Aside from Heaven

Chapter 4F

Bow down before the one you serve

January, 1327

"Lord William?" A middling teen came around the corner, looking behind him, as if to watch to see if anyone was near. "Lord William? A word, if you please."

William stopped in his tracks and turned. Prince Edward, the heir to the throne, rushed to the Black Knight's side. "A word in private?"

William looked around and seeing a door, opened it and peered inside. Discovering the room was empty, he nodded his head, following the young man, and shut the door behind him.

"They will not let me see Father," Edward spun out breathlessly. "He will not abdicate and I fear That Man will kill him just to have it over with!"

William knew who 'That Man' was. "Mortimer and your mother have reason to dislike your father-"

"Aye, but he is still my father, regardless of what he did!" Edward spat. "He is a weak man, but he is still my father." The man-child swallowed once. "He has always been good to me."

William stared at him, as if he'd grown a second head. He was blinking tears. "Please."

Against his better judgment, he bid the future monarch to follow him to his own chambers. There, he put the boy in FitzGisborne servants clothing and telling him to keep his hood low over his eyes and tug on it anytime anyone came by and not speak, handed him a tray of food to carry and proceeded down the halls to king's quarters.

Only these weren't the king's quarters. Isabella had moved young Edward into them. They weren't as large or spacious, or opulently furnished. There were guards at the door and they stepped back when they saw Sir William with a servant in tow with food, they immediately stood to the side, making way.

Edward watched as William and his servant came into the room. "Unless there is wine on that tray," he snipped as the boy set the tray gingerly on the table, "I'm not interested." The teenager was shaking and nearly dropped the salver, knocking the glass over. "Dear God, is this what I've been brought to? Servants who can't do their job?"

Young Edward threw his hood back. "Father!"

It was a tearful reunion, one that William felt he shouldn't witness. He slid back towards the door, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. "My lord, sire, we do not have much time."

"No, no we do not." The king took a step back, drinking in his son and heir. "Let me look at you. You've grown so much these past few months." He shook his head. "You are becoming a man too quickly. I fear I will not see you grown."

There was whispering between the two for some minutes before William heard the teen's plea. "Father, please sign the papers. As king, I can keep you protected."

Edward shook his head. "William, my son is a good lad, but does he not know the truth? The moment I abdicate, Isabella and Roger will no longer have use for me. My fate will be the same as Hugh's."

"NO! I will not allow it!" The younger turned to William. "I will be king! I forbid it! Promise me! Promise me they will not kill him!"

William shut his eyes tight, something the king did not miss. This was a promise he didn't know if he could keep. He did the only thing he could, the thing he did not want to do. He went between the two and knelt before the younger. "My lord. I was your father's man and I pledge myself to do your bidding. I will do everything in my power to keep him alive." There was a gentle hand on his head.

"My son, that is a better oath than any I could ever hope to receive. If Lord William says he'll do everything in his power, he will. Rise, my friend."

As William stepped aside, the king took his son by the shoulder. "Now you listen to me. I don't know if I'll be allowed to see you, much less your siblings ever again, but listen. Be a good king. Do not make my mistakes. Do not love anyone more than you love this country and her people. Lord William for all of his darkness, is a good man, a loyal subject. He is England's Black Knight, and my Dark Wolf. Keep him close. Now you must leave before the guards come in and catch you. Leave the food."

As they gathered up their things and William helped young Edward get his hood situated, the king spoke softly.

