Текст книги "The Queen From Provence"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Chapter XIX
EVESHAM
At the Court of France, Eleanor heard news of the disaster. The King, Richard, Edward … all the prisoners of Simon de Montfort! A new form of government being imposed on the land! Representatives from the various parts of the country to help in its government! It was monstrous.
‘What can I do?’ she demanded of Marguerite.
‘You can pray,’ said Marguerite.
‘Pray! My dear sister, I must do more than that. I must raise money. I must raise an army. I will never allow that traitor de Montfort to hold Henry prisoner.’
‘You are clever I know, Eleanor, and although you long to do everything for your husband and son, you must be cautious. It is a very dangerous situation.’
Eleanor shook herself impatiently. Did Marguerite think she could tell her!
‘Louis is of the opinion that you should await the outcome of events,’ went on Marguerite.
‘Louis!’ retorted Eleanor almost contemptuously. What had Louis done to help Henry? He had known that the barons were massing to make war and he had offered no help. He had implied that it was Henry’s own behaviour which had brought about the calamity.
But, of course, she could say very little about her sister’s husband since she was enjoying their hospitality. And where would she go if they would not receive her?
Marguerite was docile enough except when any criticism was levelled at Louis. Then she could become very fierce.
In spite of Marguerite, Eleanor busied herself with raising money. She was constantly sending messengers to England to those whom she believed to be her friends. She was confident that in due course she would raise an army and she would place herself at the head of it. She smiled at the thought of the admiration in Henry’s eyes when he realised what she had done.
He would be pleased, however, that she was safe in France. For her to be humiliated as a captive would have hurt him far more than suffering that fate himself.
She brought all her energies to her campaign and she began to get some responses in France and from England.
She was going to build up her army. But how long it took! She was sustained though by the knowledge that she would in time free her family and she comforted herself by imagining the indignities she would heap on Simon de Montfort and their enemies.
How frustrating it was. Marguerite tried to help. She knew how she would feel if Louis were a captive in the hands of his enemies.
‘You must be patient, Eleanor,’ she said. ‘When we love we must suffer.’
‘What have you ever known of suffering?’ demanded Eleanor almost contemptuously.
‘A great deal,’ replied Marguerite.
‘Oh you are so meek … so pliable … ready to go this way or that. You never had much will of your own.’
‘The meek often suffer as much as the strong.’
‘Then if they do nothing about it it is their own fault.’
‘You rarely saw any point of view but your own,’ said Marguerite. ‘You have had your own way too much in life.’
‘Only because I have fought for it.’
‘Sometimes it takes more strength to endure. Can you imagine how I felt living under the shadow of my clever mother-in-law Queen Blanche? She did everything so well. She was so respected, so admired. She came before me … right until the time she died.’
‘You were a fool to allow it. I should have made Louis understand …’
‘Louis did understand how I felt. He once told me he loved me so much because of the way in which I did not make strife between him and his mother. It would have been so easy to. Often it was my inclination, but I knew that could only bring pain to him … and to me. So I stood aside for her. And I think she came to be fond of me, too.’
‘Of course, since you let her have her way! Oh you were always so mild, Marguerite. You don’t know what it is to have deep feelings.’
‘I have had great adventures in my life, Eleanor,’ Marguerite defended herself, ‘and I think I have lived more dangerously than you ever did.’
‘I was near death in London. I shall never forget the evil faces of the mob as they looked down on me from the bridge. I knew they intended to sink my barge. It was awful. Sometimes I dream of them now … I hear their voices shouting “Drown the Witch.” You could not understand, Marguerite.’
Marguerite laughed.
‘I will tell you something, sister. You have forgotten that when Louis went on his crusade to the Holy Land, I accompanied him. The fear you experienced during one night in London, was with me constantly for months. I was a woman in that strange land. We were in perpetual danger from the Saracens. Do you know what they did to women if they captured them? They might torture them; they might merely cut off their heads; but what was most likely was that they took them off to serve in some harem. You dream of London Bridge. My dear sister, I dream of the Christian camp where I, heavy with child, waited night after night for some fearful fate to overtake me. Often the King left me. I was in the camp with only one knight to protect me. He was so aged that he could not join the others. I made him swear that if ever the Saracens came to my tent he would cut off my head with his sword rather than let me be taken.’
