “I know how these things work.”
    “How can you know?”
    “From watching my father. Do not let them challenge you, husband. Head them off now until you have a stronger hand.”
    He frowns and leans on the rail again, peering at her as if he is seeing her for the first time. “Because you want Perro gone?”
    “My duty is to you and your throne. I will not have you undermined.”
    The lion roars in its cage, and the echoes of its rage hang on the morning mist. The camel breaks into a trot in alarm, pursued by the farm boys, who are trying to feed it.
    “You must sit down with them and hear their complaints.”
    “It is their duty to sit down and listen to mine.”
    “Yes, it is. But right now, you cannot force them to it.”
    He slaps the fence post with the flat of his hand. He shakes his head, confounded by her. Then he walks away. One of the boys makes a joke and he ignores him.
    Isabella tiptoes back through the mud. Another gown ruined.
     
    ***
     
    She can see them from the window, arm in arm, heads together, laughing at some private joke. It is no secret that they share a bed. It is not that she wishes to have him in her own bed, not yet…the thought terrifies her.
    She just doesn’t want him in anyone else’s.
    What do they do together? She does not even know the secrets of a man and a woman, so she does not want to contemplate what joys he might find with another man.
    The trouble is, she is lonely despite the large household that is assigned to her. Isabella de Vescy has taken her under her wing. and Edward’s favourite niece, Eleanor le Despenser is touchingly obsequious, when she is not busy being pregnant. There are others that come and go, attending her as family obligations allow, chiefly Lady Surrey, (she must remember not to say anything about her husband for she will burst into tears. It seems he is a great lover of women as long as they are not his wife), and Lady Pembroke, (do not talk about children in front of her, she is unable to have any.)
    She still has her old nurse, Théophania, which is a comfort, and a gaggle of others - she cannot remember all their names - of lesser birth.
    She is sitting with her ladies, embroidering garments for the poor, a task that makes her want to fling herself into the moat even on her best days. Seeing Edward so intense with Lord Gaveston makes it impossible to concentrate. The other women have stopped their chatter and are staring at her.
    She flings aside her handiwork and leaves them sitting there, walks to the end of the passage, finds something of interest in two pigeons nestled on a branch.
    She hears the rustle of skirts and draws herself up straighter. She does not want them pitying her.
    “Do not let it disturb you, your grace.”
    It is the Lady Mortimer. Isabella does not turn around, afraid that her face may betray her. “They are very familiar.”
    “They have been friends since boyhood.”
    “It is more than that, isn’t it?”
    “Whatever could you mean?”
    “You all treat me as a child, and in years I suppose that I am. But you forget whose daughter I am.
    “You are very young to be thrust into such a position.”
    “The barons think he is too familiar with Gaveston, Lady Mortimer.”
    “This is not your concern, your grace.”
    “Anything that concerns my husband concerns me.” She turns around and fixes her with a stare. I shall be patronised no longer. “The barons want this man gone, and Edward has appealed to the Pope to intervene on his behalf. Is this not so?”
    Lady Mortimer lowers her eyes.
    “Do you miss your husband?”
    The question catches her off her step. “Miss him?”
    “Lord Mortimer, yes. He