Play Favourites (King Edward and His Favourite Men) - 6. Chapter 6

The queen was nervous. Sir Mortimer smiled to himself. He climbed the stairs to the first floor. He walked and moved unwatched and unheard. Sir Mortimer looked down the hallway that led to the chambers of the king. The guards had fallen asleep.

Sir Mortimer shook his head in disdain. ‘Imbeciles’, he thought. It would be easy for an intruder to enter the king’s room and murder the man. ‘Not a good solution, however,’ Sir Mortimer thought. The peers hated the king. But murder him would be a bad move. A king’s murderer would never escape.

Sir Mortimer shook his head. ‘There are too many men eager to success on the throne,’ he thought. Edward’s son was way too young to follow him. So the queen would follow the king. But the queen would be forced to marry again. The French woman would not be able to hold her position long without an English husband and king.

Sir Mortimer looked down the corridor that led to Edward’s chambers. ‘There are too many men eager to success on the throne,’ he thought again. ‘Too many who could rightfully claim the right to marry the queen. I need to work on my original plan. I need a riot. I need an upheaval. I will be the one who will break it. Thus, they cannot pass me by.’

Sir Mortimer frowned. His plan was bold. He knew that he gambled. His plan was ambitious. Sir Mortimer compressed his lips.

“There’s too much at stake. I can’t do it alone. I will not rise without the queen,” he hissed.

The servant who was sleeping on the floor moved slowly and opened his eyes. He rose to his feet quickly when he spotted a figure standing in the dark at the top of the stairs.

“Quiet,” Sir Mortimer said quickly. “I was just looking if you guard the hallway well.”

The man straightened. Sir Mortimer smiled in despise.

“I see you are on guard,” he said mischievously.

Sir Mortimer approached the man. He stopped right in front of him. Sir Mortimer could see the man’s eyes in the dark. He saw the fear in his eyes.

Sir Mortimer smiled mildly.

“Tell me, is the king alone in his chamber?” he asked.

The man gazed at him. Sir Mortimer curled his lips. The man shook his head.

“Who is with him then?” Sir Mortimer asked, his voice sounding almost casual.

The man kept gazing at him. Sir Mortimer narrowed his eyes.

“That man,” the guard finally replied in a suppressed voice.

“I cannot make sense of your answer,” Sir Mortimer said, leaning in more to the man.

The guard blinked nervously.

“Roger d’Amory,” he said finally.

“Ah,” Sir Mortimer said, smiling again.

He stepped back and descended the stairs.

“All according to plan,” he said to himself, feeling contented. “I should let Isabella know that they spent the night together. Perhaps I could invite her for a walk at dawn in order to clear her thoughts and refresh her mind. We could take the path to the bathhouse and pick some flowers there.”

Sir Mortimer almost giggled at the thought of himself picking flowers at dawn. He shrugged.

“Be that as it may,” he said. “It furthers my plan. The silly French goose will fly into a rage when she spots Edward and his favourite entering the bathhouse, coming from the king’s room apparently.”

Sir Mortimer straightened and took a deep breath. He climbed the stairs again and entered the corridor that led to Isabella’s chambers. The guard in front of the door straightened. Sir Mortimer ignored the man. He woke the maid servant who was sleeping on the floor in front of the door. The girl looked at him with widened eyes.

“Wake the queen,” Sir Mortimer ordered. “A matter of urgency.”

The girl and the guard gazed at Sir Mortimer in utter disbelief. Sir Mortimer clapped his hands impatiently.

“Quick,” he said in an imperious voice.

The guard stepped aside. The girl opened the door and slipped into the room. Sir Mortimer crossed his arms in front of his chest, smiling broadly into the darkness.

“What is going on?” she asked, feeling confused. She wiped her eyes tiredly.

“My lady, a matter of urgency,” the maid whispered in a frightened voice.

The maid stood near Isabella’s bed. She watched the queen with widened eyes. The maid was scared and she was afraid of the queen’s reaction.

