PART ONE, CHAPTER 5.
THE REIGN OF KING ROGER.
"She is no sheep who goes walking with the wolf."
Russian Proverb.
And now, were I inditing a very chronicle, should I dip my quill next inthe red ink, and write in full great letters--"Here beginneth the reignof King Edward of Windsor, the Third after the Conquest."
But, to scribe soothliness, I cannot do so. For not for four yearsthereafter did he in verity begin to reign. And what I should write, ifI writ truth, should be--"Here beginneth the reign of King Roger deMortimer, the First in England."
Now, here cometh an other matter I have noted. When man setteth him upto do that whereto he was not born, and hath not used himself, he issecure to do the same with never so much more din and outrage[extravagance] than he to whom it cometh of nature. If man be but abedel [herald, crier] he shall rowt [Shout] like a lion the first day;and a prince's charetter [charioteer] shall be a full braver [finer,more showy] man than the prince his master. Sir Roger made a deal morebruit than ever the King himself; that during all these four years wasmeek and debonair [humble and gentle], as though he abode his time. Hewrought what he would (which was mostly ill), and bare him like those ofwhom the Psalmist speaketh, that said, "Our lips are of us, who is ourlord?" [Psalm 9 4, Rolle's translation.] He held up but a finger, andfirst the King, and all else after, followed along his path. Truly, Ifault not the King; poor lad, he was in evil case, and might well enoughhave found hard to know the way he should go. But I do fault them thatmight have oped his eyes, and instead thereof, as being smoother way,chose to run after King Mortimer with his livery on their backs.
"How many of them knew the man, thinkest?" saith Jack, that had come inwhile I writ the last piece.
"Jack!" cried I. "What, to see him do that he did, more in especialwhen his pride was bolned [swollen, pulled up] by being create Earl ofMarch--when he had larger following than the King himself, having ninescore knights at his feet; when he arose from the King's table ere theKing stirred, as though he were lord and master of all; when he sufferedthe King to rise on his coming into the presence, all meekly andcourteously, yet himself, when the King entered, kept his seat as hemicht afore a servitor; when he walked even with the King, and sometimesafore him; when he was wont to put him down, and mock at him, and makehim a laughing-stock. I have heard him myself say to the King--`Holdthy peace, lad!' and the King took it as sweetly as if he had beenswearing of allegiance."
"I have eyes in mine head, my fair warrior, and ears belike. I saw somuch as thou--maybe a little more, since I was something oftener in myLord's company than thou."
"But thou sawest what he was?" said I.
"So did I; and sorry am I to have demerited the wrath of Dame Cicely deChaucombe, for that I oped not the King my master's even."
"Nay, Jack! I never meant thee. I have somewhat more reverence formine husband than so."
"Then art thou a very pearl amongst women. Most dames' husbands findnot much reverence stray their way--at least from that quarter. Imisdoubt if Vivien's husband ever picks up more than should lightly slipinto his pocket."
"Sir James Le Bretun is not so wise as thou," said I. "But what Imeant, Jack, was such as my Lord of Lancaster and my Lord of Kent, andmy Lord of Hereford--why did never such as these tell the King soothtouching the Mortimer?"
"As for my Lord of Hereford," saith Jack, "I reckon he was too busiedfeeling of his pulse and counting his emplastures, and telling hisapothecary which side of his head ached worser since the last draught ofcamomile and mallows. Sir Edmund de Mauley was wont to say he had agrove of aspens at Pleshy for to make his own populion [Note 1], andthat he brake his fast o' dragons' blood and dyachylon emplasture.Touching that will I not say; but I reckon he thought oftener on histamarind drink than on the public welfare. He might, perchance, havebestirred him to speak to the King had he heard that he had a freckle ofhis nose, for to avise him to put white ointment thereon; but scarce, Ireckon, for so small a matter as the good government of the realm."
"Now, Jack!" said I, a-laughing.
"My Lord of Kent," went he forth, "was he that, if he thought he hadhurt the feelings of a caterpillar, should have risen from his warm bedthe sharpest night in winter to go and pray his pardon of his bareknees. God assoil him, loving and gentle soul! He was all unfit forthis rough world. And the dust that Sir Roger cast up at hishorse-heels was in my Lord of Kent's eyes as thick as any man's. Hecould not have warned the King, for himself lacked the warning."
