The Follies of the King (14 page)

* * *

‘Banish Gaveston!’ That was what they wanted.

They were too strong for him. It was:
Gaveston must go or civil war!

Was ever a King so plagued? They would rob him of the most important thing on earth to him and he, the King, who could have commanded them all!

The barons should have been allowed to become so powerful. They had forced his great grandfather King John to sign the Magna Carta and ever since then it was not so much the King who ruled the country as the barons.

Civil war. He contemplated it. It would be insupportable. He pictured himself and Perrot flying before them, being captured by them and then what would they do to Perrot? They would kill him as a traitor. That was what they wanted to do. Banishment was the better alternative. At least he would know that Perrot was alive and awaiting the moment when he could return.

He tried to resist but it was useless. They were bent on Perrot’s leaving the country. How he argued; he even pleaded. They were adamant. Gaveston must go.

It was Gaveston who tried to comfort him.

My friend,
he wrote,
if they banish me, I shall be back. Do you think they can keep us apart forever? No, we will overcome this as we have those other occasions. Be of good cheer, my dear lord.

It was no use. He was desolate.

The barons had given their ultimatum. Gaveston must leave the country by the first of November or face arrest.

* * *

Isabella was with the King again. She was cool but did not reproach him.

She was so eager to have a child that she was prepared to set aside her anger at his treatment of her. One day she would be revenged on him, but it was clear that that time was not yet. It was no use writing to her father and complaining.

He had no time to listen to her. He was too busy with his own concerns; he was continuing with his persecution of the Templars and Jacques de Molai was still his prisoner awaiting the sentence of death from the Pope.

Still she must make herself sufficiently pleasant to her husband to assure his visiting her bedchamber now and then. It was irksome, humiliating in the extreme but of course necessary.

Edward himself was constantly looking for messengers who would bring him news of his dear Perrot. What was he doing now? Who was benefiting from his sparkling wit and the sheer joy of looking at his handsome graceful form?

Was there anything he could do to help his beloved friend? He had been forbidden to go to Gascony by those harsh barons so he so he would be wandering about in France not knowing where he was going to find refuge. The King of France would not help him. He must have heard evil reports of him from Isabella. He could hardly blame Isabella for her attitude towards Gaveston.

He must be fair to her. She had been as good a wife as he could expect. He was ready to admit that his passion for Perrot must be a trial to her. That was why whenever he could bring himself to do so he would spend time with her. He would be as delighted as she was to hear that she was with child. That would salve his conscience considerably.

What could she do to ease his sorrow? He thought continually of Perrot and those places where they had been together and he made a habit of visiting them and trying to recapture those happy times.

Wallingford! How often they had been together there in that ancient castle on the west bank of the Thames. He had always been fond of it since he had heard as a child that his great ancestor William the Conqueror had been invited there by the Saxon, Wigod, who owned it, to receive the homage of the principle nobles before marching to London.

Perrot had loved the place. It was here that he had excelled at that never-to-be-forgotten tournament when he had so humiliated the champions that they had never forgiven him.

Christmas would soon be upon him. How dreary it would be without Perrot!

There was a gentle tap at the door. He called permission to enter. He stared.

He could not believe his eyes. Then the wild joy took possession of him.

‘Perrot!’

‘None less,’ exclaimed Gaveston. ‘Once again I faced perils to be with my lord.’

They were in each other’s arms and Edward was trembling with the wild joy which possessed him.

‘So you came home to me. Oh Perrot, Perrot, friend!’

‘I am no wanderer, Edward. I want to be with my dear King. I care for nothing― as long as we are together.’

‘Perrot, what will they say? What will they do?’

‘That is for tomorrow,’ said Perrot blithely.

* * *

He kept him with him. They could not bear to be separated. Perrot could stay away no longer. Where would he go, even if it were possible to be happy away from his King? Holland? France? The first bored him and he was hardly welcomed by the Queen’s father. Gascony, his native land, was denied him. He ground his teeth to remember all the treasure he had stored safely away in Gascony. But this was not the true answer. It was the need to be with his beloved King which had made him face the anger of those dreary barons in order to be with him.

What could they do? There would be trouble when it was known that he was back. He had been ordered to leave and had given his word that he would.

‘For you, my King, I would break a thousand oaths,’ said Gaveston.

‘And I for you, dear friend.’

The Queen was incensed when she heard that Gaveston had returned. She came to Wallingford and burst in upon the King. Fortunately it was one of those moments when Gaveston was not with him.

‘Gaveston is mad,’ she cried. ‘The barons have ordered him out of the country.’

‘The barons will have to accept the fact that he has returned.’

‘Edward, do you want to plunge this country into civil war?’

‘You are too dramatic, Isabella. There cannot be war because one man returns to this country when they want him out of it.’

‘There can be,’ said Isabella, ‘and there will be.’

She thought of her recent ride through London and how the people had cheered her. Isabella the Fair, they called her. They loved to see her bright beauty and they were indignant because the King ignored her. They could not understand how he could prefer that mincing friend of his to his beautiful Queen. They loved Isabella the more as their hatred for Gaveston grew. Oddly enough they did not blame the King so much as Gaveston. Perhaps if he had been less handsome, less tall, less like his father, they might have done. But Edward was their anointed King, his father’s legacy to them and they wanted him to remain their King but to behave as his father had.

