Chapter 14

Leeds Castle

It was in October of 1321 that a great wrong was committed against Queen Isabella. Thinking to visit her dower castle of Leeds on her way to Canterbury, she was fired upon by the wife of its castellan, Bartholomew Badlesmere. After a raving Lady Margaret denied Isabella and her retinue entrance, she ordered her archers to loose their arrows. When the shooting ended, six of Isabella's subjects sprawled dead upon the grass.

Stunned, humiliated, frightened, Isabella retreated to Leeds Priory, and there, with her retinue and twenty canons of the Order of St. Augustine, spent the night. The priory was one of the richest in all Kent, and for hundreds of years had provided hospitality to pilgrims on their way to Thomas Becket's shrine.

The queen's first coherent act had been to send for Richard of Sussex, who had earlier detoured to Boxley Abbey in order to view its fabled Rood of Grace. He had been miles away when Margaret Badlesmere had committed her treason.

While awaiting Sussex, Isabella ranted that the only ecstasies her husband's bastard brother truly desired lay between the legs of some slut, not upon Christ's cross. How she hated Richard of Sussex at times, for he reminded her of what Edward Caernarvon might have been without the weaknesses...

After the earl arrived she berated him in front of all and sundry. "While my life was being threatened you were gaping at some talking statue everyone knows is counterfeit. You have been completely remiss in your duty to me and your brother, who entrusted me to your care."

"Madam, I had no idea—"

Isabella stomped her slippered foot. "Your queen was nearly killed!" She began pacing the small room, paternoster of Hansa amber between her fingers. "Oh, I knew Margaret Badlesmere was a traitorous bitch, but I would not have thought her capable of this! I will have that creature's head and her husband's too, if his hand was truly in this. And you, my ever devout brother-in-law, will execute my vengeance. Do you understand?"

Richard risked an amused glance at his squire, Michael Hallam, who stood guard at the door. Though Lady Badlesmere had committed an unpardonable act, he did not find Isabella's personal humiliation totally reprehensible.

"We will march on Leeds tomorrow," she continued. "I'll see that bitch and everyone inside Leeds hanging from the gibbet ere nightfall."

While contradicting her foolishness, Richard managed to keep his tone respectful "That might not be the wisest course of action, Madam. If we handle this matter properly, mayhap we could turn it into some sort of victory for your husband."

"Edward? What has he to do with this? He is enjoying the Isle of Thanet with dear 'Nephew Hugh.' What a fine joke banishment has proven to be. I see less of my husband now than before. Perhaps he will take to pirating, as Hugh has done. He obviously finds any diversion preferable to governing England."

"Nevertheless, Madam, His Grace might use this incident to good cause."

Isabella shook her fist at Richard. "I do not want to wait on my husband. The glorious victor of Bannockburn? Jesu! My lord king is incapable of finding the front of an army, let alone leading it. Nay, I want Margaret Badlesmere's head now, and if you are too afraid I'll find someone else to do my bidding."

Richard remained outwardly calm, though he felt like leaping upon Isabella. He misliked her implications concerning his bravery, as well as her remarks concerning Edward.

No wonder my brother seeks solace elsewhere. A dragon would provide more pleasant companionship.

"I can hardly be frightened of a madwoman, Madam, not when I am daily surrounded by such. But His Grace is in need of a popular cause. I am not."

Seeking to ease her trembling, Isabella motioned one of her ladies to pour her wine. She worried her beads and worked her mouth. She paced. She accepted the goblet. "Why," she asked, voice cracking, "why would she fire on me, her queen?"

Richard glanced once more at Michael Hallam. I can think of a thousand reasons.

'"Tis obvious that Lord Badlesmere has totally thrown in his lot with the Marchers and Cousin Lancaster. They are behind this mess, I'll warrant. But if the bitch thinks Lancaster will ride to save her scrawny neck she'll have a long wait. Thomas of Lancaster might now be riding high, but he hates Badlesmere. Furthermore, he still canna make up his mind to rise from his bed in the morning, let alone start civil war."

Isabella eyed Richard over the rim of her goblet. A lifetime of training, of hiding her emotions, had resurfaced enough for her to outwardly gain control.

