The Battle of the Queens

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘He shall see that it is useless to attempt to hide from justice,’ he declared; and he pondered as to what he could best do.

  The Londoners had hated Hubert since the riots when he had ordered their leader and his nephew to be hanged and had caused to be mutilated those who had been taken prisoner. The dead might have been forgotten, but there were so many men living minus a limb or their ears that the grievance was kept alive.

  Henry sent out a proclamation.

  Hubert de Burgh, traitor to the country, was hiding in Merton Priory. Londoners who had long been aware of his perfidy and had good reason to remember his villainy should take him from his refuge and bring him to the courts.

  The Londoners were on the march to Merton.

  There was one among them – a merchant of deeply religious leanings who raised his voice at this order and asked whether it was fitting to violate a sanctuary. The law of the Church was that any man – however wicked – could find refuge, if only temporarily, in a holy place. He knew that the King had ordered this but the King and the Church were not always in agreement and they must remember that the King was young and the Church was old.

  ‘What then?’ cried the crowd. ‘Tell us what then.’

  The merchant was a respected man among them known for his pious ways and just dealing, and considering this the mob was halted in its madness to get at Hubert.

  ‘The Bishop of Winchester is lodged nearby,’ said the merchant. ‘We could ask him if it is fitting for us to take the Justiciar from a sanctuary when it is the command of the King.’

  ‘To the Bishop,’ cried the crowd; and instead of going to Merton they made their way to the Bishop’s lodging.

  Peter des Roches was amazed to find them gathered at his gate.

  He addressed them from a window.

  ‘What would you have of me, good people?’ he asked.

  The merchant was the spokesman. ‘My lord Bishop, we have had a command from the King to go to Merton and take Hubert de Burgh that he may be brought to justice. Should we obey the King?’

  ‘Are you good subjects?’ replied Peter. ‘If you are you know full well that you should obey your King.’

  ‘My lord Bishop, he is in holy sanctuary.’

  Peter des Roches hesitated. The merchant was a moderate man, that much was certain. Not so those who gathered about him. There was the blood lust in their eyes. They hated Hubert. They were bent on revenge. They blamed Hubert for the hanging of Constantine and the mutilation of so many of the citizens and they wanted a scapegoat. Hubert was known to be severe because he believed that it was the only way to keep law and order in the country.

  The fate of Hubert, as he saw it, could rest on the next few seconds. If he came to court, he might well prove himself guiltless. After all he had governed the country well. Peter des Roches knew that. But if this mob got at him, he would never have a chance to do anything. In their present mood they would tear him apart.

  ‘We would ask your guidance, as a man of Holy Church,’ went on the merchant.

  Peter made his decision. This was an easy way of getting rid of Hubert – once and for all.

  ‘The King has given you an order. You must obey your King.’

  There was a shout from the mob.

  ‘To Merton,’ they cried. ‘The blood of Hubert de Burgh.’

  The Earl of Chester had seen the mob marching to the Bishop’s house and had heard their bloodthirsty shouts.

  He had believed that the Bishop would advise them to disperse and was astonished when they came from his house shouting, ‘To Merton.’

  He went at once to the King.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘the mob is on the march.’

  ‘To Merton,’ replied Henry. ‘I have asked them to bring me Hubert de Burgh.’

  ‘Bring him to you! They will murder him first.’

  Henry did not answer and Chester went on: ‘My lord, it is dangerous to rouse the mob. They will murder Hubert … horribly, doubtless. I have seen these men. It is a fearful sight to see a mob on the march. I beg of you to disband the mob while there is still time. It is not good for the people to see that it is possible to get what they want by force. I implore you, my lord. Command them to disband while you still have the power to do so.’

  Henry hesitated. He knew that Chester was an enemy of Hubert. That was why he could believe him. He was suddenly afraid. He knew what had happened when the barons had risen against his father. Retaining the crown depended to a large extent on the good will of the people. The terrible story of his father’s reign was a lesson to him.

  ‘What must I do?’

  ‘Ride out with me now. We can catch up with the mob. You must command it to disband.’

  So the King rode out with Chester and when they had caught up with the marchers Henry spoke to them.

  He had not meant them to go thus to Merton. They knew that Hubert de Burgh was resting in sanctuary. It was against the laws of the Church to take a man from such a refuge. He had spoken rashly and they were in no way to blame or would not be if they disbanded quietly and returned to their homes.

  The merchant who had doubted the wisdom of breaking into sanctuary was clearly relieved. He spoke for the mob and said they would return to their homes. They knew that the King would do what was necessary and that Hubert de Burgh would be brought to justice in due course.

  When Peter des Roches heard what had happened, he was furious. Not only was Hubert still alive but he had been exposed as giving advice which was contrary to the rules of the Church.

  He presented himself to the King and told him how wisely he had acted. He had been confronted by the mob, he explained, and he had told them that they must at all costs obey the King, which was what he believed good subjects should do; and Henry, who realised how foolish he had been in giving the order in the first place, was quite relieved to accept this explanation.