"Then my Lord of Lancaster--why not he?"
"He did."
"Ay, at long last, when two years had run: wherefore not long ere that?The dust, trow, was not in his eyes."
"Good wife, no man's eyes are blinder than his which casts the dust intohis own. My Lord of Lancaster had run too long with the hounds to beable all suddenly to turn him around and flee with the hare."
"Soothly, I know he met the Queen on her landing, and likewise had theold King in his ward: but--"
"I reckon, Sissot, there were wheels within wheels. We need not judgemy Lord of Lancaster. He did his duty at last. And mind thou, betweenhim and his duty to King Edward the father, stood his brother'sscaffold."
"Which never man deserved richer."
"Not a doubt thereof: but man may scarce expect his brother to beholdit."
"Then," said I, "my Lord Zouche of Mortimer--but soothly he was cousinto the traitor. Jack, I never could conceive how it came about that heever wedded the Lady Alianora. One of the enemies of her own husband,and she herself set prisoner in his kinsman's keeping, and to wed hergaoler's cousin, all against the King's pleasure and without hislicence--canst solve the puzzle?"
"I can tell thee why he wed her, as easy as say `twice two be four.'She was co-heir of the earldom of Gloucester, and his sword was nearhandhis fortune."
"Then wherefore wed she him?"
"Kittle [ticklish, delicate] ground, Sissot, for man to take on him toaccount for the doings of woman. I might win a clap to mine ears, aslike as not."
"Now, Jack, thou wist well I never demean me so unbuxomly. Tell me thythought."
"Then I think," saith he, "that the Lady Alianora La Despenser was womanof that manner that fetch their souls from the vine. They must havesomewhat to lean on. If an oak or a cedar be nigh, good: but if no, whythen, a bramble will serve their turn. The one thing that they cannotdo is to stand alone. There be not only women of this fashion; there belike men, but too many. God help them, poor weak souls! The woman thatcould twine round the Lord Zouche the tendrils torn from Sir Hugh LeDespenser must have been among the very weakest of women."
"It is sore hard," said I, "to keep one from despising such weakness."
"It is full hard, soothly. I know but one way--to keep very near to Himthat never spurned the weakest that prayed His help, and that tholedweakness amidst other meeknesses [humiliations], by reason that itbehoved Him to resemble His brethren in all things. And some of Hisbrethren are very weak. Sissot, when our daughters were babes, I waswont to think thou lovedst better Alice than Vivien, and I am nearhandsecure that it was by reason she was the weaker of the twain, and pavethee the more thought."
"Surely," said I; "that alway holdeth good with a mother, that the barnewhich most needeth care is the dearest."
Jack's answer, I knew, came from Holy Writ.
"`As by him whom his mother blandisheth, thus will I comfort you.'"
The Sunday after the Conversion of Saint Paul [February 1st, 1327] wasthe young King crowned in Westminster Abbey before the high altar, byWalter [Reynolds] Archbishop of Canterbury, that had been of old a greatfriend of King Edward the father, and was carried away like the rest bythe glamour of the Queen. But his eyes were opened afore most other,and he died of a broken heart for the evil and unkindness which himselfhad holpen, the day of Saint Edmund of Pontigny [November 16th] nextthereafter. Also present were nine bishops, the King's uncles, and manynobles: yea, and Que
en Isabel likewise, that caused us to array her ingreat doole [mourning], and held her sudary at her eyes nearhand all theoffice [Service] through. And it was no craft, for she could weep whenit listed her--some women have that power--and her sudary was full wetwhen she returned from the Abbey. And the young King, that was but thenfull fourteen years of age, took oath as his father and all the kingshad done afore him, that he would confirm to the people of England thelaws and the customs to them granted by the ancient Kings of England hispredecessors, the rights and offerings of God, and particularly thelaws, customs, and liberties granted to the clergy and people by theglorious King, Saint Edward, his predecessor. He sware belike to keepunto God and holy Church, unto the clergy and the people, entire peaceand concord to his power; to do equal and true justice in all hisjudgments, and discretion in mercy and truth; to keep the laws andrighteous customs which the commons of his realm should have elected[_Auera estu_ are the rather singular words used], and to defend andenforce them, to the honour of God and to his power. [Note 2.]