"Send for Isabella. I will relinquish. Watch over my son."

~~~...~~~

On January 27th, 1327, Edward II relinquished his crown to his son, Edward III, who was 15. Immediately, the Queen and her lover, The Earl of March, set themselves up as council to guide the young king. In fact, they set themselves up as rulers behind one they thought was too young to rule.

They were wrong.

The Lord of FitzGisborne was not asked for his aid or advice, which was fine with him. He was homesick and chaffing to bring his own sons home, but the powers that were not of this world informed him that he needed to linger. His part in this farce was not yet complete. William managed to have his servants attached to not only Isabella's staff, but to the Earl of March's, as well as both Edwards. The young maid in Isabella's entourage had a French mother, loaned from his cousin's household. She understood much of what most of the English servants did not. In addition, William had taken to establishing a rather monotonous, but easily obvious routine. It included meals at a specific time, long walks in the gardens with very few of his knights. Many times, he sent his knights away. It left him quiet time to muse and converse with what appeared to be himself, but wasn't.

By spring, Edward II was in the custody of Thomas de Berkeley and his brother-in-law, John Maltravers and was held at de Berkeley's castle in Gloucestershire. The Berkeleys had no love for the former king, as his favorite, Hugh the Younger, ransacked the castle the year before. Some of his supporters attempted to rescue him from Berkeley. It almost worked. As a result, the man was moved often over the summer, from castle to castle; each one draftier than the last. It worried his son and terrified the man before being returned to Berkeley in September.

Needless to say, William was not surprised when one chilly fall morning, while walking in the gardens, he was joined by the king.

"Lord William, fancy running into you here." The boy was breathless, obviously walked hard to catch up with the Lord of Gisborne. He turned to the guard shadowing him. "I am thirsty and I am sure Lord William is as well. Please hie to the kitchens and return with a goblet of warmed cider for both of us."

"But Sire-"

"Tell you what," Edward's smile became larger, "grab a goblet for yourself as well. I am safe with Lord William." The guard took a long, unsavory look at The Black Knight, before nodding and turning back to the castle. Once he was out of earshot, Edward grimaced. "That man is particularly dense and suspicious."

"That is what he is paid and charged to do, sire." William clasped both hands behind his back. "I suspect your guard will send someone out to cover for him or better yet, send a servant in his stead to retrieve our cider, thank you, it is cold out. What is on your mind? Hurry before he returns."

Edward looked over his should. "I overheard That Man and Mother speaking."

Joy. Love talk this man-child did not need to overhear...

"They were talking about putting things in Father's food to weaken him. I fear they plan to have him killed before winter."

William stopped in this tracks, staring straight ahead. "How urgent did they sound?"

Edward shook his head. "Planning. I do not think..."

Hmmm. Thomas owes me a favor. Now might be the time to call it in.

"Sir William? Did you hear me?" The young king was tugging at William's tunic. "I said I do not think they will wait long."

William turned to face the young king and saw the guard heading quickly back to the twosome, a steaming goblet in each hand.

"You promised, Sir William! You promised to do my bidding!"

"That I did, Sire." One side of the man's mouth quirked. "Your guard is returning. Settle yourself." This was whispered between clenched teeth. "Berkeley Castle? Trust me." He allowed himself to look at the king. "I will do my best, sire. I will do my best not to allow your father to die. Say nothing, until you hear from me... ah," his voice raised, "you are correct! The garden does seem to be in the throes of early fall colors. His Majesty's reign will be blessed indeed."

~~~...~~~

Late in the evening, the young maid assigned to Isabella's staff, sneaked into William's bedchambers and rousted him awake.

"Jesu, Natalie!" William's French was just as good as his cousin's and he scrambled to pull his quilts over his waist. "I am a debauched old lecher! You shouldn't be here!"

"If you are a lecher, I am a whore!" The girl hissed in a whispered voice. "And I am no whore!" She reached behind her to the chair, pulled William's leggings from the arm and threw them on the bed. She turned her back to him and continued. "I overheard the Earl of March. I do not know if the Queen has a hand in it-"

William was struggling into his breeches. "Hand in wot?"

"They are going to kill the king - the king's father. Edward II."

"Yes, I know." William tied the laces and stood up. "Turn around! Light a lamp!"

Natalie did as she was bid and looked the earl in the eye. "They are moving the King's father to a drafty prison cell in the bowels of Berkeley castle. They've told the king his father is unwell and they hope the air will help him." The lamp blazed to life.

