Текст книги "The Follies of the King"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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THE LOVERS IN THE TOWER

THE lust for power had now seized Edward. It was as though with

Lancaster’s death he himself had taken on new life. Moreover the truce with Scotland had come to an end and Robert the Bruce was celebrating this by

attacking the English towns in earnest. When he came as far south as Preston it was decided that it was time to attempt the invasion of Scotland once more.

Everyone was astonished by the change in Edward. The Londoners were

with him to a man. He had avenged the insult to Isabella and they liked him for that. The Despensers were banished. A plague on them. Now perhaps the King had outgrown his follies and was going to show them that he was a true son of Great Edward.

At one point the English crossed the border into the Lothians. They reached Holyrood House and took it. They should have been astonished by the lack of resistance of a commander like Bruce. It was too late when they realized that he had crossed the border and had come as far as Yorkshire, his object being to attack Edward’s army from the rear.

Isabella was travelling with the army and was staying outside the town of

York. She was in a pensive mood. Events were changing her outlook rapidly.

Edward was winning the confidence of the people. For him the affair at Leeds Castle had been a blessing in disguise. By avenging her, he had won general approval and particularly that of the Londoners and was enjoying a popularity which he had never known before.

Whatever happened now she did not want Edward. The plan which had been

forming in her mind for some time was not yet fully developed, but nothing Edward could do now would make her want to change it. In brief it was that Edward should be deposed and their son Edward take the crown, with his

mother beside him as Regent. But if Edward was going to reform his ways? If he was going to be a victorious king and a faithful husband, what then?

I shall never forgive him for the humiliation I have suffered at his hands, she thought.

Even as she sat brooding she heard the sound of arrivals and there was an

urgency about those sounds. She rose and went down to the great hall to see what was happening.

At the sight of her one of the men who had just come cried out: ‘My lady,

make haste. We must go from here. The King’s army is routed and the Scots are on their way to take you prisoner.’

It was the old pattern. Why had she thought for a moment that Edward

would become a successful general?

No, he had failed once more.

Never mind. That made it all the easier for her to continue with her plan.

Hastily she prepared to leave. After the gallop to Tynemouth she boarded a boat. It was a rough passage but she did not care.

It could not be long before events began to go her way.

There was despair in the north among those who had been loyal to Edward

for it was clear that he was no match for Robert the Bruce. Once again he had been put to flight and had narrowly escaped. He was not meant for battle.

England’s tragedy was that the old King had borne such a son and had himself died before he had been able to complete his task.

Edward was impatient. He wanted no more war with Scotland. He disliked

war. Only briefly had he had good fortune and that was when he had attacked Leeds Castle which was held by a woman.

There was disillusion and it was disconcerting that his supporters in the

north were now beginning to realize the futility of depending on him.

They were actually attempting to come to private terms with the Scots

because it seemed likely that the harrying of the border would continue for a very long time.

The Bishop of Durham and the monks of Bridlington sent their valuables

south and were attempting to make a treaty with Bruce, a fact which showed clearly that they had no confidence in Edward and were looking out for

themselves. Edward was deeply shocked when he heard that Andrew Harclay,

the Earl of Carlisle, had actually travelled to Dumfries and held a conference with Bruce in which he offered to recognize him as King of Scotland in return for peace between them and security from attack for his own property.

Isabella heard the news and said to herself that this man of the north showed good sense. Anyone who relied on Edward was a fool. They had at last learned the lesson. Let the whole country learn such lessons. They would be all the happier to see him go.

She had many friends to support her. The chief of these and the one in

whom she placed most reliance was Adam of Orlton. He hated the Despensers

as much as she did and had rejoiced to see them banished. Since the arrest of the Mortimers he had been in some danger, for now that Lancaster was dead and the Mortimers imprisoned people were looking to him as the most important man in the party which had stood against the Despensers. Edward hated him and had wanted him out of the way, and had even managed to bring him before a lay

tribunal– the first time this had ever happened to a Bishop. He might have been condemned to death if he had not been under the protection of the Archbishops of Canterbury and York who must naturally protect their Bishops– for they

commanded that violent hands should not be laid on a man of the Church. The King, however, insisted on the trial’s proceeding and Adam was found guilty and although he could not be condemned to death, his possessions were

confiscated. He was at this time protesting to the Pope and was living in the Tower, not exactly a prisoner but as one who would have been, but for the

influence of the Church.