Six sennights we tarried at Westminster: but, lack-a-day! what a timehad we at after! All suddenly the Queen gave order to depart thence.She controlled all things, and the King her son was but a puppet in herhands. How did we trapes up and down all the realm!
To Canterbury the first round, a-pilgrimage to Saint Thomas; then rightup as far as York, where we tarried a matter of five weeks. Then toDurham, which we had scarce reached ere we were aflight again, this timeto Auckland, and a bit into that end of Yorkshire; back again to Durham,then away to York, and ten days later whisked off to Nottingham; there afortnight, off again to Lincoln. I guess well now, what I wist notthen, the meaning of all this. It was to let the young King from takingthought touching his father, and all that had happed of late. While hewas cheerful and delectable [full of enjoyment], she let him be; but nosooner saw she his face the least downfell [cast down] than she pluckedhim away, and put turn to his thoughts by sending him some otherwhither. It paid [Note 3] for a time.
It was while we were at Lincoln, where we tarried from the morrow ofHoly Cross to Michaelmas Eve [September 15th to 28th], that Donald theScots messager came from the southern parts with tidings. For sometime--divers weeks, certes--afore that, had the Queen been marvellousunrestful and hard to serve. That which liked her yesterday was all outthis morrow, and each matter man named for her plesance was worser thanthat had gone afore. I was nearhand driven out of senses that verymorrow, so sharp [irritable] was she touching her array. Not a gown inher wardrobe would serve the turn; and when at last she chose which shewould don, then were her hoods all awry; and then would she have nohood, but only a wimple of fair cloth of linen. Then, gramercy! suchpains had we to find her a fillet: this was too deep, and that toonarrow, and this set with amethysts should ill fit with her gown ofrose-colour, and that wrought of lily-flowers should catch in her hair.
I wished me at the further end of the realm from Lincoln, ay, a dozentimes twice told.
At long last we gat her filleted; and then came the mantle. First, DameElizabeth brought one of black cloth of Stamford, lined with fox fur:no, that served not. Then brought Dame Joan de Vaux the fair mantle ofcloth of velvet, grey, that I ever reckoned the fairest in the Queen'swardrobe, guarded with black budge, and wrought in embroidery ofrose-colour and silver: she waved it away as though the very sight'noyed [disgusted] her. Then fetched Isabel de la Helde the ray mantle,with corded ground, of blue, red, and green; and the Queen chid her asthough she had committed one of the seven deadly sins. At the last, inuttermost wanhope [despair], ran I and brought the ugsomest of all, thecorded olive green with border of grey; and forsooth, that would shehave. Well-a-day, but I was fain when we had her at last arrayed!
When the Queen had left the chamber, Dame Elizabeth cast her on thenearest bench, and panted like a coursed hare.
"Deary, deary me!" crieth she: "I would I were abed."
"Abed!" crieth Isabel de la Helde. "Abed at five o'clock of a morrow!"
"Ay, or rather, I would I had never gat out. Gramercy, but howfractious is the Queen! I counted we ne'er should have her donned."
"She never spoke to me so sharp in her life," saith Isabel.
"I tell you, I am fair dog-weary!" quoth Dame Elizabeth.
"Whatever hath took the Queen?" saith Joan de Vilers.
"Foolish childre, all of you!" saith old Dame Tiffany, looking on uswith a smile. "When man is fractious like to this, with every man andevery matter, either he suffereth pain, or else he hath some hiddenanguish or fear that hath nought to do with the matter in hand. 'Tisnot with you that my Lady is wrathful. There is something harrying herat heart. And she hath not told me."
In hall, during dinner. I cast eyes from time to time on the Queen, andI could not but think Dame Tiffany spake sooth. She looked fairhaggard, as though some bitter care were eating out her heart. I neverloved her, as I said at the first: but that morn I felt sorry for her.
Sorry for _her_! Ah, I soon knew what sore cause there was to be sorryto the very soul for some one else!
It was while we were sat at supper that Donald came. I saw him enterfrom the high table where I sat, and I knew in an instant that hebrought some fearsome tidings. I lost him in the crowd at the furtherend, and then Mereworth, one of the varlets of the King's chamber, cameall in haste up the hall, with a face that had evil news thereon writ:and Sir John de Ros, that was then Seneschal, saw him, and guessing, asI think, the manner of word he brought, stepped down from the dais tomeet him. Then, in an other minute, I saw Donald brought up to the Kingand to the Queen.