This was happening faster than William or the king expected. "Shite! The cellars will only make him sicker!"

"Berkeley will kill him, sir."

"As we know, that is the plan!" William began to tap his lip. "Let me think." Clicking his tongue behind his teeth, he whispered to the girl, "Find Timon de Glasson and have him wake my two main knights, Richard de Glasson and Simon ette Forde. Send them to me and then hie back to your cot." He watched as the girl left.

Within ten minutes, all three men were in his rooms, dressed, unshaved. None of them got any more sleep.

~~~...~~~

The next morning, Roger Mortimer, sidled up to William. "Walk with me in the gardens as soon as you've broken your fast."

It was an order, if William ever heard one and it irritated him. Roger might be the Earl of March and the queen's lover, but he did not outrank the Earl of Locksley and Gisborne. Still, he smiled falsely and a quarter of an hour later, went to the gardens to walk.

"You saved me from the dungeon."

William shrugged.

"I have a hunch you were Edward's personal knight."

"Your hunch is a drunk."

Roger continued on as if William had said nothing. "I have a job for you. Edward is currently incarcerated at Berkeley. You are to go there and kill him."

William stopped in his tracks. "I do not answer to you."

Roger turned with a sickening smile. "I wonder how many men you've killed for Edward? Hmmm? I'm sure if word got out that many of England's loved ones weren't killed in fights or unfortunate accidents, but instead were killed by Edward's Black Knight, you would be as beloved as Hugh the Younger." He leaned over into William's face. "Kill him. The Queen would be pleased if he were physically tortured in some way."

"She would or you would?"

Roger returned to his leisurely stroll. "Does it matter?"

William never moved, stayed put where he stood. "And what proof do I have that if I do this foul deed, you won't tell anyone of your vile suspicions?"

An evil laugh rose from the man as he walked away. "You have none. You'll just have to trust me."

~~~...~~~

"M'Lord, that man stinks to high heaven."

William stared straight ahead. "I know. Keep moving forward."

The horses moved forward, all sniffing the air as if something unpleasant followed them, which it did,.

William and his entourage had been on the road several days, trying hard to get to Berkeley Castle. William informed court that he was going home for a few weeks and then heading to France to retrieve his sons. Isabella and Roger Mortimer were happy to send him on his way. Young Edward, on the other hand, was suspicious and William quietly told him to not worry about anything until he heard from him, personally.

He also told him to watch his back around the Earl of March.

"He has threatened you, has he not?"

William was stoic. "Do not trust anyone, sire."

"I am King," the boy stated emphatically. "I will put a stop to this-"

"Sire, that man is your mother's lover and you are not of age. They are surrounded by those who support their leadership in your stead. You must bide your time. You have no idea who is loyal to you and who is not."

"You are loyal to me. You swore to me!"

"And I am leaving to take your father to a safe place. Heed my words. Do not believe anything you hear, until you have heard from me!"

Theconversation still rang in his ears, along with the King's facial expression.

"I know why he is with us, but damn, I wish you would have bathed him first!"

"Do you wish to bathe him?"

Timon snarled. "Fek no! But I have first watch with him tonight!"

The party moved on. Soon, they arrived at a clearing close to Berkeley. As his men dismounted, William stayed on his horse.

"I am going to the castle. Stay here until I come for you. Make sure," he pointed to their prisoner, "that one stays drunk and does not get away."

At the mention of his presence, the man in the long, filthy cloak threw his head up. "I-um ah verrrrrrrrrrry im-portant person!" An accusatory finger was thrown up. "Aye nooooooooe tuh king, even!"

