The Hammer of the Scots

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘And what has happened?’ asked Gilbert. ‘The Marcher Barons control the land and they, like the Welsh, have become a law unto themselves. They see themselves as apart from allegiance to any, even to you, my lord.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Edward. ‘And since Llewellyn sees fit to flout me thus it occurs to me that it may be necessary for me to settle this question of the Welsh once and for all.’

  ‘Ah, if that could be done, my lord, I doubt not it would be good for England and for Wales,’ said Pembroke. ‘But is it possible?’

  ‘My lord,’ replied Edward, ‘nothing is possible to those who think it impossible. The first rule when undertaking a difficult task is to stop saying “I can’t” and say “I will”.’

  The lords nodded agreement and Warenne said, ‘Llewellyn has become very friendly with the de Montforts.’

  ‘I know that and I like it not,’ replied Edward. ‘The de Montforts caused enough trouble to my father. I am determined they shall not cause it to me.’

  ‘There are two of his sons left and one daughter,’ commented Warenne.

  Edward nodded. ‘Henry died with his father at Evesham as we know, and Simon died in Italy soon after the murder of my cousin. By God, I shall never forgive them for what they did to Henry. They are cursed and doomed for that for ever. To murder him, so vilely while he knelt at his prayers … my cousin Henry! You know my feelings for him. He was my companion … come to that we were all companions in the royal nursery – Henry of Cornwall, the cousin I loved the best, and those others … cousins also … the de Montfort children. Henry of Cornwall was a man of outstanding nobility. I learned much from him, for he was those few years older than I which are so important when one is young. I looked up to him. There was a time when I was wild and foolish, when I was capable of senseless cruelty. Thank God my cousin Henry showed me the folly of that. I owe him much, and when I think of him as he must have been kneeling at the altar and those wicked men creeping up on him … when I think of the foul and obscene things they did to his corpse after they had murdered him, I cry vengeance on those who carried out this wicked crime. I say a curse on de Montfort.’

  ‘As those who saw the same done to the bodies of Simon de Montfort and his son Henry cried on you and yours,’ said Gilbert who could never resist making a logical comment even if he put his life in danger through making it.

  But Edward was a logical man himself. ‘True,’ he said shortly. ‘True. But I had no hand in the murder of Simon de Montfort. He died in battle. That he was mutilated afterwards was the fortune of war. But to take this good and noble man as he knelt in prayer! No, Gilbert, I’ll not have it. A curse on the de Montforts … the whole family … even my aunt who became one through her secret marriage.’

  ‘Your feelings are easy to understand, my lord,’ said Warenne. ‘And it is the de Montforts we have to guard against.’

  ‘Guy is a murderer and despised as such,’ said the King. ‘He will not prosper. But my cousins Almeric and Eleanor live in exile with my aunt and there is a rumour that Llewellyn is enamoured of my cousin Eleanor.’

  ‘It is so!’ said Gilbert. ‘She is royal, for her mother is King Henry’s sister, and Llewellyn and she it is said fell deeply in love.’

  ‘She was a beautiful girl when I last saw her,’ said Edward.

  ‘Nurtured as she must have been, how would she feel towards the rough mountain chieftain?’ wondered Pembroke.

  ‘I heard that she was as taken with Llewellyn as he with her and that pledges were made between them. Of course she is in exile and cannot come here and he – rebel chieftain that he is – is in no position to bring her. Thus are true lovers kept apart.’ Edward’s mouth was firm. ‘And shall remain so.’

  ‘Unless of course …’ began Gilbert.

  ‘Unless, my lord?’ Edward interrupted. ‘I guess what you will say. Unless we can use my cousin, the Demoiselle Eleanor, as a bargaining counter to bring Llewellyn to heel.’

  ‘If that were possible it would be a good plan.’

  ‘It would indeed,’ said Edward. ‘I think we are noticed. Our serious conversation gives an impression that we are holding a council of war.’