I watched them both. As Donald's news was told, the young King's facegrew ashen pale, and he cried full dolefully "_Dieu eit mercie_!" Thenews troubled him sore and sure enough. But the Queen's eyes, that amoment before had been full of terror and untholemodness [impatience],shot out one flash of triumphant gladness: and the next minute she hadhidden her face in her sudary, and was greeting as though her heart hadbroke. I marvelled what tidings they could be, that were tene [grief]to the King, and blisfulhed [happiness] to the Queen. Sir John deGaytenby, the King's confessor, was sat next to me at the table, and tohim I said--
"Father, can you guess what manner of news Donald de Athole shall havebrought?"
"Ay, daughter," he made answer. "Would I were in doubt!"
"You think--?" I asked him, and left him to fill up.
"I think," he saith in a low voice somewhat sorrowful of tone, "that Godhath delivered from all labour and sorrow one of His servants that trustin Him."
"Why, that were nought to lament o'er!" I was about to say; but Istayed me when half through. "Father, you mean there is man dead?"
"We call it death," saith Sir John de Gaytenby--"we of this netherworld, that be ever in sickness and weariness, in tene and intemptation. Know we what they call it which have forded the Rubicon,and stand safe on the pavement of the Golden City? `_Multo magismelius_,' saith the Apostle [Philippians One verse 23]: `much morebetter' to dissolve and to be with Christ. And the colder be the watersman hath to ford, the gladder and welcomer shall be the light of theGolden City. They were chill, I cast no doubt: and all the chiller forthe hand that chilled them. With how sharp thorns and briers God hathto drive some of His sheep! But once in the Fold, there shall be timeto forget them all. `When thou passest through the waters, I will bewith thee' [Isaiah 43 verse 2]--that is enough now. We can stay us uponthat promise till we come through. And then there shall be no more needfor Him to be with us in tribulation, since we shall reign with Him forever and ever."
Old Sir Simon de Driby came up behind us as the Confessor ended.
"Have you guessed, Sir John, our dread news?--and you, Dame Cicely?"
"I have guessed, and I think rightly," answered Sir John. "For DameCicely I cannot say."
I shook mine head, and Sir Simon told me.
"Sir Edward of Caernarvon is dead."
"Dead--the King!"
"`The King' no lon
ger," saith Sir Simon sorrowfully.
"O Sir Simon!" cried I. "How died he?"
"God knoweth," he made answer. "I misdoubt if man shall know."
"Or woman?" quoth Sir John, significantly.
"The schoolmaster learned me that man includeth woman," saith Sir Simon,smiling full grimly.
"He learned you not, I reckon, that woman includeth man," saith SirJohn, somewhat after the same manner.
"Ah, _woe_ worth the day!" Sir Simon fetched an heavy sigh. "Well, Godforgive us all!"
"Amen!" Sir John made answer.
I think few men were in the realm that did not believe the King's deathwas murder. But nought was done to discover the murderers, neither tobring them to justice. It was not until after the Mortimer was out ofthe way that any such thing was done. When so it was, mandate wasissued for the arrest of Sir Thomas de Gournay, Constable of BristolCastle, and William de Ocle, that had been keepers of the King atBerkeley Castle. What came of Ocle know I not; but Sir Thomas fledbeyond seas to the King's dominions of Spain [Note 3], and wasafterwards taken. But he came not to trial, for he died on the way: andthere were that said he knew too much to be permitted to make defence.[Note 4.]
The next thing that happed, coming under mine eyes, was the young King'sbetrothal and marriage. The Lady Philippa of Hainault, that was ouryoung Queen, came over to England late in that same year, to wit, thefirst of King Edward, and was married the eve of the Conversion of SaintPaul, the year of our Lord 1327, after the computation of the Church ofEngland [Note 5]. Very praisable [lovely] and fulbright [beautiful] wasthe said lady, being sanguine of complexion, of a full fair face, andfair hair, having grey [grey] cyen and rosen colour of her cheeks. Shewas the same age as the King, to wit, fifteen years. They were wed inYork Minster.
"Where hast reached to, Sissot?" saith Jack, that was sat by the fire,as I was a-bending the tail of my Y in York.