Isabella often visited the Tower and stayed in the apartments where her

daughter Joanna had been born. She was in constant communication with Adam.

In spite of what was happening in the north Edward could have changed the

whole course of his life at that time. His enemies were either dead or

imprisoned. The chief of these were Thomas of Lancaster who was dead and the Mortimers who were in the Tower, though with his usual lack of vision he

underestimated Roger de Mortimer the younger. Edward could have had him

executed and given the traitor’s death instead of which, in his usual dilatory manner, he allowed him to remain a prisoner in the Tower.

Poor Edward, thought Isabella. He would never learn from his mistakes.

One would have thought that having seen the country brought almost to civil war through Gaveston and then through the Despensers, he would have

recognized the signs of danger.

But it seemed he could not. The small success which had brightened his

career of failure had blinded him to facts. He recalled the Despensers.

Alas, there was no one now to stop him. He was no longer merely the King

in name. Lancaster was dead and it was he, Edward, who now gave the orders.

The Despensers responded with alacrity, and it was not long before they

were flaunting their authority as blatantly as they had ever done.

It was they who ordered a friend of Harclay’s to call on him at his castle and when he arrived, to arrest him in the name of the King. Thus this brave soldier, who would have served the King if he had not seen the hopelessness of such service, after a brief trial suffered the agonies of the traitor’s death.

It was with the Despensers’ help that Edward obtained a thirteen-year truce with Bruce and congratulated themselves on having won the peace, forgetting that it was the state of Bruce’s health– the dreaded disease of leprosy was now apparent to all― which had been the main reason for his agreement.

Then it was a return to the old ways. The Despensers must be placated at all costs. The King was beside himself with joy to have his dear Hugh back with him. He was never, never to go away again, declared Edward.

The Queen had taken up temporary residence in the Tower. She liked, she

said, to be near her good friends the people of London. In truth, now that the Despensers had returned, she was getting impatient for action and she wished to have secret conferences with her good friend, Adam of Orlton.

A gloomy place, the Tower of London. Strange that it should contain a

prison and a palace. Here many prisoners had lain in despair. At night, the fanciful believed they could hear the moans of those long dead. It was said that on the winding staircases and in the cold dank rooms ghostly figures appeared, men and women who would never rest until they had restitution from those who had given them a life of hell-on-earth in these dark walls. There was no place in the country which was so haunted.

William the Conqueror had ordered it to be built and Gundulf, the Bishop of Rochester, had designed it. It had stood a symbol of the Conqueror’s power to a conquered people. Of course it had been added to since then and was no longer the bleak fortress it had been in the days of William. It had been surrounded twenty years after the first fortress had been erected with an embattled stone wall and a deep ditch. Then that inveterate builder Henry the Third, the King’s grandfather, had built the Lion Tower and added to the improvements to the White Tower. The moat had been enlarged by Edward’s father. It seemed that every King must make his mark on the Tower of London. Not the present one

though, thought the Queen grimly; Edward was too indolent. The Tower to him was just a strong fortress to which he could retire when his subjects were in revolt against him.

There was a melancholy about the place but there was something which

excited her too. From the narrow windows she could look out on the river and see the good merchants going about their business and it comforted her to

realize that they were her friends.

There was no reason why anyone should speculate because of her presence

there. It was after all one of the most important of the royal residences. Young Edward was in the good hands of Richard de Bury who had been appointed his tutor and guardian; the other children were at Pleshy in Essex in the household of the Earl of Hereford who was their guardian. She was not exactly a doting mother and made no pretence of being. It was true that she kept a firm hand on young Edward and saw him frequently. She was eager that he should feel dc.

pendent on her and she was careful to do everything to win his devotion.

From her window she could see one of the small gardens of the Tower shut

in by tall pales and one day there appeared there a tall dark, somewhat

emaciated, man in the company of Gerard de Alspaye whom she knew as the

sub-lieutenant of the Tower. There was something about the manner in which he held himself which attracted her attention. She thought: He is obviously a prisoner but he walks like a king.

She watched for him and saw him on another occasion and on impulse she

sent for Alspaye and asked him who the distinguished-looking prisoner was.

Alspaye looked confused and she guessed that it was against orders that the prisoner had been given an airing.

