The anxieties of the last weeks had been great. Ever since he had heard of Edward’s escape he had been uneasy. The King he feared little. He saw him as an ineffectual man caught up in the great affection he bore to his family. He had allowed this to govern his life in as much as through it, determined to please the Queen, he had acted against the good of his subjects. Simon could understand that; but Henry had carried his fondness beyond the bounds of good sense.
The country to be governed by a king and his parliament. That was what Simon had worked for and was achieving. A parliament representing the cities, boroughs and counties of the nation. It was the only fair method as he saw it. And he had achieved it. He could be proud of that. All had gone well, until those fools had allowed Edward to escape.
In the far distance that which could be an army was detected marching on Evesham Castle.
Simon went with his barber Nicolas to the top of the abbey tower for Nicolas not only had exceptionally keen eyesight but was an expert on the cognisance of arms.
‘What see you, Nicolas?’ asked Simon.
‘My lord, I can make out the de Montfort ensigns. They are holding your standards high.’
‘God be praised. It is my son. I knew that he would be with us ere long.’
Simon was elated. Young Simon had either evaded Edward’s army or destroyed it and he could only believe that it was the latter. This would be the end of Edward’s revolt. This would be triumph for him and justice.
His company would be delighted. They need not prepare for war but for the happy reunion. The two armies together would be invincible and young Simon would have his tale to tell of victory.
Nicolas came to him white-faced and trembling.
‘My lord, I see other banners. It is only in the van of the army that they carry the de Montfort ensigns.’
‘What do you see? Tell me quickly.’
‘My lord, I can make out the triple lions of Edward and Roger Mortimer’s ensigns.’
‘God held us,’ cried Simon. ‘We have been deceived. What does this mean? How have they come by my son’s banners?’
There was no time to speculate. They must go into action without delay. But precious time had been lost and the enemy was almost upon them.
Simon was a man of great military ability but he realised that the advantage had been lost. With as much speed as he could muster he gathered his troops together. Many of them still believed that the advancing army was their ally and it took some time to get them to realise that they must prepare for battle.
Indeed the advantage was lost and full well did Simon know the importance of that.
We have been deceived, he kept thinking. What has happened to my son? This Edward has become a man, and I have been thinking of him as a reckless boy.
They had tricked him, and they should be tricked. Thank God he had the King in his possession here. The King should be placed in the forefront of the battle. He should stand against his own son who had come to rescue him.
Simon had time to marshal his troops and took up his stance at the top of a hill where he could watch the advancing enemy.
‘By the arm of St James,’ he cried, ‘they come on skilfully. Edward has learned his methods from me. He will never commit the folly of Lewes again. In conflict with me he has become a great general.’
It was two hours after noon and the hot August sun was almost overhead. The battle had begun.
* * *
The shame of it! To be there in the front of the enemy troops. He, the King, to be so treated! How dared Simon de Montfort, his own brother-in-law, inflict this indignity on him. Was this to be the end? Killed in battle … by his own son who mistook him for the enemy!
He thought of his adored Eleanor working so hard for him across the water. He thought of his beloved son. What anguish would be his when he knew that his men had killed his own father.
A curse on you, de Montfort! he thought. Would to God I had never shown you favour.
There was the pride of seeing the superiority of Edward’s forces; the advantage that initial surprise had given him. Edward would be the victor this day. He knew it. He would rejoice but how he would mourn when he came upon his father’s dead body on the battlefield.
The fight grew more fierce; Edward’s men were closing in. A spear pierced the King’s shoulder blade, and he turned and saw the murderous eyes of his assailant, his arm raised ready to finish what he had begun.
‘Hold!’ cried the King. ‘I am Henry of Winchester. Placed here by the traitor de Montfort. Kill me and you answer to the lord Edward.’
The man hesitated. For a second or two it seemed as though he was going to treat the King’s outburst with contempt. But one of the barons was nearby and Henry recognised him as Roger of Leyburne.
He shouted to him.
‘By God,’ said Roger. ‘It is indeed the King. Hold man! Take care not to harm the King. Come … my lord …’
When Edward saw his father he was overcome with joy.
He took the King’s arm and drew him to a place of safety.
There were tears in Henry’s eyes.
‘My son,’ he said, ‘I was never more proud than I am on this day.’
* * *
It was dark before the battle was over – a complete victory for Edward and the royalists. The slaughter had been terrible. Both Simon de Montfort and his son Henry had been killed. No quarter was given. The carnage was frightful; one hundred and sixty of de Montfort’s knights were slain on that battlefield and countless numbers of ordinary soldiers.
That was not enough. As night fell the rabble of Edward’s army roamed the battlefield and coming upon the bodies of Simon de Montfort and his son Henry they set up a cry of delight; they fell upon them, stripped them of their armour and with hideous cries of glee that sounded like no human noise, they proceeded to mutilate them in every obscene manner they could devise. And this was the end of the great earl Simon de Montfort.