William sniffed, held his breath. "Yes, I am sure you do!" He turned to Timon. "Build the fire high and bright. Let no one sneak close," he nodded to his prisoner, "or too far."

~~~...~~~

September 15

The fire was blazing high in the fireplace of small study Thomas, Lord of Berkeley and William, Lord of Gisborne sat in front of, both enjoying the heat. Thomas watched as William poured wine from a bottle he brought with him and waited until both goblets were dispensed. It wasn't until William took a long drag from the chalice and sighed in contentment before Thomas would relax to enjoy his.

"You are not paying me a social visit, William."

William's shoulders slumped in mock dejection. "You wound me, Thomas. We are old friends."

"Old friends, indeed!" Thomas said with a smile. "I still limp from the beating you gave me on Lord Lindley's practice field when we were boys."

William's eyes never left the depths of his goblet. "Old friends, aye. I could have killed you."

Thomas erupted in a roar of laughter. "Yes, we are old friends," Thomas saluted him with his goblet. "And I know you. You wish a favor."

William's eyebrows quirked up. "I wish for you to take your family and closest retainers to neighboring Lindley for the weekend." He buried his nose in the chalice, his voice now echoing eerily from the depths. "It's just a small thing, really."

"I have a royal guest," Thomas hissed softly. "I cannot leave him."

"I will watch him. You need not worry."

Thomas rose from his seat. "Dammit man! He's escaped once! I-"

"You owe me a favor. I am calling it in."

Thomas fell back with a very audible plop. "This is bigger than any favor I owe you!"

William's nose was still in his drink. "I warned you when Edward wished your son dead due to insults to Piers. How is he, by the way?" Thomas said nothing and William continued. "I also warned you before Hugh the Younger came, looking for anything. I covered for you and gave you an alibi when you caused a small disturbance at that inn north of London." William's eyes rose darkly over the chalice. "I know you were not bedding a wench, as you and I claimed."

"Damn your eyes!"

"Oh, more of me is damned than just my eyes." William's voice was almost drowned out by the fires. "I loaned you a large sum of money to repair what Hugh damaged-"

"I thought we'd discussed my granddaughter's hand to your youngest to repay that debt!"

William's grin was mirthless. "Ask Hugh the Younger's widow how it feels to be bartered in such a way."

It was quiet for a time, William refilling both goblets twice more.

"Please promise me you will not put him back on the throne."

"There are barons who wish him dead. Safe to say, everyone in England wishes him dead. His son, the king, does not. Trust my word, he is going far overseas and will ne'er be heard from again."

"There has to be a body, William."

"There will be a body." The silence again was prolonged.

"Well?"

William sighed. "I have in my possession, a drunkard who is a vile criminal, a pedophile and murderer of very young girls, who bears more than a passing resemblance to our former monarch." He took another drink. "Although, it would behoove us if he probably lay dead a few days before you realize he's deceased."

Thomas cringed. "I suppose you have guards who will ensure this exchange will happen quietly?" William nodded into his goblet. "You know, if I'm here when you do this... thing, people are more likely to believe it and not ask questions."

William's smile was positively evil. "I was so very much hoping you would not only come to that conclusion, but suggest it."

~~~...~~~

James FitzRonan had never eaten this well in his life. He was in a castle; he knew that much, saw it even late in the evening just as the sun set on the horizon. He was brought to a warm room, food the amounts he'd never seen already piled high on a platter. He'd stuffed himself, no need for a knife or manners. He didn't see the looks of disgust on the faces of the men guarding him. They simply refilled his platter, his mug.

Speaking of his mug, while the thing was made of clay, the wine they put in was the finest he'd ever drank. Why, he didn't think the king drank as fine a vintage!

For not the first time, he ran greasy hands down the front of his robe. It was velvet, cleaner than anything he recalled wearing, although truth be told, it wasn't as clean as it had been when it was first given to him.

James bore a serious resemblance to the former King Edward, something he'd used to his advantage for some years. He also had a disgusting weakness for young flesh.

Horribly young flesh.

For years, he had used this to his advantage. It never occurred to the poor to ask why the king was dressed as shabbily as he was and why he was so interested in their young children. He made sure to hie as far from town as he could when his fun was done.

