Текст книги "The Follies of the King"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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THE CURSE OF THE TEMPLARS

AT this time the Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert de Winchelsey, died. He

had been ailing for some time and was an old man so his death was not

unexpected

Walter Reynolds, Bishop of Worcester, who had been an intimate friend of

Gaveston, asked for an audience with the King, which was immediately granted.

Reynolds was a crafty man. He did not come straight to the point which he felt even Edward might consider a little audacious but it had always been Walter Reynolds’ opinion that no delicacy of feeling should come between a man and his ambitions. The See of Canterbury was vacant. A new Archbishop would

have to be appointed and in view of the closeness of his friendship with the King, it could possibly be that Walter Reynolds might step into those shoes so recently vacated by Robert of Winchelsey.

Reynolds fell onto his knees and kissed the King’s hand. ‘My lord, my lord, I see how you still suffer from our terrible loss.’

‘I think of him continuously,’ replied the King.

‘As I do also.’

‘And the manner of his death, Walter, I shall never forget it or forgive it.’

‘You could not, my lord. The happy times we had together―’

They talked of them for a while, Reynolds deliberately arousing the King’s despair. He was more likely to agree when he was in a maudlin mood. After all the three of them had been so much together. Reynolds had made it his duty to provide for their comfort. It had been Gaveston who had considered Walter

should be rewarded in the first place.

At length, Reynolds said: ‘There is Canterbury.’

‘Ah yes, poor Robert. I never liked him. An uncomfortable man, but a good

one by all accounts.’

‘My lord will not be sorry to see him go. You must put someone in his place who will be your man.’

‘The monks have already elected Cobham.’

‘Cobham. That will never do.’

‘You know they claim their right.’

‘But my lord, the monks of Canterbury have no rights over their King.’

‘They were always a tiresome company. They have made trouble for my

ancestors through the centuries.’

‘That is no reason why they should make trouble for you, gracious lord.

Insolent fellows.’

Edward sighed. ‘If he were here he would jibe at them.’

‘He would be angry at the manner in which they treat you.’

‘He was always eager to uphold me,’ said Edward fondly. ‘You know

Clement issued a bull only a month or so ago reserving to himself the

appointment of the archbishop.’

‘Clement! He sways with the wind. The French King whistles and he comes.

There is one thing I know of which could make him change his mind.’

Edward raised his eyebrows and Walter went on: ‘Money. Poor Clement,

but what is he but Philip’s puppet? Philip has him there at Avignon under his nose. Philip says, Come here. Go there. And what does Clement do? He obeys.

He has persecuted the Templars. Why? Because Philip says so. There is one

thing he can do without the help of the King of France, and that is amass money.

I have heard he will do a great deal for it.’

Edward was thoughtful.

‘‘Why Walter, how comforting it would be if you were Archbishop of

Canterbury.’

Walter folded the palms of his hands together and turned his eyes up to the ceiling.

‘I would serve you with my life, dear lord.’ Then he fell on his knees. ‘If only this could but come to pass! Can you not see our dear friend looking down on us from Heaven. Sometimes I think, lord, that he is working for us. He could never forget us, could he, any more than we could forget him? I wonder whether Clement would go so far.’

‘Let us find out,’ said Edward.

They did, and discovered that the Pope was willing to go a very long way

for the sake of thirty-two thousand marks.

It was a great deal of money, but worth it to have in the important post of Archbishop of Canterbury a man who would serve the King rather than the

Church, and if his reputation was hardly that to be expected of a good

churchman, the King did not care. It was comforting to have Walter in such a position. They could meet often and talk over old times. Together they could mourn for the incomparable Gaveston.

‘The King is mad,’ said Lancaster.

Pembroke agreed with him but there was a feud between them because

Lancaster, Warwick and the rest had made break his word. Pembroke was

wooing the King, for he feared to be deprived of his lands.

If there had not been this rift between the barons, they would have stood out against this appointment of Walter Reynolds to the important See of Canterbury but, as there was, it came to pass.

–――――――

There was news from France of Philip’s final acts against the Templars and when the story was told, Edward was glad that he had acted differently towards that company of knights. In England they became absorbed into the rest of the community, and when they considered what happened to their brethren in

France they must be grateful to the King and the English for evermore.

