Authors: Roberta Gellis
Barbara sighed. “Then you are fortunate, for if I had
thought of that I would not have been in a rage with Hugh le Despenser. I would
have stayed beside him, where Guy would never have accosted me, and—”
“Someone is answering the prince’s prayers,” Alphonse said,
only partly in jest.
“Not unless we can get to Gilbert.” Barbara stepped out of
her husband’s encircling arm and bent over the basket of clothing. “Surely you
are not going to order Despenser’s men to ride with us to St. Briavels?”
“No. We will have to go to London first and pretend to be
looking for a ship. As soon as Despenser’s men are gone, we will simply pack up
and ride west. Our journey will be longer that way, but this is a good time of
year to travel and there is no great hurry. We only need to get to St. Briavels
before Leicester comes west to join his army on the third of May.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gilbert welcomed them back to St. Briavels with delight for
their company and enthusiasm for their news—although there was one piece that
Alphonse told him, which he heard with mixed feelings, about which Barbara knew
nothing. While they were in London Alphonse had not “pretended” to look for a
ship, he had in earnest sought one going to France that would carry a message
from Prince Edward to Queen Eleanor. Alphonse had hidden his action, not for
fear his wife would betray him but because he wanted to save her from worrying
about her uncle being involved in the invasion the prince was now urging.
Alphonse knew Barbara would have to know about the invasion soon, but he hoped
she would not hear about it until her uncle was out of danger. Edward’s message
urged that no grandiose plans be made. All that was needed was the arrival of a
diversionary party, a hundred men or so, to confuse and delay Leicester.
By May 3, Leicester had arrived with the king and prince in
the town of Gloucester. On the fifth, the Earl of Gloucester marched his army
into the forest west of the town. He camped on a hill, and the campfires of his
men lit up the countryside by night. However, the army did not raid, and the
next day Gilbert sent a party to Leicester with a long complaint about the
subjection of the king, the unfair distribution of castles and prisoners, and
the exaltation of Leicester’s family.
Although Gilbert made no request for an accommodation,
Leicester assumed that was a mark of his youthful pride. The fact that
Gloucester was restraining his men and had stated the causes of his
dissatisfaction implied that Gloucester was having second thoughts and wished
to make peace. If it occurred to anyone that the bill of complaint might as
well set forth Gloucester’s reasons for breaking with Leicester, no one
mentioned it. On May 7 Leicester sent four of his supporters—the Bishop of
Worcester, Hugh le Despenser, John FitzJohn, and William Muntchenesy—to
Gloucester’s camp with Gloucester’s own men to settle the differences.
Gloucester’s men also brought some interesting information from Thomas de
Clare.
Two different councils with diametrically opposite purposes,
one to discuss the differences between Leicester and Gloucester, the other to
make plans for Edward’s escape based on the information Thomas had given
Gloucester’s men, were held on May 8. As a result of the latter, Alphonse, who
had been with Gloucester, although he had kept out of sight of the delegation
from Leicester, rode from Gilbert’s camp to St. Briavels that night and gave
Barbara a pleasant surprise when he slid into her bed after midnight.
“But I will be away again tomorrow,” he sighed, nibbling her
neck and ears. “I need to take four or five fine horses to Gilbert. The horses
will be sent to Thomas, and he will offer one to the prince, who will thus have
a good reason to try the paces of each. Edward can then ask to try the horses
of his escort for comparison. When he has tired them all, except for his chosen
mount and the one Thomas is riding, he and Thomas will gallop away.”
Barbara was so distracted by his wandering lips, by the hand
that toyed with her breast and the other that strayed between her legs, that
she only sighed, “Oh, marvelous,” and Alphonse laughed and gave all his
attention to what was, at the moment, most important.
The next morning, however, after they had been to mass in
the chapel and had broken their fast in the hall, talking freely of the sad
state of Thomas’s mounts and the need for fresh horses for him, Barbara asked
Alphonse to come back to the south tower for a moment to try on a new gown she
was sewing for him. Once alone in the bedchamber she said, “Edward may gallop
away on one of the fine horses you send to Thomas and he might outdistance his
escort, but the whole of Leicester’s army will gallop after him as soon as one
of that escort returns and cries the alarm.”
“The prince will not have far to go to reach Gloucester’s
forces.”
Barbara stood quite still staring down at her clasped hands.