Life was good.

Until he passed out drunk before he could finish off the little whore he'd found playing by the side of the road. Somehow, she managed to get into town and tell her father what the mean man had done to her.

And her father was the town blacksmith.

He considered himself lucky that the man only beat him senseless. He considered himself lucky that the shire sheriff was a man of law and insisted he be taken to London for trial. He'd hoped he'd be forgotten in the jail until he could come up with a plan to get out. His money was hidden, he'd figure a way to sneak back to the hamlet in the dead of night to retrieve it and figure out a way to make that blacksmith and his whore daughter pay for what they had done.

It didn't matter the girl was five. They're all whores.

It seemed his plan had bore fruit! At some point while waiting in jail, the old king had been deposed. No one came looking for James until three days before, when a well-dressed dark knight plucked him from the bowels of the Tower and told him his fine was paid and he had a job for him that would pay much gold!

James hoped it was enough for him to go north or better yet, over the channel. Start fresh. France and the Holy Roman Empire were so much bigger than England, or so he'd heard.

He was given a jug of high spirits and put on a horse. The rest was vague until one of the knights dunked him in a cold stream and threw him a bar of soap, with gruff orders to clean up.

So after a cold bath, new clothes and a hair and beard trimming, James was helped back on his horse and taken into a rather large castle, where strangely enough, no one seemed to be standing guard, or passing through the halls. There was no noise, save the creaking of the gates.

But it didn't matter, because he was soon set at a fine table, with food and wine the likes he'd never eaten and drunk. The knight who'd bailed him out of the London jail stood over him, all in black, the shadow obscuring his face. Another man, dressed in fine clothes stood next to him, treating the knight as if he was an equal.

"By my breath, William, you might pull this off. He's a bit fleshy, but aye-"

James belched loudly and motioned with his earthern goblet. "Wot'sa job ye've got fer me?"

The knight smiled and had James been sober or watching closely, he'd have seen the smile did not reach the man's eyes. William reached for the goblet and refilled it. "Oh, have another glass and we'll discuss the job."

James grabbed the goblet, sloshing wine over the cuff of his tunic. "Jist s'long asyew pa-ay-ay-"

His eyes rolled in the back of his head and his head hit the table.

William now rolled his eyes. Grabbing the man by the head of the hair, he yanked his head back and slapped him a few times. James didn't budge. "Jesu, I thought he'd never pass out."

Thomas kept his distance, arms crossed. "Must the wine go to waste?"

"Trust me, you do not wish to drink it." William stooped down and slinging contents of the mug into the fire, he then picked up the bottle. Making a moue, he poured the contents in the fire as well, causing the flames to hiss and dance.

"How bad is this going to be?" Thomas whispered. "I'd rather not witness it-"

"Growing soft?" William shook his head sorrowfully. "No, I wish to ensure your silence. Grab his other arm."

Thomas was at William's side in a flash. "Trust me, I would never wish to tell anyone, on the pain of death, that I aided you in helping Edward escape."

"Hopefully, it won't come to that. Grab his other arm. Simon, go and tell Edward to stay quiet and prepare to leave." Nodding his acceptance, the knight headed down the stairs.

James was heavier than he looked and it took several minutes to drag him to the top of the rock stairs that led down into the dungeon.

"Now what?"

William shook his head. Surely, the man was not this stupid. "Heave!" And with that, he shoved the dead weight of James down the stairs. The sound of his head could be heard echoing as it bounced against the rock several times, before Simon called up that he'd reached the bottom. "Is he dead?"

There was the sound of shuffling. "No."

William grabbed another bottle of wine – this one apparently not drugged. He uncorked it and took a swig from the bottle, as he marched down the stairs. "Come, Thomas! Help me lug this poor excuse for a human back up the stairs."

