The Follies of the King - Plaidy Jean - Страница 29

‘It is no time to think of that,’ retorted Lancaster sharply. ‘The blow must be struck. He must lose his head.’

‘When?’ asked Arundel.

‘This night.’

‘So soon?’

‘Who knows what tomorrow could bring?’ cried Lancaster. ‘What if the

King arrived to take him from us?’

‘There will be no peace in this land while he lives,’ said Warwick. ‘The

people will rise against the King if Gaveston goes back to him. They like not this relationship between them. They want him to be with his Queen. They want another man such as his father was? a family man who will give the country heirs.’

‘Great Edward the First gave us our present King. He was great in all things save one— the giving of an heir.’

‘Hush my lord. That’s treason.’

‘Treason? among friends. We know it is all true.’

‘That may be. But let us rid the country of Gaveston and see what comes

then.’

‘He must go.’

They all agreed to that. And who should actually strike the blow? That man would be the enemy of the King forever.

They came to a decision. It should be an unknown hand that killed

Gaveston. The noble earls would merely be spectators and the men who struck the blows should be humble soldiers whose identity would be lost when they mingled with their fellows.

It was the only way.

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‘Come, Gaveston.’

It was Warwick who spoke to him.

‘It is time to go.’

‘To go where?’

‘Whither the Mad Hound leads.’

‘You never forget that, do you?’

‘There are some things which are never forgotten.’

‘You harbour more resentment against me for calling you that than for

snatching the championships at Wallingford.’

‘Have done. There is little time for such badinage. You should be saying

your prayers.’

‘So you are going to kill me?’

‘You are going to meet your deserts.’

‘And my fair trial?’

‘ I promised none of those things.’

‘You will have to answer to Pembroke.’

‘That will be no affair of yours, Gaveston. You should be praying for your black soul.

‘There is little time for that now.’

‘Tis so. Then use it.’

They took him out of the castle. He now saw the nobles earls on horseback

waiting. They were as still as statues cut out of stone.

They sat him on a horse. He savoured the smells and signs of the night. The good earth; the scent of grass, the dark star-speckled sky. He had never noticed their beauty before. He had loved the blue of the sapphire, the rich red of the ruby, the glitter of the diamond, because they had been the symbols of riches and power. Now he wanted to savour other beauties but it was too late.

Where were they taking him? Away from Warwick? Why, he wondered.

The Mad Hound had been eager to take him but perhaps he was not so eager to have a hand in his death.

He noticed then that Warwick was not among them.

It was Lancaster who rode ahead with Arundel. They were going into

Lancaster’s estates which bordered on those of Warwick and could not have

come more than a few miles.

Were they on the way to Kenilworth?

But no. They had stopped.

He was ordered to dismount. He did so and a troop of soldiers surrounded

him.

They walked forward; he with them then. They had come to a hill which he

knew from the past. Blacklow Hill. He remembered passing it when he was in Edward’s company. How strange that then he should have had no premonition

of this.

The three earls did not follow him. He knew what that meant. They were

afraid. They wanted him dead but they did not want to kill him themselves. That was a task for someone else.

This was the moment then.

The soldiers were all around him. He stood at the foot of the hill. He looked back. His last look at the earth: the dark hill before him; the silence of the night broken only by the ripple of a nearby stream. The smells of earth, the beauty of the earth? so much that he had never had time to notice before.

He glanced back at the figures of the earls seated on their horses. The

sentinels at the gates of the Earth, crying out to him: No admittance to you, Gaveston. You are banished? banished from life.

Someone had come close to him. He was just in time to see the flash of

steel. Then darkness and he was falling? His life had been ended by an

unknown hand but those men sitting on their horses, silent, still as stone, were the men who had murdered him.

He could hear a rushing in his ears. Vengance, Vengance, it seemed to say, and then something else? perhaps it was his own voice.

Edward? Edward? this is the end.

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Warwick waiting in the castle was afraid of what they had done. They

should have waited, given him his trial, for he must surely have been found guilty. But they had taken justice into their hands.

He had captured him, brought him to Warwick Castle and sent word to

Lancaster. But he had not gone out with them to Blacklow Hill.

There was a banging on the castle door. It echoed uncannily through the

vaulted roofs.

Warwick opened the door. Two men stood there. They were carrying a

headless corpse.

‘He is no more, my lord. The Earl of Lancaster has his head. We have

brought his body to you.’

Warwick stepped forward and looked at the grisly remains of that once

graceful body which had charmed the King.

‘Take it away!’ he cried. ‘Take it from here. I will have nought to do with it.’

‘My lord, where would you have us take it?’

‘Take it?’ He tried to think. ‘Anywhere,’ he cried, ‘but away from here.

‘Take it to the Dominicans of Oxford. They will give it temporary refuge.’

So wild did he look with the foam at his mouth? Gaveston’s mad dog

indeed.

The men hurried off. They knew that Gaveston could not be buried in

concentrated ground. He had died excommunicate and with all his sins upon

him.

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Lancaster alone took responsibility for the death of Gaveston. He despised the others for their fear. He had disobeyed the laws. He had filched a fortune from the King. No? Nothing could have saved him.

‘I have no fear,’ said Lancaster. ‘The King will hate me for this but the

people will be with me. The Queen will applaud me. I promised her to rid her of this man and I have done so. Why should I fear the King? I have my private army. I am as royal as he is. If the King cannot rule this land, then must others do it for him.’

Thomas Lancaster believed he could boldly admit to the judicial killing of an outlaw and a thief and a man who had threatened the peace of the country.

‘Gaveston is dead,’ said Lancaster. ‘We will go on from there.’

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THE DESPENSERS

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YOUNG EDWARD

WHEN the King heard of Gaveston’s murder those about him thought his

grief would drive him mad. For days he shut himself into his chamber and

would see no one. His attendants heard him wailing in his misery. He found some relief in calling vengeance on Lancaster, Warwick, Hereford and Arundel who had been responsible for the death of the finest man on Earth.

No one could soothe him in those first days but later the Queen insisted on going to him.

She was large with child now and the sight of her seemed to give him some

comfort.

She feigned compassion but she felt none, only exultancy because Gaveston

was dead. She had thought often of Lancaster and the ardent look in his eyes when he had said: ‘I will rid you of this man.’

He had taken great risks, and had removed Gaveston from their lives

forever.

Edward was babbling of his talents. She pretended to listen and she let her hand rest on the child and to herself she said: We will show this man for the fool he is, when you are born, my child. You will grow up and you will be a great King and your mother will always be beside you. The people despise your father but I will give England another King such as the first Edward and the people will welcome you in place of your ignoble father.