  ‘What do you propose to do in this matter now, my lord?’ asked Peter.

  ‘It is a matter for consideration,’ murmured Henry.

  ‘I doubt not that you will decide that he should have a list of the charges against him and be told that he is to prepare his answers.’

  ‘That had been in my mind,’ said Henry, looking eagerly at the Bishop for more suggestions.

  ‘And perhaps a safe conduct from the sanctuary to some place of his choice.’ Then taking him would not present the same difficulties.

  ‘It is what I had been considering.’

  The Bishop retired well pleased. It was gratifying to his self-esteem to be able to guide the King so effortlessly.

  When Hubert received the safe conduct from the King he and Margaret went to Brentwood – a house which belonged to Hubert’s nephew the Bishop of Norwich. He could rely on the help of the Bishop who owed his present position to him. But feeling it unwise to stay in the house he took refuge in the Boisars Chapel close by that he might once more find sanctuary.

  As soon as Henry heard where he was he sent guards to take him and bring him to London.

  When Hubert realised the perfidy of the King who had promised him time to prepare his answers against the charges, he tried to defend himself, but was soon outnumbered.

  His captors, however, were afraid he would escape and sent for the local blacksmith to make chains that he might be fettered. The blacksmith, however, knew who he was and he declared that he wanted nothing to do with the matter. If the troops wished to fetter the Bishop’s uncle they must find some other to do it. Hubert decided that if ever he came into power again he would remember that blacksmith. His captors were not to be beaten however; they would do without chains and would bind him with ropes.

  So he was bound and set upon a horse and brought to the Tower of London, and there he was lodged to await his trial.

  The Bishop of London, hearing that he had been taken from the Boisars Chapel where he was in sanctuary and brought in fetters to London, went to see the King and pointed out to him that it was against the law of the Ch
urch for a man to be taken from sanctuary. No matter what a man’s crime, he was immune.

  The Bishop was a little stern, implying that the King had forgotten the law of sanctuary which was that any man, be he the most hardened criminal, was entitled to refuge under the roof of the Church. For forty days and forty nights he should be safe there and any who dared touch him defiled the Church. At the end of that time he was bound to leave the country and should be guaranteed freedom from molestation while he made his way to the coast.

  This law, the Bishop pointed out, had been ignored in the case of Hubert de Burgh and the men who had dragged him from Boisars Chapel.

  Henry was once more in a quandary. The Bishop of London was very stern and although he referred to the soldiers who had taken Hubert as the offenders, he meant of course the King. Henry, who liked to think of himself as a deeply religious man, hated the thought of conflict with the Church; so he immediately agreed that Hubert should be taken back to the chapel where he would be guarded by two sheriffs. His servants might be with him to provide his food and any comforts they could.

  After that, he could leave England, according to the laws of sanctuary, or if he failed to do this he would go to prison as was fitting for one who had proved a traitor to his King and country.

  Hubert decided that he would leave England for a short period during which time he would prove his innocence, but it was discovered that he had a large quantity of jewels and gold and when these were found his enemies declared that these were in fact the King’s property and here was the proof they needed that he had enriched himself at the King’s cost.

  It was no use Hubert’s protesting that the goods had been honestly earned during a lifetime of service. His enemies, led by Peter des Roches, advised the King that Hubert deserved to die.

  Henry agreed and it appeared that the end was in sight. But it was not so, for Henry’s conscience began to worry him. He remembered scenes from the past and how Hubert had been there in many a crisis and that when the French were overrunning the country at the time of his father’s death, it was Hubert with William Marshal who had arranged for his coronation and had made the people see that with two such men beside him, supporting him, it was possible to drive the French out of the country.

  Peter des Roches came to him and he could not hide how exultant he was. Henry took a sudden dislike to him and began to ask himself why he had allowed himself to be led by him.

  ‘We have cornered the wolf,’ said Peter des Roches. ‘His days are numbered. Nothing can save him now.’

  Was this a man of God, to rub his hands in glee, to lick his lips in anticipation because a man’s blood was to be shed?

  Henry said: ‘I can save him.’

  ‘My lord, what mean you?’ cried the Bishop.

  ‘I mean,’ said Henry, ‘that I am unsure of what will happen to Hubert. I have always heard it said that from the time he was a very young man he served my uncle Richard and my father very well. I used to think he served me well too.’

  ‘My lord, he is a cunning man.’

  It was the wrong approach. It was suggesting that Hubert’s cunning had deceived Henry because he was less wise.

  ‘I have decided what shall be done,’ he said, regarding the Bishop of Winchester with a certain coldness of expression. ‘I shall restore some of his castles and he shall be lodged at Devizes. I shall appoint certain lords to watch over him and his fetters shall be removed.’

  Peter saw that it would be unwise to press for a favour he was determined to ask. That was that he should be appointed custodian of Devizes Castle; and if he were it would not be long before Hubert died of some vague sickness which perhaps gullible people might believe had been brought on by all he had suffered.

  Life had become like a nightmare for the once powerful Justiciar. At least he had some faith in the King who swayed this way and that and could not seem to make up his mind.

