by Jean Plaidy
So between the barons and God Henry felt he was indeed being persecuted.
He could laugh at these superstitions when he was with the Queen, but the thought of her being in danger always sobered him; now looking up at that sky and knowing that the lightning was right overhead he was afraid, and when the boatman said they must take shelter he agreed.
By some ill chance they were closest to Durham House which was the home of Simon de Montfort and as the King’s barge drew up at the stairs, the Earl himself came down to greet him.
‘My lord,’ said Simon, ‘have no fear, the storm is already moving from overhead.’
Henry looked at him steadily.
‘I fear thunder and lightning exceedingly,’ he said, ‘but by God’s head I fear you more than all the thunder and lightning in the world.’
And as he followed Simon into Durham House where he might remove his sodden cloak and partake of some refreshment, he knew that in that moment he had spoken the truth and in doing so had betrayed himself to Simon de Montfort.
Edward was now twenty years of age. He had spent a great deal of time at the Court of France where he had distinguished himself in equestrian arts and because of his height, good looks and interesting personality he had become very popular.
He thought often of his wife but he had been unable to live with her as such on account of her youth and he had left her to continue her education while he perfected himself in the art of chivalry and knighthood.
Alarming reports were coming to France of the trouble which was brewing between the King and the barons, and Edward consulted the King of France, whose judgement was greatly respected throughout the world, and he gained very little reassurance by what Louis had to say. That trouble was coming to England seemed obvious, and as heir to the throne Edward must be there.
He hastened back to England and found his father at Winchester. Henry embraced him warmly, his eyes filling with tears to contemplate his handsome son. He must first be assured of his health and well-being. ‘Your mother will be beside herself with joy to see you,’ he said.
Edward thought his father looked far from well and he put this down to all the trouble of which he had heard.
‘I have heard reports of what is happening here,’ he said.
‘We have some tiresome men in this realm, Edward. They give me little peace.’
‘It is true that the barons have formed a parliament which dictates to you?’
‘It is not exactly so. I have some say in choosing the men. Of course it is all a question of money. They think of nothing else.’
‘A kingdom cannot run without it, my lord.’
‘Nay, that’s what I tell them. They think I can conjure it up out of nothing.’
‘Louis does not believe in harsh taxation, Father.’
‘So you have become one of Louis’ worshippers then?’
‘He is very wise and greatly admired. I have always believed he spoke good sense.’
Henry nodded. ‘A very serious man and dedicated King. I think he is less plagued by unruly subjects than I.’
Edward started to say that Louis had won the love and respect of his subjects, but realising that this seemed a criticism of his father, he desisted.
But he did feel this criticism and it shocked him a little. The family had always stood together. But what happened when one felt the head of it was leading it to disaster?
Henry then explained what had been happening during his son’s absence: the quarrels between William de Valence and Simon de Montfort, the sharp words which had been spoken in the council chamber.
Edward was very disturbed.
‘I am glad to say that there is a difference of opinion among the barons,’ went on Henry. ‘Gloucester seems to be falling out with de Montfort. If they quarrel among themselves perhaps they will disperse and we shall get back to normal. That would be a happy state of affairs.’
‘Father, are you prepared should there be trouble?’
Trouble! What do you mean, son?’
‘What if the barons should rise against you as they did against your father?’
‘That is a thought which is constantly in everyone’s mind. I have never been allowed to forget my father’s misdeeds. Am I responsible for them?’
‘I think it is feared that you might repeat them.’
Henry looked at his son with amazement. Was there just the hint of reproach there? Could it really be that one member of this family was not exactly behind another?
His son’s homecoming had given the King some uneasy qualms.
Simon de Montfort came to see Edward. He had heard of his arrival in England and believed that the young man was sensible.
It might be easier to convey the danger to him than to Henry, and surely he would want to do something about it, for the crown his father wore would one day be his.
‘My great desire,’ said Simon earnestly, ‘is to avoid an outright war.’
‘You think there is a real danger of that!’
‘I think there is an imminent danger.’
‘But now that you have this parliament …’
‘In which there is not agreement, I fear. Your father must abandon the Sicilian project. The title for your younger brother would be an empty one and very costly to this nation to acquire. It seems that the King and Queen are dazzled by this crown.’
‘Then if that is so there must be no more thought of Sicily.’
‘My lord, I knew you would see reason. There is much I have to tell you. You must join us and then you will understand what all this trouble is about and, pray God, help us to avoid it.’
‘I will with all my heart,’ Edward assured him.
It began to be noticed that the heir to the throne and Simon de Montfort were often in each other’s company and an understanding seemed to have arisen between them.
It was sad, said Eleanor, that all the children were growing up. Particularly so with daughters who must leave their home and family.
