A Child's History of England

by Dickens, Charles

  that the Castle could not hold out; they attacked it, and made

  Gaveston surrender. He delivered himself up to the Earl of

  Pembroke - that Lord whom he had called the Jew - on the Earl's

  pledging his faith and knightly word, that no harm should happen to

  him and no violence be done him.

  Now, it was agreed with Gaveston that he should be taken to the

  Castle of Wallingford, and there kept in honourable custody. They

  travelled as far as Dedington, near Banbury, where, in the Castle

  of that place, they stopped for a night to rest. Whether the Earl

  of Pembroke left his prisoner there, knowing what would happen, or

  really left him thinking no harm, and only going (as he pretended)

  to visit his wife, the Countess, who was in the neighbourhood, is

  no great matter now; in any case, he was bound as an honourable

  gentleman to protect his prisoner, and he did not do it. In the

  morning, while the favourite was yet in bed, he was required to

  dress himself and come down into the court-yard. He did so without

  any mistrust, but started and turned pale when he found it full of

  strange armed men. 'I think you know me?' said their leader, also

  armed from head to foot. 'I am the black dog of Ardenne!' The

  time was come when Piers Gaveston was to feel the black dog's teeth

  indeed. They set him on a mule, and carried him, in mock state and

  with military music, to the black dog's kennel - Warwick Castle -

  where a hasty council, composed of some great noblemen, considered

  what should be done with him. Some were for sparing him, but one

  loud voice - it was the black dog's bark, I dare say - sounded

  through the Castle Hall, uttering these words: 'You have the fox

  in your power. Let him go now, and you must hunt him again.'

  They sentenced him to death. He threw himself at the feet of the

  Earl of Lancaster - the old hog - but the old hog was as savage as

  the dog. He was taken out upon the pleasant road, leading from

  Warwick to Coventry, where the beautiful river Avon, by which, long

  afterwards, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born and now lies buried,

  sparkled in the bright landscape of the beautiful May-day; and

  there they struck off his wretched head, and stained the dust with

  his blood.

  When the King heard of this black deed, in his grief and rage he

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  denounced relentless war against his Barons, and both sides were in

  arms for half a year. But, it then became necessary for them to

  join their forces against Bruce, who had used the time well while

  they were divided, and had now a great power in Scotland.

  Intelligence was brought that Bruce was then besieging Stirling

  Castle, and that the Governor had been obliged to pledge himself to

  surrender it, unless he should be relieved before a certain day.

  Hereupon, the King ordered the nobles and their fighting-men to

  meet him at Berwick; but, the nobles cared so little for the King,

  and so neglected the summons, and lost time, that only on the day

  before that appointed for the surrender, did the King find himself

  at Stirling, and even then with a smaller force than he had

  expected. However, he had, altogether, a hundred thousand men, and

  Bruce had not more than forty thousand; but, Bruce's army was

  strongly posted in three square columns, on the ground lying

  between the Burn or Brook of Bannock and the walls of Stirling

  Castle.

  On the very evening, when the King came up, Bruce did a brave act

  that encouraged his men. He was seen by a certain HENRY DE BOHUN,

  an English Knight, riding about before his army on a little horse,

  with a light battle-axe in his hand, and a crown of gold on his

  head. This English Knight, who was mounted on a strong war-horse,

  cased in steel, strongly armed, and able (as he thought) to

  overthrow Bruce by crushing him with his mere weight, set spurs to

  his great charger, rode on him, and made a thrust at him with his

  heavy spear. Bruce parried the thrust, and with one blow of his

  battle-axe split his skull.

  The Scottish men did not forget this, next day when the battle

  raged. RANDOLPH, Bruce's valiant Nephew, rode, with the small body

  of men he commanded, into such a host of the English, all shining

  in polished armour in the sunlight, that they seemed to be

  swallowed up and lost, as if they had plunged into the sea. But,

  they fought so well, and did such dreadful execution, that the

  English staggered. Then came Bruce himself upon them, with all the

  rest of his army. While they were thus hard pressed and amazed,

  there appeared upon the hills what they supposed to be a new

  Scottish army, but what were really only the camp followers, in

  number fifteen thousand: whom Bruce had taught to show themselves

  at that place and time. The Earl of Gloucester, commanding the

  English horse, made a last rush to change the fortune of the day;

  but Bruce (like Jack the Giant-killer in the story) had had pits

  dug in the ground, and covered over with turfs and stakes. Into

  these, as they gave way beneath the weight of the horses, riders

  and horses rolled by hundreds. The English were completely routed;

  all their treasure, stores, and engines, were taken by the Scottish

  men; so many waggons and other wheeled vehicles were seized, that

  it is related that they would have reached, if they had been drawn

  out in a line, one hundred and eighty miles. The fortunes of

  Scotland were, for the time, completely changed; and never was a

  battle won, more famous upon Scottish ground, than this great

  battle of BANNOCKBURN.