"Right to the King's wedding," said I.
"How many more skins o' parchment shall I bring thee for to set forththe gowns?"
"Dear heart!" cried I, "must I do that for all that were there?"
"Prithee use thy discretion. I wist not a woman could write a chroniclewithout telling of every gown that came in her way."
"Go thy ways, Jack!" said I. "Securely, if I set down the King's, andthe Queen's, and thine and mine, that shall serve well enough."
"It should serve me, verily," quoth he. "Marry, I hope thou mindestwhat manner of raiment I had on, for I ensure thee I do not a whit."
"Dost thou ever, the morrow thereof?" said I. "Nay, I wis I must pluckthat out of mine own memory."
The King, then, was donned of a robe of purple velvet, with a pair ofsotlars of cloth of gold of Nakes silk; the said velvet robe wroughtwith the arms of England, of golden broidery. The Queen bare a robe ofgreen cloth of velvet, with a cape thereto, guarded with miniver, and anhood of miniver; her hair falling full sweetly over from under hergolden fillet, sith she put not on her hood save to leave the Minster.And at the feast thereafter, she ware a robe of cloth of samitelle, redand grey, with a tunic and mantle of the same. [Note 6.]
As for Jack, that was then clerk of the Wardrobe [Note 7], he ware atabard of the King's livery [the arms of France and England] of mine ownbroidering, and hosen of black cloth, his hood being of the same. I hadon a gown of grey cloth of Northampton, guarded with gris, and mine hoodwas of rose-colour say [Note 8] lined with black velvet.
But over the inwards of the wedding must I not linger, for much is yetto write. The latter end of February was the Lady La Despenser loosedfrom the Tower, and in April was all given back to her. All, to wit,that could be given. Her little children, that the Queen Isabel hadmade nuns without any leave given save her own, could come back to hernever more. I misdoubt if she lamented it greatly. She was one fromwhom trouble and sorrow ran lightly, like the water from a duck's back:and I reckon she thought more on her second marriage, which had placesecretly about a year after her release, than she ever did for her lostchildren. And here may I say that those sisters, coheirs of Gloucester,did ever seem to me the queerest mothers I wist. The Lady MargaretAudley gave up her little Kate (a sweet child she was) to the Ankerageat Ledbury with scarce a sigh; and the Lady Alianora, of whom I write,took but little thought for her maids at Sempringham, or I err. I wouldnot have given up my Alice after that fashion: and I did sore pity thoselittle barnes, of which the eldest was not seven years old. Folk saidit was making of gift to God, and was an holy and blessed thing.Soothly, I marvel if God setteth store by such like gifts, when men dobut cast at his feet that whereof they would be rid! The innermostsanctuary of the Temple, it seemeth me, is scarce the fittest place toshoot rubbish. And when the rubbish is alive, if it be but vermin, Icannot slack to feel compassion for it.
Methinks the Lady Alianora felt it sorer trouble of the twain, when shesuffered touching certain jewels reported to be missing from the Towerduring her governance thereof--verily a foolish charge, as though theLady of Gloucester should steal jewels! Howbeit, she was fined twentythousand pound, for the which she rendered up her Welsh lands, with themanors of Hanley and Tewkesbury, being the fairest and greatest part ofher heritage. The King allowed her to buy back the said lands if sheshould, in one and the same day, pay ten thousand marks: howbeit, onehalf the said fine was after remitted at the intercession of the Lordsand Commons.
That autumn was the insurrection of my Lord of Lancaster--but a bit toosoon, for the time was not ripe, but I reckon they knew not how longerto bear the ill thewis [manners, conduct] of the Mortimer, which ruledevery thing at his will, and allowed none, not even my Lord ofLancaster, to come nigh the King without his leave, and then he had themwatched of spies. The Parliament was held at Salisbury that Michaelmas,whereto all men were forbidden to come in arms. Thither, nathless, camethe said Mortimer, with a great rabble of armed men at his heels. MyLord of Lancaster durst not come, so instead thereof he put himself inarms, and sent to expound matters to the King. He was speedily joinedby all that hated the Mortimer (and few did not), among whom were theKing's uncles, the Bishops of Winchester and London, the Lord Wake, theLord de Beaumont, Sir Hugh de Audley, and many another that had stoodstoutly for Queen Isabel aforetime. Some, I believe, did this out ofrepentance, seeing they had been deceived; other some from nought savehate and envy toward the Mortimer. The demands they put forth were nowise unskilwise [unreasonable]. They were chiefly that the King shouldhold his revenues himself (for the Queen had so richly dowered herselfthat scarce a noble was left to the King); that the Queen should bedowered of the third part, as queens had been aforetime; and that theMortimer should live on his own lands, and make no encroachments. Theycharged him with divers evil deeds, that he had avised the King todissolve his Council appointed of twelve peers, he had wasted the royaltreasure, he had counselled the King to give up Scotland, and had causedthe Lady Joan to wed beneath her dignity.