Isabella straightened and wiped back her hair.

“What is going on?” she asked again, still feeling confused. “Light a candle,” she commanded finally.

The maid stumbled through the darkness, looking for a candle and a lighter. Finally, she managed to light the candle. Isabella was sitting on the edge of her bed. She watched the maid warily.

“Sir Mortimer is waiting outside,” the maid whispered.

“Sir Mortimer?” Isabella asked. “What does he want at that time of the day? Dawn is just breaking.”

“A matter of urgency,” the maid whispered.

Isabella grew angry.

“He must have gone insane,” she said.

Nonetheless, she rose to her feet and looked for her gown. The maid quickly took up the gown and hurried to help the queen. Isabella placed the gown around her shoulders. She brushed back her hair again.

“Open the door just a bit,” she said. “He must not see me.”

Isabella was angry. But she was also alarmed.

The maid rushed to the door and opened it. She peeped out. Sir Mortimer straightened and moved to the door.

“I must speak to the queen,” Sir Mortimer said. His voice was dark and urgent.

“What is it you want, Sir Mortimer?” Isabella asked from behind the door.

“A matter of urgency, my lady,” Sir Mortimer said, controlling his voice. “I must speak to you in private immediately.”

“You must not come into the room,” Isabella said imperiously. “How can you dare to come to my room at this time of the day?”

Isabella was about to fly into a rage.

“Calm,” Sir Mortimer said. He was impatient and barely managed to remain calm.

“My lady, dress quickly and meet me at the bottom of the stairs,” Sir Mortimer said.

“I must not be seen with you at dawn,” Isabella said. “It would cast a poor light on me.”

Sir Mortimer frowned for an instant, yet then he returned to a softer demeanour.

“My lady,” he said in a soft voice. “I have evidence and proof,” he said.

“Proof of what?” Isabella asked.

Sir Mortimer rolled his eyes impatiently. The guard looked at him in disbelief. Sir Mortimer cast him a piercing look. The man lowered his eyes.

“My lady,” Sir Mortimer said, “Take along the maid if you wish so. Just let us go for a brief walk in the morning, clearing our thoughts and refreshing our minds.”

Isabella gazed at the door in disbelief.

“He must have gone insane,” she murmured.

‘Silly French goose,’ Sir Mortimer thought impatiently.

“My lady, I promise the light of the morning will shed light on a matter you may be interested in,” he said, his voice showing impatience this time.

Isabella and the maid exchanged a glance.

“Well, Sir Mortimer,” Isabella said finally, “Wait for me downstairs. I will be dressing at once.”

“Yes, I will be waiting downstairs,” Sir Mortimer said softly.

He smiled, yet his smile and his eyes were cold. Sir Mortimer turned and descended the stairs. The maid closed the door quickly. Isabella hurried to her closet.

“Quick, Abigail,” she said. “I must be back before the peers and the king awake and find me sneaking about outside with Sir Mortimer.”

Isabella dressed. The maid arranged the queen’s hair. And then the queen and her maid hurried down the stairs and to the door that led to the green outside. Sir Mortimer welcomed Isabella with a nod. He opened the door and stepped outside quickly. Isabella and the maid followed him. Sir Mortimer pointed down a path.

“Let’s go for a walk. This path leads to the bathhouse. It should not be frequented at that time of the day,” he said.

Sir Mortimer glanced at the sky. The first light of the morning illuminated it.

‘The king has a tight schedule today,’ he thought. ‘Sir Duffy will talk to Edward first. He cannot dare to have Sir Duffy waiting. So, I’m fairly sure Edward will rise soon and then head for the bathhouse.’

Sir Mortimer walked down the path grimly. ‘I can only hope he takes Roger d’Amory along. But it is worth a try.’

Isabella and the maid followed Sir Mortimer quickly. They soon disappeared behind rose trees that grew along the path. Sir Mortimer walked more slowly.

