‘You think he would give it?’
‘No king cares to see another deposed.’
‘Deposed! You don’t think they would dare?’
‘They tried to do it to my father. That was the worst thing that ever happened to the monarchy. It lives for ever in their minds. I think Louis would not wish to see me toppled from my throne. It sets a precedent. He might help.’
‘He should help,’ said Eleanor. ‘After all he is Marguerite’s husband.’
‘Alas, my love, all have not such strong family feeling as you are blessed with.’
‘I must come with you, Henry. I insist. You have not been well of late.’
‘The thought of going without you makes me desolate indeed.’
‘We have a son. Let Edward return to England. He is of an age now to take the reins in your absence. Oh, my dear Henry, you hesitate. No child of mine would ever stand against his father.’
Henry took her hand and kissed it. ‘I see you are right as you so often are. I should let myself be guided by you. Edward shall return. Our son will take charge of matters here in our absence; and you and I will not be parted.’
The Queen was to be grateful that she had accompanied the King for it seemed that luck was against him. When in France he was smitten with a fever which rendered him very feeble and even endangered his life, and but for the untiring nursing of the Queen he might have died. Without her, he admitted, he would have felt listless and in no mood to fight for his life. But she was here to make sure that he had doctors and attention and everything possible to sustain him. Most of all she assured him that he must live for the sake of her and the family.
She reminded him how Edward had sobbed when he had sailed for France years ago when Edward was but a boy; she recalled Margaret’s recent visit. Did it not show how loved he was?
Was it so important that his subjects were ungrateful and easily led astray when he would always have his beloved family beside him? He must think of them, for if he did not fight for his life and keep his hold on it he was condemning them to such misery as he could well understand, for what misery would he know if she, his wife and Queen, were taken from him.
He began to recover under the Queen’s ministrations but he had not achieved the purpose of his visit. He had been several months in France; the trouble in Gascony had resolved itself but Louis was not inclined to offer material help. All he could give was advice which was something Henry thought he could do well without. Henry returned to England.
* * *
Simon de Montfort was back and his absence had endeared the rebels to him. They had feared that he had wearied of the struggle and had left them to fight the battle with the King, and on his return he was welcomed with such enthusiasm that it seemed the moment was ripe to start bargaining with the King.
They agreed to meet the King and Simon arrived with a party of barons led by himself and Roger Bigod of Norfolk.
The Provisions of Oxford must be adhered to, said the barons. These have been laid down by the Parliament and even the King must accept the wishes of his people.
Roger Bigod said: ‘My lord, since your return from France you have brought even more foreigners into the country. This is against the wishes of your people.’
‘My lord Norfolk,’ answered the King, ‘you are bold indeed. You forget whose vassal you are. You should go back to Norfolk and concern yourself with threshing your corn. Remember, I could issue a royal warrant for threshing out all your corn.’
‘That is so,’ retorted Bigod. ‘And could I not reply by sending you the heads of your threshers?’
This was defiance, and Henry was never quite sure how to act in such situations. He looked angrily at the barons who were watching him closely. One false move and that could be the spark to start the fire.
A curse on Bigod and a greater one on de Montfort!
Henry knew they were poised for action.
He shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the meeting. But he had betrayed his weakness.
‘The time is near for us to strike,’ said Roger Bigod.
* * *
There was tension throughout the land. Neither the King nor the Queen dared ride out unless they were protected by armed bands. Henry was fast fortifying his castles and those which were of the most importance, the Tower of London and Windsor Castle, were equipped as for a siege.
London was ready to rise. The citizens had had enough taxation. There was no possibility of getting rich, for as soon as their trade increased the King or the Queen would invent a new tax as a means of taking their profits from them.
Those who suffered most were the Jews, but this did not endear them to the other citizens who were irritated by the Jewish ability to rise above persecution, to pay the exorbitant taxes and then in a short time become rich again. It was not natural, said the London merchants.
Punitive measures had been introduced against the Jews. There should be no schools for them; in their synagogues they should pray in low voices so that they did not offend Christians. No Christian should work for a Jew. No Jew should associate with a Christian woman or Christian man with a Jewess. Jews should wear a badge on their breasts to denote their race. They must never enter a Christian church. They must have a licence to dwell in any place. If any of these rules were disobeyed there should be an immediate confiscation of their goods.
All these rules the Jews could overcome; what made life impossible for them was the excessive taxation. Yet even so they would make the most of the periods when they were left alone and always seemed to prosper quickly.
This gave rise to great envy and there were constant skirmishes when Christians would attack the Jews always in such a way as to enable them to rob them of their possessions.
The Queen was at the Tower and the King at Windsor with Edward. She was aware of unrest in the streets and did not venture out because she was told that the mood of the people was uncertain and as always it would be against her.
She told her women that she would be easier in her mind if she were with the King and she thought it might be an excellent idea the next day to take a barge to Windsor. This suggestion met with the immediate approval of all whose duty it was to protect her.