"Make no encroachments!" grimly quoth old Sir Simon, when he heard ofthis; "verily, an' this present state of matters go on but a littlelonger, the Mortimer can make no encroachments, for he shall have allEngland to his own."
The Mortimer, that had yet the King's ear (though I think he chafed abit against the rein by now and then), avised him that the Lords soughthis crown, causing him to ride out against them as far as Bedford, andthat during the night. Peace was patched up some way, through themediating of Sir Simon de Mepham, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, myLord of Lancaster being fined eleven thousand pounds--though, by thesame token, he never paid it. [Note 9.] That same Michaelmas was theKing's uncle, the Lord Edmund de Woodstock, create Earl of Kent (marry,I named him my Lord of Kent all through, seeing he should so best beknown, but he was not so create until now), and King Roger, that wassuch, but was not so-called, had avancement to the dignity of Earl ofMarch. There was many a lout and courtesy and many a leg made, when asmy Lord's gracious person was in presence; and when as he went forth,lo! brows were drawn together, and lip
s thrust forth, and wordswhispered beneath the breath that were not all of praise.
Now, whether it be to fall into the Annals of Cicely or no, this must Ineeds say--and Jack may flout me an' he will (but that he doth never)--that I do hate, and contemn, and full utterly despise, this manner ofdealing. If I love a man, maybe I shall be bashful to tell him so: butif I love him not, never will I make lout nor leg afore him for to winof him some manner of advantage. I would speak a man civilly, whether Iloved him or no; that 'longeth to my gentlehood, not his: but toblandish and losenge him [coax and flatter], and say `I love thee well'and `Thou art fairest and wisest of all' twenty times in a day, when inmine heart I wished him full far thence, and accounted of him as fondand ussome [foolish and ugly]--that could I never demean me to do, an' Ilived to the years of Methuselah.
And another thing do I note--I trust Jack shall have patience with me--that right in proportion as a man is good, so much doth an ill man hatehim. My Lord of Lancaster was wise man and brave, as he oft showed,though he had his failings belike; and he did more than any otheragainst the Mortimer, until the time was full ripe: my Lord of Kent wasgent, good, and sweet of nature, and he did little against him--only toconsort with my said Lord of Lancaster: yet the Mortimer hated my Lordof Kent far worser than my Lord of Lancaster, and never stayed till hehad undone him. Alas for that stately stag of ten, for the cur pulledhim down and worried him!
My Lord of Kent, as I writ afore, had dust cast in his eyes by theQueen. He met her on her landing, and marched with her, truly believingthat the King (as she told him) was in thrall to the old and young SirHugh Le Despenser, and that she was come to deliver him. Nought lessthan his brother's murder tare open his sealed eyes. Then he woke up,and aswhasay looked about him, as a man roughly wakened that scarce hathhis full sense. Bitter was his lamentation, and very sooth hispenitence, when he saw the verity of the matter. Now right as this wasthe case with him, the Queen and the Mortimer, having taken counselthereon, (for they feared he should take some step that should do them amischief), resolved to entangle him. They spread a rumour, taking goodcare it should not escape his ears, that King Edward his brother yetlived, and was a prisoner in Corfe Castle. He, hearing this, quicklydespatched one of his chaplains, named Friar Thomas Dunhead, aPredicant--for all the Predicants were on the King's side--to see if thereport were as it was said: and Sir John Deveroil, then Keeper of theCastle, having before his instructions, took the Friar within, seemingnothing loth, and showed unto him the appearance of a king seated atsupper in hall, with his sewers [waiters] and other officers about him.This all had been bowned [prepared] afore, of purpose to deceive my Lordof Kent, and one chosen to present [represented] the King that was likeenough to him in face and stature to pass well. On this hearing went myLord of Kent with all speed to Avignon, to take counsel with Pope John[John Twenty-Two] who commended him for his good purpose to deliver hisbrother, and bade him effect the same by all means in his power:moreover, the said Pope promised himself to bear all charges--which wasa wise deed of the holy Father, for my Lord of Kent was he that couldnever keep money in his pocket, but it flowed out of all sides. Then myLord returned back, and took counsel with divers how to effect the same.Many an one promised him help--among other, the Archbishop of York, andthe Lord Zouche of Mortimer (that wedded the Lady Alianora, widow of SirHugh Le Despenser), the Lord Wake (which had wrought much against theKing of old, and was brother unto my Lady of Kent), and Sir EbuloL'Estrange, (that wedded my Lady of Lancaster, widow of Earl Thomas),and the young Earl of Arundel, and others of less sort. My said Lady ofKent was likewise a-work in the matter, for she was not woman to leteither tongue or hand lie idle.