“No one can see us from the castle, my lady,” he said. “You can go back later in company of your maid. I will be taking another way back to the house.”

“The guard knows that I left in order to meet you,” Isabella said.

Sir Mortimer looked at the queen.

“Do not worry, my lady. While I was waiting for your response, I thanked the man for his good service and gave him a few coins,” Sir Mortimer said in a bored voice.

He stopped at the sight of the bathhouse.

“My lady,” he said, turning to Isabella. “Send your maid away for a couple of minutes. She may pick some flowers over there, while we pick some here,” he said, pointing at a flowerbed close to the bathhouse.

Isabella looked at him in disbelief.

“Pick flowers,” she said in a sharp voice. “You must have gone insane, Sir Mortimer.”

Sir Mortimer gave her a cold and piercing look. Isabella’s shoulders slumped and her face flushed.

“I see,” she said. Her voice was insecure.

Isabella turned to her maid quickly.

“Abigail,” she said, “Please go and pick some flowers over there. Stay in sight and come back as soon I wave my hand.”

The maid gave her a brief and startled look. Yet then she made a curtsey and hurried into the indicated direction. Isabella turned to Sir Mortimer.

“If anybody sees me here with you, then my fate will be sealed,” she said coldly.

“Do not feel so scared all the time,” Sir Mortimer returned in a cold voice also.

Isabella flushed again and opened her mouth for a sharp response. However, she refrained from replying when Sir Mortimer offered her arm to her.

“Come, my lady,” Sir Mortimer said in an urgent voice. “Let’s have a look at these beautiful flowers over there.”

He glanced at the sky again. The sun was up, yet hidden behind heavy clouds. Isabella’s eyes followed his look. She gave Sir Mortimer a questioning look before she finally took his arm. Sir Mortimer did not reply. He led the queen to the flowerbed. Isabella looked at the flowers. Sir Mortimer nodded. Isabella picked a flower hesitantly.

“Your excuse for going for a walk at dawn,” Sir Mortimer said. “Flowers are most beautiful in the morning when they open up to the sun.”

Sir Mortimer smiled sweetly before he returned to his cold demeanour. Isabella, having no clue of what was going on, felt highly intimidated. She picked a few flowers and nervously held them to her chest. Sir Mortimer looked up the path.

“Who are you waiting for?” Isabella asked in a suppressed voice.

“I am waiting for the king,” Sir Mortimer said in a sober voice.

Isabella tensed. She tightened the grip on the flowers in her hands.

“Do you want to hand me over to him? Is this your plan?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear.

“Nonsense,” Sir Mortimer hissed.

He looked up the path again. Suddenly, he straightened. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips. He rubbed his hands briefly. Isabella watched him nervously.

“Quick,” Sir Mortimer said.

He offered his arm to Isabella.

“Let’s hide behind these bushes. Quick, my lady,” Sir Mortimer said.

Isabella took his arm. Sir Mortimer moved on. He drew the queen along. Sir Mortimer and Isabella hid behind the trees.

“Quiet, my lady,” Sir Mortimer said when the queen was about to speak up. “Come, here is a good place to watch.”

Isabella peeped through the bushes, her chest heaving with fear. Sir Mortimer stood motionless and attentively watched the path from out of their hiding-place.

“Quiet, my lady. Whatever happens. Whoever you see. Quiet, my lady. Do not compromise yourself,” he said.

Isabella nodded faintly. She tightened the grip on the flowers in her hands. Sir Mortimer watched attentively. And then, they both heard voices.

“Edward,” Isabella said.

“I told you I was waiting for the king,” Sir Mortimer said. “The king and his companion. But quiet now.”

Isabella nodded. It dawned on her finally. She looked at the path anxiously.

Edward appeared, dressed in a gown. A servant carried his clothes. And then, Roger d’Amory came in sight, dressed only in a gown also. Edward laughed cheerfully. He turned back to Roger and waited for the man to catch up with him. Edward smiled at Roger. Roger smiled back. They both looked dishevelled. Edward leaned in to Roger. He gave another laugh. Then he took the clothes from the servant’s hands. Edward talked to the servant and the man hurried up the path instantly. Edward and Roger entered the bathhouse.