  ‘Which in a way we are, my lord,’ added Gilbert.

  ‘And that is no way in which to conduct a coronation. Let us ask the minstrels to sing.’

  The coronation festivities continued. There was no more popular man in the city of London than the King. He was strong, said the people. He would not be a man to be ruled by his wife; nor was she a woman to seek to rule.

  All knew that the late King had been ruled by his wife and she had been the one they hated; though they despised the King. But this was a new era.

  This King was just. The matter of the bridge confirmed their belief in him.

  A party of London citizens had asked leave to see the King during that period of coronation celebrations and he, knowing full well the importance of his capital, agreed to receive their leaders and hear what they had to say.

  The head of the party bowed low before the King and when asked what troubled him he explained that it was the state of London Bridge.

  ‘My lord King,’ said the man, ‘it has fallen into such a state of decay that it is scarcely safe.’

  ‘Then this must be rectified without delay,’ cried the King. ‘Why has it not been done?’

  ‘My lord, repairs are made from the revenue received from the custody of the bridge and have previously been done regularly that the bridge may be kept in good order.’

  ‘Then why has it not been done now?’

  There was silence and the King urged them to continue.

  ‘My lord, the King your father gave the custody of the bridge to the Queen your mother that she might enjoy the revenues therefrom. Since then the lady Queen has collected the dues and careth nothing for the state of the bridge.’

  Edward felt a surge of anger against his mother. He knew that he need not verify the statement. Was this not exactly what his mother had been doing since she had come to the country? Was this not the reason for her unpopularity and that of his father and would she never understand that it was deeds such as this which had brought them within sight of losing their crowns.

  He restrained the outburst which rose to his lips and replied, ‘My friends, you may leave this matter to me. I can tell you this. The bridge shall be repaired and its upkeep shall in future be looked after from the dues received.’

  Exultant by his quick grasp of the situation and believing in his promise, for he was already gaining a reputation of being a man of his word, the deputation left and among their friends sang the praise of the new King who would undoubtedly bring a return of just rule to the country.

  The Queen Mother was with her daughter and she had just heard the joyous news from Beatrice that she was pregnant again.

  As Edward entered she cried, ‘Dear Edward, do come and join us. I have such good news.’

  Edward found it difficult to curb his temper. He had a share of that defect of the Plantagenets, but he had told himself that he must learn to keep it under control. It needed all his willpower to do this now.

  ‘Your sister Beatrice is going to have another child.’

  He took Beatrice’s hand and kissed it. ‘Congratulations, sister,’ he said. ‘I’ll warrant John is pleased.’

  ‘Oh yes, but he always gets anxious. He says we have five and should be content.’

  The Queen Mother laughed indulgently. Nothing pleased her more than to hear of the devotion of her daughter’s husband.

  ‘I wish I could keep you here, Beatrice, until the child is born.’

  She looked at Margaret and they smiled, recalling the time when they had deluded the Scottish nobles and Margaret had stayed in England to be with her mother when her daughter was born.

  ‘If it is a girl,’ said Beatrice, ‘I shall call her Eleanor after you, dearest Mother.’

  The Queen Mother laughed. ‘Not another Eleanor in the family! My dearest love,
it is confusing enough now.’

  ‘Still, there is no one whose name I would rather my child had than yours.’

  ‘It was a good thing I named my girl Margaret,’ said the Queen of Scotland. ‘But I threaten that if I should ever have another daughter she will be an Eleanor too.’

  The Queen Mother was gratified but anxious immediately. ‘My darling, I hope there will be no more. You suffered too much when David was born. If you girls only knew what I go through when you have your children you would vow never to have any more. I wait for the messengers … and they are always so tardy.’

  ‘Oh, my dearest mother,’ cried Margaret, ‘you must remember that we are no longer children.’

  Edward was drawn into this family circle in spite of himself. They had all had a wonderful childhood, so different from most royal children. He must always remember – however exasperated he became by his mother’s fecklessness – that they had enjoyed a happy family circle.