‘You need have no fear,’ she said. ‘I’ll swear this man is one of the King’s prisoners, and I know that you made sure no harm could come of his taking the air.’

‘That is so, my lady. He has just become bereaved. His uncle who shared his dungeon has died.’

‘Of what did he die?’

‘The rigours of prison, my lady. Lack of food. The dungeon is airless,

without one window; the walls run with damp; it is stifling in summer and

bitterly cold in winter.’

‘What was the crime of these men?’

‘They were captured in battle.’

‘By the King?’ She could not keep the note of contempt from her voice but

Alspaye did not seem to notice.

‘In the Marcher country, my lady.’

‘Then he is―’

‘Roger de Mortimer, my lady, Earl of Wigmore, and his uncle recently dead

was the Lord of Chirk.’

‘I have heard much of these Mortimers,’ she said. ‘I can remember the

surprise when they were taken.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘I should like to speak with this man. Do you take him into the garden again soon?’

‘I would take him there when you wished, my lady.’

‘Walk there with him tomorrow and I will join you. Do not let him know

that I have mentioned this. Let it be as if by accident.’

‘It shall be as you wish, my lady.’

She was filled with an unaccountable excitement. Ideas flashed into her head and were discarded almost before they came. Roger de Mortimer, one of the

great Marcher barons! She had heard Edward talk of the Mortimers with

something like fear in his voice. Yes, he had certainly regarded the Mortimers with awe. The uncle and the nephew. They lived as kings in their territory.

Edward had said it was a mistake to allow those not royal to hold such power.

And now, one of them was dead and the other, this emaciated prisoner, still held himself like a conqueror.

The next morning she took a ride through the streets of London– always a

heartening experience. She had taken great pains with her appearance. It was gratifying to hear the shout for Isabella the Fair. Whatever happened, she thought, the people of London would be on my side.

In the afternoon she went to the garden. True to his word Alspaye was there with Roger de Mortimer.

The Queen stood looking at them, her eyebrows raised as though in surprise.

Roger de Mortimer stepped forward and bowed low. ‘Pray tell me who you

are,’ she said regally.

‘Mortimer at your service, my lady.’

Alspaye had taken a step backwards and she turned to him. ‘One of your

prisoners?’ she asked.

‘My lady, the Earl of Wigmore has recently suffered a great bereavement.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said the Queen, ‘the Lord of Chirk. The rigours of prison were too much for him.’

‘He was an old man, my lady,’ said Mortimer.

She nodded. ‘And you are being given a little exercise in case you too

should succumb. Is that so, my lord Lieutenant?’

‘It seemed a merciful thing to do,’ was the answer.

‘It was so. My lord Mortimer, take a turn with me.’ She glanced at Alspaye who withdrew a few steps. Then to Mortimer: ‘Come, my lord.’

‘You have been here some time, I believe,’ she said.

‘Some two years, my lady.’

She looked at him closely. The pallor of his skin accentuated the fierce dark brows; and she thought how handsome he was in spite of the privations he had suffered.

‘You have felt deeply the death of your uncle, I’ll swear,’ she went on.

‘We had been together so long. My father died when I was seven years old

and from that time my uncle was a father to me. Yes, my lady, indeed I feel his loss deeply―’ He clenched his fist. ‘One day―’

She felt an exultation gripping her. He was a man of violent passion, this Mortimer.

‘Yes, my lord, one day?’

‘My lady, you must pardon my emotion. This was a beloved uncle― one

who had been as a father to me. I have been long in prison―’

‘I know it,’ she answered gently. ‘But you could say you were fortunate.

The King might so easily have condemned you to death.’

‘He did, but– and it seems strange to me– he commuted the sentence to

life imprisonment.’

‘Life imprisonment! Perhaps death would have been preferable.’

‘Nay, my lady, I think not. It is true I am the King’s prisoner. I spend my days in a hideous dungeon― except when my good friend Alspaye gives me a

breath of fresh air. But I still would cling to life. I still hope, my lady, that one day I shall be free of this place.’

‘You think the King would pardon you?’

‘Not while the Despensers are with him. But it may be they will not always be there.’

‘You think he will rid himself of them?’

‘Nay, my lady, but it may be that others will. Did they not despatch Piers Gaveston somewhat hastily to his Maker? But I talk too much. Forgive me. I have been shut away so long. It is years since I have had the good fortune to speak with a lady and yet here I am― in this prison garden talking and walking with the queen of them all.’