Philip the Fair had pursued them with a ferocity which was hard to

understand. True, he wanted their wealth but he could have taken that without inflicting such tortures on them. The rumours which came in from France were horrifying. The Queen listened to them and told herself at least her father was a strong man. Frenchmen trembled at the mention of his name. It would never be like that with Edward. Even now many of the barons were against him and she guessed that Lancaster was waiting for the moment when he could seize power.

Edward was weak. He was a fool when the young Edward was older something

would happen, she was sure of that.

In the meantime she must show a certain affection for her husband, even if she did not feel it. It was necessary to get more children and she was determined to. Her bonny Edward was the delight of her life. But she wanted him to have a brother― several if possible.

Although many of the Templars had suffered the most cruel tortures and had been burned at the stake, their Grand Master, Jacques de Molai, still lived. De Molai was a Burgundian nobleman who had joined the crusades and fought

valiantly against the Infidel. When he had been invited to Paris some years before he came unsuspecting and almost immediately was seized on, fettered, and submitted to such excruciating torture that he had collapsed under it and confessed to the evil deeds of which it was suggested he was guilty.

That men of logic did not believe he was meant nothing. So rigourous had

been the torture that few could have stood out against it, certainly not a man of de Molai’s age.

At this time, the Order had been suppressed and its riches were in the hands of the King of France, but the Grand Master and the Master of Normandy still lived because it had been discovered that, on account of their rank in the Order, their death sentence must be sanctioned by the Pope.

Realizing that death was at hand, and as he had suffered so much that his

poor pain-racked body was indifferent to more suffering, the Grand Master

made a declaration that he deeply regretted his previous statements. He had spoken as he did under duress. He wanted now to tell the King of France and his accusers that his confession had been wrung from his weak body. His soul was in protest and he now wished to state the truth. He was innocent. The whole order was innocent. His destruction had been the work of his rapacious enemies.

The Master of Normandy joined his voice with that of de Molai.

As this happened beside the scaffold which had been erected in the forecourt of Notre Dame, there was no way of hushing it up because many people had

gathered to see the end of these men. Their voices rang out clearly and the crowd was hushed and it seemed, said some, that God himself was speaking

through the Grand Master.

In view of the fact that they had rescinded and to placate the growing

apprehension and rising anger of the crowd, it was announced that their death sentence should be temporarily waived and the men taken back to their prison.

When the King heard what had happened he was furious. He could not rest

while de Molai lived. He had waited a long time to finish him, as he said, and now to have the matter delayed again was more than he could endure.

Meanwhile the prisoners had been sent back to the Provost of Paris.

‘More delay!’ raged the King. ‘There will be no real peace until those men are dead.’ He made a sudden decision. He was not going to wait for more

arguments. ‘To when they shall meet their end,’ he declared, ‘They shall be burned at the stake in the Ile de la Cité at the hour of vespers.’

The King’s word was law; and news of what was about to happen spread

through the city. That was why shortly before the appointed time, the streets were crowded and it seemed that the whole of Paris was making its way to the spot where the burnings were to take place.

The people were overawed by the sight of Jacques de Molai and his

companion for they seemed to glow with some special power.

The poor broken men they had been were no longer there. Jacques held his

head high and the light in his eyes seemed to illumine his face. People noticed that his hands did not tremble as he bared his chest.

When his hands were about to be tied, he said to the guards, ‘Suffer me to fold my hands awhile and make my prayer to God for verily it is time. I am presently to die, but wrongfully, God knows. Death is near, and I am innocent of that which I am accused. Because of this, woe will come ere long to those who have condemned us without cause.’

Then he cried out on in a loud voice which could be heard throughout that

crowded square: ‘God will avenge our death.’

There was a deep silence. Some lowered their heads and prayed. The

spectacle of men burning to death no longer excited them. There was a deep sense of foreboding in the crowd that day.

The crackle of the wood seemed ominous and as it burst into flame and the

smoke rose many people fell to their knees and prayed.

No good would come to France, they believed. The King of France was

cursed. So was the Puppet Pope. For it was those two who had been at the very heart of the Templars’ destruction.