Eleanor was subdued. It was borne home to her that her own joys and sorrows had always seemed so much greater than those of others that she had rarely thought theirs worth considering.
Now to think of Marguerite, pregnant, lying in a desert camp, was sobering.
‘But that is all in the past,’ she said. ‘My trouble is here right before me.’
‘All troubles pass,’ Marguerite assured her. ‘Yours will no less than mine did.’
‘Does that mean I should not do everything I can to disperse them?’
‘Nay, you would always work for your family. But be patient, dear sister. All will be well.’
But it was not in Eleanor’s nature to sit down and wait for miracles. She redoubled her efforts.
One day Edward de Carol, the Dean of Wells, arrived in Paris. He had letters from the King, he said, and joyfully Eleanor seized on them.
When she read what the King had written she was filled with a dull anger. He begged her to desist in her efforts to interfere with the course of events. What she was doing was known in England. It could do no good.
The Dean did not have to tell her that the letter had been dictated by her enemy Simon de Montfort, because she knew as soon as she read it.
She remembered Marguerite’s admonition to be patient. She wrote back to the King assuring him that she would respect his wishes.
When the Dean had left she went on with her work. She was certain that in time she would raise an army.
Messengers continued to come to the Court of France and they brought news of the royal captives. It was thus that she learned that they had been taken to Dover. The nearest port to France. Wild ideas filled her mind. Would it be so very difficult to get a party to land, to storm the castle, to rescue the captives and bring them to France? There they could place themselves at the head of the army she was sure she would raise. They would be free to win back the crown.
While she was turning this over in her mind and making plans to bring it about, more messengers came.
The barons felt that Dover might be a dangerous spot in view of its proximity to the Continent. They were therefore being moved to Wallingford.
She could have wept with rage, but very soon she was making fresh plans.
Her indefatigable efforts had won the admiration of a number of people and her devotion to her family was touching. Even those who found her overbearing were ready to work for her and thus there were plenty to bring her news of what was happening in England. The royal prisoners, she learned, were not so well guarded at Wallingford as they had been at Dover. One of Edward’s favourite knights had sent word to her that he would do anything to help the royal cause and she immediately decided to keep him to his word.
Sir Warren de Basingbourne was a young and daring fellow who had often jousted with Edward and whom she knew was devoted to her son.
‘Gather together as many men as you can,’ she wrote to him. ‘Go to Wallingford, lay siege to the castle – which I know to be ill defended. Rescue the lord Edward. He can then come to me here and place himself at the head of the army I am preparing.’
Eleanor excitedly settled down to await the arrival of her son.
Edward had never ceased to reproach himself. This disaster was due to his folly. It was no use his father’s trying to comfort him. It was clear that if he had not pursued the Londoners the victory would have gone to the King.
What folly! What harm inexperience could do!
Edward was a young man who quickly learned his lessons.
He thought often of his young wife with whom he was in love. It had been a marriage after his own heart. She had been so young at the time of the ceremony and he had seemed so much older to her that she had begun by looking up to him. They had been separated, it was true, while she completed her education and grew old enough to be his wife in truth. And then he had not been disappointed in her.
He believed she was now pregnant.
Poor little Eleanora – or Eleanor as they insisted on calling her, for their future Queen must have an English name – she would be fretting now, as he knew his mother was.
He was glad his cousin Henry was with him, although it would have been more satisfactory if he could have been free to work for the King. They played chess together; they were even allowed to ride out although only in the castle surrounds and in the company of guards. Simon de Montfort treated them with respect. He was always anxious for them to know that he had no intention of harming them, and that he merely wanted to see just rule returned to the country.
While they sat at the chess table one of their servants came running in. He was clearly very excited.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘there is a troop of men marching on the castle.’
‘By God,’ cried Edward. ‘The country is rising against de Montfort.’
They rushed to the windows. In the distance they could see the horsemen making straight for the castle.
Someone said: ‘They are Sir Warren de Basingbourne’s men, I’ll swear.’
‘Then they come to save us,’ said Edward. ‘Warren would never place himself against me. He is my great friend.’
