Текст книги "The Follies of the King"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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BANISHMENT

LIFE was not going smoothly for the Earl of Lancaster. He was President of the Council and the people were complaining about his bad rule; he was

commander against the Scots and the state of affairs at the border went from bad to worse. Edward Bruce was reigning as King of Ireland and people were saying that he, Lancaster, who had been full of criticism for the manner in which the country had been governed under Edward, had made as much a disaster of

affairs as Edward himself had.

It was time Lancaster was put out of office. This was the opinion of John

Warenne, Earl of Surrey and Sussex, and he was ready to join with the King to bring about that desirable state.

Warenne was not the most reliable of allies; his loyalties wavered, not so much because he sought his own gain as that his opinions changed from time to time. He had hated Gaveston from the time the latter had humiliated him at the Wallington joust but he had disapproved of Gaveston’s murder and had been of the opinion that the favourite should have been brought to trial as had been promised him.

His domestic affairs gave him great cause for concern as he hated his wife Joan of Bar and had been trying for some time unsuccessfully to divorce her. He had several children by his mistress Matilda de Nerford and being devoted to her and to them, was anxious to see her securely provided for. The King had been sympathetic to him on these matters and at this time Warenne was veering

towards Edward.

It was on Warenne’s advice that the King called together a council at

Clarendon. Here it was decided in secrecy that an attack should be made on Lancaster, and Warenne himself would be in charge of this.

In due course Warenne with a selected band of troops marched north to

Pontefract but as he approached Lancaster’s country and realized the wealth and power of his opponent he suddenly took fright and made up his mind that if he attacked at that point he would most certainly encounter defeat.

He called a halt and decided to return south and think up some other plan of action.

On the way he was joined by one of his squires who had been travelling in

the south-west. This man had stayed at Canford in Dorset where Lancaster had estates, and while there had been the guest of Lancaster’s Countess. He had quickly realized that she was an unhappy woman.

‘She confided in you?’ asked Warenne in surprise.

‘In a manner,’ was the answer. ‘Of course, my lord, it is no secret that the Countess finds little satisfaction in her marriage.’

Warenne nodded in commiseration. He of all people knew what it meant to

be unhappily tied to someone from whom it was difficult to escape.

‘A most charming and beautiful lady, my lord. And in despair, I think.’

‘I am not surprised. Lancaster must make a sad bedfellow.’

‘So it would seem.’

‘I should like to meet the lady,’ said Warenne.

‘There is a whisper, my lord, that the lady has found a lover.’

It was then that the notion came to Warenne. ‘We will ride to Canford,’ he said. I should like to meet the lady. I would condole with her and perhaps help her in some way.’

She was most hospitable, my lord.’

‘Would she not be to her husband’s enemies?’

‘Doubtless especially so to them, for if they were his enemies they might be her friends.’

Warenne laughed aloud.

‘You have a point there, my friend.’

–―――――――

Alice de Lacy welcomed the visitors.

The Earl, she told them, was in Pontefract. She had heard there had been an assembly at Clarendon which he had not attended.

She was indeed a beautiful woman and sprightly. Lancaster should have

counted himself lucky, since as well as all that charm and dignity she had brought him Lincoln and Salisbury.

That she hated her husband was obvious.; his name only had to be

mentioned and there would be a flash of contempt in her eyes.

Warenne’s sympathies were touched. These arranged marriages could ruin

one’s life. How different it would be if he had never been married to Joan and if he and Matilda had met before he had been forced into marriage. Then he would have stood against all coercion. It would have been so simple. All this fuss with all the frustrations could have been avoided. The children would have been secure― Life would have been so much more smooth and easy. Yes, he had

great sympathy with Lancaster’s wife.

‘The Earl is rarely under your roof, my lady, I believe.’ he said.

‘Tis so, and thankful I am for it,’ she replied.

He did not press the matter then, but as the evening wore on and the

minstrels sang songs of hopeless love, he talked of his own predicament.

‘Married when one is too young to protest, and then to find oneself unable to escape. My dear lady, I have been unhappily married for years. I get no help from Rome. I have a lady who is devoted to me, who has given me the home I have ever really cared about. There, does that shock you?’

