Read Online The Prophecy of Death: (Knights Templar 25) by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Jecks
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kingdom! You’ve given up all
my French territories without a murmur, haven’t you? Sweet Jesus, I should have you gaoled in the Tower for bloody
treason
!’
‘The Queen and I have done as much as is possible, my Lord. However, a man may not make bricks without straw. If you wish
to negotiate with a man like your brother-in-law, youwould be better placed to have some power behind you. He respects might.’
‘Oh, yes! Power! And how would a little land like ours be able to confront the greatest host of knights and men-at-arms in
all Christendom? Do you know how many men I have under my banner? Eh? Maybe two thousand knights. And King Charles? Ten thousand,
maybe twenty. You suggest I threaten him? With what? War? That would destroy us. Ach! Christ’s bones, you know all this. What
are you trying to do, torment me with my bloody weakness?’
And that was it. His rage was done for a moment, and when the Bishop cautiously glanced in his direction again, he saw that
the King was slumped in his chair. Behind it stood Despenser, that little sneer of a smile on his face once more, the evil
bastard.
There were few men in the land who were so wholeheartedly detested as Sir Hugh le Despenser, the architect of so much misery.
The King’s best friend, and most fabulously rewarded adviser. Reputedly, he was the King’s lover. He was an avaricious thief
of all he desired. All who tried to thwart him found themselves confronted with the full might of the King’s host, no matter
that they were defending their ancient rights or property against the Despenser.
But this was not the time to wax bitter about him.
‘My Lord,’ Bishop Stratford began, ‘perhaps this is not so dreadful as you think on first sight. The fact is, the French have
already taken your possessions in France. The French hold them. What we are attempting is to
recover
them. You know that King Charles is perfectly within his rights to ask that you go to him to pay homage for all the lands
under his crown which you possess. You have a duty under the law to pay fealty to him. This is no more than you would expect
fromany of the lords in your kingdom. You would expect them to come to you, their liege lord, to pay their respects and make their
vows to you.’
‘But he took my lands by force.’
‘Because his man was murdered.’
‘Pathetic! Is that an excuse? This is ridiculous!’
‘But we have to try to resolve it, my Lord. The best we can agree at present is to go to France and make the necessary oaths.
When you do, King Charles says he will return to you Guyenne, Ponthieu, Montreuil, and the Agenais will be resolved by his
courts.’
‘I cannot go! How can I go to France when the King supports and gives sanctuary to those who plot my death?’
All in the room knew whom he meant. His most detested and feared enemy: Sir Roger Mortimer of Wigmore. Sir Roger had been
his most respected marshal, not only for his tactical skills in England whenever the King sent him into battle, but also for
his Irish campaigns, pacifying that turbulent and troublesome country. But even the King’s most honoured friends could find
themselves threatened in this topsy-turvy court. Mortimer had always been the enemy of Despenser, even from before their births.
Mortimer’s grandsire slew Despenser’s at the battle of Evesham, and Despenser had sworn to uphold the feud. Thus it was that
when Mortimer and other Lords Marcher lifted their flags against Despenser’s rapacity, they found themselves accused of treason
against the King. Mortimer surrendered to the King’s standard, and was held in the Tower for some while, but when news came
to him that Despenser had successfully persuaded the King to execute him, Mortimer was helped to escape from the Tower by
some companions, and now he lived in comfort at the French King’s court – or had done until the King’s delegation arrived
tonegotiate this peace. It was a thorn in
my French territories without a murmur, haven’t you? Sweet Jesus, I should have you gaoled in the Tower for bloody
treason
!’
‘The Queen and I have done as much as is possible, my Lord. However, a man may not make bricks without straw. If you wish
to negotiate with a man like your brother-in-law, youwould be better placed to have some power behind you. He respects might.’
‘Oh, yes! Power! And how would a little land like ours be able to confront the greatest host of knights and men-at-arms in
all Christendom? Do you know how many men I have under my banner? Eh? Maybe two thousand knights. And King Charles? Ten thousand,
maybe twenty. You suggest I threaten him? With what? War? That would destroy us. Ach! Christ’s bones, you know all this. What
are you trying to do, torment me with my bloody weakness?’
And that was it. His rage was done for a moment, and when the Bishop cautiously glanced in his direction again, he saw that
the King was slumped in his chair. Behind it stood Despenser, that little sneer of a smile on his face once more, the evil
bastard.
There were few men in the land who were so wholeheartedly detested as Sir Hugh le Despenser, the architect of so much misery.
The King’s best friend, and most fabulously rewarded adviser. Reputedly, he was the King’s lover. He was an avaricious thief
of all he desired. All who tried to thwart him found themselves confronted with the full might of the King’s host, no matter
that they were defending their ancient rights or property against the Despenser.
But this was not the time to wax bitter about him.
‘My Lord,’ Bishop Stratford began, ‘perhaps this is not so dreadful as you think on first sight. The fact is, the French have
already taken your possessions in France. The French hold them. What we are attempting is to
recover
them. You know that King Charles is perfectly within his rights to ask that you go to him to pay homage for all the lands
under his crown which you possess. You have a duty under the law to pay fealty to him. This is no more than you would expect
fromany of the lords in your kingdom. You would expect them to come to you, their liege lord, to pay their respects and make their
vows to you.’
‘But he took my lands by force.’
‘Because his man was murdered.’
‘Pathetic! Is that an excuse? This is ridiculous!’
‘But we have to try to resolve it, my Lord. The best we can agree at present is to go to France and make the necessary oaths.
When you do, King Charles says he will return to you Guyenne, Ponthieu, Montreuil, and the Agenais will be resolved by his
courts.’
‘I cannot go! How can I go to France when the King supports and gives sanctuary to those who plot my death?’
All in the room knew whom he meant. His most detested and feared enemy: Sir Roger Mortimer of Wigmore. Sir Roger had been
his most respected marshal, not only for his tactical skills in England whenever the King sent him into battle, but also for
his Irish campaigns, pacifying that turbulent and troublesome country. But even the King’s most honoured friends could find
themselves threatened in this topsy-turvy court. Mortimer had always been the enemy of Despenser, even from before their births.
Mortimer’s grandsire slew Despenser’s at the battle of Evesham, and Despenser had sworn to uphold the feud. Thus it was that
when Mortimer and other Lords Marcher lifted their flags against Despenser’s rapacity, they found themselves accused of treason
against the King. Mortimer surrendered to the King’s standard, and was held in the Tower for some while, but when news came
to him that Despenser had successfully persuaded the King to execute him, Mortimer was helped to escape from the Tower by
some companions, and now he lived in comfort at the French King’s court – or had done until the King’s delegation arrived
tonegotiate this peace. It was a thorn in
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