The Battle of the Queens

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘I think you have decided that the Earl of Cornwall must be dealt with in a manner he may not like.’

  Henry was relieved. He had thought for a moment that Hubert might consider Richard had right on his side.

  ‘You think I was over harsh?’

  ‘I think you were just, which is what a king should be.’

  Henry looked with affection on Hubert. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘what now? What if he takes this matter to the court? What if it is decided that he has right on his side?’

  ‘In one matter he has no right on his side. He has behaved in a manner towards his King as no loyal subject should, and though he is your brother he is your subject. For that he deserves to be taught a lesson.’

  ‘What lesson?’

  ‘He should be seized and kept in confinement. Perhaps that will show any court that you will brook no insults.’

  ‘You are right, Hubert.’

  ‘Shall I send a troop of men out to take him?’

  ‘Pray do so. When he is my prisoner he will have time to cool his temper.’

  The command was given, but by the time a guard was sent in pursuit, Richard had already escaped.

  He was on his way to William Marshal, his sister Eleanor’s husband, and the man to whom those who thought the power of Hubert de Burgh was too great, were beginning to turn.

  Richard rode with all speed to Marlborough, where he expected to find William Marshal. He was not sure what Henry’s reaction would be when he had time to recover himself. Henry was very unsure of himself – that much was certain, but when Hubert had told him what to do, he might take some revenge.

  It was a good idea to go to Marshal because Richard knew that there was a growing resentment in the country – not so much against Henry whom they all regarded as little more than a boy, as against Hubert de Burgh. Hubert was far too rich and powerful – and getting more so; and it was obvious that in this matter of the Cornish manor Hubert was on the King’s side. Therefore he would be against Richard.

  It was bad luck that when he arrived at the castle William Marshal was not there. But Eleanor, his sister, was and how delighted she was to see him.

  She flung herself into his arms and clung to him. She was thirteen years old and a wife; but a virgin still, Richard guessed.

  It was amusing to see her as the châtelaine, and he was mildly touched because she was so very young.

  She told him that her husband would shortly be returning to the castle. Perhaps that very day. His sister, Isabella, and Isabella’s husband Gilbert de Clare, were staying with them, and though Gilbert was with William, Isabella was in the castle.

  They would be delighted with his company.

  Eleanor commanded that a bedchamber be prepared for him and he sat with her and talked while this was made ready.

  He had recently been at court. How was their sister Isabella? And he must have been with Henry.

  He told her that Isabella was well and that old Margaret Biset was the same as ever.

  ‘Have they found a husband for Isabella yet?’ she asked.

  He told her they had not but the King was feeling his way on that matter.

  ‘I hope she finds a good husband and does not have to go overseas.’

  ‘We cannot all be lucky like you, little sister.’

  ‘You will be. Men always are. They do not have to go away – and they have more choice in the matter of marriage.’

  ‘But you have been fortunate, little sister?’

  ‘I did not see my husband for a long time. He was in Ireland, you know. Now he is home …’

  She looked a little bewildered, but not, Richard was glad to note, altogether alarmed.

  He wished William would come back. He had so much to say to him and if he did not return soon he would have to ride on and find some other whom he knew would be sympathetic.

  But there was something solid about Marshal which came from the present one’s father, the first Earl of Pembroke, who had served Henry II, Richard and John and, before he had died some eight years before, had been responsible for helping young Henry to the throne. He had been recognised throughout the kingdom as a most honourable man and one in whom those who worked for the right could put their entire trust. This William, young Eleanor’s husband, the second Earl, had not yet been tried, but he stood reflected in the bright glow of righteousness which came from his father’s reputation.

  As he talked to Eleanor he was aware of someone coming down the stairs. He turned and was looking at a woman of great beauty. She was not young but that did not take anything from her charm. Her thick dark hair hung in a plait and she wore a blue gown embroidered with white silk.

  ‘My brother has come, Isabella,’ said Eleanor.

  Richard rose and going forward bowed low.

  Isabella de Clare extended her hand which he took and kissed.

  ‘This is a happy meeting,’ he said.

  She smiled and said: ‘My husband will be pleased that we were here when you came.’

  ‘Not more pleased than I,’ he said.

  She came and sat at the table with Eleanor and Richard and he told them of his adventures in France and that he supposed he would go again one day.

  As he talked he watched Isabella. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  A servant came into the hall and Eleanor rose, enjoying her role of châtelaine.

  ‘This means that your chamber is prepared for you, brother,’ she said. ‘Shall I take you there?’

  ‘Later,’ said Richard, and went on talking to Isabella.

  A few hours after Richard had arrived at the castle, one of his servants rode up. The man had travelled at great speed.

  ‘I must see the Earl of Cornwall without delay,’ he cried and when he was taken in to Richard’s presence, he said: ‘I come to warn you, my lord. The Justiciar is looking for you. He has advised the King that you should be made a prisoner and kept in restraint, he says, until you are brought to reason.’

  ‘This man dares say that?’ cried Richard.

  ‘’Tis so, my lord. I have it straight from two who overheard it. And it is a fact that the Justiciar’s men are searching for you.’

