Free Isabella: Braveheart of France by Colin Falconer

tell you that.”
    They flee again, this time to Tynemouth Priory. Edward charges Gaveston with the defence of Scarborough Castle. That night, after he has gone to take up his commission, Isabella leaves a candle burning in her bedchamber.
    His joining with Edward doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact, she looks forward to it. “I am so happy you are mine,” she whispers that night as he lies panting on top of her.
    He jerks away. “I am not yours!” he hisses and leaves her lying alone in the dark.
    But he is in her bed again that following Easter Monday morning when her maidens burst in and take him prisoner. It is a traditional prank; he is prepared for it and wears breeches for when they throw back the covers. He takes it in good humour, laughing along with them as they drag him out of the bedchamber in his nightshirt and tie him to a chair in the kitchen with ribbons, threatening him with their hairbrushes if he moves. Edward shouts that he will die before he will dishonour himself, but then he has his steward pay them all a gold coin to release him. He then calls for hot wine and drinks it with her in front of the fire while the servants prepare the tables for the holy day feast.
    When it is over and everyone has left the hall and he is tired from laughing, she tells him that she is going to have a baby, a royal son perhaps, and he picks her up and tosses her in the air, laughing out loud. If she could keep this moment forever, she would slip it in the little silver casket and lock it with the key.
    But later that day Gaveston returns from Scarborough with news that the fortifications at Scarborough are ready. That night she sleeps alone once more.
     
     
    Tynemouth Priory
     
    She finds Gaveston patrolling the battlements in his scarlet cloak. He looks gaunt. Perhaps the reality of what they are facing has hit him at last. He and Edward have been chased around the northern counties by Lancaster until their bones ache. This is not so much a civil war as the corralling of a troublesome horse.
    She fastens her ermine cloak more snugly about her and goes outside to join him.
    “I am surprised to find you out here,” she says.
    “Perhaps you expected me to be with my familiar, sticking pins in a wax effigy of your uncle Lancaster?”
    The wind buffets her and she puts out a hand to the cold stone to steady herself. She huddles deeper inside the furs.
    “Is any of it true?”
    “About my mother being a witch? Of course. Everything they say about me is true.”
    “You enjoy being notorious, don’t you?”
    “You have all made me so. What I enjoy is baiting you all, out of spite.”
    “Is it spite to bring Edward down? Please don’t let him do this.”
    “Don’t let him do what, your grace?”
    “Don’t let him lose everything for you. He will, you know. For you.”
    “Because that is what he wants.”
    Storm clouds gather over the moor. Above them the flag of England whips in the wind. “You hold his destiny in your hands. They will make war on you both, and they will not relent until you are dead. Unless you do something to stop it.”
    For the first time since she has known him, he does not try to laugh this off. “Would it be different were I his queen? Then the whole world would call him a great hero for defending my honour.”
    “But you are not his queen. It is up to you now, Piers. If you love him, prevent this. He has shown his love for you, now you must show your love for him.”
    “I would die first,” he says. Or does she imagine it? The wind is fierce up here and it is hard to hear anything that is not shouted at the top of the lungs. She leaves him and returns to the Great Hall and the hearth.
    Edward gives Gaveston his orders: he must hold Scarborough against all comers and relinquish it to no one. Edward gives him all the men he can spare, three score at most, and rides with him to prepare the final defence.
    He returns a week later to busy himself with raising an army to relieve their