“I thought the plan was for the prince to escape so that he could collect an
army. Is Gilbert’s army strong enough to win a battle against Leicester?”
“No.”
Alphonse could have laughed aloud for joy but did not for
fear of offending her. He was more sure of her love every day. It was fear for
him that was marked by those tight-clasped hands, and he could not help smiling
when he lifted her face and kissed her. “But we do not intend to fight a battle,”
he pointed out. “Gilbert will hold off Leicester only until Edward’s escape is
ensured. Then we will all drift away into the hills and regather elsewhere. Do
not worry. Probably I will not be engaged, or Gilbert either. You will hear
from me in a ten-day or less.”
Alphonse did not realize that Barbara did not believe him,
that she assumed his good humor was only a mark of his reckless joy in
fighting, so that he was doubly delighted by the warmth with which she greeted
him when he returned to St. Briavels, this time accompanying Gloucester, only
two days later. Second thoughts diminished Alphonse’s delight in Barbara’s
growing love for him. Much as he loved her, much as he wanted her, the closer
they came to open war the more Barbe’s presence was a burden.
For himself Alphonse had no fear. He recognized the chance
of death in war, and though he did not want to die, all the more since Barbe
had become his, he did not fear dying. Nor had he any reason to be afraid of
anything else. He could move about with Gloucester’s army to avoid Leicester’s
and he could fight when the armies did meet.
A woman did not have his alternatives. Barbe would be
confined to one keep or another, and any of them might be the focus of an
attack. Knowing her, Alphonse was sure she would try to defend any place in
which she was set. He shuddered at the thought. If she were taken, she would be
a proven rebel and denied even a pretense of Leicester’s protection. After the
open quarrel with Leicester in Northampton, Alphonse was certain that if Barbe
were not thrown to the men who had captured her refuge, she would be handed
over to Guy’s tender care. He wanted her away from Wales, away from the battles
that would soon take place, and free of any hint of association with the rebels.
How to send her away was not as simple as the decision that
she would be safer under her father’s protection. A crisis for the Royalist
cause was rapidly approaching, and Alphonse did not want to discuss the dangers
of a defeat with Gilbert before the prince had actually escaped.
The reason he and Gilbert had returned to St. Briavels was
that Leicester was no longer in the city of Gloucester. On May 9, news had
come—probably simultaneously to Gilbert and to Leicester—of an invasion of
Pembroke by the king’s half brother, William de Valence, and the Earl of
Surrey. That same day, before Alphonse had arrived in Gilbert’s camp with the
horses, Leicester had moved the entire court, including Thomas and Edward, to
Hereford.
Had Barbe still seemed strongly attached to Leicester’s
cause, Alphonse might have used that as an excuse to send her away. Instead,
she seemed as eager as any of them for Edward’s escape. As soon as she was sure
that he and Gilbert were unhurt and had seen to their needs for clean clothing
and refreshment, she coaxed them to walk in the garden. Once there, safe from
the ears of those who constantly passed to and fro in the hall, she began to
ask anxious questions about whether the move to Hereford would delay the plans
to free the prince.
“You cannot move your army to Hereford, Gilbert,” Barbe
said. “To follow Leicester with your army would make him too suspicious and
might put your negotiations with him in doubt. What lands do you have near
Hereford to which we could move?”
“We!” Alphonse exclaimed. Then he nearly swallowed his
tongue because her mention of lands near Hereford had suggested a solution.
“You are quite right, my love. Gilbert cannot take his army to Hereford, and he
cannot leave the army either.”
“Why—” Gloucester began, and almost at once shook his head.
“No, I cannot leave the army and myself chase after Leicester to Hereford. I am
afraid every man who has answered my call would take that to mean I was about
to accept Leicester’s terms and that there was no purpose to remaining under
arms. But what choice does that leave us?”
“Wigmore,” Alphonse said. “Wigmore is only about six leagues
from Hereford, and you cannot doubt Mortimer’s willingness to shelter the
prince. And Weobly is in just the right place to provide troops—without the
movement of a single man, which might come to Leicester’s ears and make him
take extra precautions—to lay an ambush that can hold off Edward’s pursuers.”
Gloucester bit his lip. “Damn you!” he burst out. “You will
give Mortimer all the sport and all the glory.”
“Oh, no.” Alphonse began to laugh. “Mortimer is going to
love me even less than you do. He is going to leave Wigmore as soon as
possible—as if he were withdrawing from Leicester.”