‘Indeed it does not. I rejoice for you, my lord. You have been bold and your boldness is rewarded. Have you any children?’

‘Yes, Matilda and I have a fine family. Would my son could inherit my title and lands. Our laws can be ridiculous at times. Would you not think that if two people were suited it should be the easiest thing in the world to untie the knot?’

‘Alas my lord,’ sighed the lady. ‘You are not the only one who is in this

position. I can think of one who is far less happier than yourself. What think you it is like to be married to Lancaster?’

Warenne nodded gloomily as though there was no need for words.

‘I had no wish for the match,’ she went on. ‘It was made for me. My father thought it good for me to be allied with Lancaster and Lancaster had his eyes on Salisbury and Lincoln.’

‘They greatly enriched him.’

‘They did not make him more acceptable to me. I would I could be free of

him. You at least my lord are not forced to live with a partner you so dislike.’

‘No, I left my wife. I went to Matilda and we share a home. I found someone who I could love and cherish.’

‘And I―’ said the Countess and stopped short.

Warenne allowed a short time to pass in silence.

‘I talk too freely,’ said the Countess.

‘My lady, you may talk to me as you will and I promise what you say will

go no further than these four walls.’

‘It is a great relief to talk― and to someone who has suffered similarly.’

She told him how she had been riding one day and had met a man who had

helped her with her horse which was in difficulties. They had met again.

‘Charming,’ murmured Warenne.

‘We are in love,’ she said, ‘but what hope is there for us? What chance have we of happiness?’

‘That is how Matilda and I used to talk and then we learned that

opportunities have to be seized, that if one is bold enough, fearless enough, most things are possible.’

‘You left your wife and sent up house with Matilda. It was easy for you.’

‘My dear Countess,’ replied Warenne. ‘Would you have the courage to do

what I did?’

She was looking at him with shining eyes.

‘I am a woman,’ she answered. ‘It is not so easy.’

‘True, but still not impossible. Matilda did it.’

‘You mean, I could― if I were brave enough― leave this place― leave

Lancaster and set up house with Ebulo le Strange.’

‘You could. Who is this man? I know him not.’

‘You would not. He is merely a country squire.’ Her voice softened when

she spoke of him. ‘Oh how I long to share his house, to live quietly― to live in harmony, to have children―’

‘Then go to him.’

‘My lord of Surrey, can you really mean that!’

‘Yes,’ cried Warenne, ‘go to him.’

‘How could I? Could I take my servants with me― his servants? Would they come― How could I trust them?’

‘Go without servants.’

‘What would Lancaster do to him? Lancaster is the powerful man in the

country.’

‘His power is waning. He is a fool. He had everything― all the power a man could have but he has not been clever enough to use it. Now he is fast losing it.

If you want to leave Lancaster, now is the time.’

‘I would do it, but I fear for Ebulo. He would trump up some charge against him. Ebulo is nothing but a humble squire. Lancaster’s power may be waning but he is the King’s cousin still.’

‘If you were given shelter in one of my castles, somewhere where Ebulo

could visit you in secret, none need know that he was involved.’

‘My lord, you think of the most outrageous acts.’

Warenne’s eyes were sparkling. All the mischief of his nature was

uppermost. He liked the Countess. He liked attractive women. She was

charming and when she talked of her lover she was quite beautiful. He liked to help lovers, particularly those for whom life was not running smoothly. And what a truly marvelous way of attacking Lancaster. It was so much better than marching on Pontefract and engaging in battle.

‘It is necessary to be outrageous to win happiness,’ he said.

‘Then― what, my lord?’

‘You and I will leave here tomorrow. We will go off as though to the hunt.

Take with you what jewels you can. Have you a few trusted attendants, those who will serve with their lives? Let them pack other valuables and be ready to follow you with a saddle horse.’

‘Are you truly serious?’

‘If you are, my lady. Let us plan this with care and who knows perhaps

tomorrow you will have left Lancaster forever.’

Alice de Lacy clasped her hands and said: ‘I believe Providence sent you to Canford, my lord Surrey. For it is true that I could not have endured this state of affairs much longer.’

‘Then― tomorrow, dear Countess, we cut the knot. We shall escape

together and ere long you will be making arrangement for your lover to be with you.’

