All he could do was pray for courage, that he might endure what was
coming to him with fortitude.
There was to be no delay, ordered the Queen. Delay was dangerous. He
might die and defeat them of their satisfaction. Almost immediately after the sentence had been passed, he was dressed in a long black robe with his
escutcheon upside down. They had said he should be crowned because he had
ruled the King so they placed a crown of nettles on his brow to add a little more discomfort and he was dragged out of the castle.
As they prepared to hang him on the gallows which was fifty feet high in
order that as many as possible might witness the spectacle, the Queen took a seat with Mortimer and Adam of Orlton on either side of her that they might gloat over the pain inflicted on the King’s favourite.
The handsome body now emaciated beyond recognition dangled on the rope
and Isabella feared that he might die before they could cut him down and
administer the rest of the dreadful sentence.
To her delight she saw that Hugh’s lips were moving slightly as they laid
him out and bared his body for the fearsome ordeal.
This is the man he preferred, thought Isabella . I was humiliated for his sake.
He took away my friends; he deprived me of my rights. And now he is in my hands these are his just deserts.
There was little satisfaction though, for Hugh was so quiet. Once she heard a faint moaning, but there were no cries for mercy.
She reached for Mortimer’s hand. He seized it and pressed it.
This was the end of Hugh, they were both thinking. There remained the
King.
―――――――
EDWARD
―――――――
KING NO MORE
Edward was numb with grief. Why was life so cruel to him? First they had
taken Gaveston and now Hugh. Why was it his love always brought disaster?
And what now? He was too numb to care.
They were taking him to Kenilworth. His cousin Henry of Lancaster had
come to him and told him that he was to be his guest.
Henry had looked at him with compassion. Strangely enough he seemed to
understand.
So they rode side by side to Lancaster’s castle of Kenilworth which lay
between Warwick and Coventry. Lancaster was proud of the place. Edward’s
grandfather, Henry III, had given it to his youngest son and so Lancaster had inherited it.
‘Have no fear, I shall not harm you, my lord,’ he said, and Edward thought how strange it was that a subject should speak to his King in such a manner. He might have been incensed, he might have been apprehensive but he could think of nothing but: Hugh is dead.
He lay in the room which had been prepared for him. There were guards at
the door to remind him that he was a prisoner. An ironic situation indeed. A King the prisoner of his Queen!
Oh Isabella, Isabella, he thought. I never really knew you. those years youwere so meek; you bore my children. You waited patiently until I had time tospare for you. Gaveston never knew what your real thoughts were. Too lateHughdiscovered; and even then I would not believe it. And now Mortimer isyour lover. You― Isabella.
She was like her father— Philip the Handsome, ruthless, implacable, feared by all until that final day of reckoning when he lay on his death-bed and knew that the curse put on him and his heirs by the Templars was being fulfilled.
Isabella was cruel. Isabella was ruthless. She hated him. He wondered what she and Mortimer would do now.
The days passed. Lancaster came to him— gentle and apologetic. It is not my fault that you are here, my lord, he seemed to say, I but obey orders.
It was never wise to offend a King. However low he had fallen, who could
know when he would come back into power again?
That was a heartening thought. Was that why Lancaster was always
respectful? Oh no, it was more than that. Henry was his cousin; they were both royal; men who were close to the throne had the greatest respect for It.
Henry and he played chess together. It whiled away the hours.
‘Henry,’ he asked, ‘how long will you keep me here?’
Henry lifted his shoulders. Doubtless it would be for Mortimer to say.
Mortimer. That upstart from the Marcher country, a man who had been the
King’s prisoner and escaped! Oh, what a fool not to have had his head long ago.
But when he looked back, it was over a lifetime of follies. A headless Mortimer would never have escaped from the Tower, would never have become the
Queen’s lover, would never have captured the King.
But perhaps Mortimer was merely the tool. She would have found another
lover, another man to lead her armies. She was his real enemy, the She-Wolf of France.
He tried to give himself to the game. Even in that he was beaten. He had
never been able to plan an artful strategy Lancaster could beat him on the board as his brother had done in life. But Lancaster had come to a tragic end. He had not won in the end.
‘Checkmate,’ said Henry triumphant.
The King shrugged his shoulders. He said: ‘You are a kinder jailer than I
might have hoped for, cousin.’
Lancaster rearranged the pieces on the board.
‘I do not forget your royalty, my lord,’ he replied.
‘You have never forgiven me for the fate of your brother,’ said Edward. ‘But I was not to blame. If he had not parleyed with the Scots― he would be alive today.’
‘He was a great man, my lord. His trial was hasty and he had no chance to
defend himself.’
‘Let us not go over the past,’ said Edward. ‘It is over and done with. There have been many mistakes. Let us not brood on them cousin. You have been my enemy and it is for this reason that the Queen and her paramour have given me into your keeping. You have done everything you could to preserve your
brother’s honour and that I understand. You built a cross for his soul outside Leicester. You proclaimed that miracles had been performed at his tomb and you tried to make a saint of him, knowing full well that the more men revered him, the more they would revile their King.’
‘It was your friendships, my lord, which made the people revile you.’
‘I have been maligned and condemned,’ cried the King. ‘I have lost those
whom I loved best. But what I can say is that I have received kindness at your hands and I did not expect it. You and I have not been friends, Henry, cousins though we be. And it is because of the enmity between us that I am put in your care. Yet you show me kindness. It is something which moves me.’
His cousin lowered his eyes to the board.
‘Another game, my lord?’ he asked. ‘Would you wish to have your
revenge?’
The King wanted to laugh aloud. His revenge. Yes, he would like to have his revenge― his revenge on the murderers of Hugh and his father. Oh the tortures they had inflicted on that loved body. His revenge on Isabella, the traitoress.
Ah, if only he could move the men and women of his kingdom to the places
where he wanted them to be as easily as he could move the pieces on the
chessboard!
―――――――
The Queen rode out in her silken dress adorned with shining gold buttons;
her skirt flowed over her palfry, and about her shoulders was an ermine coat.