  ‘You did well to come here.’

  ‘Oh, I knew, my lord, that you would come first to the Earl of Pembroke.’

  ‘Let us hope that others did not share your knowledge.’

  ‘’Twas what I feared, my lord, and ’tis why I have ridden here with all speed that you may be warned.’

  ‘I am warned and shall know what to do if any should dare try to take me. I have a good sword as well as good servants. You shall remain here until I have decided what shall be done.’

  His rage was great. To make him a prisoner! The King’s brother. It was not to be endured.

  William Marshal returned to the castle in the early evening. He was not entirely surprised to find his brother-in-law there.

  He had heard a rumour that there had been a quarrel between the King and his brother and he had remarked to that other brother-in-law, Gilbert de Clare, that trouble between the King and the Earl of Cornwall was inevitable sooner or later.

  Richard explained to him what had happened and said that he was quite prepared to have his case tried, which was surely the just thing to do. And for this Hubert de Burgh would put him in prison.

  ‘Hubert de Burgh is a man who has grown foolish through power,’ declared Marshal. ‘He is like a man who drinks too much of an intoxicating liquor. He develops grand notions of himself. It is time an end was put to his posturings.’

  Richard was relieved. William Marshal was on his side. So was Gilbert de Clare, husband of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Richard was somewhat susceptible to beautiful women and he had a fancy for those who were a little mature. Richard’s quarrel had been with his brother but somehow it had turned into a condemnation of Hubert de Burgh. After all it was Hubert de Burgh’s idea that he should be kept in confinement.

  ‘There
comes a time,’ said William Marshal, ‘when injustice must be faced and put a stop to. I think this may well be the moment to deal with Hubert de Burgh.’

  De Clare pointed out that the King thought a great deal of him, had an affection for him and had more or less banished Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, because of him.

  ‘All of which,’ said William Marshal, ‘has so puffed up the pride of our Justiciar that he has become intolerable. He decides when the Earl of Cornwall, who is as royal as the King, shall be made a prisoner.’

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’ asked Richard.

  ‘That we make at once for Chester. There we will meet the Earl who, I know, will be our very good friend. I will send for the other earls, who have had enough of this Justiciar of yours. Warwick, Hereford, Ferrers, Warenne and Gloucester.’

  ‘You can be sure of the support of these men?’ asked Richard incredulously.

  William assured him that he could.

  There is indeed a conspiracy against Hubert de Burgh, thought Richard. I wonder how loyal these men are to the King if they so hate one whom the King has raised up and admires so certainly?

  They left for Chester and when they arrived, found that the five earls were waiting for them there.

  The King was deeply disturbed. After his first bout of anger against Richard he began to think he might have acted a little rashly to have allowed Hubert to threaten his brother with imprisonment. After all, it had merely been a quarrel, and he and Richard had quarrelled often when they were young children.

  While he was thinking thus he received an ultimatum from an unexpected quarter. He could not believe it when he read it. A large force was collecting at Stamford and this was composed of disgruntled earls and their followers. When he looked at the names of those earls he was alarmed: Marshal, Gloucester, Ferrers, Hereford, Warenne, Clare, Warwick and Chester. Some of the most formidable in the land. Richard had added his name to theirs.

  So this was due to a foolish quarrel about a manor house. It need have been no more if Hubert had not absurdly threatened him with imprisonment.

  The earls reminded the King that he had recently annulled the Charter of the Forest, an act which was extremely unpopular with the people. He would remember his father’s conflict with the barons and their fight against repression such as the cancelling of the Forest Charter. If the King did not want to see the country plunged into similar disruption, it would be well for him to meet the earls – without Hubert de Burgh in attendance – and then perhaps these unfortunate matters might be settled in a manner satisfactory to all sides. They considered Hubert de Burgh to be at the root of the trouble and would not meet the King if he were present. The alternative would be civil war.

  Henry was in a quandary. While he consoled himself by blaming Hubert, at the same time he wondered how he would meet this challenge without him.

  He made a decision. He would meet the earls; he would consider their demands; he would show them – and Hubert – that he was capable of taking command without the aid of his Justiciar.

  They met at Northampton. It was a subdued Henry who faced these rebels; but he was glad to notice that Richard was a little shamefaced to find himself on the side of his enemies.

  Marshal was spokesman. He pointed out that he was aware that Hubert de Burgh had led the King astray and the entire blame must rest on the Justiciar. Henry became stubborn about dismissing Hubert and the earls did not press that point, for Marshal had agreed that it would take a little time to dislodge him from a position in which he had become so firmly entrenched. Hubert could wait awhile. The point of this encounter was to bring home to the King the fact that the barons were as powerful now as they had been in the reign of his father; and the fact that, through the Justiciar, his brother was alienated from him and on the side of the barons, was a significant point which he must realise.

  He must be watchful of the Justiciar, he must reissue the Forest Charter and if he wished to take the Cornish manor from Richard he must compensate him with something greater than that which he had taken.