Unfortunately that very night there were plans afoot to attack the Jews. The mob had arranged that at the sound of St Paul’s bell at midnight they would assemble and march against them surprising them in their beds so that they would not have time to hide their possessions.
The Queen in her chamber heard the bell strike and almost immediately there was shouting and screaming in the streets. The attack on the Jews had started.
Into the houses occupied by Jews streamed the mob, shouting and screaming vengeance. Throats were cut, bodies mutilated, but the main purpose was to appease envy and greed by robbery.
The Queen dressed hurriedly and sent for guards.
‘What goes on?’ she demanded.
‘My lady, the people are running wild in the streets. They are robbing and murdering the Jews. There will not be many left in the city of London this night.’
‘We should not be here. Who knows where such violence will end.’
The guards agreed that the people, knowing she was at the Tower of London, might, when their evil work was done with the Jews, turn to her. They were in a violent mood and the lust for blood was on them. It could be said that the people’s hatred of the Queen was as great as that they bore towards the Jews.
‘Let us go then,’ said the Queen. ‘Let us lose no time.’
She had begun to tremble, remembering the venomous looks which had often been turned towards her; she had always known that the people of London would do her injury if they dared. They would never forget the Queenhithe she had demanded from them; they blamed her for the heavy taxes they had been forced to pay to reward her relations.
‘Have the barge made ready,’ she cried. ‘We will slip down the river to Windsor.’
Her women wrapped her cloak about her. She was eager t
o be gone without delay.
At the stairs the royal barge was ready. With great haste she boarded it.
‘Let us go without delay,’ she cried.
They moved along the river and then suddenly there was a shout from the bridge.
‘Look you there. It is the Queen. It is the old harpy herself.’
Faces appeared looking down from the bridge. Some spat.
‘Oh God save me from the mob,’ prayed the Queen.
Now came a deluge of rotting food and filth. It spattered the Queen’s garments.
‘Drown her!’ came the cry. ‘Drown the witch.’
‘They will kill us,’ said the Queen. ‘Oh my God, is this the end then?’
‘My lady, if we go on they will sink us,’ said the bargeman.
It was true. The mob was tearing up wood from the bridge. It was rough justice. The bridge was in a state of decay and had been declared to be a danger. The reason was that the King had given the bridge tolls to the Queen who had collected the money but had not attended to the repairs. One large boulder splashed into the river just missing the barge. It sent the water high all over the occupants.
They could not go on. ‘We might reach St Paul’s and stay at the Bishop’s palace there,’ said the Queen desperately. ‘He must offer us sanctuary. We shall be safe there. The King will hear of this and there will be some who will suffer for it.’
It was a good suggestion. In fact it was their only possible hope. The bargeman brought the vessel to the steps and they scrambled out.
In terror, filthy and dishevelled the royal party arrived at the Bishop’s Palace.
There they were admitted. It was sanctuary.
The next day the Queen left very quietly for Windsor. When the King and Edward heard what had happened their fury was great.
‘This is an insult I shall never forgive,’ cried Edward. ‘The Londoners shall pay for what they have done to you. I shall remember it.’
The King also vowed vengeance on his capital, and the Queen felt a little mollified. It had been the most frightening ordeal of her life.
* * *
‘I can never have a moment’s peace after what has happened,’ said Henry. ‘I cannot always be with you. You realise, do you not, my love, that we are fast moving towards war?’
‘Can nothing be done to avert it?’
‘The barons are determined on it. They are rallying to de Montfort. I am going to ask you, my dear, to go to France. Go to your sister. I could not do what I have to do if I thought you were here in danger. You must go. I beg of you.’
‘If you are in danger, Henry, my place is with you.’
‘You could not follow me into battle, my love, and I should be able to fight the better if I knew that you were in safety. Go to France, I beg of you. Perhaps you can plead your cause with Louis. Marguerite might help you. We may well need his assistance.’
She was thoughtful, but the memory of the mob on London Bridge remained vividly with her. She had nightmares when she dreamed that those murderous people were about to close in on her.
Henry was right. She should leave England. She would be of greater use to the cause in France. There she could raise money for Henry. She would not cease to work for him simply because she was not beside him.
So finally she agreed to go. Henry insisted on accompanying her to the French Court and there he left her as he said in the best possible hands.
He then returned to England and war.
* * *
Henry had taken up his headquarters in the Castle of Lewes. He knew that conflict was imminent, but he was hopeful. He had a good army. His son Edward was beside him and his brother Richard, King of the Romans, who had hastened to England when he knew that war threatened his brother, was there to fight with him. The Queen was safe in France, and he was certain that his chances were good.
The two brothers conferred together in one of the rooms of the castle with Edward and Richard’s son Henry. They knew that the barons’ army was encamped close by, and that only a miracle could prevent a conflict.