‘What can I say to you?’ she asked. ‘How thank you?’ Then a shrewd look

came into her eyes. ‘You have your reasons. Perhaps you dislike Lancaster as much as I do.’

‘I dislike him, my lady, as much as I love to help a lady in distress.’

It was a good enough answer.

It had to come, she told herself. And now is the time.

–――――――

By this time, the Queen was pregnant again. Her plan was working well. She had young Edward, now aged six years old and sturdy; there was John aged two and now another child coming. John was not quite as healthy as his elder brother but perhaps he only seemed a little delicate because Edward was so lusty;

however, his health gave no real cause for concern. She was gathering together her little family.

It was irksome that there should be so much delay, but inevitable. Each day she despised Edward more but she could remind herself that in time she would be free of him. There would come a day when they would part, when she would make him pay for all the humiliations he had heaped on her; and that day would be worth waiting for.

She cherished news from France because her hopes were fixed on her native

land. Louis le Hutin was dead. His Queen had borne a son shortly after his death, a boy, Jean, but he had died within seven days. Poor little King of France who never knew that he had inherited a crown! Her brother Philip was now

King. He was called The Tall because of his unusual height. People said that the curse of the Templars was working in the royal family of France. It had killed first her father a few months after it had been uttered and now her brother Louis and his infant son. She knew that the people were asking themselves what other disasters were awaiting the family of the man who had destroyed the Knights Templars. Isabella had no great hopes of her brothers. They were weak. It would have been different if her father had lived.

Still, she would wait and when the opportunity came she would be ready to

seize it.

A great deal was happening in the country. Everyone was talking now of the abduction of the Countess of Lancaster by John le Warenne Earl of Surrey and Sussex.

What an extraordinary affair that was. Of course she had long known that

Alice de Lacy disliked her husband and had refused to live with him as his wife.

Poor Lancaster! Why had she ever admired him? She might at one time have

been tempted to take him as a lover; that would have been if she had not been determined that no one should cast suspicion at her until she was in a strong enough Position to withstand such an attack; and she was determined that no one should dare whisper that her children might not have been sired by the King.

Warenne was the devoted husband in all but name to Matilda of Nerford, so

it was strange that he should have eloped with Alice de Lacy. It was

understandable that Lancaster should have been furious, and had given vent to his anger by attacking Warenne’s lands in the north. A private war was going on between them and being conducted with all the methods of a civil war. She had told Edward that he should stop it. It was not good for battles to be fought in his country by his barons– one against the other.

It was better, said Edward, that they should fight each other than fight

against him.

He was right in this but it was demeaning for him to have to stand aside and watch these two men fighting their own war. He might have called a halt as far as Warenne was concerned but Lancaster was too strong for him. And for

Warenne too, it seemed, for already Lancaster had captured the castles of Sandal and Conisborough and the only way in which Warenne could save Grantham

and Stamford was by handing them over to the King.

In vain Edward ordered hostilities to stop. Warenne had pleaded that it was impossible for him to desist while Lancaster attacked him and Lancaster, of course, was a law unto himself.

And the Countess? wondered Isabella. What of her? It was a mysterious

affair, for she could not believe that Warenne and Alice de Lacy were lovers.

There was more in this little adventure than there appeared to be.

Perhaps in due course she would discover, but her own affairs were of far

greater consequence. And the biggest irritation of her life was the young

Despenser. She could see what was happening there. The handsome young man

was creeping into that place which had been occupied by the detestable

Gaveston; and, like Gaveston, young Hugh knew that she hated him, as indeed it was natural that she should. Gradually he would work against her. She must beware of that.

In the meantime there was the child.

She was at Woodstock in Oxfordshire for the birth. She had always loved

Woodstock, a place which took its name from the magnificent forests which

surrounded it. Vudestoc was the old Saxon name meaning a wooden spot.

Ethelred had held his Wittenagemot there, but it was chiefly noted for being the place where Henry the Second, Edward’s great-great grandfather, had kept his mistress, The Fair Rosamund, and where this little intrigue had been discovered by Henry’s vindictive queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine.

There was a woman Isabella admired. She had taken strong action against

her erring husband. True it had resulted in her imprisonment but she had had sons to stand by her.