"I cannot truly believe that Lord Badlesmere would do this—he who has eaten the king's salt and broken his bread." Her tone was wistful. "Politically, he has been moderate, has he not? And his family has always supported the crown."

"Many things are hard to understand since the Parliament of the White Bands." Richard's manner softened. "I think we have all been confused at the odd twists to events."

Isabella sighed. "What would you have me do then?"

"Ride on to Canterbury—complete your pilgrimage. I will post my squire with a few men here to see that the bitch Badlesmere doesn't slip away and I'll ride to my brother. Your subjects love you well. His Grace will have no trouble raising an army to avenge your humiliation. And when he is seen heading it perhaps the people will look more tolerantly on his past—indiscretions."

Isabella nodded. Crossing to a leaded window she looked outside. It was too dark to see, but the queen was gazing into her past, to the first time she'd met Edward. At the cathedral of Boulogne. She'd been twelve and she'd thought her fiancé, with his height and fine clothes, the handsomest man in all the world. But Edward had acted coarse as a peasant and when they'd landed at Dover he'd fallen on Piers Gaveston, crying, "Brother, brother!" Then Isabella's heart had frozen. Nor had it thawed.

"My lord Sussex?"

"Madam?"

"You do not believe that my husband would have manufactured an incident, do you? That he sent me to Leeds knowing I would be fired upon?"

"Nay! His Grace would never expose his wife and the mother of his children to danger."

Richard spoke with more conviction than he felt. Truthfully, he didn't know what Edward might do. Following the Despensers' banishment, the king had openly vowed to annihilate all those who had stood against him. Because neither his financial nor military position allowed him to destroy his enemies simultaneously, he'd sought the weakest first. Had that been Bartholomew Badlesmere? Badlesmere had long walked a tightrope between kinship alliances among the Marchers and loyalty to the crown. Leeds Castle was easily isolated from the rest of England and was surrounded by estates friendly to the king. Had Edward sent Isabella to Leeds hoping somehow to reclaim it without the expense and risk of a military campaign?

Since the Despensers' banishment, King Edward spent an increasing amount of time brooding and scheming to accomplish his favorites' return. 'Twas impossible to know what he might think or do.

* * *

After much dithering on the part of King Edward, the earl of Sussex convinced him that they must crush Bartholomew Badlesmere.

Edward issued a proclamation ordering the sheriffs of Hampshire, Surrey, and Sussex to assemble every man between sixteen and sixty before Leeds Castle by Friday, October twenty-third.

"I will brook no delays or excuses," His Grace said, warming to the pending conflict. "I will show my barons that they cannot thwart my will."

"Do not forget our own citizens here in London," Richard reminded him. "They love your consort, never fear. All will flock to your standard."

Indeed they did. Mounted knights, trained bands of townspeople, yeomen, and ordinary folk assembled at Leeds. Wavering lords rallied to the king and the Marcher barons sent word to Bartholomew Badlesmere that they would not assist him.

Thomas Lancaster didn't even bother to reply to Badlesmere's repeated pleas.

* * *

Leeds fell within a week. Edward Caernarvon's justice was swift and merciless. He ordered Walter Culpepper, the castellan who had obeyed Lady Badlesmere's order to fire upon Isabella, tied to the tail of a horse, dragged from the castle, and hanged from its drawbridge alongside a dozen other garrison leaders.

Then, leading a triumphant army, His Grace returned to London. Lady Badlesmere and her family rode with him and upon arrival were packed off to London's Tower. Appealing again to Thomas Lancaster and Roger Mortimer, Badlesmere tried unsuccessfully to raise a force against the king.

King Edward's magnates were astonished by their sovereign's uncharacteristic brutality at Leeds. This was the first application of martial law to internal discord, and the implications uneased them. Opposition to a monarch might no longer culminate in the chance to at least be heard in a court of law; rather it might result in the immediate loss of one's head. Baronial strength was now so divided that Edward believed he could obtain enough support to do as he pleased, and he moved swiftly. Now he was certain it was just a matter of time before he would once again gaze into the face of his beloved "Nephew Hugh."