Текст книги "The Follies of the King"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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Hugh said quietly, ‘They will come here seeking me and you will see that

they will do the same to me.’

‘No,’ cried Edward shrilly. ‘I would never allow it. I should forbid it. They would have to listen to me― the King.’

Hugh looked at him sadly. He thought: They will never listen to you again, poor Edward. This can be the end of you and if it is for you it is for me also.

But they were not taken yet, though it could only be a matter of hours before their enemies came. They would watch the hideous spectacle of his father’s execution and then they would come to take him and make him the next chief actor in their grisly performance.

He stood up suddenly. ‘There is time yet. Edward we must not stay here.

They will march on the castle. It may be they are preparing to do so now. We must get away.’

‘Where to?’ asked Edward. ‘You mean just the two of us? Oh where are all

my loyal friends? There must be some of them left.’

‘My father is dead. Arundel is dead. And they died cruelly. No, Edward, we have no one but ourselves. We must get away. There is a boat on the shore.

Perhaps we could go to Lundy.’

‘To Lundy, yes. To Lundy. We shall be safe there, Hugh.’

‘Come then. There is not a moment to lose. Take a thick cloak. You may

need it. Stop for nothing more. It may be that they are already at the castle gates.’

Swiftly and silently they made their way out of the castle and came to the shore.

The boat was there. They got in and Hugh seized the oars. The strong wind

caught at their hair but they were free.

‘To Lundy!’ cried Edward. ‘Once there we will make plans. Perhaps we can

escape to France. Oh, this will not last, dear Hugh. The people will turn against that she-wolf whom I made my wife. My son Edward would never work against

me.’

Hugh did not remind the King that young Edward was with his mother and

had come with her to Bristol. It might be that the boy would turn against such perfidy in time, but at the moment he was under the spell of his beautiful mother and while he was with her he must work against his father.

The wind grew fierce and the boat could make no progress. Again and again

it was blown back towards the shore. It was no use trying to row against such a sea.

They would never reach Lundy at this rate.

Hugh shook his head sadly. They would have to abandon all hope of leaving

the country. With some difficulty Hugh brought the boat back to land and they disembarked on the coast of Wales.

–――――――

Hugh and the King slept the night in the shelter of a wood and the next day they walked until they came to the town of Cardiff. Hugh sold a jewel to buy them food and they rested at an inn where they talked with men who had heard of the Queen’s coming to England and setting herself up against the King.

‘‘Tis no more than a whore she be,’ said one man. ‘The true King will rise up, depend on it, man. God will not be with those that live in adultery.’

Such talk tempted the King to reveal his identity and he was warmly

welcomed and several men swore they would stand with him. His father had

defeated the Welsh but he had brought good rule to the country and they wanted no adulteress and her paramour ruling them.

The King was filled with hope. Hugh was more realistic. A few men at an

inn would count for little against the armies the Queen had raised.

Still it was good to see Edward in better spirits and they talked through the night of how they would raise men and Edward should win back what he had

lost.

In the morning they were less sanguinary. The terrible fate of the elder Hugh had sobered both of them. Edward was terrified more for his friend than for himself. He was certain that they would not dare harm him.

‘What we must do,’ said Hugh, ‘is to disguise ourselves, sound the people

and if many feel as this innkeeper and some of his friends do we may raise men to fight for us.’

‘You are right, dear Hugh,’ said Edward. 1 think we could take the

innkeeper into our confidence,’ replied Hugh.

They did and the man was clearly excited to be drawn into the conspiracy.

Welshmen of strict morals, he reiterated, will never support a whore and her paramour.

For some days they lived in high hope. Edward pinned his faith on his son.

‘He is but a boy yet,’ he said. ‘When he is a little older he will never stand against his father, that I know.’

‘But he has to grow up and much can happen before that,’ Hugh reminded

him.

There were days when their cause seemed hopeful but although there were

some who sympathised with him they had no desire to go to battle for his sake.

It was not long before the Queen and Mortimer heard of his adventures.

Mortimer said: ‘It is a pitiful attempt, but it would be wiser to put an end to his wanderings. Moreover, we want the Despenser. We will send a force to take them and bring them to us. A certain amount of harm can be done by these

wanderings.’

‘Let us send Henry of Lancaster, Edward’s cousin. That will show that

people of authority are with us. Lancaster should not have much difficulty in finding him.’

