Philippa said nothing, but did not stop him.
‘Moreover, the Hollands have proved their exceptional worth on campaign. Thomas especially could rise to be much more. He understands not just battle, but logistics, and he knows how to get the best from men. It would be no mismatch or disgrace for Jeanette to be his wife. Perhaps it is time to show the dowager countesses of Salisbury and Kent where the influence of women truly lies.’
Philippa gave him a sharp look. ‘Do not over-salt your dish,’ she warned.
‘Holland needs funds to pursue his case, and a good lawyer who knows his way around the Avignon court,’ Edward continued. ‘He needs letters of recommendation to the Pope – I thought you could write one. Holland has yet to be paid for the capture of Raoul de Brienne, and still hasn’t been granted an audience to discuss it. If he could secure that ransom, he would have a fighting chance. It would be your right to intervene, and would be asserting your authority as Queen. If the directivecomes from you, my father will not be able to put it aside. Lady Salisbury might have a certain power, but compared to yours, it is nothing.’
‘You have thought this through indeed,’ she said.
He shrugged, affecting nonchalance, but was secretly pleased. ‘It addresses many concerns. Thomas shall have his ransom money, sufficient that his case is given a fair hearing. Whatever happens will be God’s decision and our consciences will be clear for we shall have done our best and, in so doing, fulfilled our duty and made things right.’
His mother stroked her sleeve, changing the velvet from violet to midnight purple as her finger swept over the pile. ‘What kind of sum did you have in mind?’
‘I thought you might have a notion, mother. How much do you think Master Holland should be awarded for his capture of Raoul de Brienne?’
She gave him a considering look. ‘He will need to pay a good lawyer, and have funds for the papal court. And money to live on beyond a soldier’s wage should the court find in his favour and he has to support a royal wife. I shall think on the matter.’
Edward took her hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Mama.’
She smiled at him fondly but shrewdly. ‘I think we must both thank each other,’ she said. ‘When the time comes, you shall be a worthy king.’
Three nights later, Philippa dined privately with her husband. They had enjoyed roast venison in piquant sauce, mopped up with good white bread, and were now picking at nuts and fruit and sipping sweet wine. She had been deliberating her approach to him on the matter of Raoul de Brienne’s ransom and had even wondered, despite her discussion with Edward, whether she should do this at all, because once embarked upon, there was no going back. However, she was not going to have Katerineof Salisbury dictating policy, and her eldest son seemed to think that none of the three people involved in the marriage were happy with their current lot.
Her husband would expect to lie with her tonight – that was why they were eating in private. He would be appreciative of their bond and considerate, and would send her jewels and gifts in the morning as tokens of his esteem. She loved him with all her heart. A powerful soldier, a player in the great game, and she was his consort, mother of his children, ruler of his domestic household and a diplomat behind the scenes. But like so many men, especially the active, virile ones, he could be a complete fool sometimes with other women. The pressure to release his superfluity of seed when she was not nearby sometimes regrettably caused him to stray.
‘You are quiet, my dear.’ He gave her a speculative look. ‘Is something troubling you?’
She looked at his long fingers playing with the stem of his cup, hands that knew the most intimate parts of her body – hands that had wandered elsewhere of late. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Something is troubling me deeply.’ She left the table, returning with a small gold brooch in the shape of a heart set with sapphires, and placed it on the table between them. ‘Do you recognise this?’
He looked at the ornament and gave a slight shake of his head. ‘Where did you happen by it?’
Philippa picked up the jewel and tossed it at him. ‘You know full well whose it is, since she constantly wears it on her headband and her husband had it engraved with their initials entwined when they wed. How do you explain its presence amid your bedclothes? A laundress found it and brought it to me, although she might just as easily have turned the other way and let you or Katerine bribe her to silence.’
He stared at the brooch, his cheeks sucked in.
‘I suppose you were offering her comfort and succour because her husband died.’ The cold anger with which Philippa had started warmed to a simmer. ‘Your sworn duty is to your queen, and not only to your queen, but to me, your wife, the mother of your heirs. Without me you would not have heirs, and yet you have taken up with your best friend’s widow, who, for all that she is a countess, is no better than a common harlot in this matter. You are both shamed. William Montagu must be turning in his grave!’
‘It is not what you think . . .’
‘Then what is it?’ she demanded. ‘You both lacked the control? You only intended to comfort her? Are you going to throw feeble excuses in my face? Am I not worth more than that?’
He swallowed. ‘Philippa, I am sorry . . . I did not . . .’
‘Expect to be found out? How could you! How many do you think are laughing at us behind their hands? The great chivalrous king who is no more faithful than a rutting dog! Your eldest son knows full well. The Archbishop knows. Everyone from common soldier to earl of the realm is a party to my humiliation!’ She did not have to feign the tears in her eyes. ‘It is not the first time, and I know beyond a shred of doubt it will not be the last!’
Edward sat immobile for a moment, then pushed through the horror and guilty shock and, taking her hands, knelt at her feet. ‘I am truly sorry,’ he said. ‘I love and revere you above all women, I swear, but I am a weak fool and I do not always resist temptation when you are not here. I know I should contain myself, and I beg your forgiveness for my lapse.’
‘You speak fair words, but I do not trust you.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Why, for the sake of your children, can you not save yourself for me? Why do you have to seek other pastures? Especially William Montagu’s widow. How could you!’
‘She was only a means to a release – she is nothing compared with you . . . I never meant it to happen.’
Philippa was not ready to yield her grievance. ‘I have loved you since I first saw you and you cannot imagine what it does to me to see you dallying with other women and breaking your vows while I have remained true and faithful to mine. If you did not mean it to happen, then you should have ensured that it did not!’
‘I know, I know. Don’t weep. I hate to see you weep. I shall shrive myself and swear to cleave only to you if you will forgive me.’
Philippa sniffed, and eventually dried her tears, allowing him to cajole her as part of the mending process, and she could not resist the hangdog look in his eyes. He would stray again, led by that unruly instrument between his legs; nevertheless, he had a conscience and she had brought him back to his duty. For the moment, his pattern would be one of guilty, intense attention and lavish gifts. At this stage she could have whatever she wanted of him and he would be clay in her hands.
They went to bed and made love with passion, abandon and tenderness. Edward’s chagrin made him thorough and eager to please, and Philippa wrapped herself around him, crying out, taking extra satisfaction in having him back in her bed and she with the upper hand.