There was activity throughout the castle. At the turrets and machicolations soldiers were stationed. The alert ran through the castle. ‘We are besieged! Stand by for defence.’
It was frustrating for the prisoners to be unable to take part in the fighting as they were forced to listen to the shouts and the cries and the groaning of the battle engines as they went into action.
Edward heard his own name called.
‘Edward. Edward. Bring us Edward.’
His eyes were shining. ‘Our friends have risen at last,’ he said. ‘I knew it was only a matter of time. Our captivity is over.’
‘First they have to break the siege,’ Henry reminded him.
‘By God they will. We are poorly defended here.’
Half a dozen guards had come into the room.
They approached Edward.
‘What would you have of me?’ he demanded.
‘We but obey orders, my lord.’
‘And they are?’
‘Your friends out there are demanding that we bring you out to them.’
‘And you, knowing yourself beaten, are meeting their wishes?’
‘We are not beaten, my lord. But we are giving you to them. We shall bind you hand and foot, as we shall tell them, and we shall shoot you to them from the mangonel.’
Edward cried out in horror at the thought of being shot through this terrifying engine which was used for throwing down stones on the enemy. It would be certain death.
‘You do not mean this.’
‘It will be done, my lord, if your friends do not go away.’
‘Let me speak to them.’
The men looked at each other and one of them nodded and retired.
When he returned he said: ‘Orders are that your hands should be bound behind your back, my lord. Then we will take you to the parapet. From there you will speak to your friends. If you tell them to go away, your life will be saved.’
‘I will do it,’ he said, for indeed there was no alternative but terrible death. So they tied his hands and he stood on the parapet and told them that unless they wanted his death they must disperse and go away, for his captors meant that if he came to them it would be by way of the mangonel.
Sir Warren hastily retired; and when news of what had happened was sent to Eleanor she wept with anger.
Simon de Montfort came in all haste to Wallingford. The news of Basingbourne’s attempt had shocked him. It could so easily have succeeded. It had been a brilliant idea to threaten to shoot Edward out to them. However, an ill-defended castle was no place for such prisoners.
In the hall of the castle all the prisoners were brought to him.
‘My lords,’ he said, ‘I am grieved that you have been treated with less than respect. I assure you that it was no intention of mine.’
‘You do not make that intention very clear,’ retorted Edward.
‘I am sorry if you have not perceived it,’ replied Simon calmly. ‘It is true that your movements are restricted but I trust you lack no comfort here in the castle.’
‘You traitor,’ cried Edward. The others were silent. Simon shrugged his shoulders and turned to the King.
‘My lord, it was no wish of mine that this should have happened. The laws of the country must be justly administered. Our Parliament will do that and if we can come to some agreement …’
‘We shall make no agreements with you, my lord,’ said the King firmly.
‘Then I will continue with the matter of which I came to speak. You must prepare to leave Wallingford.’
‘Where is our next prison to be?’ asked Edward.
‘You are to go to Kenilworth.’
‘Kenilworth!’ cried Edward.
‘It is my own castle. Your aunt will receive you there. I think you will be happier with a member of your own family.’
The prisoners were silent. This was interesting. The King’s own sister was the châtelaine of Kenilworth. Surely she would be sympathetic to the members of her own family. But they had to remember that she was also Simon de Montfort’s wife.
They left that day for Kenilworth, where the King’s sister Eleanor de Montfort, Countess of Leicester, received them with affection.
‘At least,’ said Edward, ‘it will not seem as though we are prisoners here.’
‘Eleanor!’ Henry’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of his sister.
She embraced him and said, ‘Oh Henry, this is a sorry business. Richard, Edward, I would you had come here in different circumstances.’
‘Do not blame us for the circumstances,’ said Edward.
The King put up a hand to silence him. Simon de Montfort was Eleanor’s husband and they must not take it amiss because she was loyal to him.
They sat down in the great hall. They might have been paying a family visit, but of course they knew that the castle was surrounded by de Montfort’s guards and that they were in a stronger prison than they had been in at Wallingford.
The long days slowly passed. Eleanor did all she could to make them comfortable. She would not allow them to criticise Simon, and she made it clear that although she wished to treat her family as her family while they were under her roof she clearly believed in the righteousness of her husband’s actions.