Now, wherefore is it, that if man be rare sweet, gent, and tender,beyond other men, he shall sure as daydawn go and wed with woman thatcould hold castle or govern army if need were? 'Tis passing strange,but I have oft noted the same. And if he be rough and fierce, thenshall he take fantasy to some soft, nesh [Note 10], bashful creaturethat scarce dare say nay to save her life. Right as men of high staturedo commonly wed with small women, and the great women with little men.Such be the ways of Providence, I take it.
Jack saith--which I must not forget to set down--that he credeth not awhit that confession set forth as made of my Lord of Kent, nor anytestimony of Friar Dunhead, but believeth the whole matter a pack oflies, saving only that my Lord believed the report of his brotherprisoner in Corfe Castle. Howbeit, my Lord of Kent writ a letter as tothe King his brother, offering his deliverance, which he entrusted toSir John Deveroil: who incontinently carried the same to the Mortimer,and he to the Queen. She then showed it to the young King, saying thatherein might he see his uncle was conspiring to dethrone him and takehis life and hers. The King, that dearly loved his mother, allowedinquiry into the same, pending the which my said Lord was committed toprison.
The next morrow came the Mortimer to the Queen as she sat at dinner, andprayed instant speech of her, and that full privy: and the Queen,arising from the table, took him into her privy closet. Dame Isabel deLapyoun alone in waiting. I had learned by then to fear mischiefwhensoever the Queen bade none follow her save Dame Isabel, for I doverily believe she was in all the ill secrets of her mistress. Theywere in conference maybe ten minutes, and then hastened the Mortimeraway, nor would he tarry so long as to drink one cup of wine. It wasnot many minutes after that the young King came in; and I perceived bytheir discourse that the Queen his mother had sent for him. Verily, allthat day (which was Saint Joseph [March 19th]) she watched him as cat,mouse. He could not leave the chamber a moment but my Lord of Marchcrept after. I reckoned some mischief was brewing, but, _purefoy_! Iguessed not how much. That day died my Lord of Kent, on the scaffold atWinchester. And so beloved was he that from noon till four of the clockthey had to wait, for no man would strike him, till at last theypersuaded one in the Marshalsea, that had been cast for [sentenced to]death, to behead him as the price of his own life.
A little after that hour came in Sir Hugh de Turpington, that wasMarshal of the Hall to the King.
"Sir," saith he to the King, "I am required of the Sheriff to tell youthat my Lord of Kent hath paid wyte on the scaffold. So perish all yourenemies!"
Up sprang the King with a face wherein amaze and sore anguish strave forthe mastery.
"My uncle Edmund is dead on scaffold!" cried he in voice that rangthrough hall. "Mine enemies! _He_ was none! What mean you? I gave nomandate for such, nor never should have done. _Dieu eit mercie_! mineenemies be they that have murdered my fair uncle, that I loved dear.Where and who be they? Will none here tell me?"
Wala wa! was soul in that hall brave enough to tell him? One of thosetwo chief enemies stale softly to his side, hushing the other (thatseemed ready to break forth) by a look.
