The Follies of the King (25 page)

He had given his accusers the opportunity they needed.

Poor John Powderham was sentenced to that horror which had become known as the traitor’s death. He was hung, drawn and quartered.

An example to any of those who might have notions that Edward the Second was not the true King of England.

* * *

There were further signs of unrest.

Soon after the affair of John Drydas, a certain Robert Messager was in a tavern having drunk a little more than his wont when he remarked that it was small wonder things went wrong with the country when the manner of the King’s way of living was considered.

There was quiet in the tavern while he went on to speak very frankly of the King’s relations with Gaveston and now it seemed there was a new pretty boy favourite. It was a wonder the Queen— God bless her― endured the situation.

Many in the tavern agreed and the more Robert de Messager drank, the more frankly he discussed the King’s friends.

There was bound to be someone who reported this conversation and the next night when Messager was in the tavern there was a man there also who plied him with wine and led the conversation to the habits of the King.

Messager, seeing himself the centre of the company and that he had the interest of all, used what were later called ‘irreverent and indecent words’ about the King.

As he uttered them, the stranger made a sign and guards entered the tavern.

Shortly afterwards Messager found himself a prisoner in a dark little dungeon in the Tower. Realizing what he had done he became quickly sober when he was seized by despair and a realization that his own folly had brought him there.

There was a great deal of talk throughout the capital about Robert de Messager. He was a citizen of London and London looked after its citizens.

Messager had spoken of the King in a London tavern. He had merely said what everyone knew to be true. Perhaps he had been indiscreet. Perhaps he owed the King a small fine. But if he were to be condemned to the traitor’s death there would be trouble.

The Queen as usual was aware of the people’s feelings. When she rode out they cheered her wildly. It seemed that the more they despised Edward, the more they cherished her. They saw her as the long-suffering Princess who had tried to be a good wife and Queen to their dissolute monarch.

‘Long live Queen Isabella!’

Then she heard a voice in the crowd: ‘Save Messager, lady.’

Save Messager!
She would. She would show the people of London that she loved them as they loved her.

She looked in the direction from which the voice had come. There was a shout again: ‘Save Messager.’

She replied in a clear voice, ‘I will do all I can to save him.’

More cheers. Sweetest music in her ears. One day everything would be different.

She had some influence with Edward. He did respect her. The fact that she never upbraided him for his life with Perrot and Hugh won his gratitude. She had given him the children― two boys. What could be better? They must have more, she had said. Two were not enough. He really owed her a good deal for being so considerate. She was prepared to receive him that they might have children, and she loved their two boys— even as he did. There was a bond between them and he was ready to listen to her.

‘You must pardon Messager,’ she said.

‘Do you know what he said about me?’ asked Edward.

She did know. She did not add that Messager had spoken the truth.

‘Nevertheless,’ she said, ‘I want you to pardon him. The people have asked me to intercede for him and I think it well for them to believe you have some regard for me.’

‘But they know I have. Have you not borne two of my children?’

‘The Londoners wish him to be pardoned and they have asked me to do what I can. They want him pardoned, Edward.’

‘But to speak of his King thus―’

‘Edward, it is better for you to waive that aside. The people will gossip less if you do. It is not often I ask you for anything. But now I ask you for this man’s life.’

Edward rarely felt fully at ease with his wife, and the prospect of her begging for this favour and that it should be for the life of a man appealed to his sense of the romantic.

Let the man go. Show the people that he cared not for their calumnies and make a pretty gesture to his Queen.

When Robert de Messager was released the crowds gathered to cheer him.

He had struck a blow for freedom. He had come near to horrible death and thank God— and the Queen— that he had escaped.

‘God save the Queen,’ shouted the people of London. She rode out among them.

‘How beautiful she is!’ cried the people.

‘Shame on the King,’ said some. ‘Such a good and lovely Queen and he turns to his boys!’

And she smiled and acknowledged their loyal greetings. They loved her.

They were on her side. One day she would have need of them.

* * *

Another unfortunate incident occurred soon after that.

It was Whitsuntide and the Court was at Westminster and the celebrations took place in public according to the custom.

At such times the doors of the palace were wide open and it was the people’s privilege to come in if they wanted to see the royal family at table.

At such a time as this, with famine throughout the country, it was asking for trouble to allow the poor to see how well stocked the royal table was. There had, it was true, been certain shortages in the kitchens, even of the most wealthy, but to the poor the joints of beef and the golden piecrust looked very inviting.

The King and Queen sat side by side at the great table and the King was beginning to realize that if the Queen was beside him― as a queen should be— the people were more inclined to look with favour on him.

However, while they sat at table there was a commotion from without and then suddenly there appeared at the door a tall woman on a magnificent horse.

The woman’s face was completely covered by a mask so that it was impossible to see who she was.

She rode into the hall and brought her horse right up to the table where the King was seated. Then she handed a letter to him.

Edward was smiling, so was the Queen.

‘A charming gesture from one of my loyal subjects,’ said Edward. ‘I wonder what the letter contains?’

He gave it to one of his squires and commanded that it be read aloud so that the whole company could hear.

He was expecting some panegyric such as monarchs were accustomed to receiving on such occasions when, to his amazement, this squire began to read out a list of complaints against the King and the manner in which the country was ruled.

‘Bring back that woman,’ he said, for the masked rider was already at the door.

She was captured and immediately gave the name of the knight who had paid her to deliver the letter to the King.

The knight was brought before the King who demanded to know how he dared behave in such a manner.

The knight fell on his knees. ‘I wish to warn you, my lord. I am as good and loyal a subject as you ever had. But the people are murmuring against you and I believe you should know it. I meant the letter to have been read by you in private. I was ready to risk my life to tell you.’

A deep silence fell on the hall. Edward was uncertain. The Queen spoke to him softly.

‘You must let him go as you did Messager. To punish him would arouse the fury of the Londoners.’

Edward saw the point. He had no wish for trouble from his capital.

‘You may go,’ he said to the knight. ‘I like not your conduct but I know it was done out of no ill wish to me. Another time speak to me yourself. You need have no fear of that. Let the woman go too. The matter is over.’

It was the only way to deal with such a situation.

But it showed the mood of the people.

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?’