‘Eleanor was always a woman of strong beliefs,’ said Henry to the King of the Romans. ‘And once she had made up her mind on a course of action it would take strong men to move her … and then she would outwit them.’ He could not help but admire her. Her character was not unlike that of his own Eleanor. His sister had determined to marry Simon de Montfort when he had seemed to be nothing more than an adventurer; but she had sensed greatness in him, for Henry had to admit that a man who could take a country from its rightful King and set himself up as ruler, however misguided he might be, had an unusual power.
Now, in a dignified manner, which Henry could not but admire, she played the role of hostess to her imprisoned relations while never for a moment did she forget her loyalty to her husband.
Christmas came and Eleanor endeavoured to make the celebrations as gay as was possible in the circumstances, but always the guards remained stationed at certain points of the castle and encamped outside the walls.
Edward was frustrated.
There seemed no hope of escape. Meanwhile Simon de Montfort with his new Parliament was controlling the country.
There was trouble for Simon from an unexpected direction. One of his firmest supporters had been Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester – the grandson of that Isabella who had been the first wife of Richard, King of the Romans. Gilbert, in his early twenties – called the Red because of the colour of his hair – was, on account of his inheritance on the death of his father but a few years before, one of the most influential barons in the country. He had formed a friendship with Simon, whom he greatly admired, and because of his wealth and energy he had become second-in-command of the baronial party. Gilbert had had the honour of taking the King’s sword from him when Henry was taken prisoner at Lewes. He had had a hand in drawing up the truce between the King and the barons which was known as the Mise of Lewes in which the Provisions of Oxford were confirmed. In this, there was a special clause exempting Simon de Montfort and Gloucester from any punishment for their conduct.
Gloucester was young and impressionable, and with him the friends of one day could become the despised enemy of the next. He was fickle, a fact of which Simon in the early days of their relationship, had not been aware.
Many of the royal supporters who had escaped after Lewes had taken refuge in that part of the country on the Welsh border known as the Marches of Wales. The lords who owned castles there were the Marcher Lords and they had always been a source of irritation to the English. It seemed to Simon that Gloucester, far from attempting to force the Marcher Lords to give up those whom they were sheltering, was protecting them.
This was disconcerting.
Gloucester began to bring charges against de Montfort. He declared that Simon had taken the larger share of the castles which had been confiscated after the royal defeat at Lewes, and discussing the matter with his wife Simon showed himself to be growing uneasy.
If the King ever regained his crown what would happen to Simon and their sons? Simon reminded her of the clause in the Mise of Lewes but Eleanor shook her head.
‘Do you think that would be considered? We should have to fly the country, I suppose. It would be necessary for us to get out in time. Vengeance would be terrible. Edward would show no mercy even if Henry did.’
‘My dear, we must not contemplate defeat.’
‘No, but I believe we should consider it. It is well to be prepared for anything that may happen.’
‘I have to see Gloucester without delay. I have to find out what all this is about.’
‘You can safely leave me in charge of your prisoners.’
‘I know. Henry and his brother will be safe. It is Edward I fear. I believe at this moment he is planning escape. He is different from his father. I can see a great King there, but at this time he is young and rash. I think he will attempt to escape. No, I must go to Gloucester, but I shall take Edward with me.’
‘And leave the others here?’
‘I believe that to be the wise thing to do.’
When Edward heard that he was to leave Kenilworth he was excited. Any movement was better than this lack of action.
The journey proved to be more exciting than even he had dared hope. It was not long before he realised that there were traitors in Simon’s camp. A man such as de Montfort who had achieved so much and was admired by some almost to adoration was certain to attract a great deal of envy and although there were many who would have died for him there were others who were ready to risk their lives to harm him.
The latter were those who could be of use to Edward.
One of these was Thomas Clare, the Earl of Gloucester’s younger brother. Thomas managed to exchange a few words with him as they rode along.
‘My lord,’ he whispered, ‘you have friends among us.’
‘That makes good hearing,’ replied Edward.
‘The Queen your mother is amassing an army which is almost ready to march.’
‘I have heard that is so,’ answered Edward.