  Hubert understood. Henry was young; he was unsure; he was unable to form his own judgment and was so eager that none should guess that he changed his views according to the person who influenced him most at a given time.

  He may grow up into a strong king, thought Hubert, but he doubted it. Perhaps Richard of Cornwall would have been the better one.

  The fact that the King had released him and placed him here in this castle, showed that he was not listening completely to those who were determined to destroy him. There was a spark of honour in the King. If only he could get near enough to ignite it, he might win back Henry’s favour.

  In the meantime he must lie low at Devizes and hope that would satisfy his enemies; and perhaps in due course the King would see him and he could talk him into reason.

  He was distracted when one of his manservants – a loyal man whom he could trust – came to him in some agitation.

  ‘One of the servants of the Bishop of Winchester has come to the castle. He did not immediately tell us for what purpose, but a little good wine loosened his tongue. He has come in advance to make ready for his master. The Bishop of Winchester has prevailed upon the King to give him the custodianship of Devizes Castle.’

  ‘God help me,’ cried Hubert, ‘this is the end. You know his purpose.’

  ‘It is to murder you, my lord, I would say. We should retire once more into sanctuary.’

  ‘You are right, my good fellow.’

  ‘We have made ready. Two of us will come with you. We will take food and warm robes and there we shall be when the Bishop of Winchester arrives in Devizes.’

  It was night when they made their escape from the castle, Hubert creeping out disguised as one of his servants.

  They spent the night in the church but when those who had been set to guard him discovered Hubert’s disappearance they were so alarmed because they had let him escape that they decided they would rather face the wrath of God than that of the Bishop of Winchester, so they went to the church and brought Hubert and his servants back to the castle.

  It was the old pattern. The Bishop of London this time protested at the violation of sanctuary and Hubert went back to the church.

  Henry had now swayed back again and was listening to the Bishop of Winchester.

  ‘What can I do?’ cried Henry. ‘Whatever happens he slips through our fingers. He is now once more in sanctuary. There is nothing to be done but leave him there.’

  ‘There is something,’ said the Bishop. ‘If no food is allowed into the sanctuary how can he stay there for his forty days? You could starve him into submission.’

  ‘That I will do,’ cried Henry. ‘I can see there will be no peace for me while this man lives.’

  He gave the order and it seemed to Hubert that this really was the end. There was no church law regarding the refusal to allow food into sanctuary, and the grim choice lay ahead for Hubert. Stay there and starve or come out and face the charges.

  Hubert knew that in time he would have to give in. He would have to come out and allow them to take him back to the Tower of London. Who knew that he might yet be able to confute his enemies. Those who would comfort him told him that the Bishop of Winchester was losing his hold on the King. That was a comforting sign, but Peter des Roches was not his only enemy.

  It was one night when the decision seemed imminent. Hubert was cold and hungry. He could delay little longer and perhaps the next day he would walk out and give himself up to the King’s men.

  Darkness had fallen. The church door opened silently. A man was standing there looking for him, he knew. Hubert could see him but he could not as yet see Hubert.

  Hubert called out: ‘Who are you?’

  The man came over to him and two more seemed to materialise in the gloom.

  ‘Do you want your freedom, Hubert de Burgh?’ said a voice.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Come with us then.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Enemies of the Bishop of Winchester.’

  Hubert hesitated and the man said: ‘Stay here and die or come with us. Take
your choice … only we might decide to take you whether you wish to come or not.’

  Hubert had spent a lifetime making quick decisions, but he had never made one more quickly than this.

  ‘I will come.’

  That is good. There are guards outside and if you did not come of your own accord a fight might result.’

  ‘Where will you take me?’

  ‘You will see.’

  Weak with hunger, Hubert rose unsteadily. He crept out of the chapel and mounted a horse which was waiting for him.

  ‘Away,’ said the man. ‘We’ll stop soon to feed you, for you are near to starving I see. Can you ride a little?’

  ‘Since my life would appear to depend on it, I believe I can.’

  ‘Wise man. Ride … and then soon you shall eat.’

  They turned their horses in the direction of Wales.

  The new Archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Rich, had been watching the rise to power of the Bishop of Winchester and his protégé, Peter de Rievaulx, with misgiving; and he decided that he must warn the King that the violation of sanctuary which had occurred more than once had indicated a lack of respect for the Church and this must be stopped without delay.

  He called together certain barons – many of them those who had risen against John and forced him to sign the charter and with them the leading bishops who shared his anxieties.

  The King received them with great courtesy for Edmund was a man who was beginning to be called a saint. He was known for his piety and austere living. It was said that he had not lain on a bed for many years but took a little rest now and then sitting or on his knees. His clothes were rough worsted and he submitted himself to self-inflicted torture with knotted ropes. He gave money to the poor so that he had very little of his own, keeping back only enough to provide the small amount of food he allowed himself.

  Among churchmen who looked for land and favours and made a habit of promoting their friends and relations to those posts where they could do their benefactor most good, Edmund was a rarity.