‘You have not forgotten how to pay compliments, my lord.’

‘In your presence, my lady, they would rise naturally to the lips of any man.’

‘So you know who I am?’ she asked.

‘My lady, I have been long in this noisome prison. They say that many have suffered from visions. I cannot but help wonder whether that is what is

happening to me now. It may be that this is a dream from which I shall shortly wake. In this dream I am speaking to the most beautiful woman in England and France and in the whole world, I dareswear. The Queen herself.’

‘Yes, indeed you pay pretty compliments. I am no vision, Mortimer. I am

your Queen. I will say adieu. The lieutenant is bewildered.’

‘My lady, if I could―’

‘Yes, Mortimer, what would you have of me?’

‘I am afraid to ask it.’

‘You afraid? I doubt it. You have the look of a man who knows little of

fear.’

‘If I could see you again―’

‘Who knows. It may come to pass.’

She turned away and left the gardens.

–――――――

In her apartment she went to a window and looked out. He was still in the

garden and talking earnestly to Alspaye. As for herself a wild excitement had taken possession of her.

What fierce eyes he had– large dark passionate eyes. She had sensed the

vitality of him– the essential masculinity. ‘All that time incarcerated in the Tower,’ she murmured. ‘Recently bereaved of a beloved uncle and yet I never saw a man who had more fire in him. How his eyes flashed when he spoke of

Gaveston and the Despensers! How such a man as he is would despise such as them. How he would despise Edward!

Mortimer– the King of the Marcher lands. Such a man― she thought― I have wanted to meet all my life.

She must see him again soon. She would make Alspaye understand that he

was to be taken to the garden on the next day and she would be there.

Perhaps she should be a little more discreet. But she was tired of discretion.

She had been humiliated too long and it might well be that this was the time for action.

She scarcely slept that night. She could only think that somewhere in this Tower he too was sleeping.

Alspaye was eager to please the Queen. He was also under the spell of

Mortimer; she saw that and she was not surprised. Alspaye was delighted that the Queen was interested in his prisoner.

The Queen joined them in the gardens.

‘You see your vision has returned, Mortimer.’

‘To put such hope in my heart that I dare not believe in it,’ he replied.

‘You would dare anything,’ she answered.

‘I was once known for my daring,’ he agreed.

‘And will be again, I doubt not.’

‘That is for the future.’

‘And you believe in your future?’

‘I am beginning to, my lady.’

‘Rest assured, your faith will not be displaced.

‘You are good to me,’ he said.

‘I like your kind, Mortimer,’ she answered.

He understood at once that this was a reference to the King and his kind.

He answered: ‘When a man has lost his freedom he is reckless of what else

he might lose. He speaks his mind. I will say this that I have always felt deeply for you. If you had raised an army to drive out of the country those who

displeased you, I should have been at the head of that army.’

‘Yes, Mortimer, you speak rashly indeed when you talk of raising armies.’

‘How could I raise armies, madam, when I am a poor prisoner?’

‘But a moment ago you admitted that was but a temporary state. One of

these days―’

He turned to her and they faced each other. Some understanding passed

between them. In that moment they both realized the deep significance of this encounter.

‘Mortimer,’ she said, ‘I believe there is much you and I should say to each other.’

‘Standing here with you,’ he answered, ‘is for me, complete delight. Here

am I a prisoner, death could steal up on me at any moment, yet I can say that I never was as happy in the whole of my life as I am at this moment.’

‘And why is this?’

‘Because I have found you.’

She was shaken with emotion and she said: ‘It was I who found you, was it

not?’

‘Let us say we found each other.’

‘We have met but twice and that in this prison garden with Alspaye keeping guard on you.’

‘Alspaye is a good friend to mc. He hates the Despensers.’

‘How many people in this country hate the Despensers?’

‘Myriads. We have but to find them― to rouse them. Then I swear to you in

a very short time the pretty Despenser will go the way of Gaveston.’

‘How you hate the Despenser.’

‘I hate him more than ever now I have spoken with my incomparable lady

Queen.’

‘The King is as he is―’

‘It is no way for a King to be.’

‘He has done his duty. You know I have a fine son― two sons.’

‘Young Edward is growing up. That is a matter for rejoicing.’