Sir Mortimer stood motionless, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He felt entirely calm. He did not even feel the need to smile mockingly. Sir Mortimer just stood and looked ahead.

A sudden noise distracted him. Sir Mortimer glanced aside. Isabella had dropped the flowers. The queen’s face was pale and her lips shivered slightly. Sir Mortimer studied her for an instant. His look was entirely free of emotion. Isabella glanced up at him. Sir Mortimer just looked at her. The queen was about to faint.

‘Silly French goose’, Sir Mortimer thought coldly. ‘Did you really think they just go for a walk under your window?’

Isabella clenched her hands. And then her eyelids flickered. Isabella fainted. Sir Mortimer still watched her coldly. But then he quickly caught the queen in his arms. Isabella opened her eyes slightly. Sir Mortimer stroked her hair and gave the queen a reassuring smile. Isabella closed her eyes again. Sir Mortimer carried her limp body up the path.

Sir Mortimer spotted the maid. He gave her a sign. The maid hurried towards them.

“The queen fainted,” Sir Mortimer said. “Quick, call a nobleman to guard her honour. You have not seen me. Understood, girl?”

Sir Mortimer’s look was icy and the maid backed away from him. She glanced at him in fear.

“Understood?” Sir Mortimer hissed with another cold and sharp look.

“Yes, sir,” the maid uttered barely audible.

She nodded faintly and cast a look at the queen’s limp body. Then the maid turned abruptly. She ran up the path, crying out for help. Sir Mortimer placed the queen’s body on a flowerbed cautiously.

‘Almost like laid on a bier,’ Sir Mortimer thought.

He took in the sight for a moment or two. Then Sir Mortimer knelt down and touched Isabella’s cheek softly. The queen opened her eyes slightly. She looked at him in despair.

“Help is on the way, my lady,” Sir Mortimer said softly. “I will disappear out of sight. You were just picking flowers, do you remember?”

Isabella looked up at him. Her face was white as snow and tears had filled her eyes. She tried to reply to Sir Mortimer’s words, but she found herself unable to utter a word. Sir Mortimer bowed down. He picked a few flowers and placed them near Isabella’s head.

“You were just picking flowers, my lady. Picking flowers in company of your maid,” he said again.

Isabella nodded faintly.

“I must leave now,” Sir Mortimer said.

He stroked Isabella’s temple softly. The queen swallowed and closed her eyes. Sir Mortimer rose to his feet quickly and then hurried down the path. He passed the bathhouse and hurried farther along to where he knew was a crossroad. From there he would take another path back to the house.

“A comfortable place, isn’t it? Make yourself comfortable, Roger,” Edward said with a smile.

Roger looked around. The royal bathhouse was far more splendid than the bathhouse that belonged to Roger’s manor in Ireland. Various soaps and jars with herbs were placed on wooden shelves. The scent of roses filled the air.

Edward took off his gown and his underwear. He climbed into a tub. Then he looked at Roger.

“Do not worry, Roger d’Amory. The water isn’t cold,” he said.

Roger turned to Edward. Edward leaned back in the tub. He glanced at Roger.

“They heat the water before dawn, just in case I need a bath early,” Edward said with a yawn.

He glanced at Roger again. Finally, Roger took off his clothes. Edward pointed at the tub.

“Join me in here, please,” he said.

He smiled at Roger impishly.

“You cannot reject the king’s command,” Edward said.

“Is it the king’s command?” Roger asked with a smile.

Edward shook his head.

“It is not, of course,” he said smiling also.

Roger returned the smile. He climbed into the tub. Edward watched him attentively.

“Calm, my lady,” the maid said. “It is alright. No harm is done to you.”

Isabella trembled nonetheless. She refused to open her eyes.