The legend grew and when one month later the Pope died, people were

certain that the curse existed. Philip himself lived only eight months after that day when Jacques de Molai and the Master of Normandy were burned to death

in the Ille de la Cité.

–――――――

BANNOCKBURN

EDWARD had something on which to congratulate himself. Since the death

of Gaveston, his people had warmed towards him. This was largely due to the Queen whose beauty appealed to them and whose outward resignation to her

husband’s conduct won their admiration. The fact that the King and Queen were seen more frequently together and had the lusty young Edward as a certain sign that they now and then lived together as husband and wife, had pleased the people. The King could never be like the great Edward the First but perhaps with his evil genius Gaveston gone forever, there was hope of a return to a normal way of life.

Moreover the feud between the barons was in his favor for they no longer

stood together against him. Lancaster’s party was strong but the powerful Earl of Pembroke had quarreled with it over the death of Gaveston, and Pembroke had joined himself with the King.

Edward felt that he could enjoy a period of peace, as far as that were

possible without Gaveston. Then there was trouble from the North.

The Scots had rejoiced in the death of Edward the First and the accession of his son which had resulted in their salvation. Scotland under Robert the Bruce had grown stronger, as England under Edward the Second had become weaker.

Bruce was just the man to take advantage of such a position. He had gradually but steadily begun to free his country from the English domination set up by Edward, the Hammer of the Scots.

It was clear, that the second Edward had no heart for a fight.

He was not the strong warlike figure that his father had been. He had retired from the scene of action as soon as it was possible for him to do so and had left the Earl of Richmond in the north, bestowing on him the title of Guardian of Scotland. His task was far from enviable and intermittent warfare between the Scots and English and recently Bruce had made raids over the border into

England on each occasion returning with valuable spoils.

The situation was becoming dangerous. One by one those fortresses held by

the English were falling to the Scots. Edward groaned and cursed the Scots but he did little to prevent the disintegration of power. Bruce, inwardly exultant, often wondered what Great Edward would think if he could see what was

happening Had he lived, the conquest of Scotland would have been brought

about. Indeed, it was a happy day for the Scots when he died and his son took the crown.

The Scots had no respect for Edward and an army without a leader, however

well equipped, could not fail to arouse wild hopes in the hearts of its opponents.

One by one the fortresses fell. Perth, Dumfries and Roxburg were taken.

Linlithgow had been cleverly taken when a soldier from the Douglas clan,

disguised as a carter, had asked leave to take a hay cart into the castle. As it drew up in the gate‚ way beneath the great portcullis, from under the hay armed men sprang out, entered the castle and took the defenders by surprise. Such incidents put heart into Bruce’s army. They were not so well equipped as the English and must rely on cunning. It seemed they had plenty of this and under Bruce’s leadership, their hopes ran high.

The Castle of Edinburgh seemed to present the greatest difficulty of all as it was surrounded by three sides which were declared to be impassable precipices.

The Scots were in despair when one of the soldiers came to his commander

Randolph and told him that as a youth he had had a mistress who was in the Castle and he had cut out steps in the cliff face so that he might visit her. He realized that every time he had visited her he had risked his life but he had come through safely and now he could show them the way.

They decided to try it and with the aid of rope ladders actually made their way up the steep cliff-face to the walls of the castle. They ascended, invaded the castle, killed the unsuspecting sentinels and took it.

This was the greatest triumph and incidents like this were, said Bruce, worth a thousand men.

At this time only three important castles remained in English hands: Stirling, Dunbar and Berwick. Of these, Stirling was the most important and Bruce

decided that they must take it, but the castle was well defended and Bruce knew that to attempt to storm it would mean the loss of men and ammunition which he could ill afford to lose. As a great soldier, he was less sangillnary than his men and he realized they would achieve successes in the existing circumstances it would be a very different matter if the English army marched up to Scotland.

However, the more fortresses he could wrest from them before the main attack the better, and Stirling was of the utmost importance.

Therefore he sent his brother Edward Bruce to besiege the castle; Edward

harried its occupants in every way and the Governor, Sir Philip Mowbray, was unable to procure the supplies he needed. Edward Bruce however lacked

astuteness of his brother and was beguiled by Sir Philip into conferring with him. To take the castle would be expensive for the Scots in men and arms;

moreover there was a possibility that the operation might not be successful.

