Nevertheless they turned out in their thousands and the press in the streets and about the abbey was so great that when one of the knights, Sir John Bakewell, fell from his horse, he was trodden to death before he could be rescued.
Gaveston had insisted on making the arrangements. He had intended that this coronation should be more splendid than any which had gone before― and he the most splendid figure in it. But his numerous enemies had decided on quite the opposite and on this occasion they proved more effective than he was.
The service was delayed and darkness had descended just after the consecration of the King and Queen. When they arrived at the banqueting hall by torchlight it was discovered that the meal was not ready in spite of the delay.
The barons were very hungry and they complained bitterly and there were audible whispers that Gaveston’s departure must not be delayed. When the food did arrive, it was proclaimed to be cold and ill-cooked and disgruntled looks could seen everywhere.
The Queen’s uncle Charles who was close to her said: ‘This is an affront to you and therefore to France. It shall not be forgotten.’
‘You must write your account of this matter― and others― to your father and we will see what he has to say,’ added Louis.
Isabella had every intention of doing that.
Her coronation had been a disaster and she had not been the centre of attraction, for all eyes had been on that impossible outrageous creature, Gaveston. True the looks cast in his direction had been far from friendly but still it had been as he had intended it should from the first: His day.
The Queen was ready to upbraid the King and tell him that she would complain to her father, but he did not come near her. He must spend as many hours as he could with his beloved Gaveston, particularly now the threat of separation hung over him.
Isabella wrote home to her father: ‘What sort of man have I been married to?
I see little of him. He prefers the couch of his favourite Gaveston to mine.’
Her uncles informed the barons that they were displeased by the treatment given to the Queen and that they would consider it their duty to explain the situation to her father.
Lancaster replied that the Queen’s uncles could be no more displeased with the state of affairs than the barons were and that before long they intended Gaveston to be banished from the country.
Charles de Valois discussed the matter with his brother Louis and they wondered whether it was wise to advise the King to send his favourite away.
‘If he does not,’ said Charles, ‘the barons will rise in revolt.’ He smiled slowly. ‘Our brother will not be displeased at that, I’m sure.’
‘And Isabella?’ asked Louis.
‘Never fear, we shall take care of our niece.’
Charles was right. When the brothers returned to France the King was interested to hear of the English barons’ dissatisfaction with their King.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘We must let them know that if they should decide to rise against him we should not come to his aid.’
‘As your son-in-law, would he not expect it?’ asked Louis.
‘There is no harm in his expecting it. But Edward is not my son. Every King of England knows that France cannot help but watch with interest any disaffection in his realm; and since we can never be sure when he will seek to take advantage of us, we must be somewhat relieved to know that he has his troubles elsewhere.’
‘Do you propose to take action, my lord?’ asked Louis.
The King smiled slowly. ‘Secret action. It shall be known that if the barons needed help we might be prepared to give them― a little.’
* * *
Lancaster had received word from the King of France that Philip was displeased with Edward’s treatment of his daughter and, if Lancaster were to make himself head of that party which demanded action against the King’s favourite, he would have the support of the King of France.
That decided Lancaster. The party was more powerful than he would have believed possible. The King had vowed to banish Gaveston. He and they must make him realize it was within their power to force him do so.
Lancaster called together a meeting of the barons.
‘It is clear,’ he announced, ‘that we cannot continue in this way. Gaveston must go. The King of France desires it and no wonder. Gaveston’s presence at court is an insult to the Queen.’
The barons agreed with one exception. This was Hugh le Despenser, Earl of Winchester, an ambitious man― more than that, an avaricious one. He had served in Scotland with the King ‘s father and eager to curry favour with the younger Edward, he saw an opportunity here. He had asked for an audience with the King and being admitted found him with Gaveston, both of them rather gloomy for they knew the barons were standing together against the favorite.
Winchester told them that the barons had called a meeting and intended to confront the King and command Gaveston’s banishment.
‘I will not let him go!’ cried Edward petulantly.
Gaveston said: ‘They may force you to do so, sweet lord.’
‘I will not be forced. Am I the King, or am I not? God’s teeth, I have not reigned a year yet and they would rule me.’
Winchester said: ‘I fear my lord that they are going to insist and it may be necessary for a while to do as they wish. But need it be for long, and why should you not decide where the Earl of Cornwall should go?’
‘They want to send him to Gascony.’
‘He could go to Ireland, my lord. There he could act as your lieutenant. He could be given a grant of money and live in comfort until you could see fit to recall him. You see if there were trouble in Ireland it would be necessary to consult with him. And then you could meet somewhere half-way. You could accompany him on his journey until he takes ship. Perhaps this could break the melancholy a little.’
Gaveston’s face had brightened but Edward was still downcast.
‘I do not wish him to go at all,’ he cried peevishly.
‘My heart is torn in pieces,’ added Gaveston, ‘But Winchester is right. We can soften the blow. We can rest assured that they are determined to part us, and I fear they may succeed. But let us make our parting as brief as possible. Let us see if we cannot outwit them in the end.’