‘If you could join it … with some of your loyal friends who are waiting to serve you …’
The conversation was interrupted but Edward’s spirits were soaring. This undignified state of affairs was coming to an end. He felt it in his bones. He was not meant to remain a prisoner.
On another occasion Thomas de Clare said to him, ‘There is a plan, my lord. Roger Mortimer is prepared to help.’
‘Mortimer!’ cried Edward. ‘He is a traitor.’
‘No longer so, my lord. It is true that he gave his support to de Montfort, but he is withdrawing it at the best moment to be of use to you.’
‘Can I trust a man who was once a traitor?’
‘Mortimer does not regard himself as a traitor. He says he serves England and he thought best to do so under Leicester. Now he has changed his mind … as my brother has. De Montfort is an ambitious man. He has taken the King’s castles for himself. Men are turning against him. You can rely on Mortimer now. Besides his wife has always been a supporter of the Queen and your father. She has at last prevailed on her husband to change sides and this he has done.’
‘I like not men who change sides.’
‘My lord, suffice that they come to serve you. You need men who will leave Leicester and come to you.’
‘You are right, Thomas. What will Mortimer do?’
‘It is a simple plan, my lord. When we reach Gloucester you will be allowed certain freedom. The Earl of Leicester is most anxious that your royalty shall not be debased. You will take exercise in the grounds inside the castle walls. All know your interest in horses. You will challenge your attendant guards about their horses and ask to test their endurance. There should be four of them. You will challenge them to races and you will see that every horse including your own will be exhausted. You will continue until then. Then you will mount your own tired horse and ride out. You will not be followed because they will know that you cannot go far. But there hidden by the trees Lord Mortimer will be waiting with a fresh horse. You will mount it and ride away with him. Your own tired mount will return to the castle … without you.’
‘A simple plan,’ said Edward. ‘Will it work?’
‘It is for you, my lord, to make it.’
‘I will,’ cried Edward. ‘By God I will.’
It was working. They believed him. He had always been interested in horses.
He would test them, he said. They would have a wager as to which of the five – their four and his – were the best. He insisted that they race with him. Round and round the castle they went. He contrived to finish neck and neck with one or two of them and insisted that they race again … all five of them.
To the guards it seemed as good a way of passing the time as any. Their horses would be tired out but the day was almost over and they could go straight to their stables.
Edward won the race. The horses were sweating and fit for little.
‘Poor old fellow,’ said Edward, patting his. ‘You have had enough, I’ll warrant. Never mind. You have done well and shall rest.’
The guards were leading their horses towards the stables; Edward was with them.
He lagged behind and then turning his horse suddenly made his way towards the thicket a short distance from where they had run their races.
His heart beat wildly with hope for there was Roger Mortimer as had been arranged. He was seated on a horse and holding another – strong, fresh, ready for fast riding.
Edward said: ‘Thank God.’ And leaped into the saddle.
‘Which way?’ he said.
‘Follow me, my lord.’
In a few seconds he was galloping away to safety.
In Ludlow the Earl of Gloucester was waiting for him.
The Earl received him with great respect and congratulated him on his escape.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘there are many barons in the country who would be ready to serve with you. They are still against the King but if you would give certain promises I am sure that they would be ready to follow you.’
‘You do not think I would go against my father?’
‘You mistake me, my lord. They would merely wish you to give certain assurances and would ask you to persuade your father to stop acting in a manner which has brought about this rebellion. The people want the good and ancient laws brought back and obeyed. They want an abolition of those evil customs which recently have overtaken the kingdom. Aliens must be removed from the realm and from the council. They must not be allowed to retain the castles which have been bestowed on them, nor take part in the government. All we ask, my lord, is that England be governed once more by Englishmen. If you are victorious, if you defeat de Montfort, would you bring this about? If you will give your solemn word, I can promise you the help of powerful lords.’
‘I swear it,’ said Edward.
‘Then I will summon a council of those who would be prepared to work with you.’
‘Pray do this,’ cried Edward.
It was gratifying to be joined by Hugh Bigod and Earl Warrenne.
Edward was in fine spirits. He was free. He was bent on victory. He was determined to learn from his earlier mistakes that nothing of that nature would happen again.