  Edward whispered to Margaret, ‘I have something of importance to discuss with our mother.’

  ‘I will take Beatrice with me to your lady wife,’ said Margaret. ‘She will want to hear about the baby.’

  ‘Yes, do,’ said Edward.

  When he was alone with his mother he assumed a grave manner.

  ‘I have had a complaint, my lady,’ he told her, ‘from the citizens of London.’

  ‘Those tiresome people! How dare they complain at the time of your coronation! Have they not been given so much … free wine, banquets …’

  ‘Free wine and banquets will not repair London Bridge, my lady.’

  ‘London Bridge! What has that to do with the coronation?’

  ‘If it were to collapse it would be remembered as the outstanding event of this coronation for years to come.’

  ‘Collapse! Why should it?’

  ‘Because it is in need of repairs and the dues collected partly for that purpose have been used for other things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘You know that better than I for you have had them and misspent this money.’

  ‘I never heard such nonsense. In your father’s day …’

  ‘My lady, this is not my father’s day. It is mine, and I would have you know that I will not have money which is meant to repair my bridge spent on other things.’

  ‘Your father gave me the custody of the bridge for six years …’

  ‘And since that time the bridge has become a danger to the public. Will you never learn? Did the rising of the barons mean nothing to you?’

  ‘The barons have been defeated.’

  ‘The barons will never be defeated, my lady, while they represent the will of the people, and only when that is in his favour can a king rule.’

  ‘Your father did very well without it.’

  ‘That is not the verdict of the world, alas. My father tried to rule without it, and because of this only the greatest good luck kept him his crown and you will remember well, my mother, that he came within a very short distance of losing it. Have you forgotten those days when he and I were the prisoners of Simon de Montfort and you went to France as a begger to your sister’s court and tried to raise money for an army to free us?’

  The Queen Mother wiped her eyes. ‘Do you think I shall ever forget the saddest time of my life when I and your father were separated?’

  ‘I trust you never will and that you will remember how easily it came about. The people would not brook your extravagance, your spending of money raised in taxation on yourself and your friends and relations.’

  ‘Edward! How dare you! And you my son! Whose side are you on? That of the crown or the rebel barons?’

  ‘There must be no sides, my lady. I am on the side of justice. I am going to see wrong put right. I am going to bring this country back to prosperity and belief in its sovereign. And I am going to begin by repairing London Bridge and taking the custody of it out of your hands.’

  ‘Edward … how can you do this to me!’

  He went to her and laid his hands on her shoulders, for he loved her dearly and there were so many memories that stayed with him of childhood days when she had been his comfort and his solace and to be with her and his father had been the greatest treat of his childhood. ‘I can because I must. Dear Mother, you know of my love for you, but I am first a king and I mean to rule. I love you now as I ever did and never shall I forget your devotion to me and my dear father. But I cannot allow you to place my crown in jeopardy as you did that of my father. For that reason I act as I must and as I see it that is the right and just way to act.’

  ‘So you would humiliate me in the eyes of these rapacious Londoners.’

  ‘You will win only honour by discontinuing with this custody. And these Londoners are not rapacious because they wish to see their bridge repaired.’

  ‘If they want it repaired let them pay for it.’

  ‘It is exactly what they are doing. You know that part of the dues paid are for the upkeep of the bridge.’

  ‘I am disappointed in you, Edward.’

  ‘I am sorry for that but, if in pleasing you I must disappoint my subjects and deny them justice then, dear lady, I must perforce displease you.’

  She looked at him – so handsome, so noble, and she suddenly forgot everything but her pride in him. She leaned against him and he put his arms about her.

  He kissed her hair.

  ‘Dear Mother,’ he said softly, ‘I could not bear that we should be bad friends.’

  ‘You are a stubborn fellow, Edward,’ she said fondly. ‘Strange it is that I would not have you other than you are. But I miss your father so much, my son. I shall never cease to mourn.’