Yes, she was glad that she had come to Woodstock to bear her child.

It was an easy birth and this time a girl.

‘I will call her Eleanor,’ she said, ‘after her great ancestress.’

–――――――

It seemed as though that period of ill luck was passing. The summers had

returned to normal, the harvest had improved; and there was good news from Ireland where Edward Bruce had set himself up as King. Edward Bruce, great soldier that he was, lacked the genius of his brother Robert; it was said that his pride was immense and that he yearned to stand above all others. The English colonists in Ireland had been fighting against him ever since he landed but he had usually come through victorious, for when he had been in difficulties his brother Robert had joined him with reinforcements and all went well while the two were together. But Robert could not leave his newly acquired kingdom for long and there was constant trouble on the border, so Edward Bruce was left to command alone.

There came the battle of Leinster. Edward Bruce’s advisers warned him that his enemies were a strong force and that he should wait for reinforcements before going into attack, but he replied scornfully that one Scot was as good as five English and he cared not for the disparity in numbers. He was proved to be wrong, fatally for him. He was slain at Dundaik and his army routed. His head was sent to King Edward and his quarters set up in four towns so that all might know that the erstwhile King of Ireland was no more.

The Scots no longer held Ireland.

Edward was euphoric. ‘All comes well in the end,’ he said.

He had ceased to mourn so sadly for Gaveston now that there was Hugh le

Despenser to comfort him.

Lancaster was once more in the ascendancy. He had been victorious over

Warenne though he made no attempt to insist on his wife’s return and she

remained living in comparative obscurity although all knew that she was under Warenne’s protection.

Warenne had been forced to surrender his estate in Norfolk and his

possessions were considerably reduced by the action he had taken. Eyebrows were lifted when it was known that Alice de Lacy had granted Warenne tenancy of several of the manors she had inherited from her father.

It was a mysterious affair, and the fact was that although Lancaster had

come out of it ostensibly the victor his enemy mocked him behind his back and the fact that he could no manage his domestic affairs better caused them to ask each other how he could hope to deal with the country’s.

Outwardly though he was still the strong man, the King in all but name.

The Despensers– the two Hughs, father and son– were taking possession

of the King. There seemed to be no limit to their avarice; the more that was bestowed on them, the more they wanted, and resentment was rising against

them.

A dispute was now in progress, because since the death of the Earl of

Gloucester at Bannockburn his estates passed to his family and they were to be divided between Gloucester’s three sisters, one of whom had been married at an early age to young Hugh le Despenser. The other two husbands were Hugh

d’Audley and Roger d’Arnory, and these two complained that Hugh le

Despenser had not only claimed almost the whole of Glamorgan as his share

but, because he was married to the eldest sister, had taken on the title of Earl of Gloucester.

It was an uneasy situation. Isabella watched it with calculating eyes. She was aware that the Despensers were creeping farther and farther into the King’s favour and the measure of their success was reflected in their attitude towards her. She was not entirely sure but she believed she detected a veiled insolence.

Trouble in the north broke out and this meant that all attention was focused on the border. Edward marched north with Lancaster to besiege Berwick.

Isabella and her ladies were left behind in Brotherton, a village near York. She was growing impatient. She was advancing well into her twenties; she had three children, born as she often thought, in humiliation. She, reckoned to be the most beautiful princess in Europe at one time, and none could deny she was still a handsome woman, was a notoriously neglected wife. She would never ever

forgive Edward for the humiliation he had made her suffer. The people of

England loved her– but it was partly because they were sorry for her. Well, one day she was going to make use of that sympathy. She was going to show

Edward that she had always despised him, and that she had borne her children out of expediency. Her nature had revolted. She could not deeply love those children, because they were Edward’s too and conceived in necessity. But she was devoted to her first-born, which might have been due to the fact that all her hopes rested on him. She visualized the day when he might stand with her

against his father. During her stay in Woodstock she had thought of herself as resembling Eleanor of Aquitaine whose sons had stood with her against their father.

There was a commotion below. Men were riding into the courtyard. Starting

to her feet she went down to see what was happening and was startled to find men she recognized as the servants of the Archbishop of York.

‘Something has happened,’ she cried.