  Plague and famine succeeded in England; and still the powerless

  King and his disdainful Lords were always in contention. Some of

  the turbulent chiefs of Ireland made proposals to Bruce, to accept

  the rule of that country. He sent his brother Edward to them, who

  was crowned King of Ireland. He afterwards went himself to help

  his brother in his Irish wars, but his brother was defeated in the

  end and killed. Robert Bruce, returning to Scotland, still

  increased his strength there.

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  As the King's ruin had begun in a favourite, so it seemed likely to

  end in one. He was too poor a creature to rely at all upon

  himself; and his new favourite was one HUGH LE DESPENSER, the son

  of a gentleman of ancient family. Hugh was handsome and brave, but

  he was the favourite of a weak King, whom no man cared a rush for,

  and that was a dangerous place to hold. The Nobles leagued against

  him, because the King liked him; and they lay in wait, both for his

  ruin and his father's. Now, the King had married him to the

  daughter of the late Earl of Gloucester, and had given both him and

  his father great possessions in Wales. In their endeavours to

  extend these, they gave violent offence to an angry Welsh

  gentleman, named JOHN DE MOWBRAY, and to divers other angry Welsh

  gentlemen, who resorted to arms, took their castles, and seized

  the
ir estates. The Earl of Lancaster had first placed the

  favourite (who was a poor relation of his own) at Court, and he

  considered his own dignity offended by the preference he received

  and the honours he acquired; so he, and the Barons who were his

  friends, joined the Welshmen, marched on London, and sent a message

  to the King demanding to have the favourite and his father

  banished. At first, the King unaccountably took it into his head

  to be spirited, and to send them a bold reply; but when they

  quartered themselves around Holborn and Clerkenwell, and went down,

  armed, to the Parliament at Westminster, he gave way, and complied

  with their demands.

  His turn of triumph came sooner than he expected. It arose out of

  an accidental circumstance. The beautiful Queen happening to be

  travelling, came one night to one of the royal castles, and

  demanded to be lodged and entertained there until morning. The

  governor of this castle, who was one of the enraged lords, was

  away, and in his absence, his wife refused admission to the Queen;

  a scuffle took place among the common men on either side, and some

  of the royal attendants were killed. The people, who cared nothing

  for the King, were very angry that their beautiful Queen should be

  thus rudely treated in her own dominions; and the King, taking

  advantage of this feeling, besieged the castle, took it, and then

  called the two Despensers home. Upon this, the confederate lords

  and the Welshmen went over to Bruce. The King encountered them at

  Boroughbridge, gained the victory, and took a number of

  distinguished prisoners; among them, the Earl of Lancaster, now an

  old man, upon whose destruction he was resolved. This Earl was

  taken to his own castle of Pontefract, and there tried and found

  guilty by an unfair court appointed for the purpose; he was not

  even allowed to speak in his own defence. He was insulted, pelted,

  mounted on a starved pony without saddle or bridle, carried out,

  and beheaded. Eight-and-twenty knights were hanged, drawn, and

  quartered. When the King had despatched this bloody work, and had

  made a fresh and a long truce with Bruce, he took the Despensers

  into greater favour than ever, and made the father Earl of

  Winchester.

  One prisoner, and an important one, who was taken at Boroughbridge,

  made his escape, however, and turned the tide against the King.

  This was ROGER MORTIMER, always resolutely opposed to him, who was

  sentenced to death, and placed for safe custody in the Tower of

  London. He treated his guards to a quantity of wine into which he

  had put a sleeping potion; and, when they were insensible, broke

  out of his dungeon, got into a kitchen, climbed up the chimney, let

  himself down from the roof of the building with a rope-ladder,

  passed the sentries, got down to the river, and made away in a boat

  to where servants and horses were waiting for him. He finally

  escaped to France, where CHARLES LE BEL, the brother of the

  beautiful Queen, was King. Charles sought to quarrel with the King

  of England, on pretence of his not having come to do him homage at

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  his coronation. It was proposed that the beautiful Queen should go

  over to arrange the dispute; she went, and wrote home to the King,

  that as he was sick and could not come to France himself, perhaps

  it would be better to send over the young Prince, their son, who

  was only twelve years old, who could do homage to her brother in

  his stead, and in whose company she would immediately return. The

  King sent him: but, both he and the Queen remained at the French

  Court, and Roger Mortimer became the Queen's lover.

  When the King wrote, again and again, to the Queen to come home,

  she did not reply that she despised him too much to live with him

  any more (which was the truth), but said she was afraid of the two

  Despensers. In short, her design was to overthrow the favourites'

  power, and the King's power, such as it was, and invade England.

