The Follies of the King - Plaidy Jean - Страница 74

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begun to feel uneasy because of the trouble about his father. Hainault had been a brief respite because Philippa was there. But since their return to England events had moved fast. There had actually been war between his father and mother and his mother was notorious. The Despensers had been brutally done to death and his father was a prisoner. Wliat would they do to him?

A cold feeling of horror came over him.

‘I like it not,’ he said aloud, ‘and by nature of who I am, I am in the centre of this.’

When his mother came to him with the Archbishop of Canterbury and his

uncies the Earls of Kent and Norfolk he was ready for them.

They knelt before him; there was a new respect in their manner; he believed that something had happened to his father.

The Archbishop spoke first. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘the King your father,

showing himself unworthy to wear the crown?’

Edward caught his breath. ‘My father is?dead?’

‘Nay, my lord. He lives, a prisoner in Kenilworth. There he is well cared for by the Earl of Lancaster. But because he has shown himself unworthy to govern he is to be deposed. You are the new King of England.’

‘But how is that possible when my father lives? He has been crowned the

King of this country.’

‘The crown is too burdensome for his frail head,’ went on the Archbishop.

‘You are to be the King. You must have no fear. You are young and will have a Regency to show you how to govern.’

‘I have no fear for myself,’ said the young Edward. ‘But I have for my

father. I would see him.’

‘That, my lord, cannot be,’ the Archbishop told him.

The Queen said: ‘It would only distress him, Edward. It is kinder to let him be where he is. I hear that he is contented enough. More, he is happy to be relieved of the duties of kingship which have been too much for him.’

‘Yet he ruled for many years,’ said Edward.

‘And see to what state the country has come!’ replied the Queen. ‘Edward,

you must remember you are young. For a little while you must listen to advice.’

‘It is well that you should be crowned with as little delay as possible,’ added the Archbishop.

Edward looked into their faces. He felt the blood rising to his. ‘I would

agree on one condition,’ he said.

‘Condition, Edward!’ cried the Queen. ‘Do you realize what honour is being done to you?’

‘I realize fully what this means, my lady,’ replied Edward firmly, ‘but I will not be crowned King of this realm until I have my father’s word that he gives me the crown.’

There was consternation. The boy had shown firmness of purpose which

they had not expected. He stood straight, drawing himself to his full height which was considerable even though he had not yet finished growing; his blue eyes were alight with purpose, the wintry light shone on his flaxen hair. It might have been his grandfather who stood there.

Every one of them knew that it would be useless to attempt to coerce him.

He was going to do what he believed to be right.

They saw that they would have to get the old King’s permission to crown

the new one before they could do so.

The January winds were buffeting the walls of Kenilworth Castle. Outside

the frost glittered on the bare branches of the trees. It was a break prospect but not so bleak as the feelings of the King as he sat huddled in his chamber in Caesar’s Tower in a vain endeavour to keep warm.

He had heard the ciatter of arrivals in the courtyard below. He wondered

what this meant. Every time someone called at the castle he feared the arrival might concern him and even these miserable conditions be changed for worse.

This was an important visit.

Lancaster stood in the doorway. ‘Your presence is required below, my lord.’

‘Who is it, cousin?’

‘A deputation. They are in serious mood. The Bishop of Hereford leads

them.’

‘Adam of Orlton,’ cried the King. ‘This bodes me no good then. He was

always my enemy. Who comes with him?’

‘Among others Sir William Trussell.’

‘Ay, an assembly of my enemies, I see. Tell me, do the greatest of them all come to Kenilworth to see me?’

Lancaster was silent and the King went on. ‘You wonder who I mean?

Come, cousin. You know full well. I mean the Queen and Mortimer.’

‘They are not here, my lord.’

‘Why do these men come, cousin? You know.’

‘They have not told me their business, my iord. Come, dress now. They are

waiting.’

‘And the King must not keep his enemies waiting,’ retorted Edward bitterly.

‘Give me my robe, cousin.’

He threw off the fur in which he had wrapped himselfand put on a gown of

cheap black serge— the sort poor men wore in mourning, for he was mourning he knew for a lost crown.

He faced the party— the traitors who no longer showed him the homage due

to a King. Leading them were two of his most bitter enemies Adam of Orlton and William Trussell. How he hated Trussell, who had sentenced Hugh to the terrible death which had been so barbarously carried out!

Trussell’s eyes— like those of Adam of Orlton— were gleaming with

triumph. This was a moment for which they had been working in their devious ways for many years.

They did not bow to him. They regarded him as they might a low-born

criminal.

Then Adam began speaking; he listed the crimes of the King. Events long

forgotten were recalled and the blame for them laid at his door. Bannockburn?

Would they never forget Bannockburn? How many had been blamed for that!

He lowered his eyes. He did not want to look into those vicious faces. He

wondered what they planned to do with him. Not what they had done to Hugh?

beioved Hugh. They could not. They dared not. He was still their King.

Their faces seemed to recede and he thought Gaveston was beside him?

Gaveston? perhaps the best boved of them all. Gaveston

Lancaster had caught him in his arms. He heard his voice from a long way

off. ‘The King has fainted.’

He was coming back to reality. The same chamber? the same faces about

him. So it could only have been for a moment.

They brought a chair for him. He was so tired. He did not want to listen to them.

Vaguely he gathered that they were telling him that he was to be set aside, his crown taken from him, and that they wanted his consent to do so.

How kind of them, he thought. They wanted his consent! Why? Could they

not do with him what they liked? Cut off his head? Take him out and do to him what they did to Hugh? No, he could not bear to think of what they did to

Hugh. It haunted his nightmares. Hugh? beautiful Hugh.

‘It would be well for you to give your consent,’ Adam of Orlton was saying.

‘If you do not, who knows what might happen? It could mean that the crown

would be lost not only to you but to your family.’

‘My son,’ he whispered. ‘My son Edward?’

‘Would be crowned King at once, if you consented to abdicate.’

‘He is but a boy?’

‘There must be no delay.’

‘My son? he must be your King.’

‘So thought we,’ went on Adam. ‘Renounce your crown and he shall receive

it forthwith. Refuse this and who knows what will happen.’

He gripped the sides of his chair. He thought of fair-haired Edward, the boy of whom he had been so proud.

He cried out: ‘I am in your hands. You must do what seems right to you.’

The relief was intense. Sir William Trussell lost no time. He stood before the King to declare as he said on behalf of the whole realm that all the homage and allegiance owed to him as sovereign was now renounced.

Trussell then took the staff of office and broke it in two as a symbol of the dissolution of the royal household.

Edward Plantagenet was now a private person; his rights as King of England had been stripped from him. He felt humiliated and yet he knew that his own actions had brought him to this pass. He was glad his father was not there to see this day.

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