“I ran into Sir William, luckily,” the maid said. “He is a good man. He will not gossip, my lady. No one else saw you, I swear, my lady. And Sir William will keep the incident a secret.”

Isabella opened her eyes. She looked at the maid. Her eyes showed fear. Isabella reached out and touched the maid’s arm.

“You must not tell anybody that I was going for a walk with Sir Mortimer. Promise me, Abigail, promise me,” she said in almost despair.

The maid nodded.

“I will not, my lady,” the maid said in a low voice. “I will not tell anybody. I promise, my lady.”

The queen nodded gratefully. The maid looked at Isabella.

“Did he do you any harm, my lady?” she asked in a low voice, avoiding Isabella’s eyes.

“No, no he did not,” Isabella said. “Sir Mortimer did not do me any harm. It was just the sight of my king and husband that shook me to the core.”

The maid flushed. She did not respond.

“You have seen him also?” Isabella asked nervously.

The maid swallowed. And then she nodded faintly.

“I was hiding behind a tree when they were coming down the path. They have not spotted me, my lady,” she said.

“Good,” Isabella said.

The queen and her maid exchanged a glance. The maid nodded in understanding. Isabella turned her eyes away. The maid continued wiping Isabella’s forehead.

“It is such a shame and disgrace,” Isabella whispered. “Sir Mortimer took me there to witness this shameful incidence.”

“Why did he torment his queen?” the maid asked almost casually.

Isabella looked at her. The maid flushed.

“I cannot say,” Isabella said in a low voice.

She closed her eyes again. The maid continued wiping Isabella’s forehead and face until the queen drifted to sleep. The maid sat by her side and watched the queen. She pitied her and she felt for her. But there was nothing she could do but attend to her queen and soothe her pain.

“Calm,” he said to himself. “The maid and the guard will remain silent. But I need to find out who carried the queen back to the house. I might need to bribe the man. I must not enter the hall before lunch, however. I need to be cautious.”

Sir Mortimer took a quill, but he did not write down anything. He just held the quill and looked grimly at the paper in front of him.

Sir Mortimer went to the hall for lunch. He furtively watched Edward and his favourite and the peers at the table. Edward and Roger soon retired to Edward’s room. Sir Mortimer stayed and talked to the peers. None of them dropped a word of anything that had happened to the queen in the morning. Nobody missed her at table as it was not uncommon for the queen to be absent. The hall emptied. Sir Mortimer was on his own. He tapped his fingers on the wooden table.

“Who helped the queen? Someone must have,” he said to himself.

The following days, he went around and listened. But nobody mentioned the incident. Nobody had seen the queen sneaking about outside at dawn. Nobody had seen a man carrying the limp body of the queen. And, apparently, the man who had helped the queen had decided to forever remain silent.

“Well, then,” Sir Mortimer said, standing by the window of his room, “Apparently a man of honour ran to help the queen. I can hardly believe that a man of honour is around at court. Anyway. Thus I need not worry. So much the better.”

Sir Mortimer forced himself to be patient. The queen’s condition would only further his plan.

Edward did not miss the queen either. He refrained from showing up under her window every day in the morning. Apparently, his plan worked out well. The queen was depressed. Sir Mortimer soon would hurry to soothe her pain.

Edward left the governmental affairs to his loyal peers and the few confidants that he still had. The peers, feeling enraged and indignant at first, soon considered the latest development not a bad one. They gained more influence than they had ever had before.

At the end of the year, the peers had got accustomed to the situation. Edward demonstrated his affection to his new favourite constantly, but the king less and less interfered in governmental affairs.

“He has become aware of his inability as a king,” Sir Remington made it clear to the others one evening. “Sirs, I think we can cope with the situation. Leave him his malady and leave him his favourite toy and let him be king. Thus we can act in favour of England.”

His argumentation was widely approved of. The peers were not aware that Edward was waiting silently for his plans to unfold.

Sir Mortimer watched the development highly concerned.