Read Online Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Jecks
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proffered hand, kissing the Episcopal ring. ‘My Lord Bishop.’
Drokensford was a heavy-set man with a florid complexion. His face was square and lined, as befitted a man who never based himself in any home, but who moved constantly from one manor to another, usually visiting all sixteen of those within his See each year, as well as the other properties dotted about the country. His voice was gruff, and he still sounded like a farmer from that little Hampshire town where he had been born. ‘My friend, it is my honour to see you here. Would you like some wine?’ He looked across the room at the guards the Earl had brought with him.
‘If you please, my Lord Bishop.’ He jerked his head at the guards, and they walked out to wait in the screens passage.
‘I think that here we may speak as equals,’ Drokensford said quietly.
The hall was a large one, but Edmund looked about him carefully. There were hangings on two walls which could have concealed a man. A closed door could all too often hide a listener. He recalled Piers’s words, and knew that no one could be trusted.
‘My Lord Bishop – John – you will know already that I am not entirely in favour at court.’
‘I had noticed your sad absence. I was sorry, for I have always respected your judgement.’
Edmund took the goblet presented to him and sipped, eyeing the Bishop.
Drokensford smiled, then held his arms out as if to indicate that both were a long way from any wall. ‘You may speak freely, my Lord Kent.’
‘Then I say this: if it were only me, I should be content with my lot. I would give up the governance of the realm to the King and his advisers, and I would retire to my estates. I have no need of political power. I am a simple man, a warrior. The King had need of me, but has so no more. So I should leave. But there are matters which concern me.’
‘They are?’
‘To speak plainly: Sir Hugh Despenser. When I was in France, he had control of all policy in Guyenne; he did little to help us. The fleet was supposed to sail in August, but did not; he never responded to our demands for menand matériel. No, he sat on his haunches and did nothing, until at the last, we lost all. I was confined in La Réole until I could negotiate a truce, without any help or advice from him.’
‘And now we must negotiate if we are to keep even a part of our territories over there,’ the Bishop murmured.
‘Precisely. And who is advising the King on all this? Despenser. The very same man who has been in control of the affair at all stages. The man who cost us the war last year.’
If the Bishop noted that it was Edmund himself who was in charge of all the forces there at the time of the French invasion and overrunning of the English lands, he kept the observation to himself. ‘And you wish to make a point?’
‘You know what I’m saying. If Despenser was incapable of protecting the Crown’s interests last year, what hope is there that he can do so now? And if he was not incapable, his incompetence begins to look suspicious.’
‘You suggest that he was a traitor?’
‘Never to his own affairs! I only say what is obvious.’
‘I am merely a Bishop, my friend. What would you expect a man of God to do about such affairs?’
Edmund’s lip curled a very slight amount. ‘Yes – you are a man of God, just as I am brother to the King.’
Drokensford took a long pull from his wine and nodded to himself. ‘I am afraid that I have little influence myself. Certainly not enough to interpose myself between the King and his advisers. Especially his … his most trusted advisers.’
There was no need for him to emphasise the point further. All knew that Despenser was closer to the King than any other man. Most suspected that the two must be lovers. There were even rumours that Despenser had tried to entice the Queen into his bed, according to Piers, although Edmund found that too unbelievable. The idea that the woman would have allowed him close enough to
Drokensford was a heavy-set man with a florid complexion. His face was square and lined, as befitted a man who never based himself in any home, but who moved constantly from one manor to another, usually visiting all sixteen of those within his See each year, as well as the other properties dotted about the country. His voice was gruff, and he still sounded like a farmer from that little Hampshire town where he had been born. ‘My friend, it is my honour to see you here. Would you like some wine?’ He looked across the room at the guards the Earl had brought with him.
‘If you please, my Lord Bishop.’ He jerked his head at the guards, and they walked out to wait in the screens passage.
‘I think that here we may speak as equals,’ Drokensford said quietly.
The hall was a large one, but Edmund looked about him carefully. There were hangings on two walls which could have concealed a man. A closed door could all too often hide a listener. He recalled Piers’s words, and knew that no one could be trusted.
‘My Lord Bishop – John – you will know already that I am not entirely in favour at court.’
‘I had noticed your sad absence. I was sorry, for I have always respected your judgement.’
Edmund took the goblet presented to him and sipped, eyeing the Bishop.
Drokensford smiled, then held his arms out as if to indicate that both were a long way from any wall. ‘You may speak freely, my Lord Kent.’
‘Then I say this: if it were only me, I should be content with my lot. I would give up the governance of the realm to the King and his advisers, and I would retire to my estates. I have no need of political power. I am a simple man, a warrior. The King had need of me, but has so no more. So I should leave. But there are matters which concern me.’
‘They are?’
‘To speak plainly: Sir Hugh Despenser. When I was in France, he had control of all policy in Guyenne; he did little to help us. The fleet was supposed to sail in August, but did not; he never responded to our demands for menand matériel. No, he sat on his haunches and did nothing, until at the last, we lost all. I was confined in La Réole until I could negotiate a truce, without any help or advice from him.’
‘And now we must negotiate if we are to keep even a part of our territories over there,’ the Bishop murmured.
‘Precisely. And who is advising the King on all this? Despenser. The very same man who has been in control of the affair at all stages. The man who cost us the war last year.’
If the Bishop noted that it was Edmund himself who was in charge of all the forces there at the time of the French invasion and overrunning of the English lands, he kept the observation to himself. ‘And you wish to make a point?’
‘You know what I’m saying. If Despenser was incapable of protecting the Crown’s interests last year, what hope is there that he can do so now? And if he was not incapable, his incompetence begins to look suspicious.’
‘You suggest that he was a traitor?’
‘Never to his own affairs! I only say what is obvious.’
‘I am merely a Bishop, my friend. What would you expect a man of God to do about such affairs?’
Edmund’s lip curled a very slight amount. ‘Yes – you are a man of God, just as I am brother to the King.’
Drokensford took a long pull from his wine and nodded to himself. ‘I am afraid that I have little influence myself. Certainly not enough to interpose myself between the King and his advisers. Especially his … his most trusted advisers.’
There was no need for him to emphasise the point further. All knew that Despenser was closer to the King than any other man. Most suspected that the two must be lovers. There were even rumours that Despenser had tried to entice the Queen into his bed, according to Piers, although Edmund found that too unbelievable. The idea that the woman would have allowed him close enough to
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