The news that Henry of Lancaster had come into Wales in search of the

King quickly spread and Hugh suggested that they go into hiding because he was not altogether sure who were their friends.

They disguised themselves as peasants and left the small band of supporters they had managed to muster to wander the country like two itinerant farm hands.

They were discovered by a farmer sleeping in one of his fields. He wanted men to help dig a field and they would be given food and lodging in payment for their work, he told them.

Hugh said quickly that they would be glad to earn a lodging and a meal but they were so urgently in need of the latter that they must eat before they worked.

The farmer studied them suspiciously and at length agreed as he said to

humour them, so they were given cold bacon and bread with ale which due to their hunger tasted good to them.

Then they were set to work. Strangely enough it was Hugh rather than the

King who betrayed them. Edward was quite handy with a spade. As a youth he had gloried in physical labour as a release from lessons. He had enjoyed

working with the blacksmith and had often helped with thatching and digging trenches. In those days too he had sought the society of grooms and workmen, so he slipped naturally into the role of farm worker.

Not so Hugh, and it was very clear to the farmer that he had an unusual pair in his house.

There had been rumours about the King and the Despenser and he had heard

that they were in the neighbourhood. He wanted no involvement in these

matters. God alone knew where they could lead a man. Someone would be

calling him traitor next.

He sent one of his workers into a nearby town with a message for the mayor.

He had a strange pair working for him and he thought it was his duty to tell someone who was wiser than he was and would know what a man should do in

such circumstances.

The messenger was asked questions. Indeed the itinerants were interesting.

They sounded uncommonly like that much sought after pair, the King and his favourite. Bearing in mind what had happened to the latter’s father– and the whole country was aware of that– no one wanted very much to do with these

matters. Careless dabbling could bring a man to the terrible fate of that new law against traitors which made honest men shudder in their beds to contemplate.

It was not long before Lancaster’s men arrived at the farm.

‘We are betrayed,’ said Hugh. ‘My lord, this will be the end.’

The King was treated with respect. Not so Hugh. He was roughly seized by

men who delighted in heaping indignity upon him.

‘Come, pretty boy,’ they said. ‘It will be rather different for you now.’

They dragged him away from the protesting King. ‘Where are they taking

him?’ demanded Edward.

‘To his Maker I’d take wager, my lord,’ was the answer. Edward covered his face with his hands. He wanted to shut out the sight of Hugh’s appealing eyes as he was dragged out of his sight.

He was courteously treated. He was to go to the castle of Llantrissaint, he was told.

‘On whose orders?’ he asked.

They did not answer.

‘You forget that I am your King,’ he said.

And they were ominously silent.

But he was not really interested in his own fate. He could only think of what they had done to Hugh’s father. Oh, if they should do that to Hugh, he would die of despair.

So they were parted at last. Their attempts to escape had come to nothing, as they might have known they would.

And he was to go to bleak Llantrissaint Castle, the prisoner of someone—

his wife, he supposed. Mortimer?

Meanwhile Hugh le Despenser was on his way to Bristol to be delivered to

the Queen.

–――――――

Hugh stood before them. They were seated on chairs like thrones– the

powerful beautiful Queen who had once made a show of humility and had been so careful to hide her hatred from him, and Mortimer, strong, bold, virile, as different from Edward as a man could be. It was said that the Queen was

besottedly enamoured of him and their association was now of some duration.

Looking back Hugh could see that it had been inevitable from the moment they had met. They were a match for each other– passionate ambitious people. The Queen was as ruthless as her father who had destroyed the Templars.

What did she plan for Edward? He trembled to think. That it would be

diabolical, he did not doubt. Her father had brought on himself the curse of the Templars. Perhaps she would bring retribution on herself too.

And young Edward? Where was he?

If I could but see young Edward, he thought, there might be a chance. I could move him to pity for his father’s plight.

‘So here is Hugh le Despenser,’ said the Queen. ‘You look less happy, my

lord, than when I saw you last.’

‘That was a long time ago, my lady.’

‘Indeed it was. Why then you were like a petted dog. You sat on your

master’s satin cushion and were well fed with sweetmeats.’

‘There will be no more sweetmeats for Hugh le Despenser,’ put in Mortimer

grimly.

