Charles of Valois; `my son-in-law, Robert, has informed me. You want me to plead your case with King Edward. Well, my loyal friend.. .'
Because he had `asked', he had suddenly become a friend.
`Well, I shall not do it, for it would serve no purpose, except to expose me to further insult. Do you know the answer your King Edward sent me by the Count de Bouville? Yes, you must of course be aware of it. And when the licence for the marriage had already been asked of the Holy Father! What sort of figure does he make me cut? And do you really expect me, after that, to ask him to restore your lands to you, give you back your titles, and dismiss, for the one implies the other, those shameless Despensers of his?'
`And at the same time, to restore to Queen Isabella ...'
`My poor niece!' cried Valois. `I know, my loyal friend, I know it all. Do you think that I or the King of France can make King Edward change both his morals and his mi nisters? Nevertheless, you must be aware that he sent the Bishop of Rochester to demand that we hand you over., And we refused. We refused even to give the Bishop audience: This is the first affront I have been able to offer Edward in exchange for, his. We are linked to each other, Monseigneur of Mortimer, by the outrages that have been inflicted on us. And if either of us ha s an opportunity of revenge, I can promise you, my dear lord, that we shall avenge ourselves jointly.'
Mortimer, t hough he gave no sign, felt an overwhelming despair. The audience, from whi ch Robert of Artois had promised him such wonderful results `My father-in-law Charles can do anything; if he likes you, and he undoubtedly will, you can be sure of gaining the day; if necessary he'll bring the Pope in on your side ...' - seemed to be over. And what had it achieved? Nothing at all. Merely, the promise of some vague command in the land of the Saracens, in eighteen months' time. Roger Mortimer was already considering leav ing Paris and going to see the P ope; and if he could get nothing out of him, then he would go to the Emperor of Germany. Oh how bitter were the disappointments of exile. His uncle of Chirk had forewarned him.
It was then that Robert of Artois broke the somewhat embarrassed silence by saying: `Charles, why should we not create the opportunity for the revenge of which you spoke just now?'
He was the only man at Court who called the Count of Valois by his Christian name, having maintained the habit from the time they were mere cousins; besides, his size, strength and general truculence gave him rights no one else would have dared assume.
`Robert is, right,' said Philippe of Valois. `One might, for instance, invite King Edward to the crusade, and then...'
A vague gesture completed his thought. Tall Philippe was clearly of an imaginative turn. He could see them all crossing a ford, or better still riding across the desert; they would meet a band of the infidel, they would let Edward lead a charge and then coldly abandon him into the hands of the Saracens. That would be a fine revenge.
`Never!' cried Charles of Valois. `Never will Edward join his banners to mine! Besides, can one even think of him as a Christian prince? Indeed, it's only the Saracens who have such morals as his!'
In spite of Valois' indignation, Mortimer felt a certain anxiety. He knew only too well what the speeches of princes were worth, and how the enemies of yesterday became reconciled tomorrow, even if only hypocritically, when it was in their interest to do so. If it occurred to Monseigneur of Valois, so as to increase the size of his crusade, to invite Edward, and if Edward pretended to accept...
`Even if you did invite him, Monseigneur,' Mortimer said, `there's very little likelihood of King Edward responding to your invitation; he likes wrestling but hates arms, and it was not he, I can promise you, who defeated me at Shrewsbury, but Thomas of Lancaster's bad tactics. Edward would plead, and with reason, the danger he is in from the
Because he had `asked', he had suddenly become a friend.
`Well, I shall not do it, for it would serve no purpose, except to expose me to further insult. Do you know the answer your King Edward sent me by the Count de Bouville? Yes, you must of course be aware of it. And when the licence for the marriage had already been asked of the Holy Father! What sort of figure does he make me cut? And do you really expect me, after that, to ask him to restore your lands to you, give you back your titles, and dismiss, for the one implies the other, those shameless Despensers of his?'
`And at the same time, to restore to Queen Isabella ...'
`My poor niece!' cried Valois. `I know, my loyal friend, I know it all. Do you think that I or the King of France can make King Edward change both his morals and his mi nisters? Nevertheless, you must be aware that he sent the Bishop of Rochester to demand that we hand you over., And we refused. We refused even to give the Bishop audience: This is the first affront I have been able to offer Edward in exchange for, his. We are linked to each other, Monseigneur of Mortimer, by the outrages that have been inflicted on us. And if either of us ha s an opportunity of revenge, I can promise you, my dear lord, that we shall avenge ourselves jointly.'
Mortimer, t hough he gave no sign, felt an overwhelming despair. The audience, from whi ch Robert of Artois had promised him such wonderful results `My father-in-law Charles can do anything; if he likes you, and he undoubtedly will, you can be sure of gaining the day; if necessary he'll bring the Pope in on your side ...' - seemed to be over. And what had it achieved? Nothing at all. Merely, the promise of some vague command in the land of the Saracens, in eighteen months' time. Roger Mortimer was already considering leav ing Paris and going to see the P ope; and if he could get nothing out of him, then he would go to the Emperor of Germany. Oh how bitter were the disappointments of exile. His uncle of Chirk had forewarned him.
It was then that Robert of Artois broke the somewhat embarrassed silence by saying: `Charles, why should we not create the opportunity for the revenge of which you spoke just now?'
He was the only man at Court who called the Count of Valois by his Christian name, having maintained the habit from the time they were mere cousins; besides, his size, strength and general truculence gave him rights no one else would have dared assume.
`Robert is, right,' said Philippe of Valois. `One might, for instance, invite King Edward to the crusade, and then...'
A vague gesture completed his thought. Tall Philippe was clearly of an imaginative turn. He could see them all crossing a ford, or better still riding across the desert; they would meet a band of the infidel, they would let Edward lead a charge and then coldly abandon him into the hands of the Saracens. That would be a fine revenge.
`Never!' cried Charles of Valois. `Never will Edward join his banners to mine! Besides, can one even think of him as a Christian prince? Indeed, it's only the Saracens who have such morals as his!'
In spite of Valois' indignation, Mortimer felt a certain anxiety. He knew only too well what the speeches of princes were worth, and how the enemies of yesterday became reconciled tomorrow, even if only hypocritically, when it was in their interest to do so. If it occurred to Monseigneur of Valois, so as to increase the size of his crusade, to invite Edward, and if Edward pretended to accept...
`Even if you did invite him, Monseigneur,' Mortimer said, `there's very little likelihood of King Edward responding to your invitation; he likes wrestling but hates arms, and it was not he, I can promise you, who defeated me at Shrewsbury, but Thomas of Lancaster's bad tactics. Edward would plead, and with reason, the danger he is in from the
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