"No need!" By the time William and Thomas reached the bottom, Simon was down on bended knee next to the criminal, his fingers on his throat. "He's dead now."

With his free hand, William grabbed the poker from the fire in the brazier in the middle of the room. Putting the pointed end into the coals, he waited until it turned flame-hot. Pulling it from the fire, he nudged the dead man with the toe of his boot, before poking him about his face with the poker, burning the skin and singeing his hair. With a nodded order to his knight, Simon lifted the now filthy and ruined robe, exposing pasty, flabby flesh. Quickly putting the poker back in the fire to reheat it, he then prodded him about his abdomen. "Damn, I wish he were alive for this."

"He would deserve it, my lord." Simon was matter-of-fact. "I would have done wot they did to Hugh the Younger, had he tried his ways with my daughter."

William continued to prod now about the buttocks of the dead man, using as much of the heat as possible and ignoring the stench of singed flesh. "How is your daughter?" He decided the body had withstood enough violence and set the poker back in its place in the rack.

"An inquisitive, independent miss." Simon pulled the robe down over the singed and ruined flesh. "I have not the heart to beat it out of her."

William made a comical snarl and shook his head. "I would not. Some men enjoy that in a female."

Genevieve, how I miss you.

"William! William!" Edward could be heard through the locked cell door. "Is that you?"

Simon stood and raised an eyebrow. William motioned to the man's sword and nodded his head. It took a moment to unlock and open the door.

"William? Will-wot? Who are you? Why do you... William!" Edward was backed out of the cell, hands up.

"Against the wall, Edward," William murmured. "Simon, keep him there. Thomas, help me."

Between the two lords, they managed to get the dead weight of James up on the cot and turned away from the door. William grimaced at the filth in the chamber, the obvious rat droppings and the thread-bare blanket on the mildew-infested cot. "Really, Thomas. The man was a king. Was this the best you could do for him? No wonder the man escaped once. Even I would have aided him."

"You are aiding him now."

"No, we are following the orders of the king." With that retort, he flung the blanket over the body. "You will want him to rest here a few days, maybe even a week, if you can stand the stench, before you discover him and put him in a coffin."

"I am thinking I'll put him in a coffin the moment one is built, nail it shut and not tell anyone for week!"

"Or two." The two men turned to leave the cell. "Put a leech or two in with him, or better yet, a rat. The harder he will be to identify, the better." Finally, he stood before the former king. Strangely, it was not difficult to refer to the man as 'sire' or 'my lord'. "Edward."

"You did it! You have come to rescue me, I knew you would! I knew my wolf would come!" Edward clasped the much taller man by the arms like a long, lost comrade. "And Thomas is in on it as well. He could have fooled me-"

"I need your signet, Edward."

"I have it," Thomas interjected.

"Go put it on the body." William nodded over his shoulder. If anyone thinks to look, hopefully, he'll be far gone and the ring will be enough." He felt himself being shaken. Edward looked none to pleased to be ignored.

"My signet? It is my royal seal. Surely you mean to-"

"You will shut it."

Edward's jaw flapped twice before continuing. "You did not speak to me, your king, in tha-"

"You are not my king and I do not come to rescue you out of any loyalty to you."

"Then... who?"

Plain traveling clothes were shoved in Edward's hands. "I am the king's man."

Edward held on to the clothing without looking at them. "Yes, you are my-"

"You are not listening. I am the king's man. Edward III, your son, bid me to ensure your life as many wish to end it. Both Hughs' deaths did not appease them long. Roger Mortimer wants you dead, as do many nobles, and your wife wishes your heart on a platter. They are calling her The She-Wolf of France. Your life is forfeit here and it seems the only person on English soil who wishes you long life, is your son, the king, who has very little sway at this time." William stopped, waiting for that speech to sink in to the former sovereign's mind. "Believe me, if you attempt to escape during our long journey, I will kill you myself. I will throw you over the bow of the ship and the only body that will be found is the one of that pustule currently wearing your clothes. As far as England is concerned, you are dead. You live on the graces of your son and on the four," he nodded to his companions, "of us. Do not make the mistake of thinking you have friends. You do not. They are all dead."