Isabella knew that she had the people with her. What she wanted was a son― a son who should look like his grandfather and then the people would rally to him, and in charge of him would naturally be his mother. Perhaps then Isabella could pay back some of the insults she had had to accept from Edward and Gaveston.

But it was not to be yet. How could she become pregnant when her husband’s attentions were so sporadic? They slept together only for duty on his part, ambition on hers. One day, she promised herself, she would have a lover who would match his passionate nature with hers. But first she must get her child. She longed for it; she prayed for it; and it was the only reason why she suppressed her contempt and hatred for her husband.

In a measure, she exulted in Gaveston’s return, for in coming back, he defied the barons and the Archbishop of Canterbury. She knew that none of them would meekly accept such blatant contempt for his word. Trouble was brewing for Gaveston and if he and the King were too infatuated with each other to see it, let them frivol away the hours for a while before their fate overtook them.

News came from London. It was known that the favourite had broken his vows and returned. It was known that he was with the King and that Edward was with him throughout the days and nights.

Bands of men trained as soldiers marched through the streets of London.

They wanted the favourite to lose his head since he would not lose himself abroad. Isabella was a saint. London loved her as much as they hated Gaveston.

She was the wronged wife, the beautiful Princess who had charmed them, whom they had believed would make a man of their King. And what had happened? He neglected her. He treated her with contempt; he spent his nights in the licentious company of Piers Gaveston whose mother, rumor had it, had been burned as a witch. Gaveston had clearly inherited some of her powers for he had completely bewitched the King. They wanted Gaveston’s blood. They wanted him brought to London and his head cut off and stuck up on London Bridge.

Worse still the barons were gathering together. It was unthinkable that they should allow Gaveston to flout them. The Archbishop of Canterbury, old Robert de Winchelsey, communicated Gaveston for breaking the oath he had made to the barons. That frightened Edward but Gaveston shrugged it aside.

‘The old fool,’ he said. ‘It is time he was dead. You should make Walter Reynolds your Archbishop of Canterbury. Why,
there
is a man who would work for you.’

‘I will,’ cried Edward, ‘as soon as Winchelsey is dead― and he cannot last much longer.’

‘If only he were in that position now.’ Even Gaveston was a little afraid of excommunication. Edward noticed that his friend’s appetite waned and that he had lost a little of his glowing health.

Isabella knew that the barons were getting together and would march against Edward. Oh God, she thought, if I but had a child, a boy who was heir to the throne! Then I do believe they would be ready to depose Edward and make my son the King and I his mother would be Regent, for the people love me and want to recompense me for the wrongs I have suffered through Edward. It was true.

They were ashamed of their King. That he should marry a Princess and neglect her for a foppish minion was disgraceful. They were ashamed of their English King. Yes, they would be with her and against her husband while he kept Gaveston at his side.

Oh, for a child! How she yearned for one, prayed for one and exerted every wile she knew to lure Edward to her bed. There was one thing which could bring him there and that was duty and the thought that if she were once impregnated with his seed he could be left in peace.

Meanwhile Gaveston languished, and the King was distraught. If they had been in London he would have had his physician at his friend’s bedside. He did the next best thing and sent for the finest doctor in the North, William de Bromtoft. Gaveston would recover, Edward was told. He needed rest.

‘I will give him a potion to make him sleep. It is rest he needs more than anything.’

And while Gaveston slept, Edward sat by his bedside until the Queen glided quietly into the bedchamber.

‘How fares he?’ she whispered.

‘He murmurs in his sleep.’

‘He is aware of you here. The doctor said he needs peace and rest. Leave him, Edward. Let him sleep alone. He will best recover then.’

‘What if he should wake and want me?’

‘Then he will call for you. At this moment he is aware of you and it worries him that he cannot speak with you.’

At length Edward allowed himself to be led away. In his bedchamber the Queen soothed him with a special posset women made in France to rouse their lovers’ ardour. She took him to her bed and with the help of her ministrations, her prayers and perhaps the posset, that night she became pregnant.

* * *

Gaveston recovered. The spring had come and it could hardly be expected that the barons would allow him to continue to flout them. The Lords Ordainers, those earls, barons and bishops who had drawn up the Ordinances for the reform of the realm met and sworn to defend them and for this reason, they were ready to march against the King, for by receiving Gaveston and restoring his possessions Edward had openly defied them. It was clear that he had to learn his lesson.

Lancaster, with his newly acquired power, was the most important of the earls. He had his own private army. It was arranged that the earls and barons should organize tournaments in their castles where men prepared for war should muster. When they were ready, they would band together and march north until to where the King and Gaveston were living together. They would take Gaveston prisoner and if the King objected, there would be nothing left but to take arms against Edward.

It was a dangerous situation and it was hoped that the King realized how serious.

Edward did. To his great joy, Gaveston had completely recovered and there was another reason for rejoicing. Isabella was with child.

Edward was delighted. None could say he had not done his duty. Fervently he prayed that the child would be a boy.

It was May. Isabella had conceived in February and her condition was beginning to be noticeable. The King with his entourage had come to Newcastle and there it was they heard the news that the hostile barons were approaching.

‘We must leave without delay!’ cried the King. ‘Where can we go? Oh Perrot, what will happen to you if you fall into their hands?’

‘They will trump up some charge against me doubtless and have my head to grace the Bridge.’

‘I beg of you, do not talk so. They shall all be hanged before I’d allow it.’