John de Dreux, the Duke of Brittany, had offered for Beatrice and as it was a good match and one which would be advantageous to England and it was time Beatrice was married, there could be no excuse for not accepting it.
What had happened to Margaret had made the Queen very apprehensive. She said she wished she had had all boys and then there would not have been the same need for them to leave the country.
However, the alliance was accepted and Beatrice prepared to leave for Brittany.
The King, who had business in France, was to accompany her but in view of the state of the country it seemed unwise that the Queen should go also.
‘You will have Edward to help you, my dearest,’ said Henry, ‘and rest assured that I shall return as soon as possible.’
The Queen was in a way not sorry to remain. By accompanying the party she would have had a little longer with her daughter but at least she was spared that harrowing moment when Beatrice was formally handed over to a stranger. That seemed to her most distressing and she would never forget seeing little Margaret married to Alexander of Scotland.
She said good-bye to the King and her daughter and went back to Windsor where she was finding pleasure in the company of Edward’s young wife, a docile, pleasant creature who adored Edward; and therefore they had something in common.
Soon after Beatrice’s wedding had taken place the Duke of Gloucester joined the King in Brittany. Gloucester was an ambitious man who had shown himself to be jealous of Simon de Montfort’s power in the barons’ party and had therefore set himself up in opposition to him.
He had come to the King with a special purpose and he lost little time in making Henry aware of the reason for his visit.
‘My lord,’ he began, ‘what I have to tell you fills me with distress for I know what pain it will cause you. I ask in advance for your forgiveness for bringing this to your notice but I believe it to be something you should know.’
‘Pray tell me without more delay,’ commanded Henry.
&nbs
p; ‘It is that your son Edward has allied himself with Simon de Montfort.’
‘That is impossible,’ cried Henry.
‘I fear, my lord, it is so.’
‘I will not believe it.’
‘Others will confirm it.’
Henry shook his head. ‘There is some mistake,’ he insisted.
‘No, Sire. The lord Edward is constantly in de Montfort’s company listening to what de Montfort tells about what are, in his opinion, the wrongs committed against the people.’
Henry covered his face with his hands.
This was more cruel than anything. He could endure the loss of his crown but not that of the love and loyalty of his family.
He would listen to no more. He dismissed Gloucester and sat alone.
There must be some mistake. Edward … his son, Eleanor’s son … to stand against him! It was not possible.
Oh God, he thought, is history repeating itself? His grandfather Henry II had likened himself to an eagle who, when he was old and weary, was attacked by the eaglets whom he had fathered. He, Henry III, had gloried in his own children, had thanked God for them and greatly pitied his grandfather. Now could it be that his son had turned against him?
It could not be true. It was a malicious lie. He would never believe it. Eleanor would never allow it. He would trust Edward with his life.
There was only one thing to do and that was to return to England.
How cruel it was. It was true. Edward was seeing de Montfort and had declared that he understood the reason for his grievances.
The King could not bear to see anyone. He went to the Tower of London and remained there. His grief was making him ill.
Richard, the King of the Romans, hearing rumours of England’s trouble, had come to see his brother.
He went to the Tower and when he saw Richard Henry broke down. He wept silently for a few moments and then he said sadly: ‘At least you have come to me, brother.’
‘Henry,’ said Richard, ‘I understand full well your feelings. Have I not a son of my own? I should be desolate if my Henry ever seemed to turn against me. But why don’t you see Edward? I hear you have refused so far.’
‘I could not see him. You know my love for him. If he stood before me now I should not be able to stop myself kissing him.’
‘Which would perhaps be good.’
‘What of the Queen?’
‘The Queen is torn between the two of us. She will hear no ill of Edward.’
‘Henry, Edward is no longer a boy. He is going to be a great King one day … though that will be far distant I hope. He has, it is true, listened to Simon de Montfort and, make no mistake, that man has a certain greatness in him. It is true that the people are in revolt against the immense taxation which has been levied upon them. You must agree to this. I am sure that is all Edward has done and he will be most distressed if you allow him to go on believing you think he is against you. It is the last thing he is. He is loyal to you, but there are certain matters which he wishes to reform. After all de Montfort is our brother-in-law.’
‘Would to God I had never allowed it.’
‘Our sister was determined on it and you would not have been able to stop her.’
‘I only gave way because he had seduced her.’
‘Both he and she have given the lie to that … and it is a matter of which they would have all the evidence. Nay, brother, they are married. You consented to the marriage. Let us forget that. It is not the issue. What I want is an end to this difference between you and your son. See him. Listen to him. He will tell you his feelings in the matter.’
‘It may well be that you are right, Richard, but when I see my son I know all feeling will desert me except the joy it will give me to look on his face.’