  Henry was overawed. Without Hubert he could not barter. He could see great trouble ahead with strife in England when his great desire was to regain the lost possessions in France.

  He gave assurances and he would bestow on Richard his mother’s dower which included the lands in England which had been owned by the Counts of Brittany and Boulogne.

  Richard had come well out of the affair and he was glad for he hated quarrelling with his brother.

  He was fond of Henry and his only real grudge against him was that he had been born before him.

  They embraced.

  ‘It is as it was before between us?’ asked Henry.

  Richard agreed that it was.

  ‘It was Hubert de Burgh who caused the trouble,’ said Richard.

  Henry said nothing. He knew he could not do without Hubert … just yet.

  Christmas was spent at York. Joan, Queen of Scotland, was delighted as she always was to be with her family. It gave her great pleasure to be back in England; she confided to Isabella and old Margaret Biset that Scotland could never be home to her.

  ‘It always seems cold,’ she told them, ‘even in summer. The draughts are bad for my cough.’

  There are enough of them here in York,’ grumbled Margaret, ‘and I am constantly scolding my lady here because she will not wrap enough against these icy winds.’

  ‘Oh, Margaret, you coddle me,’ said Isabella.

  ‘And look at her for it,’ cried Margaret proudly. ‘Is she not the picture of health?’

  Joan agreed and Margaret thought: It is more than I can say for you, my lady of Scotland.

  Margaret shivered. She did not believe in these royal marriages. She would have liked her little ones to have married noble lords of the court so that she could flit about between them and look after their babies when they came. She lived in terror that ere long they would find a husband for her remaining charge. She stoutly told herself that if they tried to marry her pet to some old man – king of a remote country – she would tell the King she would not have it. Merely bravado of course. How could she prevent it?

  Joan asked if Isabella had seen their sister Eleanor recently.

  ‘Yes,’ said Isabella. ‘She came to court with the Earl of Pembroke.’

  ‘Is she happy?’

  ‘Poor mite,’ said Margaret Biset. ‘Little more than a baby … and to be a wife.’

  ‘It happens to us all, Meg,’ said Joan.

  ‘But my little Eleanor … she had no notion of it at all … and there she was married to that man. Now you, my lady, went off to foreign parts first and lived in that strange place.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joan wistfully.

  ‘It gave you a little foretaste, you might say.’

  ‘Yes, Meg, you’re right.’

  ‘And your mother took your place.’ Margaret’s lips were tightly pressed together. And good riddance, she was thinking. ‘And a big family she’s providing I hear.’

  ‘Yes, our mother had a great many children,’ said Isabella. ‘I wonder how it feels to have two families.’

  Margaret made a clucking sound which might have indicated contempt or indifference. She loved those she called her children the more because they had had such unnatural parents.

  She was going to make a posset or two for Joan and see what she could do about that cough before the child went back to that unnatural place above the Border.

  They were like children together – Isabella and Joan. Margaret was glad Joan had been able to come here for the festivities. It was company for Isabella and it gave Margaret a chance to look after Joan. It was a pity Eleanor couldn’t be with them, but there had been some trouble between Eleanor’s husband and the King and although the quarrel had been patched up, there was this difference which fermented underneath.

  I hope we’re not going to have that sort of trouble, thought Margaret. Why couldn’t people live in peace and why did there have t
o be all this juggling with the young people to make this and that alliance?

  Her girls had a right to be happy – as happy as she had always made them in her nurseries.

  Now they were indeed like two children together discussing their gowns for the Christmas celebrations – Isabella forgetting the ever-present menace of a foreign marriage and Joan refusing to remember that soon she would have to go back to the bleakness of Scotland. Margaret listened happily to their chatter.

  Joan would wear a wimple of gold tissue and Isabella one of embroidered silk. Perhaps they would let their hair hang loose or perhaps wear it caught up in a coil of gold thread. Joan as Queen would be more sumptuously clad than Isabella. She would wear a circlet of gold jewels about her head. She showed it to Isabella, who tried it on, and as she did so said: ‘I wonder if I shall be a queen too?’

  Margaret watching was saddened, for she thought it very likely that before long her last remaining charge might be snatched from her.

  There were the customary Christmas celebrations with dancing, singing and games which included roy-qui-ne-ment, in which a king who did not lie was chosen to ask questions and comment on the answers – whether they be true or false. This was a great favourite, for everyone sat in trepidation lest they should be called upon to answer truthfully a question when it might be an embarrassment to do so. What the penalty was if a lie was spoken, no one was quite sure; it was never referred to; but most of those who played the game believed it would be swift and terrible. The enjoyment of this game seemed to be the shivering terror in which the players sat throughout and the relief when it was over.

  Then there were the usual jugglers and sword dancers, morris dancers with their bells, sticks and hobby horses; vaulting, tumbling and even wrestling.

  Beside the King sat his brother Richard of Cornwall and Hubert de Burgh. There had been a certain coolness between the King and Hubert, and Hubert and Richard after the meeting with the earls, but that had seemed to have passed away and they talked amicably.

  The King looked on at the performers with pleasure, obviously enjoying the manner in which everyone deferred to him.