‘Edward’s armies are on the way to defend Stirling,’ was Sir Philip’s

argument. ‘I can hold out until they arrive. This could spell a defeat for you which could be disastrous to the Scottish cause.’

Edward Bruce replied that all knew the nature of the King of England. He

was not like his father. It seemed like he had no intention of bringing an army to Scotland. In which case in due time the Scots would have Stirling as they had Edinburgh, Linlithgow and the rest.

‘That is true,’ replied Mowbray. ‘So I will make a truce with you. If the

English army is not within three leagues of this castle by the Feast of St John the Baptist, I will surrender to you without the loss of one life on either side.’

Edward Bruce agreed. When his brother Robert heard what he had done he

was greatly displeased but, determined to make the best of the situation, he began to see that the arrangement would give him a chance to gather together an army to stand against the English should they come.

–――――――

Pembroke came in haste to Edward. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘you will see the

urgency of this matter. Mowbray must be relieved at Stirling and we have little time in which to do it.’

Edward sighed. ‘These tiresome Scots.’

Pembroke went on a trifle impatiently: ‘Mowbray is a gallant soldier and a faithful servant. He needs assistance and he must have it.’

‘Then, let us send it.’

‘My lord, that is not enough. Since your father’s death we have lost a great deal of that which he gained. One by one the garrison towns are slipping away from us. We must stop this and the only way to do it is to amass an army and march on Scotland.’

‘The barons―’

‘It is an opportunity to unite them in a single cause. No matter what their quarrels with each other, their duty to the Crown remains. I am ready to forget my differences with Warwick until this matter is resolved and so must they.’

‘I see this could be so,’ said Edward.

‘There must be a full scale invasion from sea and land. The Scots have a

great leader in the Bruce. Never have they been so united― even under Wallace.

Now is the time, my lord. If we allow Stirling to fall into the hands of the Scots it will be a disaster. We owe it to Mowbray to send relief as soon as it is possible.’

‘It shall be done,’ cried Edward. He felt a sudden enthusiasm for the fight.

‘It was true that it would bind the barons together and he was tired– and a little afraid– of their continual bickering. It would help him to forget Gaveston.

People were always comparing him with his father, now they should see that he could be warlike too. He would teach the Scots a lesson.’

‘We should summon the earls and barons without fail,’ said Pembroke

‘Let it be done,’ answered Edward.

Within a few days the commands were issued to eight earls― among them

Lancaster– and eighty-seven barons.

They were to meet at Berwick by the tenth day of June.

–――――――

Preparations went on apace. Edward ordered that a fleet of twenty-three

vessels be assembled at the Cinque ports and their purpose was to invade

Scotland.

In all this Pembroke was beside the King. He tried to instill into Edward a respect for his opponent. It would not be the first time Pembroke had faced Bruce. He had been victorious against him at Methven and beaten by him at

Loudoun Hill and he knew him for a formidable foe. Edward laughed aside his warnings. Bruce was a man to be reckoned with, yes, he accepted that. But such an army would come against him that his would be completely outnumbered.

‘Even my father could not have withstood such an army had he been on the

opposing side,’ said Edward.

‘ ‘Tis so, my lord,’ replied Pembroke. ‘But we must not make the mistake of expecting easy victory.’

Pembroke was a master at the art of war. He made sure that the army should have the necessary provisions; he set up men whose efficiency he could rely on to take care of the stores. They must have in their train smiths, carpenters, masons, and armourers, wagons to carry the tents and pavilions and all that was necessary to warfare. Many a battle he reminded the King had been lost through neglect of such details.

Nor must the King neglect to ask the help of God and it would be a good

gesture for him to make a pilgrimage with the Queen, and his young son to St Albans.

Isabella was nothing loath. She enjoyed displaying herself to the people, and that she should show off her son delighted her.

Along the roads people came out to give loyal greetings as they passed. It was like the old days when Great Edward went to war, they said. There was the King with his Queen and his son, the heir to the throne. The Gaveston period was over. That man had been evil. He was the son of a witch and temporarily had cast a spell on the King. All Edward needed now was victory in Scotland and the people would be certain that the old days were back again.

