Isabella: Braveheart of France by Colin Falconer

it is not said, it is not done. “On what charge?”
    “That he had contravened the twentieth Ordinance.”
    “An ordinance I have since revoked! There was a trial, you say? And what did my lord Gaveston say in his defence to this “charge”?”
    “Your Grace, they did not allow him to speak.”
    “But Pembroke gave his word to me!”
    “The others of your nobles would not honour his negotiation. Not even Gloucester.”
    There is the sound of choking; it appears to come from Edward, but she cannot swear to it. His face is implacable.
    “What have they done?”
    “Your Grace, he is beheaded.”
    Edward sinks into his seat as if he has been struck by a mace. “You saw this?”
    “We were imprisoned, we heard of it when we were freed.”
    “Where is he?”
    “The monks took him to Oxford.”
    “To Oxford? They killed him in Oxford?”
    “No, in Warwick.”
    “In the castle?”
    “On a hill.”
    “Hill? What hill?”
    “Lancaster came for him late one night and took him from the dungeon and brought him in irons to Blacklow Hill. It is a mile from the castle, on Lancaster’s land.”
    “On Lancaster’s land? But where was Warwick?”
    “He stayed behind, at the castle.”
    “He had the venom for this act, but not the stomach.” Edward mutters this to himself, into his beard. His eyes look mad.
    The messenger is breathing hard. He wants to finish this and get out but must wait for the king’s leave to speak again. It is a long time before he receives it.
    “And then?”
    “He was handed to Lancaster’s guards and taken up the hill in full view of the crowds-.”
    “The crowds? He made this a public occasion?”
    “There was a large gathering. It was festive. Some blew horns.”
    Isabella closes her eyes. Do not say that to him! Think fit to leave out such painful embellishments, you fool. Because he asks you for such details does not mean he needs to hear them. Do you not have sense enough to lie to him, man?
    “Lancaster observed all this?”
    “And my lords Hereford and Arundel.”
    “And what of Perro...what of my lord Gaveston?”
    The man looks to his companion. It is your turn now , his eyes are saying.
    The other takes up the rest of the story. “He begged Lancaster for mercy, your grace.”
    “You saw this?”
    “We heard of it later.”
    “Tell me what you heard. All of it.”
    Isabella shakes her head: no, don’t. But he is not looking at her.
    “He begged Lancaster for mercy on his knees. He wept.”
    “And the crowd saw this?”
    “They seemed all the more happy for it.”
    Isabella wants the story to end. Edward, Gaveston is dead, let this be over with. Edward sighs and regards the ceiling, sighing deep in his chest. “How was it done?”
    “One of the guards pierced him through the chest with his sword. The other cut off his head and showed it to Lancaster.”
    Edward taps a forefinger on the arm of the throne. Isabella waits for the outburst, but there is none.
    “Who told you this?”
    “One of the shoe menders.”
    “Shoe menders? What would a shoe mender have to do with this?”
    “He was charged by the monks with sewing the head back on.”
    The silence stretches for an eternity. Old Hugh thinks it is politic at this point to tap the men on the shoulder and point to the door. Never has she seen two men more happy to leave a room.
    Edward is absolutely still. He hardly seems even to breathe. His eyes are fixed at some point high in the ceiling.
    Finally he shakes his head and says, in a quiet voice: "By God’s soul, he acted like a fool. If he had taken my advice he would never have fallen into the hands of the earls. This is what I always told him not to do. I knew this would happen! What was he doing with the Earl of Warwick? He never liked him." He gets to his feet. “Make sure those men are fed and paid for their service to us.”
    He leaves the hall. No one moves. Isabella hurries after him but he has already gone to his bedchamber and the door is locked. She