* * *
The young Simon de Montfort who had escaped from Kenilworth had gathered together the remnants of his army and was marching on Evesham.
He saw in the distance a band of drunken revellers who held something high above their heads and sang ribald songs as they came along.
As young Simon came near he saw what they held. It was a sight which he would never forget while he lived.
His own father’s head being carried on a pike!
‘Would I had died,’ he cried, ’ere I had seen such a sight.’
He turned his horse and with his followers rode back to Kenilworth.
There he mourned for the loss of his father and his cause; and in time his sorrow was replaced by a great yearning for vengeance on those who had so debased a great man.
Meanwhile the soldiers with their gruesome burden marched on.
Their trophy was a gift from Hugh Mortimer to his countess who had ever been a faithful supporter of the King’s cause.
She was at prayers in her chapel when they arrived, and when she saw what they had brought her she cried out in great joy and gave thanks to God for His goodness.
Chapter XX
MURDER AT THE ALTAR
Edward now had a little son whom they had named John and his wife was pregnant again. There was great rejoicing throughout the family for now the Queen was back and their delight in being together again was boundless. Henry was beside himself with joy and pride in his family. Eleanor had worked devotedly all through their separation and it was the brilliant tactics of his son Edward which had saved him from his enemies.
The battle of Evesham, though decisive and resulting in the death of Simon de Montfort, did not completely end the war.
Simon and Guy de Montfort, determined to avenge their father, kept bands of rebels together in various parts of the country. There were battles for the castles whose castellans had declared themselves against the King; but Edward was now a seasoned warrior and he was beginning to emerge as a general of great ability, a rival to his gre
at uncle Richard Coeur de Lion.
Richard, King of the Romans, had married again, although the general opinion was that he might have been thinking of making his peace with God rather than starting a new life. Richard had suffered a great deal during his captivity and those periods when he had been listless and unable to work had increased. But his marriage to the beautiful young Beatrice of Falkenberg revived him and it was with great pride that he brought her to England to introduce her to his brother.
Edward meanwhile was clearing up the rebel patches throughout the country. He was fast becoming a hero to his fellow countrymen. His height and good looks made him immediately recognisable; he was clearly a man of great strength and while he could be affable there was no sign of his father’s weakness in him.
The fact that they had such an heir to the throne was one of the main factors in giving the country a feeling of security. They despised Henry who had brought so much trouble to the country through his folly; but they were inclined to forgive him and his arrogant avaricious queen because whatever they had taken, they had given them Edward.
In due course Edward had freed the country of the rebels. Young Simon and Guy de Montfort were in exile in France. Edward had added further to his aura of heroism by meeting in single combat the last of the rebels. This was Adam Gurdon, a man of almost superhuman strength whom no one had ever been able to overcome. Edward achieved what had seemed impossible; and when he had Adam at his mercy he continued in his noble role and gave him his life out of respect for his valour. Rounding off this romantic episode in the perfect manner, Adam asked to be able to serve Edward and as long as he lived acted as one of his closest servants and bodyguards.
It was incidents like this that were circulated about the heir to the throne which delighted the people. They forgot Simon de Montfort and his cries for justice and his introduction of a parliament of which the like had never been seen before.
The country was settling down.
Edward now had a daughter, Eleanor, after his wife, and that obliging lady was once more pregnant. In due course she gave birth to a son who was named Henry after his grandfather.
Henry was delighted. He imposed a fine of 25,000 marks on the Londoners, who surprisingly paid it, and the whole of it was put to the Queen’s use.
‘This is for you, my love, and only now can I begin to forgive those wicked people for their treatment of you.’
Eleanor was ready to be placated as the sum was so large. The people would always hate her – and in particular the Londoners – but she could shrug that aside in the pleasure she took in her family.
News came from France that Louis was contemplating going on a crusade. People were beginning to regard him as a saint and it seemed to the whole world that he was the most fitted to lead such a venture.
Edward reminded his father that they both had at times declared their intention of taking up the cross and now that the country was at peace and Henry was in good health, might be the time for Edward to keep their vow.
The more he talked of it the more the idea appealed to him. He had developed a great skill – and taste – for battle. How better could he use it than in the service of Christ?
The King and the Queen, while they would regret his absence, understood his desires and they believed that it would be good for him and the country if he were to strike a blow for Christendom.
Only his wife, Eleanor, was so stricken with grief and so insistent in her pleas to accompany him that he pointed out in great detail the dangers she would have to face.
‘I would rather face any danger than be without you,’ she said.
He was deeply touched and she went on to point out that other wives had accompanied their husbands. Louis’ own wife, Marguerite, many years ago had been with him on his crusade.
It was true, agreed Edward, but she had suffered great hardships. He would not wish to see his gentle Eleanor in such circumstances.