"Fair Son," saith the Queen, in her oiliest voice, "hold you so lightyour own life and your mother's? Was your uncle (that wist full wellhow to beguile you) dearer to you than I, on whose bosom you have lainas babe, and whose heart hath been rent at your smallest malady?"
(Marry, I marvel when, for I never beheld less careful mother than DameIsabel the Queen. But she went forth.)
"The proofs of what I say," quoth she, "shall be laid afore you in fullParliament, and you shall then behold how sorely you have been deceivedin reckoning on a friend in your uncle. Meanwhile, fair Son, trust me.Who should seek your good, or care for your safety, more than your ownmother?"
Ah verily, who should! But did she so? I could see the King wassomewhat staggered by her sweet words, yet was he not peaced in amoment. His anger died down, but he brake forth in bitter tears, and soleft the hall, greeting as he went.
Once more all passed away: and they that had hoped for the King to awakeand discover truth found themselves beguiled.
Order was sent to seize my Lady of Kent and her childre, that were thenin Arundel Castle. But the officers, there coming, told her the dreadtidings, whereat she fell down all in swoon, and ere the eve was bornthe Lord
John her son, and baptised, poor babe, in such haste in theBarefooted Friars' Church, that his young brother and sister, no morethan babes themselves, were forced to stand sponsors for him with thePrior of the Predicants [Note 11]. Howbeit he lived to grow to man'sestate, yea, longer than the Lord Edmund his brother, and died Earl ofKent a matter of eight years gone.
The Castle of Arundel, and the lands, that had been given to my Lord ofKent when my Lord of Arundel was execute, were granted to Queen Isabelshortly after his 'heading. I think they were given as sop to keep himtrue to the Queen: not that he was man to be bought, but very like shethought all men were. Dear heart, what strange gear are we humancreatures! I marvel at times whether the angels write us down greaterknaves or fools.
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Note 1. The crystallised juice of the aspen. Earl John of Herefordseems to have been a valetudinarian.
Note 2. Close Roll, 1 Edward the Third, Part One. The exact wording ofthe coronation oath is of some importance, since it has sometimes beenstated that our sovereigns have sworn to maintain religion precisely asit existed in the days of Edward the Confessor. The examination of theoath shows that they promised no such thing. They engaged only to keepand defend to the people, clerical and lay, the laws, customs, rights,and liberties granted by their predecessors, and by Edward moreespecially. "To his power" means "to the best of his power."
Note 3. Then not an unusual way of saying "the King of Spain'sdominions."
Note 4. In my former volume, _In All Time of our Tribulation_, Icommitted the mistake of repeating the popular error that the Queen tookimmediate vengeance, by banishment, on the murderers of her husband. Itwas only Gournay and Ocle who were directly charged with the murder: theothers who had a share in it were merely indicted for treason. Gournaywas Constable of Bristol in December, 1328; and the warrant for hisapprehension was not issued until December 3, 1330--after the fall ofMortimer, when Edward the Third, not his mother, was actually the ruler.
Note 5. By this phrase was meant the reckoning of the year from Easterto Easter, subsequently fixed for convenience' sake at the 25th ofMarch.
Note 6. I have searched all the Wardrobe Accounts in vain for thewedding attire of this royal pair. The robes described are that worn bythe King for his coronation; that in which the Queen rode from the Towerto Westminster the day before her coronation; and that in which shedined after the same ceremony. These details are given in the WardrobeAccounts, 33/2, and 34/13. It was the fashion at this time for abride's hair to be left flowing straight from head to foot.
Note 7. Chaucombe was in the Household, but of his special office Ifind no evidence.
Note 8. A coarse variety of silk, used both for garments andupholstery.
Note 9. Dr Barnes tells his readers that Lancaster was at this time soold as to be nearly decrepit; and two years later, that he was "almostblind for age." He was exactly forty-one, having been born in 1287(Inq. Tho. Com. Lane, 1 Edward the Third 1. 88), and 53 years had notelapsed since the marriage of his parents. We may well say, afterChancellor Oxenstiern, "See with how little accuracy history iswritten!"
Note 10. Tender, sensitive, either in body or mind. This word is stilla provincialism in the North and West.
Note 11. _Prob. aet. Johannis Com. Kant._, 23 Edward the Third 76,compared with _Rot. Pat._, 4 Edward the Third, Part 1, and _Rot.Claus._, 4 Edward the Third.