‘You are speaking treason, Mortimer.’

‘I know it. How could I help but be treasonable to the King when I am

standing so close to the Queen.’

‘You mean―’

‘I mean what is best not said. But being a woman as well as a queen you will know.’

She said: ‘I must not stay here. What if we were seen?’

‘It would be noted.’

‘And then we should meet no more.’

‘My lady, we must meet again.’

He had taken her hand and the pressure of his fingers thrilled her. She

thought: I have waited too long. Mortimer is the man for me.

She said in a somewhat breathless voice: ‘I will arrange it.’

–――――――

She sent for Alspaye.

‘Your prisoner Mortimer interests me,’ she said.

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘When I talked with him in the gardens he spoke very freely.’

‘Prisoners become reckless, my lady.’

‘It occurs to me that I should have further talk with him. I should discover what is in his mind.’

Alspaye bowed his head. ‘Do you wish to go to his cell?’

‘That would create certain speculation, would it not?’ She thought of the

cells, damp on the walls, airless and stuffy. No, that was not the place where she and Mortimer should be together.

‘If I sent for him to my apartments―’

‘He would come with his guards, my lady. The King’s orders were that he

should be very specially guarded.’

‘Yet he walks with you in the gardens.’

‘Twas so, my lady, but the guards were behind the doors which led to the

gardens. It was only because he was with me that they allowed him out of their sight.’

‘And if I sent for him, to have talk with him― here― say in my

apartments―’

‘Then I should bring him and stay within call, my lady.’

‘And his guards?’

‘They would expect to escort him and be at hand.’

She felt irritated. There was no way in which she and Mortimer could be

alone without its being known.

.She did not mind Alspaye’s knowing. He was a man of discretion and had

already witnessed their meeting in the garden. But she must be free to be alone with Mortimer. The desire for excitement and adventure, having been

suppressed all these years, would remain so no longer. She was ready to take any risks.

‘I doubt not the guards take a little wine now and then.’

‘When they are on duty my lady they take very little. There is much

carousing when they have their free time though. Life in the Tower seems to give them a fancy for wine.’

‘Let them be given extra wine and make sure that it is potent.’

‘Drugged, you mean, my lady?’

She did not answer but her smile was enough. ‘When they are asleep let

Mortimer be brought to me― by you. I will be responsible for his safety.’

‘If you will be responsible for him, my lady―’

‘I have told you I will.’

‘Then I will see what can be done.’

‘Not only see,’ she retorted, ‘but do it. I shall remember you with gratitude, Lieutenant.’

–――――――

He came into her apartment. He looked different. He wore his confidence

like a garment.

He came swiftly towards her and taking her hand, kissed it fervently. His

lips were warm. Then he raised his shining eyes to her face.

She stepped towards him and laid her hand on his shoulders. It was enough.

The next moment he had picked her up in his arms and held her closely against him.

She felt his lips on hers, demanding, certain of himself ― Impertinence! she thought indulgently. Am I not the Queen? She was laughing to herself.

‘Mortimer,’ she murmured. ‘This is part of the vision perhaps.’

‘Nay, nay,’ he said. ‘Since I first saw you it has happened often in my

dreams― now comes the reality.’

‘I― the Queen,’ she began.

‘My Queen,’ he said, ‘my Queen for evermore.’

He was a practised lover. He had known many women, she guessed that.

And what had she known? Reluctant Edward! How she hated Edward, more so

now she knew what it was to lie with a real man.

‘Mortimer, Mortimer,’ she moaned, ‘my dearest Mortimer from the first

moment I knew it was you―’

His answer was in his fervent lovemaking. They lay side by side, fingers

entwined.

‘There is so much we should talk of,’ she said.

But there was no time for talk. They must make love again and again.

Nothing else would satisfy him― or her.

How she wished that she could hold back time! How was she going to live

without Mortimer after this? She was a passionate woman who had been stifling her real emotions for too long. Now they were breaking forth. It was a flood which was bursting the banks; it was flowing over her resolutions, her

ambitions, everything. There was nothing in her life just now but her need of Mortimer.

It was more than consummation of their love. It was the beginning of a new life for her. Mortimer was going to be more than her lover. That was something they both knew instinctively; and she would never forget that although he was aware of this yet he must cast it all aside that they might first shake this fierce desire which possessed them both.