‘I do not expect them,’ replied Hugh with dignity.

‘Well, you gorged yourself while they were led to you,’ laughed the Queen.

‘Oh, it is going to be very different for you now, you know.’

‘So I had thought.’

‘We are going to London,’ said the Queen. ‘We are going to receive the

homage of my good and faithful people. Alas for you, I fancy they do not like you very much.’

For a moment he thought of good honest Walter Stapledon and wondered

what his last hour had been like in the hands of the London mob.

‘I must accept my fate for all come to that.’

‘He relinquishes his life of luxury much more easily than I had thought he would,’ commented the Queen.

‘Oh he has much to learn yet,’ responded Mortimer grimly.

Hugh was praying silently: Oh God give me strength to meet what is coming to me.

‘Take him away,’ said the Queen.

–――――――

They left Bristol for London. Isabella rode at the head of her army with

Mortimer on one side and Sir John of Hainault on the other. Adam of Orlton was with them. He was determined to have a say in affairs.

Among the Queen’s baggage was the head of Walter Stapledon. Mortimer

had suggested it be placed on London Bridge but the Queen was too wily for that.

‘No,’ she had said, ‘he was a churchman and many would say he had been a

good man. He was our enemy and he never pretended to be otherwise. Such men have a habit of becoming martyrs and I fear martyrs more than soldiers. Nay. I shall show my virtue by sending it to Exeter and having it buried in his own cathedral. It will be remembered in my favour.’

‘You are right, my love,’ replied Mortimer. ‘But are you not always right?’

She smiled at him lovingly. She wished as she had so many times that

Mortimer had been the son of the King and she had come here to marry him

instead of the unworthy Edward.

Hugh le Despenser rode with them. It had been their delight to find an old nag for him to ride on. He and the King had always cared so passionately for horses and they had once possessed some of the finest in the kingdom. This poor mangy animal called further attention to his degradation and in case any should fail to be aware of it as they entered the town through which the processions passed Isabella and Mortimer had commanded that there should be trumpets to announce the arrival of Hugh le Despenser and attention be called to him as he ambled along on his wretched nag.

Hugh felt sick with despair. He knew that a fate similar to that given his father was awaiting him and he knew there was no way of avoiding it. He

fervently hoped that he would be able to meet his death with courage.

He had eaten nothing since he had been taken. He was growing thin and ill

with anxiety more than from lack of nourishment.

Isabella watched him with apprehension.

‘He looks near death,’ she said. ‘Are we going to be cheated of our

revenge?’

‘He could be,’ agreed Mortimer. ‘Indeed he looks near to it. I’d say there was a man who was courting death.’

‘He need not go to such lengths. He does not need to court death.’

‘We should not wait to reach London. I doubt he will outlast the journey.

We should stop at Hereford, and try him there. It would be safer.’

‘Alas, I wanted to give my faithful Londoners a treat. How they would have enjoyed the spectacle of pretty Hugh on the scaffold.’

‘I’d say it was Hereford or just quiet death.’

‘Then it must be Hereford,’ said the Queen.

They had reached Hereford and there they halted for the trial of Hugh le

Despenser.

His guards told him that the day of his judgment was at hand.

‘Little did you think when you sported with the King that it would bring you to this,’ taunted one of them.

He was silent. He felt too tired to talk. Besides there was nothing to say.

He was taken to the hall where his judges were waiting for him. They were

headed by Sir William Trussell, a man who could be relied on to show him no favour. Trussell had fought against the King at Boroughbridge and when Lancaster had been overthrown he had fled to the Continent. He had returned to England with Isabella and had become one of her firm adherents.

He now harangued Hugh, listing the crimes of which he was accused. He

had mismanaged the affairs of the kingdom in order to gain money and

possessions; he had been responsible for the execution of that saint Thomas of Lancaster and had attempted to hide the fact that miracles were performed at his tomb. His inefficiency had been the cause of the defeat of Bannockburn. In fact any ill which had befallen England since the death of Gaveston and the rule of the Despensers had been because of Hugh’s wickedness.

Of course there was no hope for him.

‘Hugh, all good people of this realm by common consent agree that you are

a thief and shall be hanged and that you are a traitor and shall therefore be drawn and quartered. You have been outlawed by the King and by common

consent and you returned to the court without warrant and for this you shall be beheaded; and for that you made discord between the King and Queen and

others in this realm you shall be disembowelled and your bowels burned; so go to your judgment, attained wicked traitor.’