‘My lady,’ said the spokesman of the men who she saw were troops, ‘the

Archbishop has sent us with all speed. He begs you to prepare to leave without delay. The Black Douglas is at hand with ten-thousand of his men and it seems that his plan is to take you hostage.’

Hostage to Black Douglas! A great soldier and patriot with a complexion so dark that it had earned him his name. Her eyes sparkled at the thought of

adventure. At least she thought Black Douglas was a man.

‘Is this indeed so,’ she said. ‘And how has this come to your knowledge?’

‘My lady, if you will prepare to leave at once you shall hear all when you are safe.’

She hesitated.

‘There is a force of loyal troops surrounding the castle,’ said the spokesman.

‘You must leave at once or you will be in acute danger. The Scots are uncouth.

They might not know how to treat a Queen.’

In less than an hour she was riding away from the castle in the company of the Archbishop’s men.

It was then that she heard what had happened. One of the Scottish scouts had been discovered in the town and because of his strange accent suspected. He was taken to the Archbishop and asked to explain his business. This he could not do to the Archbishop’s satisfaction and finally on being threatened with torture he had admitted that Black Douglas was marching on York, his plan

being to abduct the Queen and hold her prisoner.

When she arrived in York she was greeted by the Archbishop who was

delighted to have saved her but at the same time he believed that it would be dangerous for her to stay and that she should leave at once for Nottingham.

–――――――

The King had expressed little concern for Isabella. She was aware of this

and hated him for it. She remembered how distraught he had been when

Gaveston had been threatened and how he had once left her behind at

Scarborough in his need to escape with his beloved friend. If Hugh le Despenser had been threatened he would have been in a state of panic.

Oh yes, indeed, it was unforgivable.

Edward could not continue the Scottish war. The Scots could not be driven

out of Yorkshire. They had a grand leader in Bruce and what the English lacked was just such leadership. Edward was weak; Lancaster was little better. It was a sorry time for England.

Edward had been forced to suggest a two-year truce with Scotland, and

rather to his surprise Bruce had agreed. He did not know then that Bruce was becoming alarmed by the state of his health. Years before he had been in contact with lepers and the dreadful disease had begun to show itself. It was alarming and he needed rest from the rigours of a soldier’s life and for this reason he was ready enough to agree.

Edward was jubilant. He was the sort of man who could live happily in the

moment and shut his eyes to the disasters threatening the future which to the discerning eye would appear to be inevitable. He was behaving as foolishly over Hugh le Despenser as he had over Gaveston and the lesson of that earlier

relationship appeared to have made no impression on him. The Despensers were as greedy as Gaveston had been, as power-hungry and because of this, growing as unpopular with the people.

He will never learn, thought Isabella.

She was pleased that Edward was to go to France to pay homage to the King

– Isabella’s brother Philip V– for Ponthieu. It would give her an opportunity of sounding Philip and trying to discover how much help she could get from him if she should need it. She wondered whether it might be possible one day to place herself at the head of those barons who had had enough of the King and the Despensers. She had often thought of it when Gaveston had been alive, but it had not been possible then. At that time she had not been the mother of two fine boys. Young Edward was growing up long-legged and flaxen-haired like his

father and his grandfather; he was also showing a certain seriousness which seemed to please everyone.

She had heard it said: ‘That one is going to be Great Edward over again.’

That was what she liked to hear.

Now there was the journey to Amiens. She liked to travel and in her own

country she was always greeted with loyal affection. She noticed that the people were less effusive towards Edward. It was natural. News of his neglect of her would have reached the country and the people were offended on her account.

It was pleasant to be at the French Court again. She found it more graceful than that of England. The clothes of the women were more elegant. She was

ashamed of her own and determined to have some gowns made to wear in

France and take back with her.

Edward did the necessary homage and she had an opportunity of talking

alone to her brother.

Poor Philip! He looked far from well. His skin was yellowish and he had

aged beyond his years. He had only been on the throne for four years and it seemed as though he were going the same way as Le Hutin.

‘You are much thinner, Philip,’ she told him ‘Have you consulted your

doctors?’

Philip shrugged his shoulders. ‘They are determined I am to die shortly. The curse, sister.’

‘I should snap your fingers at them and tell them you refuse to die at the command of Jacques de Molai.’