With a good army – for more and more barons were coming to his aid – he took possession of the country along by the Severn and destroyed the bridges so that de Montfort’s army was cut off. He knew that de Montfort’s son, the younger Simon, was raising an army in London where there would be plenty of volunteers to come against the King and his endeavour was to stand between the de Montfort armies and to prevent their joining up.
News came that young Simon was on the march and had reached Kenilworth. Now the position seemed to have changed and instead of Edward’s splitting the two de Montfort armies, he was caught between them which was not an enviable position to be in.
But there was some good news. The Queen, as indefatigable in her efforts as ever, had succeeded in raising an army and was waiting at the French coast for the weather to allow it to cross the Channel. The gales at this time made the journey impossible, but it was a comfort to know that it was there.
While he was in his tent with Thomas de Clare, Mortimer and Warrenne going over the possibilities of attacking the de Montfort armies and carefully considering the position in which they found themselves between Simon de Montfort the elder and the younger, and Edward was saying that they must not act rashly, remembering how the loss of the battle of Lewes was due to him, a woman was brought into the camp.
A camp follower! Edward wondered why she should beg to be taken to him!
The woman was tall, and her face was hidden by a hood so that it was not easy to see whether she was handsome or not. Edward had no desire to dally with women. He had given up his amorous adventurings when he had settled down with his wife; moreover thoughts of military matters now occupied his mind.
‘Who is this woman,’ he demanded, ‘and why do you bring her to me?’
‘She calls herself Margot, my lord,’ said the guard who had brought her in, ‘and she begs to have word with you.’
‘For what purpose?’ cried Edward and was about to order her to be removed when he remembered afresh his rashness at Lewes.
‘Leave her with us,’ he said, and the guard retired.
‘Pray state your business,’ said Edward.
Margot removed the cloak. It was immediately obvious that this was no woman.
‘My lord,’ said ‘Margot’, ‘I pray you hear me. I would serve the King and your noble self. I come from Kenilworth.’
‘Ah,’ said Edward. ‘Say on.’
‘The traitor de Montfort has commanded his son to attack you. He intends to squeeze you between the two armies.’
‘That we know well.’
‘My lord, the army at Kenilworth is not as disciplined as that of the elder de Montfort. They are not expecting attack. They are waiting for the signal from the elder de Montfort, then they will advance and begin the battle. At night they are not well guarded. They leave their horses and their weapons unattended. It would be a simple matter to creep up on them after dark and destroy them.’
Edward looked at his friends.
‘There seems sense in this.’
‘Do we trust this man?’ asked Edward.
‘My lord, I came here … risking my life for the King. If you do not believe me then do not act on my advice. Let me stay here your prisoner until you have proved my loyalty.’
Edward was on the point of rewarding the man and sending him on his way but again he remembered his rashness at Lewes.
‘Let us do this,’ he said. ‘If we find you are indeed our friend, you shall be rewarded.’
A dark night. The castle was silent. Only here and there on the battlements a torch flickered. Slowly, silently, Edward and a picked force crept forward. A little way behind was the bulk of the army ready for attack.
‘Margot’ had not lied. The de Montfort troops were taken completely by surprise. All those on guard in the castle were taken within half an hour, including their weapons. Those in their beds in the castle were caught without their clothes let alone their armour.
Many were slaughtered. A few escaped and one who did, to Edward’s regret, was Simon de Montfort the younger.
Saddened, disillusioned, beaten by his own carelessness he, with a few of his followers, was able to reach the stables and ride off to safety.
For Edward and his friends this was a triumph which almost effaced the disgrace of Lewes. Moreover there was now only one army to be faced.
He sent for ‘Margot’ and told him that he could name his reward to which he was answered simply that all that was asked was the chance to serve under the lord Edward.
Edward clasped his hands.
‘You are my friend,’ he said, ‘for as long as you care for that friendship.’
That there must be no delay was obvious. They must attack the elder Simon before he realised what had happened to his son’s army.
Their great chance was in the element of surprise.
‘To Evesham,’ was the cry.
Simon de Montfort in the castle of Evesham believed that victory was near. Young Simon must be almost on Edward’s army now. Simon was a good general. He would choose the right moment to attack.