Edward began to shake. "Where are you taking me?"

William grinned. "Oh, brighten up, Ned. I'm going to France to retrieve my sons and bring them home. I suggest if you behave well, my cousin, who is elderly and lonely, will be happy to make you his companion." With that William turned away from the former monarch. "You will love my little island." His smile grew larger. "We have one stop to make before we take you to the coast and begin our journey."

That stop was Nottingham, where the young king waited at Kirksley.

~~~...~~~

Some weeks later, a ship arrived at Aigues-Mortes, where William disembarked, along with several of his retainers and a hooded monk. He was met on the dock by his cousin, Guillaume de FitzGisbourne, Duke of Aigues-Mortes, who didn't look near as old or decrepit as William told his guest.

"Guillaume!" William embraced his shorter but more powerfully built cousin warmly. "Where are my sons? Have they been horrid?"

"They have been FitzGisbornes!" Guillaume pounded William on the back. "They are boys, something I have never had! Into everything, pestering my staff, especially the cook, and young Giselle." He leaned over to whisper in William's ear. "I like to pester young Giselle, as well!" he chortled. The man turned and greeted William's retainers, who he obviously knew. He then took in the hooded monk. "Who have we here?" He dropped his voice. "You have need to travel with clergy?" William was silent. "I have no need of any member of the church in my household."

"Trust me, he is not a member of the clergy. I have a favor to ask."

At that moment, Hugh and Fulks FitzGisborne tore from the house, their father in their sights.

~~~...~~~

"Your sons have been a joy and I did not mind keeping them safe from harm for these past years, but by Mon Dieu, William, you try a man's patience." Guillaume raised his chalice and stared into the depths. It was going on midnight, the chateau was quiet. The servants and William's boys were abed, as well as William's knights and Edward.

"I know I am asking a great deal, but my only alternative is to dress him as a nun and hide him in a nunnery. Truth is, I fear for the nuns!"

"Surely," Guillaume mumbled, "there are other alternatives."

"Kill him." William raised his own goblet and drank.

"If the rumors I've heard are true, he deserves to die." He shook his head and sighed loudly. "I don't know, William. It is a tight-rope I'm walking with the King of France and the Catholic Church looking over my shoulder. They cast covetous eyes on what is England's."

"Which is why you've become Frenchified?" William drained his chalice and refilled it, offering the bottle to his cousin, which the man took gratefully. Guillaume looked more like William's brother than several times removed cousin, the family resemblance strong in the man's features.

"If they forget that I am of English stock and think I am French to the bone," the man shuddered, "then the better for me and mine."

"Speaking of, how is your daughter?" William was staring into the fire.

"Married and pregnant, thank the Lord, may she have a healthy boy and a safe delivery." Guillaume toasted the ceiling. "The man is a baron, well-seated with deep French roots, in good standing with the French Crown and Catholic Church, and no family. We are blessed."

William toasted their happiness with him, making a mental note to send one his spies on a fact-finding mission about his cousin's husband's material wealth.

"William," Guillaume's voice pierced the silence, "I do not know if I can do this."

"He's a distant relative, half mad from the senseless killing in the Holy Land."

A chuckle rose in the smokey room. "You have this all figured out."

"The current King of England is of an age with Fulks. Think on that for just a moment." William waited a moment before continuing on. "He is my liege lord and my king. I made him a promise, a promise that I would ensure that idiot dressed in a monk's robes would live."

William could sense the man shaking his head and squeezing his eyes. "How much of a fight did he put up when you shaved his head into a tonsure?"

William drained his goblet. "No fight at all. He was passed out drunk. Speaking of passed out drunk," he set the chalice down on the table and stood up, "I will be, if I drink much more and I would like to have all of my facilities when I go fishing with my sons tomorrow."

