Folville's Law (I) by David Pilling

Author:David Pilling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, adventure, action, military, history, england, war, castles, medieval, knights
Publisher: David Pilling

Chapter 21

She was a Queen again in purpose and honour as well as in name. Everywhere she went, riding east from her province of Ponthieu into the territories of the Holy Roman Empire, Isabella was received by men, strong fighting men with weapons, soldiers, and money at their disposal, tripping over themselves to offer her their services.

It helped that she was beautiful, and apparently in distress – how artfully she played on these things – travelling through the country with her son and only a poor company of a few English exiles and loyal servants at her back. Mortimer was elsewhere in Hainault, dealing with the business of turning money into ships and supplies, while she set about gaining popular support for the invasion.

Isabella fancied that some of her adventures could have been included in one of her most prized possessions the legends of King Arthur, a great book covered in a sheet of white leather.

On one occasion she lodged at a castle near Valenciennes owned by a poor knight named Sir Eustace d’Ambreticourt. He, poor man, dazzled by her grace and beauty, went down on one knee and pledged his sword and service to her for the rest of his days, much to the chagrin of his wife.

A far more useful ally was gained in the person of Sir John of Hainault, younger brother of the Count whose cause Isabella and Mortimer had made such great efforts to win. Sir John was staying near Valenciennes when he heard of Isabella’s arrival, and immediately sprang aboard the nearest horse and galloped to meet her. He was young, hot-blooded, and thirsting for glory, the kind of man who Isabella knew well how to curl about her smallest finger. As he clattered into her chamber, flush-faced and sweating from his breakneck ride, she burst into tears and fell in a swoon upon the floor. Sir John nearly tripped over his scabbard in his haste to help her up, and the moment her eyes fluttered open and made contact with his, he was her devoted servant for life.

“Sir,” said Isabella in a weak, breathless voice after he had finished plighting his loyalty, “I find in you more kindness and comfort than I have experienced in many a long year, and promise you five hundred thousand marks in gold for your oath and your courtesy. I and my son are forever bound to you, and if in time we are restored to our proper place, as we hope and pray, then you will be richly rewarded.”

These were fine words, eminently quotable and a means to an end. Sir John took it upon himself to be Isabella’s escort, leading her and her company to Mons, the capital of Hainault. There they met with the Count and Mortimer, who knew each other of old and had been dealing remarkably amicably.

Now that events were finally in motion and he could hear the distant blast of war-trumpets ringing in his ears, Mortimer had put aside his drinking and his tantrums, and was once again the committed, competent soldier Isabella had fallen in love with.

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