“He will kill you if you say that to him!” Gloucester said
in a hushed voice.
“Which is why I am not going to say it. Barbe will carry the
message.”
Barbara gasped as a fear she thought she had conquered
caught her by the throat. Did he want to be rid of her? Alphonse’s face told
her nothing. Then a single glance at her, while Gloucester, with lowered head,
continued to gnaw his lips, betrayed a hidden well of unholy glee. Her chest
ached for a moment, but almost at once she took comfort. She had been included
in that hidden laughter, it was Gilbert who was being cozened. As she came to
that conclusion Gloucester shook his head.
“Well, Mortimer will not murder Barby for carrying a
message, but neither will he leave Wigmore just because you and I send a letter
saying he should.”
“That is why I will follow Barbe with the horses for Thomas
the very next day. Once Mortimer is past his first rage at the idea of
appearing to run from Leicester, I will be able to reason with him. I think I
can make him leave Wigmore.”
If Alphonse’s primary purpose had been to move Mortimer from
Wigmore, he might have been disheartened by the reception he received. True,
Mortimer did not actually challenge him or spit in his face, but that might
have been because he did not come out to greet Alphonse when he first arrived,
very late the night of May 12. For a while Alphonse thought he would have to
sleep in the outer bailey, but sound carries well at night and faintly, beyond
the wall, he heard a high-pitched voice arguing with the guard. Eventually
Barbe, who had preceded him as planned, arranged his admission.
Even the next morning, however, Mortimer was clearly not
prepared to pretend fear of Leicester. Since Alphonse had actually accomplished
what he wanted—by moving Barbara to a place far less dangerous than St.
Briavels—he found no difficulty in being indifferent to Mortimer’s anger and
content with what he had achieved.
Sensibly, Alphonse did not raise the topic of Mortimer’s
leaving Wigmore. Instead, he apologized to his host in a voice denoting urgency
for, without his permission, having left several horses to be cared for in
Weobly. Then he disclosed the original idea for Edward’s escape and engaged
Mortimer in devising a method for getting the horses to Thomas, who was in
Hereford Castle with the prince, and in arranging a path of communication so
they could revise the plan for Edward’s escape.
As Alphonse suspected, Mortimer already had friends and
partisans, merchants and priests, who came and went freely in the town of
Hereford and who would not be suspected if they entered the castle or even
approached the prince. Before the day was out, a plan had been arranged. The
next day, May 14, Mortimer and Alphonse rode to Weobly to enlist the
cooperation they needed. In Weobly they learned that a convention
reestablishing “cordial” relations between Gloucester and Leicester had been
written out and sent to Gloucester on the twelfth.
With smiles of delight wreathing their faces, Mortimer and
Alphonse agreed that five men dressed in Gloucester’s colors should deliver the
horses to Thomas at Hereford Castle within the next few days, as if they had
been sent by Gloucester soon after he had received the articles of convention.
“Perhaps we should not send the men with the horses until
Saturday or even Monday,” Alphonse said, his smile fading, his eyes half lidded,
calculating. “That might serve as a hopeful sign to Leicester and encourage him
to wait a few days longer before despairing of Gilbert’s acceptance. And
another thing. The prince was born in June. I remember because his birth date
fell on a tourney day once, and all who won gave him their prizes.”
“I think you are right about Edward being born in June, but
what is that to do with anything?”
“It is to do with the reason for Thomas to offer him a
horse,” Alphonse said, nodding with satisfaction. “I was always troubled by the
fact that there was no good reason for the offer except the usual one of
pleasing a prince. But why should Thomas de Clare, Edward’s gaoler, wish to
please the powerless prince? I always feared the offer would wake suspicion and
Thomas’s suggestion that Edward choose the one he liked best give all away.
This is better. Any good-natured, fortunate young man, in receipt of more
horses than he is likely to need, might offer even a powerless prince a gift in
celebration of his birth date.”
“And it will be typical of Edward that he should ask to try
the paces of all the horses to choose the one he likes best.”
Alphonse laughed aloud. “Very typical, indeed. The prince
does tend to look even a gift horse in the mouth. I think we should also tell
Thomas to grumble a little behind Edward’s back about that.”
“And you think it is important that I be gone from Wigmore
before Edward escapes? If I left that day, would not that draw attention to
where I was going—presumably to meet Edward—and make Wigmore safer?”