much
longer he would merit such respect. It felt as though the entire realm was a tower teetering on the brink of complete failure,
undermined by enemies that could not be seen, swatted away or exterminated. They were deep underground, hidden from view.
And if the realm failed, Sir Hugh would die. He and all his friends must be taken and slain. The strain of his position was
like a band of steel tightening around his skull. ‘My lord, would you not take a seat? I can arrange for some diverting—’
‘Be
still
, Sir Hugh! Do you not see when a man needs peace and silence to consider? I have much to think of, in Christ’s name!’
‘I do understand, your highness,’ said Sir Hugh. It was harder and harder to restrain his own tongue in the face of the king’s
bile. ‘But surely a rest would do no harm.’
The king continued as though he had not heard him speak. ‘It is humiliating that my wife is not yet home. She should have
returned assoon as Stapledon arrived there. What could be holding her up? There is no news, and we do not know how the French are responding.
Christ Jesus! She must know how it embarrasses me. And my son is still there. I want him home again. I do not want my heir
to be held there any longer than is entirely necessary. He is young, vulnerable. He is not yet thirteen years old, and already
he has been forced to go and pay homage to the French like a mere knight, when he is a duke!’
‘It was better that he did so than that another should go,’ Despenser said. ‘It was better than that you should go.’
‘I couldn’t!’ the king snapped. He was at the farther end of the chamber now, the easternmost end, near his bed. There were
three large oval windows above him, and he appeared to be staring up at them, but when Sir Hugh followed his gaze, he saw
that the king was peering up at a picture of a prophet on the ceiling.
It was the most beautiful room in the kingdom. In fact Sir Hugh had heard that the French king himself was jealous of the
chamber, and had ordered that a similar one be built for his own use. There were paintings over the walls and the ceilings,
all with an exuberant use of colour and gilt. Even the meanest feature had decoration upon it. As Sir Hugh glanced at the
window nearest him, he saw that the soffit itself had a picture of an angel staring down. Below her was a virtue,
Debonerete
, or meekness, triumphing over the vice
Ira
, wrath. As was normal, the virtue was depicted as a woman, holding a shield on which the arms of England were differenced
by two bars, while the arms of St Edmund and other saints were carefully painted around her in a border. She was a stunning
figure, especially since she stood some three yards tall, and gleamed with fire from the gilt and gold leaf.
Nearby there was another figure in the same vein. Here the virtue was
Largesse
, and she was triumphing over
Covoitise
, covetousness. That at least was one vice which the king never suffered from. Not in the presence of Sir Hugh.
Sir Hugh had his goblet refilled and waited. He had much patience. Sometimes he thought that it was the only virtue he required
while here with the king. But he couldn’t deny that he’d been well rewarded over the years for his patience. All he had ever
needed to show his king was humility and deference, leavened with adoration, and Edward had repaid the effort many times over.
Sir Hugh’s desires became the king’s desires; Sir Hugh’s friends became the king’s,while his enemies became Edward’s most detested foes. There was nothing Sir Hugh could do that would colour the king’s opinion
of him. Even when the French demanded that Edward travel to France to pay homage for the territories held from the French
crown, the king was happier to send his own heir, the Earl of Chester, Duke of Aquitaine, rather than make the journey himself.
Some believed it was because he feared for his safety. Sir Hugh knew it was more
longer he would merit such respect. It felt as though the entire realm was a tower teetering on the brink of complete failure,
undermined by enemies that could not be seen, swatted away or exterminated. They were deep underground, hidden from view.
And if the realm failed, Sir Hugh would die. He and all his friends must be taken and slain. The strain of his position was
like a band of steel tightening around his skull. ‘My lord, would you not take a seat? I can arrange for some diverting—’
‘Be
still
, Sir Hugh! Do you not see when a man needs peace and silence to consider? I have much to think of, in Christ’s name!’
‘I do understand, your highness,’ said Sir Hugh. It was harder and harder to restrain his own tongue in the face of the king’s
bile. ‘But surely a rest would do no harm.’
The king continued as though he had not heard him speak. ‘It is humiliating that my wife is not yet home. She should have
returned assoon as Stapledon arrived there. What could be holding her up? There is no news, and we do not know how the French are responding.
Christ Jesus! She must know how it embarrasses me. And my son is still there. I want him home again. I do not want my heir
to be held there any longer than is entirely necessary. He is young, vulnerable. He is not yet thirteen years old, and already
he has been forced to go and pay homage to the French like a mere knight, when he is a duke!’
‘It was better that he did so than that another should go,’ Despenser said. ‘It was better than that you should go.’
‘I couldn’t!’ the king snapped. He was at the farther end of the chamber now, the easternmost end, near his bed. There were
three large oval windows above him, and he appeared to be staring up at them, but when Sir Hugh followed his gaze, he saw
that the king was peering up at a picture of a prophet on the ceiling.
It was the most beautiful room in the kingdom. In fact Sir Hugh had heard that the French king himself was jealous of the
chamber, and had ordered that a similar one be built for his own use. There were paintings over the walls and the ceilings,
all with an exuberant use of colour and gilt. Even the meanest feature had decoration upon it. As Sir Hugh glanced at the
window nearest him, he saw that the soffit itself had a picture of an angel staring down. Below her was a virtue,
Debonerete
, or meekness, triumphing over the vice
Ira
, wrath. As was normal, the virtue was depicted as a woman, holding a shield on which the arms of England were differenced
by two bars, while the arms of St Edmund and other saints were carefully painted around her in a border. She was a stunning
figure, especially since she stood some three yards tall, and gleamed with fire from the gilt and gold leaf.
Nearby there was another figure in the same vein. Here the virtue was
Largesse
, and she was triumphing over
Covoitise
, covetousness. That at least was one vice which the king never suffered from. Not in the presence of Sir Hugh.
Sir Hugh had his goblet refilled and waited. He had much patience. Sometimes he thought that it was the only virtue he required
while here with the king. But he couldn’t deny that he’d been well rewarded over the years for his patience. All he had ever
needed to show his king was humility and deference, leavened with adoration, and Edward had repaid the effort many times over.
Sir Hugh’s desires became the king’s desires; Sir Hugh’s friends became the king’s,while his enemies became Edward’s most detested foes. There was nothing Sir Hugh could do that would colour the king’s opinion
of him. Even when the French demanded that Edward travel to France to pay homage for the territories held from the French
crown, the king was happier to send his own heir, the Earl of Chester, Duke of Aquitaine, rather than make the journey himself.
Some believed it was because he feared for his safety. Sir Hugh knew it was more
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