  Having obtained a French force of two thousand men, and being

  joined by all the English exiles then in France, she landed, within

  a year, at Orewell, in Suffolk, where she was immediately joined by

  the Earls of Kent and Norfolk, the King's two brothers; by other

  powerful noblemen; and lastly, by the first English general who was

  despatched to check her: who went over to her with all his men.

  The people of London, receiving these tidings, would do nothing for

  the King, but broke open the Tower, let out all his prisoners, and

  threw up their caps and hurrahed for the beautiful Queen.

  The King, with his two favourites, fled to Bristol, where he left

  old Despenser in charge of the town and castle, while he went on

  with the son to Wales. The Bristol men being opposed to the King,

  and it being impossible to hold the town with enemies everywhere

  within the walls, Despenser yielded it up on the third day, and was

  instantly brought to trial for having traitorously influenced what

  was called 'the King's mind' - though I doubt if the King ever had

  any. He was a venerable old man, upwards of ninety years of age,

  but his age gained no respect or mercy. He was hanged, torn open

  while he was yet alive, cut up into pieces, and thrown to the dogs.

  His son was soon taken, tried at Hereford before the same judge on

  a long series of foolish charges, found guilty, and hanged upon a

  gallows fifty feet high, with a chaplet of nettles round his head.

  His poor old father and he were innocent enough of any worse crimes

  than the crime of having been friends of a King, on whom, as a mere

  man, they would never have deigned to cast a favourable look. It

  is a bad crime, I know, and leads to worse; but, many lords and

  gentlemen - I even think some ladies, too, if I recollect right -

  have committed it in England, who have neither been given to the

  dogs, nor hanged up fifty feet high.

  The wretched King was running here and there, all this time, and

  never getting anywhere in particular, until he gave himself up, and

  was taken off to Kenilworth Castle. When he was safely lodged

  there, the Queen went to London and met the Parliament. And the

  Bishop of Hereford, who was the most skilful of her friends, said,

  What was to be done now? Here was an imbecile, indolent, miserable

  King upon the throne; wouldn't it be better to take him off, and

  put his son there instead? I don't know whether the Queen really

  pitied him at this pass, but she began to cry; so, the Bishop said,

  Well, my Lords and Gentlemen, what do you think, upon the whole, of

  sending down to Kenilworth, and seeing if His Majesty (God bless

  him, and forbid we should depose him!) won't resign?

  My Lords and Gentlemen thought it a good notion, so a deputation of

  them went down to Kenilworth; and there the King came into the

  great hall of the Castle, commonly dressed in a poor black gown;

  and when he saw a certain bishop among them, fell down, poor

  feeble-headed man, and made a wretched spectacle of
himself.

  Somebody lifted him up, and then SIR WILLIAM TRUSSEL, the Speaker

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  of the House of Commons, almost frightened him to death by making

  him a tremendous speech to the effect that he was no longer a King,

  and that everybody renounced allegiance to him. After which, SIR

  THOMAS BLOUNT, the Steward of the Household, nearly finished him,

  by coming forward and breaking his white wand - which was a

  ceremony only performed at a King's death. Being asked in this

  pressing manner what he thought of resigning, the King said he

  thought it was the best thing he could do. So, he did it, and they

  proclaimed his son next day.

  I wish I could close his history by saying that he lived a harmless

  life in the Castle and the Castle gardens at Kenilworth, many years

  - that he had a favourite, and plenty to eat and drink - and,

  having that, wanted nothing. But he was shamefully humiliated. He

  was outraged, and slighted, and had dirty water from ditches given

  him to shave with, and wept and said he would have clean warm

  water, and was altogether very miserable. He was moved from this

  castle to that castle, and from that castle to the other castle,

  because this lord or that lord, or the other lord, was too kind to

  him: until at last he came to Berkeley Castle, near the River

  Severn, where (the Lord Berkeley being then ill and absent) he fell

  into the hands of two black ruffians, called THOMAS GOURNAY and

  WILLIAM OGLE.

  One night - it was the night of September the twenty-first, one

  thousand three hundred and twenty-seven - dreadful screams were

  heard, by the startled people in the neighbouring town, ringing

  through the thick walls of the Castle, and the dark, deep night;

  and they said, as they were thus horribly awakened from their

  sleep, 'May Heaven be merciful to the King; for those cries forbode

  that no good is being done to him in his dismal prison!' Next

  morning he was dead - not bruised, or stabbed, or marked upon the

  body, but much distorted in the face; and it was whispered

  afterwards, that those two villains, Gournay and Ogle, had burnt up

  his inside with a red-hot iron.

  If you ever come near Gloucester, and see the centre tower of its

  beautiful Cathedral, with its four rich pinnacles, rising lightly

  in the air; you may remember that the wretched Edward the Second