Alas, it was not going to be so easy, as he found when he arrived at Berwick.

It was Pembroke who brought the news to him. ‘Lancaster, Arundel, Surrey

and Warwick will not come in person,’ he told the King.

Edward was filled with sudden rage. ‘Why not? How dare they? Have I not

summoned them?’

‘Aye, my lord, and they have sent token troops in accordance with their

feudal vows to the Crown. They say that they should have been consulted before you took up arms.’

‘Traitors!’ cried the King.

‘We cannot say that, my lord. They have fulfilled their commitments though in the minimum degree it is true and we shall not have the force we expected from them.’

‘I thought at a time like this they would have considered their duty to their country.’

‘They consider only gain to themselves, my lord. And they have performed

what was required of them at this time. We have the service of good men. Many have seen service in Scotland before this and Wales too. Their services will be of the greatest value to us.’

The King agreed and he glowed with pride and optimism when he surveyed

his army. There must be some forty thousand men, a band of which even his

father would have been proud.

Edward was going to show the Scots that his father’s spirit going to make

them lived on. He was going to make them eat their words. This was going to be as great a victory as had ever glorified his father’s name.

He with his men marched on to Edinburgh.

–――――――

Robert the Bruce, aware of the advancing English, should have been filled

with apprehension. He was, and yet there was in him a surging hope, for he believed that it was his destiny to drive the English out of Scotland and when Edward the First had died and he had begun to realize the nature of his successor he had been certain that he was going to succeed.

There had been so much failure; the Scots could not hope to raise an army

which could compare with that of Edward’s in training; in equipment they were vastly inferior; yet the spirit was there. Men who were defending their homeland always had the advantage over the invader. If they had an inspired leader, they could work miracles. Bruce was inspired. He has suffered many defeats but he knew he was going to win in the end. he liked to tell the tale of the spider which had somehow caught his imagination and that of his followers.

He would sit by the light of the camp fire and talk to them of the time when he had been lonely, depressed and defeated, when he had been routed and had barely managed to save his life. He would tell how he had lain in his bed and watched a spider try six times to attach its thread to a balk and each time fail.

The spider went on trying until on the seventh attempt when he was successful.

This seemed significant to Bruce because six times he had raised armies and attempted to defeat the English and each time he had been defeated.

‘Now shall this spider teach me what I am to do,’ he said. ‘Even as the

creature failed so did I; and even as he succeeded in the end, I shall also. He has taught me a lesson which I will never forget and that is never to accept defeat. If I fail yet will I try again and go on trying until defeat turns into victory.’

It was spoken of often in his camps. They knew that their King would never harm a spider, and nor would they, for it had become a superstition that ill luck would follow any who did.

It had helped him, that spider, because the legend which had grown up round it was that one day Robert would succeed even as the spider had. He was going to turn the English out of Scotland.

This might be the time. It must be the time, for the King himself was in Scotland with a mighty army and the battle which would inevitably follow could be a decisive one. True, Great Edward was no more, but the army was there and how could the Scottish army one third the size stand up to it?

Robert the Bruce had mustered his men at Torwood close by Stirling where

he reviewed his chances. With a army he must rely on his own generalship, his men’s determination and his knowledge of the ground on which the battle would take place. He must manoeuvre so that he should choose the spot and as he had few cavalry men and the English were well equipped in this field, he decided that must be fought on foot. He himself chose the battleground. It was to be New Park between the village of St. Ninian and the little stream of the Bannock which was known in the district as Bannockburn. Here by the water, the land was marshy and this would provide a danger for the English horses.

He called together the principal generals of the Scottish army. There was his brother Sir Edward Bruce, Sir James Douglas, Randolph Earl of Moray and

Walter, the High Steward of Scotland.

He was very sober as he addressed them. ‘We are out-numbered three-to-

one, but do not let the men know this. I have carefully examined the ground and I want the right wing of the army to rest on the banks of the burn. There we can be sure of not being outflanked. The front of the army shall extend to St. Ninian village.’

“The left will be less protected than the rest of the army,’ pointed out

Moray.