Hugh listened to this terrible sentence almost listlessly. It was no surprise. It had happened to his father. It was their revenge and he had known from the moment they had taken him that it was coming.

All he could do was pray for courage, that he might endure what was

coming to him with fortitude.

There was to be no delay, ordered the Queen. Delay was dangerous. He

might die and defeat them of their satisfaction. Almost immediately after the sentence had been passed, he was dressed in a long black robe with his

escutcheon upside down. They had said he should be crowned because he had

ruled the King so they placed a crown of nettles on his brow to add a little more discomfort and he was dragged out of the castle.

As they prepared to hang him on the gallows which was fifty feet high in

order that as many as possible might witness the spectacle, the Queen took a seat with Mortimer and Adam of Orlton on either side of her that they might gloat over the pain inflicted on the King’s favourite.

The handsome body now emaciated beyond recognition dangled on the rope

and Isabella feared that he might die before they could cut him down and

administer the rest of the dreadful sentence.

To her delight she saw that Hugh’s lips were moving slightly as they laid

him out and bared his body for the fearsome ordeal.

This is the man he preferred, thought Isabella . I was humiliated for his sake.

He took away my friends; he deprived me of my rights. And now he is in my hands these are his just deserts.

There was little satisfaction though, for Hugh was so quiet. Once she heard a faint moaning, but there were no cries for mercy.

She reached for Mortimer’s hand. He seized it and pressed it.

This was the end of Hugh, they were both thinking. There remained the

King.

―――――――

EDWARD

―――――――

KING NO MORE

Edward was numb with grief. Why was life so cruel to him? First they had

taken Gaveston and now Hugh. Why was it his love always brought disaster?

And what now? He was too numb to care.

They were taking him to Kenilworth. His cousin Henry of Lancaster had

come to him and told him that he was to be his guest.

Henry had looked at him with compassion. Strangely enough he seemed to

understand.

So they rode side by side to Lancaster’s castle of Kenilworth which lay

between Warwick and Coventry. Lancaster was proud of the place. Edward’s

grandfather, Henry III, had given it to his youngest son and so Lancaster had inherited it.

‘Have no fear, I shall not harm you, my lord,’ he said, and Edward thought how strange it was that a subject should speak to his King in such a manner. He might have been incensed, he might have been apprehensive but he could think of nothing but: Hugh is dead.

He lay in the room which had been prepared for him. There were guards at

the door to remind him that he was a prisoner. An ironic situation indeed. A King the prisoner of his Queen!

Oh Isabella, Isabella, he thought. I never really knew you. those years youwere so meek; you bore my children. You waited patiently until I had time tospare for you. Gaveston never knew what your real thoughts were. Too lateHughdiscovered; and even then I would not believe it. And now Mortimer isyour lover. You― Isabella.

She was like her father– Philip the Handsome, ruthless, implacable, feared by all until that final day of reckoning when he lay on his death-bed and knew that the curse put on him and his heirs by the Templars was being fulfilled.

Isabella was cruel. Isabella was ruthless. She hated him. He wondered what she and Mortimer would do now.

The days passed. Lancaster came to him– gentle and apologetic. It is not my fault that you are here, my lord, he seemed to say, I but obey orders.

It was never wise to offend a King. However low he had fallen, who could

know when he would come back into power again?

That was a heartening thought. Was that why Lancaster was always

respectful? Oh no, it was more than that. Henry was his cousin; they were both royal; men who were close to the throne had the greatest respect for It.

Henry and he played chess together. It whiled away the hours.

‘Henry,’ he asked, ‘how long will you keep me here?’

Henry lifted his shoulders. Doubtless it would be for Mortimer to say.

Mortimer. That upstart from the Marcher country, a man who had been the

King’s prisoner and escaped! Oh, what a fool not to have had his head long ago.

But when he looked back, it was over a lifetime of follies. A headless Mortimer would never have escaped from the Tower, would never have become the

Queen’s lover, would never have captured the King.

But perhaps Mortimer was merely the tool. She would have found another

lover, another man to lead her armies. She was his real enemy, the She-Wolf of France.