‘Then relish that joy … and talk afterwards. I am sure you will see that you have been mistaken.’
‘Oh, Richard, if I could believe that you are right in this.’
‘Give yourself the opportunity of finding out.’
Richard lost no time in sending a message to Edward.
Edward came to the Tower accompanied by his mother. Eleanor had been with her son trying to understand what this matter was which had come between them.
Edward swore that he had no intention of working against his father. He had listened to Simon de Montfort, certainly. There was much wisdom in what he had to say. He firmly believed that his Uncle Simon was the King’s loyal subject and was genuinely concerned at the growing discontent in the country.
He went in alone to see his father and when he saw him he rushed into his arms.
Henry embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks and their tears mingled.
‘My dear, dear father, how could you ever have thought I would be against you?’
‘Forgive me, Edward. Forgive me. I listened to evil tales.’
‘I had seen de Montfort it is true. Father, he is a man of honour. He means you no harm.’
‘He has seduced you with fair words, my son. He and I have had our differences. I do not believe he will be a friend of mine until I do as he says. But no matter, you are here. You have come to me. You have assured me of your love. That is enough for me.’
‘Never believe I would stand against you.’
‘I do not believe it. I never did … in my heart.’
‘It is merely that I felt there was sense in what Simon de Montfort told me. But if he were to be against you then I would bring whatever strength I had to stand against him. Never think, Father, that whatever the cause I would stand against you.’
‘This is a happy day for me, Edward. I could almost be glad of my wretchedness because it has made me so joyous now.’
‘Let us tell my mother that all is well between us. It has been a most anxious time for her. She came with me. She was so happy that you had sent for me. I will bring her to you.’
So she came and the three of them were together.
‘This must never happen again,’ said Eleanor. ‘Nothing on earth will ever mar our unity. We are as one. Oh please, my son … my husband … remember it.’
There were tears in Henry’s eyes and Edward said: ‘Who was it who brought these tales to you, Father? Methinks he is no friend to you nor to me.’
‘It was Gloucester,’ said Henry.
‘I shall regard him as my enemy until one of us dies,’ declared Edward.
So there was reconciliation and Edward was constantly in the company of his parents until he left for France, for there was to be a great tournament at the French Court and he was anxious to play a part in it.
Chapter XVI
CONSPIRACY IN THE BEDCHAMBER
Edward was in France; Beatrice had gone; there was frustration over Edmund’s accession to the crown of Sicily which the people of England were so much against; and Henry longed to raise the Queen’s spirits.
He had an idea and without telling Eleanor, for if it failed he did not want disappointment to make her more melancholy than ever, he sent a messenger to Scotland with the suggestion that the Scottish King and Queen should come to England.
He knew that if it were possible Margaret would agree immediately; and he was right. His messenger brought back a letter from Margaret in which she said that they were preparing to set out at once.
Gleefully he went to Eleanor.
‘News from Scotland,’ he said carelessly.
‘Margaret is well?’ she asked quickly.
‘It seems she is very well.’
‘Thank God.’
‘And very eager to see her mother … and I believe she takes some pleasure in her father’s company.’
‘What do you mean, Henry?’
‘I mean, my love, that our Margaret is coming to see us. At this very moment she is on her way.’
‘Oh, Henry!’
‘I knew that would please you. That is why I arranged it.’
‘And said nothing to me.’
‘Because I feared it might not be possible. I could not bear
that you should be disappointed.’
‘Henry, you are so good to me.’
‘No more than I should be, my love.’
To go home! Margaret’s spirits leaped at the thought. To leave grim old Edinburgh for beloved Windsor, Westminster or even York. What mattered it as long as it was England. The South was better though because it was farther away from Scotland.
To go home again! To be with those beloved parents. To talk over everything with her mother …
To talk over everything! Oh, what good luck that she had not told anyone, for if she had they would have done everything they could to have stopped her going.
She had almost told Alexander, but she had wanted to be sure. She had not wanted him to be disappointed. Now she was sure and had been on the point of telling but mercy of mercies she had not.
She could imagine those grim old lairds. ‘The bairn must be born in Scotland. In view of her condition the Queen must not travel.’ They would enjoy stopping her pleasure. She knew them well. So thank God, she had told no one.
There was a lot of dour shaking of heads over the proposed visit. They would like to shut her and Alexander up as they had when she had first come here. But they were taught a lesson then. Her dear parents would not allow her to be treated like a prisoner. The Scots knew it and it was important that they did not offend the English.
What joy to turn the head of her horse southwards. How she laughed to herself when they crossed the border. Soon she would be home.
They passed through York where she had half expected her parents would be waiting to greet her. No matter. State affairs kept them in the South. Only a short while and she would be with them.