Guillaume finished his own drink. "The sun will be quite bright. It always is." He got up and stretched. "I should go find Giselle, but I warrant she is warming Hugh's bed." He shrugged. "I do not blame her. He has more stamina than I do and she will be back in my bed when you leave with your boys. You are," his voice hardened just a bit, "taking them with you, are you not?"

"The Despsenser's are dead. There is no reason for me to keep them hidden and safe." If the knowledge that William's eldest was engaging in carnal pursuits bothered the Lord of FitzGisborne, he didn't show it. "I hope you can tolerate all of us for a week or two."

His host clapped him on the back as he walked by. "I can more than tolerate family. Your Ned, on the other hand..." his voice died down as he went through the door, "you will owe me much for this."

~~~...~~~

Two weeks later, trunks, items that were collected during their stay, were loaded onto the hardy sailing vessel. William was looking at the ship in distaste, while his sons said goodbye to friends made in France.

"You are leaving me here?"

"Yes, Ned."

"My name is Edward."

"If you wish to live," William never took his eyes off the boat, "You will answer to Ned, unless you have come up with a more religious name. I would suggest you stick to 'Ned'."

William could feel the ire rolling from his former king. "I should not have to play along with this." The man drew up, his voice, imperious. "When you leave-"

William stopped him before he could get wound up. "All of the servants and villeins have been told you are half mad and have delusions that you are other people. If you claim you are king, you will get nothing more than looks of pity and if you are truly obnoxious, my cousin will kill you." He turned and faced the man. "It is your choice. The wine is superb and weather is divine. There are nubile women who will cater to you, or strapping young men, if that is what you prefer. You will eat well and Guillaume's library is extensive. The fishing is heavenly. Or you can be stupid, make the same mistakes that got at least three of your favorites killed and painfully at that, and you will share their fate." He pointed down the river. "Not far from here, is the Great Sea. Trust me, if you are thrown into it in a weighted sack, no one will ever know."

Edward was finally quiet.

"You will watch over my son?"

William inwardly groaned. They had gone over this. "Aye. As best I can. If you have a missive-"

A rolled piece of hide found its way into his hand. "Always. My other children-"

"Should never know. Not unless Edward tells them. That will be his choice." William took hold of the scroll and tucked it into his vest. Somewhere on this voyage, it would have to find a safer place. One of the trunks in his cabin had a false bottom. Sometime tonight, it would find its way into it.

Edward sighed. "There was a time you did my bidding and served me."

William's laugh was rusty and crass. "I never did your bidding." He turned and looked at the man for the final time. "My Lord is much higher placed."

Edward drew up in horror. "There is only one who is higher than the King."

"That is correct. You best remember that." And with those final words, William stepped away from the former king of England and stepped on the gangplank, to board the ship home.

Tbc

A/N – It is stated that on September 23rd, Edward III was informed his father died the evening of September 21st. Most historians believe that Edward was murdered on the orders of Roger Mortimer. It should be noted that Thomas Berkeley is the brother-in-law of Roger Mortimer. His body was seen by several local leaders and embalmed at Berkeley. There seems to have been an issue with his burial; basically other abbeys refused or had been forbidden to take his body. Three months after his death, he was buried by the high altar at Gloucester, which was close to Berkeley.

By the 1330's, rumors surrounding the former king's death began to circulate. One of the more popular rumors was that he had been killed via insertion of a red-hot poker into his anus.

Another set of theories speculate that he did not die in 1327. According to the Fischi Letter, sent to Edward III, there was a claim that Edward escaped Berkeley Castle with the help of a servant and retired to become a hermit in the Holy Roman Empire. This letter has been linked to an account of Edward III meeting William the Welshman who claimed to be Edward II.

Interestingly enough, some parts of the letter's content are considered accurate by historians. Whether it is or isn't, I wouldn't know. I'm just a music teacher.