‘Do not mention that name,’ said Philip quickly. ‘No one does. It is

unlucky.’

Isabella shook her head. If she had been in her brother’s place she would

have shouted that name from the turrets. She would have called defiance on the Grand Master. She would have let the people of France see that she could curse louder than the dead Templars.

But she was not subject to the curse.

‘Charles is waiting to step into my shoes,’ said Philip

‘That will be years hence and perhaps never.’

Philip shook his head. ‘I think not. And then― his turn will come. Tell me of England, sister.’

‘Need you ask? You know the kind of man I married.’

‘He still ignores you and prefers the couch of his chamberlain to yours?’

‘I would my father had married me to a man.’

‘He married you to England, sister. You are a Queen, remember.’

‘A Queen― who is of no importance! I hate these Despensers.’

‘The two of them?’

“Father and son. He dotes on them both but it is of course the pretty young man who is his pet.’

‘Well, sister, you have a fine boy.’

She nodded and whispered: ‘Yes, brother. I rejoice. Two boys and young

Edward growing more like his grandfather every day. People comment on this.’

‘What England needs now is another First Edward.’

‘What England does not need is the Second Edward.’

‘But that is what it has, Isabella.’

‘Perhaps not always. Perhaps not for much longer.’

He was startled. ‘What mean you?’

‘There is whispering against him. The barons hate the Despensers as much

as I do. If it should come to― conflict―’

She saw her brother’s face harden and she thought: How wrong I was to

expect help from him. All he is concerned with is his miserable curse.

‘It would be wise for you to continue to please him.’

‘Continue! I never began to.’

‘Oh come, sister, you have three children by him.’

‘Begotten in shame.’

‘You should not talk so. They are his and yours.’

‘They are indeed. But what I have to endure―’

‘Princes and princesses must always accept their fates, sister.’

What was the use of trying to get help from Philip?

But there was one other who was brought to her notice during that visit to France. This was Adam of Orlton, Bishop of Hereford, who conveyed to her that he had great admiration for her fortitude regarding her relationship with the King.

It was not long before they were finding opportunities of talking together.

He deplored the state of the country and the troubles between the barons. He hinted that he thought the Despensers were responsible for a great deal of the people’s growing dissatisfaction.

‘My lady,’ he said, ‘It is the affair of Piers Gaveston over again.’

How she agreed with him! How she longed to talk of her ambitions, but she

was too wily for that.

So she let him talk.

He told her that there were growing suspicions of Lancaster.

‘I have heard it whispered, my lady, that he has been in communication with Robert the Bruce who has paid him bribes to work with him against the King.’

‘I cannot believe it. Lancaster would never work against England, and

Robert the Bruce is hard put to it to pay his soldiers. How could he afford bribes?’

‘It is something which is being said,’ the Bishop replied. ‘It may be that Lancaster thinks he knows the way to bring about peace with Scotland better than the King. It is a fact that when the Scots make raids into England they never touch Lancaster’s land.’

‘I must look into this,’ said the Queen. ‘Have you told the King?’

‘My lady, I thought it wiser to tell you.’

She was exultant. What did that mean? Could it really be that men were

beginning to turn away from the King and look to her?

She felt the trip to Amiens had been successful even though she realized that she would get little help from the King of France.

The Despensers must have been aware of the resentment against them, but

so blind were they to anything but their personal gain and their certainty that they had the King in leading strings that they ignored the warnings.

It was the trouble over the Gloucester inheritance which brought matters to a head. The three brothers-in-law were still squabbling over their shares when young Hugh in a rage seized Newport which belonged to Hugh of Audley.

Audley complained to Lancaster who, believing that his prestige had been

restored since the affair with Warenne whom he had beaten so unreservedly, called the barons together.

‘We must rid ourselves of these Despensers,’ he announced.

‘The King will never hear of it,’ was the answer.

‘The King would not hear of Gaveston’s banishment, yet he was banished,’

retorted Lancaster.

‘Aye, and lost his head too, and although many liked to pretend they had no hand in that affair, I was never afraid to admit that I was there and I believe—

and so do other right-thinking men– that one of the best deeds any Englishman ever did was to rid the country of that parasite.’

This was the old Lancaster. Many of the barons were now turning to him