  ‘I know,’ said Edward. ‘I mourn him too.’

  ‘You are not like him. He was so fond …’

  Fondness, thought the King, often went with foolishness and that was something a king could not afford.

  Leaving his mother he went to his wife. He thanked God for Eleanor. How different she was from her mother-in-law. He could never have borne a domineering wife, but it was clear that a weak man needed a strong woman beside him. And he was now admitting to himself that his father was one of the weakest men he had ever known. A king must face up to the truth. He must learn his lessons and the first lesson of all was that until truth was looked straight in the face and admitted – however disagreeable – no progress would be made.

  ‘Edward,’ said the Queen anxiously, ‘you look a little distraught.’

  ‘An unpleasant matter.’ He told her of the bridge and how his mother had been using the funds for the wrong purposes.

  ‘I had to do what I did.’

  ‘Indeed you had.’

  ‘She was hurt. I think at first she thought I was some sort of traitor to the family.’

  ‘You, a traitor! That’s quite impossible. You are so wise … so strong. You always do the right thing.’

  He smiled at her fondly. ‘I know that whatever I do I shall have the support of my wife.’

  ‘But that is only right and natural.’

  He took her hand and kissed it.

  ‘I have something to tell you,’ she said.

  ‘Eleanor. You are with child?’

  She nodded and he took her into his arms. ‘This time,’ he said, ‘let us pray for a boy. I’ll have prayers said throughout the churches.’

  ‘Not yet, I beg of you. It is too early. I am always afraid when I speak of it too soon that something will go wrong.’

  ‘My dearest, why should it?’

  ‘There was John and the little one at Acre.’

  ‘My dear lady, many children die. John was delicate. Some children are born that way. As for the little one at Acre, that was not to be wondered at after all the hardships. And what of young Joanna, eh? She was always lively enough though Acre was her birthplace.’

  ‘I wish she were with us.’

  ‘Your mother will not willingly part with her. And you will have this new one. We have our darling El
eanor. What a handsome girl she is becoming! And little Henry …’

  The Queen was grave. ‘I worry about him a great deal.’

  ‘I thought he seemed better.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Oh come, my love, he is a bright little fellow.’

  ‘He is so breathless and he always seems to have a cough. Edward, I don’t care for the Tower of London. It’s so cold and draughty and there is an atmosphere of gloom about the place.’

  ‘It was built as a fortress of course,’ said Edward. ‘And it seems like it.’

  ‘The Palace of the Tower depresses me, Edward. I do not think that Henry will thrive while he is there. I want to find a place which is more healthy for the children and with the new baby I want to be especially careful. I keep thinking of little John and wondering whether if I had been here …’

  ‘Pray do not let my mother hear you say that. She dotes on the children and as you know will scarcely let them out of her sight. She is half elated, half apprehensive, about Beatrice’s news. She would love to have them all here under her care.’

  ‘I know of course that she did everything possible for young John and I don’t suppose there was anything I could have done to save him. But I do want to choose a home for the children and I want it to be a healthy place. Somewhere in the country.’

  ‘I will tell you what we must do,’ said Edward. ‘When all the coronation ceremonies are over we shall go down to Windsor. I have a fancy that that will be the place you will choose.’

  ‘Oh Edward, you are so good to me.’

  Edward again took her into his arms and stroked her beautiful long dark hair. He compared her as he often had with his mother and thanked God for giving him such a wife.

  The excitement of the coronation had not improved little Henry’s condition. Or it might have been that the disease which was robbing him of his strength was moving towards its climax. In any case there was an obvious decline in his health.

  The Queen Mother was thrown into a state of great anxiety – even more so than the Queen, whose pregnancy seemed to have endowed her with a certain serenity. But the Queen Mother had now convinced herself that Margaret had not looked as well as she should, and she confided in the Queen that she had had a talk with Alexander who shared her anxiety.