But his gentle Eleanor showed a sudden hitherto unsuspected strength.
‘If you will not take me as your wife I will disguise myself as one of your soldiers and you will not know I am in your company until we arrive. Then you will have to recognise me.’
He embraced her with fervour. ‘My dear good wife,’ he said, ‘plead no more. You shall come with me. In God’s truth, why did I ever think that I could go without you?’
So it was settled and Edward left for France with his cousin Henry, the son of Richard, for Henry had also taken the cross.
They would go to the Court of France and there make their plans.
It was good to be together. They had always been the closest friends from the days of their childhood when they had been brought up in a household of royal children.
Henry had many fine qualities and Edward would never forget that it was Henry who had shown him the folly of his ruthless cruelty to the boy who at his command had lost an ear. Henry had despised that act and taught Edward to do the same.
There was something quite noble about Henry.
‘God’s truth, cousin,’ said Edward, ‘I am glad you will be with me.’
Henry had recently married the daughter of the Viscount of Bearn – a beautiful girl named Constance. So there they were two happily married men, about to set out on an adventure together – one of which they had often talked in their boyhood when they had vied with each other in describing the valiant deeds they would perform.
They were received with honour at the Court of France but Edward had to plead poverty, for the recent civil war had had such an effect on the English exchequer that there was no money with which to support a crusade. It was agreed that Edward should travel as the Duke of Aquitaine which meant that he would be a vassal of the King of France. As such Louis would offer him financial aid.
This was agreed upon and the two young men returned to England to make their final preparations.
Then Edward and his wife said a farewell to their children and set sail for France.
A shock awaited him when he arrived at Tunis. Louis had died of a fever and sickness raged through the French camp. The new king Philip under the influence of his uncle Charles of Anjou had made a truce with the Saracens.
This changed their plans considerably. Edward was indignant.
‘By God’s blood,’ he swore, ‘though all my fellow soldiers and countrymen desert me, I will go to Acre with my groom only and keep my words and my oath to the death.’
But he was uneasy.
He talked long with Henry.
‘Who would have believed this could have happened? You look sad, Henry. Do you think I am wrong to go on?’
‘Nay. I think you are right. I was but thinking of my father. He lies sick. I have a feeling that I shall never see him again.’
Edward was thoughtful.
‘There is trouble in Gascony. My father will need help. Henry, I am going to ask you something. Will you go home. Tend to your father. I know he loves you as he loves no other. I have seen his eyes light up at the sight of you. We have a capability for loving our families, we Plantagenets. Perhaps it is because my grandfather was so ill-treated by his sons and there is much to make up for. Henry, I have a feeling that you should go back.’
‘Perhaps you too, Edward. This is an unexpected setback.’
‘Nay. I am determined to stay. I shall go on. I have made my vow and I shall keep it. You are young. You will have time yet. At this moment I feel that you must go back, Henry.’
Henry was thoughtful. He was greatly concerned about his father. He had known for some time that he had been ill; but of late his weakness had grown.
‘I will go,’ he decided, and the cousins took an affectionate farewell of each other. Edward went on to Palestine while Henry sailed away to the Mediterranean coast.
* * *
Henry had been sad to leave Edward but, as he travelled through Italy in the entourage of the King of France, he felt a great need to see his father.
He feared that Richard might die be
fore he could reach him. Because of the strong bond between them he could not now stop thinking of his father. It seemed to him that his father was trying to reach him, that death was hovering and he wanted to see him while there was yet time.
As he rode Henry was going over memories of the times they had spent together. Richard had loved him, he knew, more than anyone else. He had had a certain passion for his wives – Sanchia had greatly attracted him for a while and it was the same with Beatrice. It must at one time have been so with his mother. But that was before he could remember. He fancied, looking back, that as a child he knew how his mother longed for his father to come to them, and how when he did come, although he showed the utmost affection for his son, he wanted to get away. And then later they had become great friends. They had fought together at Lewes; they had been the prisoners of Simon de Montfort.
Henry often thought of Simon. There was a great man who had dreamed of bringing justice to England. It was a pity that men like Simon de Montfort must die on the battlefield.
He knew that his two sons – Simon the younger and Guy – were now in Italy. They were exiled from England but Guy had married the only child of Count Aldobrandino Rosso dell’ Anguillara and had been made governor of Tuscany by Charles of Anjou. His brother Simon had joined him in Italy, so they could not now be far away.
He wondered whether he could see them, in which case he might bring about some reconciliation between them and the King and Edward.
He was sure that Edward would be ready to forget the trouble between them. After all they were his cousins. The King and Queen, whatever their faults, were not vindictive. King Henry was a man who liked to live in peace.
The thought excited Henry. As the party came into the town of Viterbo he decided that he would do all he could to find his cousins and, when he had, he would try to persuade them that they must bear no more resentment for the brutal murder of their father.
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