‘You speak truth. It will be exposed to the garrison of Stirling Castle. That is why I have ordered that pits be dug in that area and in these shall be placed iron spikes.’

‘ ‘Tis a grand idea,’ cried Douglas.

‘And the hollows will be filled with brushwood,’ went on Bruce.

‘No horse will be able to pass over that ground,’ commented the Steward.

‘That was the intention,’ smiled Bruce. ‘Now, let us go forward with a quiet confidence. The odds are against us but we can succeed.’

‘We must succeed,’ said Randolph.

‘I thank God that it is not the English King’s father who comes against us,’

murmured Bruce.

‘Doubtless, they will carry his bones before the army,’ said the Steward,

who was not a veteran of battle as the others were.

Bruce smiled at his smooth young face.

‘We learn to believe only in those omens which bring good to us,’ he said

‘But if they are good or evil―’ began the young man.

‘Evil― good― either is born in the mind. And so are victory and defeat. My friends, let us say together, “This day we shall succeed.” Come, I will speak to the men. I want every man who fights under my banner this day to be there

because he wishes to see Scotland free. I want no reluctant men in my army.’

He rode forward on his small grey mare, an unimpressive animal but

surefooted and chosen for this reason. He was clad on his helmet he wore a circlet of gold that all might recognize him as the King, and in spite of his somewhat unkingly mount there was that about him which inspired men and

never had it been more apparent than at that moment.

He spoke in clear ringing tones. The enemy was close. Many of the men

here this day would remember the bloody battles between Scotland and the late King. That King was dead now and he believed they had little to fear from his son.

‘If there is a man among you who is not fully resolved to win this field or die with honor, let him throw down his arms and go. I want no such man in my army. I would rather have but half the men who stand before me now and they good brave men, loyal to Scotland, than double the present numbers with traitors or reluctant men among you. Now is your chance. Speak now if you will. I offer you liberty to go or stay.’

There was a deep silence. Bruce’s heart was beating uncertainly. What if

there cowardly men among them? What if they, sensing death close by― for

assuredly it would come to some this day– grew faint-hearted and thought with longing of their bairns and their firesides away in some remote comer of

Scotland far from St Ninian’s and Bannockburn?

Not a movement in the ranks. Not a sound to be heard but the ripple of the burn.

Then a great shout went up. ‘Victory for the Bruce and Scotland forever.’

I have good and faithful men to serve me, thought Bruce. That augurs well for Scotland.

–――――――

Edward’s great desire was to get the battle over. He had no doubt of the

outcome. He had a fine army. If his father were looking down on him now he would be pleased with him. The Scots could not stand out against him. He had been angry because of those barons who had refused to join him but now he

laughed to think how sorry they would be when he returned victorious to

England.

The first thing to do was relieve Mowbray at Stirling Castle. That would

be a fine gesture. He sent for Sir Robert Clifford and ordered that he take an advance party of eight hundred cavalry and capture the castle.

Sir Robert rode off. It was certain that the Scots would be expecting this move. Stirling Castle was a strategic point and it was to relieve the governor that the English army had come to Scotland. He must therefore be wary. He knew

where the enemy army was situated and instead of taking direct route which could have resulted in his being seen, he with his men rode quietly round the village of St Ninian’s taking care to keep themselves out of sight as much as possible. Thus Randolph Earl of Moray whom Bruce had commanded to be

watchful of just such a move did not see what was happening and it was Robert the Bruce himself who caught sight of Sir Robert and his band making their way cautiously to the castle.

The Bruce rode hastily to Randolph and demanded to know what this meant.

‘You have thought too lightly of the charge I gave you. A rose has fallen

from your chaplet this day, nephew.’

Overcome with horror Randolph rode off immediately in pursuit of Clifford

who hearing the approach, gave the order to his men to wheel round and attack.

Randolph had only five hundred men and he was out-numbered but he

formed his troops into a square with spears held before them. The English rode forward but they could not break through the Scottish spears and Clifford gave the order to surround the Scots. The English cavalry was heavily armed and the Scottish weapons were only their long spears, short knives and battle-axes. The Scots put up a magnificent fight but they were against the heavy arms of the English cavalry and surrounded as they were, it seemed inevitable that they must be defeated although they might inflict heavy casualties upon their