He tried to give himself to the game. Even in that he was beaten. He had

never been able to plan an artful strategy Lancaster could beat him on the board as his brother had done in life. But Lancaster had come to a tragic end. He had not won in the end.

‘Checkmate,’ said Henry triumphant.

The King shrugged his shoulders. He said: ‘You are a kinder jailer than I

might have hoped for, cousin.’

Lancaster rearranged the pieces on the board.

‘I do not forget your royalty, my lord,’ he replied.

‘You have never forgiven me for the fate of your brother,’ said Edward. ‘But I was not to blame. If he had not parleyed with the Scots― he would be alive today.’

‘He was a great man, my lord. His trial was hasty and he had no chance to

defend himself.’

‘Let us not go over the past,’ said Edward. ‘It is over and done with. There have been many mistakes. Let us not brood on them cousin. You have been my enemy and it is for this reason that the Queen and her paramour have given me into your keeping. You have done everything you could to preserve your

brother’s honour and that I understand. You built a cross for his soul outside Leicester. You proclaimed that miracles had been performed at his tomb and you tried to make a saint of him, knowing full well that the more men revered him, the more they would revile their King.’

‘It was your friendships, my lord, which made the people revile you.’

‘I have been maligned and condemned,’ cried the King. ‘I have lost those

whom I loved best. But what I can say is that I have received kindness at your hands and I did not expect it. You and I have not been friends, Henry, cousins though we be. And it is because of the enmity between us that I am put in your care. Yet you show me kindness. It is something which moves me.’

His cousin lowered his eyes to the board.

‘Another game, my lord?’ he asked. ‘Would you wish to have your

revenge?’

The King wanted to laugh aloud. His revenge. Yes, he would like to have his revenge― his revenge on the murderers of Hugh and his father. Oh the tortures they had inflicted on that loved body. His revenge on Isabella, the traitoress.

Ah, if only he could move the men and women of his kingdom to the places

where he wanted them to be as easily as he could move the pieces on the

chessboard!

–――――――

The Queen rode out in her silken dress adorned with shining gold buttons;

her skirt flowed over her palfry, and about her shoulders was an ermine coat.

She looked beautiful and royal. The people of London cheered her. She was

their ruler now. It was time the King was set aside. From the day he had worn the crown he had shown himself unworthy. They had always loved the Queen.

She had responded to their admiration; she had shown them clearly that of all the people of England the Londoners held first place in her heart.

Beside her rode her son Edward– his young face stern. He had grown up

quickly in the last weeks and was beginning to understand what would be

required of him.

She was going to the Tower to receive the members of Parliament who

would come to tell her what the decision had been.

Already she guessed it. They would depose the King and young Edward

should be proclaimed Edward III. It was what she had worked for! Her son King and she and Mortimer the Regents who should control him and rule the land.

It was like the fulfilment of a dream.

She and Mortimer as they lay in bed the previous night had talked of their coming power. Edward would turn to them for advice and they would govern

the land in his name. She often thought how wise she had been to remain meek and compliant until she had her children.

She said: ‘Edward is behaving strangely. He is quiet― too thoughtful.’

‘Oh come, love,’ cried Mortimer, ‘he is such a boy. He regards you as a

goddess. You will have no difficulty in making him obey you.’

She allowed Mortimer to believe that she accepted this but she continued

uneasy.

Yet how sweet were the cheers of the Londoners in her ears! She was

foolish to have these doubts.

The prize was just about to be handed to her. A King who was but a boy and would need a Regent and who should that be but his mother who had raised an army and brought it from across the Channel to depose his father of whom they all wished to be rid?

She entered the Tower. In the royal apartments she and Mortimer awaited

the coming of the ministers.

She received them eagerly and their first words sent her spirits soaring.

The Parliament had decided that Edward the Second must be deposed and

his first-born son Edward crowned Edward the Third. This had the unanimous agreement of all the barons and the clergy.

Isabella clasped her hands together and tried not to show her jubilation.

‘My son is young yet,’ she said slowly.

‘There will be a Regency, my lady.’

A Regency indeed! The Queen. Who else? And she would choose her dear

and gentle Mortimer to stand beside her.

‘The matter has been, given much consideration, my lady. The Parliament

will select four bishops, four earls and six barons to form a Regency. It is the opinion that one bishop, one earl and two barons should be in constant

attendance upon the young King.’