Edward could not be comforted. He said he could not bear to be parted from Gaveston even for a night.
Hugh le Despenser watched them together and thought how weak the King was and how completely Gaveston controlled him but with Gaveston out of the way would the King be looking for new favourites? It was not that Despenser wished to take Gaveston’s place. None could do that. But a weak King could be flattered and worked upon and Hugh le Despenser might be the man to do it.
Gaveston was going.
The barons had decided on it and they had even hinted at civil war if Edward did not obey them. He had to make a choice. If Hugh le Despenser threw in his lot with the barons, he would have many rivals. Lancaster― though not the most astute of men— would lead them. There was Warwick, Lincoln, Pembroke― too many strong men.
But if he supported the King, he might become more powerful than any of them. Even if Gaveston returned, he would be grateful to him, for he was going to speak for him at the council meeting which would be held.
He had made up his mind. Hugh le Despenser, Earl of Winchester had thrown in his lot with the King and Gaveston.
Edward was still King and would remain King. It was far-sighted to curry favour with kings if one could keep that favor.
The next day at the meeting of the council, Hugh le Despenser was the only one who spoke against the banishment of Gaveston. The barons rounded on him, hinted that he was a traitor, but he merely laughed.
He was sure he had taken the right action and that he would lose nothing in the long run. He was present when the ultimatum was put to the King. The barons were threatening civil war if Gaveston did not leave the country.
Edward had no alternative but to submit, but he had expressed his gratit
ude to Hugh le Despenser for his support.
‘I shall not forget my friends,’ he said, and when shortly afterwards Hugh le Despenser was dismissed from the council, he remembered those words.
* * *
The King rode with Gaveston to Bristol, seeking to make the journey as long as possible.
He was sick at heart. There was no joy in life for him without his beloved Perrot. Gaveston declared that his own sorrow at the parting was as great if not greater than the King’s.
This was not true of course. In fact Gaveston was somewhat excited at the prospect of governing Ireland. There he would be treated like a king. He had come with all the trappings of royalty and he intended to be treated as such. It had been a stroke of brilliance to have thought of Ireland. He was determined to succeed there. That would be a blow for his enemies. They thought he was frivolous but he was by no means so. He frivolled to amuse the King, that was all. The King’s favour was necessary to him. Because of it, he was richest man in England; and he had been careful to get his treasures out of the country because he could never be sure when those barons were going to trump up some charges against him, and who knew they might take it into their heads to confiscate his goods. So he had made sure his wealth was taken into Gascony where he had some estates and there it awaited him if at any time he had to leave the country in a hurry. Edward was the most generous of men and he had bestowed on him the funds which the late King had gathered together for a crusade. Gaveston grimaced. He could make much good use of such treasure.
Better for him to possess it than that it should be frittered away on some useless campaign for killing Saracens and getting nowhere.. When he thought of all that had been wasted in that hopeless endeavor in the past he could feel really angry.
Well now he must say farewell to his sorrowing King and assure him that very soon he would be back with him.
‘I intend to make such a success of this Irish campaign, sweet lord, that your barons will tear their hair and smite their breasts and like as not grovel on the floor and eat the rushes.’
‘That was what my great grandfather used to do.’
‘They shall do the same, I promise you.’
‘Promise me one thing more important, my dear one. That you will never forget me and come back as loving as you left.’
‘I give you my word, dear lord.’
Edward stood on the shore and watched the ship sail away. Then he turned sorrowfully away. ‘I can know no happiness,’ he said, ‘until Perrot comes back to me.’
MURDER ON BLACKLOW HILL
EDWARD was desolate but Isabella was triumphant. She was furious, of course, to have been set aside for Gaveston and her inclination was to scorn her husband, but she had grown up since her marriage and was not going to act in a manner which might bring no good to herself. Strangely enough she was still physically in love with her husband. When she looked round the court, she could not find one man who was as handsome in her eyes.
As for Edward, he was pliant, amiable, and anxious to placate her and she found his melancholy attractive. She thought how gratifying it would be to win him away from Gaveston and when that fellow returned, as he undoubtedly would, it would give her immense satisfaction to see Edward turn away from him because of his love for his wife. It would be a difficult task to achieve with one of Edward’s proclivities, but the very immensity of it intrigued and inspired her.
There was one other consideration— and this was the chief of all: she wanted children. She must have a son who would inherit the throne. If she did, then she could guide and rule him; and if Edward so displeased the barons and they deposed him— which, it had already occurred to her, was not an impossibility— she would be there with her son ready to take the crown. That was looking forward a good many years but she was becoming shrewd and wise.
Edward had humiliated her beyond normal endurance. Very well, why should she not use him to get what she wanted from life? Determination had taken the place of humiliation and life had become quite amusing and exiting.
* * *
It was by no means so for Edward. He missed Gaveston desperately.
Sometimes he thought of giving up everything and joining him in Ireland. He could not do that, of course, and secretly he wondered whether Perrot would find him so attractive if he were not King. He must keep his royalty― Perrot set such store by it. He loved to see Perrot’s face light up when some gift was bestowed on him and only kings could provide the sort of gifts which Perrot wanted.