Richard was saying that they had the superior men, better trained, better equipped. Only the greatest ill fortune could bring them defeat.
‘Defeat,’ cried Edward. ‘I am surprised, my lord uncle, that you can use such a word. Let us rather talk of victory.’
‘I believe,’ replied Richard, ‘that it is better to consider every contingency.’
‘Save that of defeat,’ cried Edward.
He smiled at his cousin Henry, somewhat conspiratorially. They were the young ones with a belief in themselves which their elders lacked. Edward had no doubt of victory.
The King spread a map on the table and they studied it. Edward was to take up the right flank while Henry would be serving with the main forces under his father’s command.
‘The Londoners have sent a force to serve under Hastings for de Montfort,’ said the King.
‘They’ll have little quarter from me,’ cried Edward, his eyes flashing. ‘When I contemplate that they might have killed the Queen I promise myself revenge. They did not succeed in that evil design, praise be to God, but they insulted her. Think of that. The Queen. Our beautiful Queen to be treated so! I am glad they are here today. It gives me even greater heart for the battle.’
‘What we have to think of,’ said Richard, ‘is making the barons see that because once they rose against a king they cannot make a habit of it.’
‘They were powerful then,’ said the King.
‘They are powerful now,’ answered Richard.
He went to the window and looked out. ‘Something is happening,’ he said. ‘It looks like a messenger from the enemy.’
There were footsteps on the stairs. Edward flung open the door and one of the guards entered.
‘A messenger, my lord, from Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.’
‘Bring him in,’ said the King.
The messenger bowed. He was one of the minor barons.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I have come on behalf of the Earl of Leicester.’
‘Anyone who comes from our enemy is not welcome here,’ said Edward sharply.
‘My lord Leicester would put a proposition to you, my lord. He deplores that the country should stand divided. He believes that a settlement of differences should be discussed around a table and that this would be a more satisfactory way of dealing with them than through war.’
Henry said: ‘In that I am in agreement with him but it seems our conferences have come to naught.’
‘My lord,’ cried Edward hotly, ‘we know what this means. De Montfort is afraid of defeat. It is the only reason why he would wish to talk.’
‘The barons, my lord, would give thirty thousand marks to the treasury if an agreement were reached.’
‘Thirty thousand marks,’ mused the King, his eyes glistening. It would be a victory, for all would believe that de Montfort was eager to avoid the fight. And thirty thousand marks!
Edward was hotly indignant.
‘I would avenge the insult to my mother,’ he cried.
‘It did not come from de Montfort and the barons.’
‘Out there the men of London have come to support de Montfort’s army,’ cried Edward. ‘They have been our enemies these many years. Have they not shown their antagonism to you? And their insults to our lady Queen will never be forgiven. I would hold myself in contempt this day if I did not stand and fight.’
How noble he looked with his tall figure and his flaxen hair. A god come to earth, thought the King. My son! My son Edward!
Yet thirty thousand marks and peace …
Edward was beside him. ‘It would be an uneasy peace,’ he said. They would plague us as before. Nay, Father, let us settle this matter. We are set for victory. It is only because they fear us that they would make these terms. Do not let us be deluded.’
Young Henry of Cornwall was looking to his father. He believed that it would be wise for the King to parley with de Montfort for he
knew the Earl was a man of courage and integrity who genuinely desired to make England a wellgoverned country. If the King had not been his uncle, Henry might have seen fit to support de Montfort, but he could not, of course, go against his own family. He looked to his father now. Richard was wise. He would know.
But the King of the Romans was undecided. He felt ill and the familiar lethargy had come to him. It was after all not really his battle. He had come to Henry’s aid because he was his brother and it was necessary to keep him on the throne. Perhaps it might be wise to make terms with de Montfort, to avoid slaughter. But he was not sure and he lacked the vitality to interfere.
Young Henry understood. He had been worried about his father’s health for some time; but periodically there would be those bursts of action when Richard showed himself as the able leader he might have been.
He was not going to act now, Henry realised; and Edward was talking in his fiery fashion to his father. Nothing must stop them. Victory would be theirs. People would remember the battle of Lewes while history lasted.
The King, of course, was carried away by his admiration for his son.
‘You have heard my lord Edward,’ he said to the messenger. ‘Go to your masters and tell them we will have none of their offer.’
* * *
The battle had gone well for the King’s forces which were so much more numerous than those of the barons. They had been right not to parley, thought the King. Richard was a good soldier; his young son Henry was with him. And best of all there was Edward. What a leader he made – the sort of King men would follow to the death!
This was going to be victory. He was certain of it.
So was Edward. The day was all but won. He led the cavalry and his men could make no mistake that he was there. His height set him above others. ‘Edward Longshanks,’ they cried as they went into battle.
This was what he wanted. To lead men. To show his father that he would serve him well. He wanted to wipe out for ever the memories of that time when the King had doubted him.
The Queen from Provence Page 28