She could not believe she had heard aright. A Regency which did not

include her! What were they thinking of? To whose efforts did they owe the King’s defeat? Who but Isabella had rid them of the worthless Edward?

With admirable restraint she hid her fury.

She dismissed them saying she would impart their decision to the young

King.

She went immediately to Mortimer and her rage burst forth.

‘How dare they! I would hang them all. After all I have done. It does not

occur to them to name me. Why? Because I am a woman? Is that it? Who raised the army? Who planned for years? Surely there is no one―’ she looked at

Mortimer and added, ‘nay two who would be the natural Regents?’

‘My love,’ said Mortimer, ‘this is a cruel blow, but let us plan carefully. It is your son who will decide to whom he will listen. Let them give him his barons and bishops. You are still his mother.’

She held out her hand and he kissed it. ‘How you always comfort me,

Mortimer,’ she said.

‘It is my purpose in life, my dearest.’

‘Yes, we shall defeat them,’ she said. ‘You and I will not be set aside for these men.’

‘Assuredly we shall not.’

They sat down on one of the window-seats and he put an arm about her.

‘How beautiful you looked this day in your regal ermine,’ he said

soothingly. ‘A Queen in very truth.’

‘But not good enough to be their Regent,’ she said bitterly.

‘Isabella, my love. We shall outwit them all. Do not forget. We have young Edward.’

She nodded but she was not completely at ease. She had begun to have

doubts about Edward.

–――――――

She was right in thinking that the young Edward was becoming

apprehensive. He was beginning to understand more of what was going on

around him. He could not be proud of his parents and he now knew why people had constantly compared him with his grandfather.

His father had been weak and dissolute, favouring handsome young men and

frittering away the kingdom’s wealth in extravagant gifts for them. His mother was living in open adultery with Roger de Mortimer, and they made no attempt to hide it.

He often thought of that brief period when they had stayed at Hainault and he and Philippa had talked together. He had told her a great deal about his perplexities and, although she had been very sheltered from the world and did not understand half those problems which beset him, she had shown him a

wonderful sympathy, an adulation almost which had been very sweet to him.

He had told her that he was going to marry her. It was fortunate that there had been some arrangement between his mother and her parents that he should marry her or one of her sisters.

‘Rest assured, Philippa,’ he had vowed, ‘it shall be you.’

She had believed him. Although he was but a few months older than she was

and they were only in their fifteenth year there was a resolution about him which she trusted would bring him what he wanted. To her Edward was like a god,

strong, handsome, determined to do what was right. She had never met anyone like him, she had said; and he had replied that she felt thus because they were intended for each other.

Strange events were happening all around him. His father was a prisoner. It was wrong surely that a King should be made the prisoner of his subjects. But it was not exactly his subjects who had made him a prisoner. It was his wife, the Queen.

He had been fond of his father as he had been of his mother, for he had

always been kind to him, had shown him affection and been proud of him. His mother, though, had charmed him. When she had taken him to France he had

begun to feel uneasy because of the trouble about his father. Hainault had been a brief respite because Philippa was there. But since their return to England events had moved fast. There had actually been war between his father and mother and his mother was notorious. The Despensers had been brutally done to death and his father was a prisoner. Wliat would they do to him?

A cold feeling of horror came over him.

‘I like it not,’ he said aloud, ‘and by nature of who I am, I am in the centre of this.’

When his mother came to him with the Archbishop of Canterbury and his

uncies the Earls of Kent and Norfolk he was ready for them.

They knelt before him; there was a new respect in their manner; he believed that something had happened to his father.

The Archbishop spoke first. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘the King your father,

showing himself unworthy to wear the crown―’

Edward caught his breath. ‘My father is―dead?’

‘Nay, my lord. He lives, a prisoner in Kenilworth. There he is well cared for by the Earl of Lancaster. But because he has shown himself unworthy to govern he is to be deposed. You are the new King of England.’

‘But how is that possible when my father lives? He has been crowned the

King of this country.’

‘The crown is too burdensome for his frail head,’ went on the Archbishop.

‘You are to be the King. You must have no fear. You are young and will have a Regency to show you how to govern.’

‘I have no fear for myself,’ said the young Edward. ‘But I have for my

father. I would see him.’

‘That, my lord, cannot be,’ the Archbishop told him.