There was trouble in Scotland. Robert the Bruce, who been crowned King there, was endeavouring to regain the whole of his kingdom and drive out the English. The best thing that had happened to Scotland from Bruce’s point of view was the death of Edward the First, he whom they called the Hammer of the Scots, that Edward who had commanded that his bones he placed in a hammock and carried before his army. Bruce said cynically that he feared the bones of Edward the First more than he feared his son and any army led by him.
Insulting words, but let be, thought Edward. How can I be in Scotland when there is so much to be done here and I am unsure of the fidelity of those about me?
His father-in-law was offering advice. In fact, since the marriage Philip had made it clear that he took a great interest in Edward’s affairs. Philip had the Pope dancing to his tune; he wanted his son-in-law to do the same.
A messenger from the Pope had arrived in England and he told the King that his master was much disturbed by the practices carried out by the Knights Templars and that he wished the Order to be suppressed in England as it was being in France.
Edward was alarmed. He had always believed there was something holy about the Templars. He knew that over the centuries they had amassed great wealth but he remembered his father’s saying how magnificent they had been during his crusade and how their presence there had been such a help to the soldiers.
He sent for Walter Reynolds who had been a great comfort to him since the departure of Gaveston.
Walter was thoughtful when he heard of the Pope’s instruction. ‘You can depend upon it, this does not come so much from His Holiness as from the King of France,’ was his comment.
‘Philip has started to suppress the Templars. Walter, I fear it will bring me ill luck. I fear if I do this, something awful will happen. I might never see Perrot again.’
‘The King of France has amassed great wealth through the suppression of the Order, my lord.’
‘I know it well.’
‘And a king never needed money more than you do.’
‘It seems the wrong way to get it.’
‘If it is true that they practise these obscene acts―’ Walter licked his lips and Edward knew that Walter was thinking how he would like to witness some of them.
‘Do you believe it, Walter?’
Walter shrugged his shoulders. ‘It would be a way of replenishing the royal coffers,’ was his comment.
Edward shuddered. ‘I will not do it.’ he said. ‘Frankly, Walter, I do not believe it. My father-in-law is a ruthless man. He needs money, so he looks round to see who has some. He has alighted on the Templars. I think this will bring him ill luck. The Templars are― or were― men of God.’
‘You will doubtless put it before the council.’
‘This I must do, but somehow, Walter, I fancy they will not wish to do it either. The Templars have lived peaceably here for many years. I had rather they continued to do so.’
‘The King of France is the most powerful man in Europe, my lord. It is a blessing that you married his daughter.’ Walter smirked. ‘The lady seems a little more pleased with life of late. I doubt not this state of affairs has reached the French King’s ears.’
‘If he thinks to rule me,’ said Edward somewhat petulantly, ‘I shall defy him.’
‘Who is the King of France to govern the King of England! He is determined though that the Templars be suppressed and not only in his own country. It may be that he wishes to ease his conscience by letting oth
ers share his guilt― if guilt it is.’
‘If these men are innocent, Walter―’
‘I doubt they are that. It is not the nature of men to be innocent and when an Order amasses great wealth it can become obsessed by that wealth and eager to see it multiply. They say there was much indulgence among these men. They lived in luxury, they belied their holy laws. Oh yes, that seems very likely, my lord.’
‘But does this deserve torture and death?’
‘The King of France thinks so.’
‘Do you think he has lived such a virtuous life?’
‘That is beside the point if I may say so, lord. Philip is a king; these men proclaim to be holy knights. They have been foolish. They should not have become so wealthy for where there is wealth there will always be those who covet it and scheme to take possession of it. There is no doubt that Philip is determined on their destruction. He sent for the master, Jacques de Molai, on pretext of wishing to talk to him. Molai came to Paris from Cyprus and was treated well at first to allay his suspicions. Then suddenly Philip swooped on Molai and sixty of his knights of high order. They were taken to noisome dungeons and there daily these Knights Templars are submitted to hideous torture.’
Edward covered his face with his hands. ‘I hate to hear of it, Walter. I will not allow it here.’
‘Under this torture many of the knights have confessed to obscene practices.’
‘What they say under torture does not count.’
‘Indeed it does. The purpose of the torture in to reduce them to such agony that they will do anything to stop it.’
‘I do not want it here, Walter. I do not want it. Why cannot people be merry and gay and laugh and sing together? Why does there have to be this vileness?’
‘Ah, my lord, you are gentle and kind. All kings are not so. Least of all your father-in-law. He acts with demonical fury against the Templars. He wants their money and he wants an excuse for taking it. Doubtless they would be willing to give it to him but that will not suit him. He must ease his conscience. Therefore he must prove to the world and himself that these men deserve to be dispossessed.. This he does through torture when they confess to the sins he and his friends like Philip de Martigny, Archbishop of Sens, and his minister, Guillaume de Nogaret, have thought up for them.’
The Follies of the King Page 8