‘Have you any doubt,’ murmured Mortimer, ‘that you and I were made for

each other?’

‘None,’ she answered. ‘Oh my dear one, how thankful I am that I have

found you.’

But they must part. How frustrating that was. If only they could have lain together through the night and talked in between bouts of lovemaking. What bliss that would have been.

‘Yes, at least we have had this. Let us not forget that,’ said Mortimer.

‘And when shall we be together again?’ cried Isabella. ‘Alspaye will know

what has happened.’

‘1 believe we can trust Alspaye.’

‘And the guards? We cannot drug them every night.’

‘Nay, but we must find a means.’

‘How? Where? In the garden? In your cell? No, gentle Mortimer, my love,

we must find a means for I cannot endure to be away from you. You have shown me what I have missed. Oh Mortimer, why were you not the son of the King of England?’

‘My Queen, my Queen! I could never have believed there was such a

woman. I would I could carry you off to my Marcher country. There I would

hold you against all who came to take you from me.’

‘One day, Mortimer― One day. I swear to it. I swear. Oh there is so much

to say. But you are here. We must free you― That is the first thing. We must free you from the Tower.’

‘When can I be with you again?’

‘We must go carefully. There is so much at stake.’

‘But I must see you soon. How can I stay away from you after this?

Knowing that we are both in this Tower together and these thick walls divide us―’

‘I shall arrange something. Dear Mortimer, you must dress now. You must

go back to your dungeon. Alspaye cannot wait much longer. The guards will be awakening from their sleep. Dear Mortimer, your life is the most precious thing on earth to me. It must be preserved― for the future. One day, my love― one day―’

He saw that she was right. They dressed hastily. One last embrace and

Alspaye came in to conduct him to his dungeon.

–――――――

She was being driven mad. She had seen him in the garden but what could

they do there but touch hands? She could stand close to him, feel the strength of his body. It maddened her, and he shared her feelings. They had wakened such massive floods of passion in each other that it was almost impossible to restrain them.

‘What can we do?’ cried Mortimer in despair.

It was not easy to arrange another night even with Alspaye’s connivance. He had of course guessed the state of affairs and understood the Queen’s emotion.

Poor woman, had she not been married to Edward all these years?

There was one night when it was arranged that a few doors should be

unlocked and the guards drunk again and this time when the lovers had slaked their passion to a certain degree, Isabella insisted that the first thing that must be done was to arrange Mortimer’s escape from the Tower.

‘I will go to the Marcher country and you will join me there,’ he said. ‘We will raise an army against the King.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘not the Marcher country. That could be unsafe. You must go to France.’

‘And you?’

‘I would find some means of joining you there. My brother would help us.

And we would come against Edward and the Despensers. I will get my son with me and I shall be fighting to put him on the throne. You and I, gentle Mortimer, will rule for him until he is of age.’

‘If this could but be achieved―’

‘Why should it not? The people love me―’ She paused. They had loved her

because they said she was not only beautiful but virtuous; she had allowed herself to be humiliated by Edward and had still borne him children. When they knew that Mortimer was her paramour would they love her just the same? But of course they would. She would charm them with her beauty and she would only be giving them her son– so like his grandfather– in place of their dissolute King.

‘Yes,’ she went on, ‘the people would be on my side. They hate the

Despensers. They want them banished. We should have the people with us.’

‘It shall be,’ cried Mortimer. ‘Oh, my Queen, you have brought love such as I never dreamed of into my life and with it hope.’

She had never been so excited. Everything she had always wanted was

coming to her. She had always known that hers was a sensuous and passionate nature and she marvelled that she had been able to suppress her natural desires so long. But then she had needed a Mortimer to arouse them. And here he was and with him came the possibility that the dreams she had long cherished were about to come true.

What she had wanted was a strong man to stand beside her. Here he was

without the slightest doubt. And this man, who was to have her complete trust and who was to stand beside her no matter what happened to them, must

inevitably be her lover.

Life had never seemed so promising.

Now she must give herself to the task with her unbounded energy. It would

help to take her mind from the yearnings of her body.

And that task was to free Mortimer from the Tower.

–――――――

She rode out of the Tower. She was leaving the palace for a few days. It was better so in case there should have been talk. Moreover she had work to do. She was going to see Adam of Orlton, the Bishop of Hereford.