The Oath

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fourth Tuesday after the Feast of St Michael[21]

Chepstow

It was another miserable day, Sir Ralph of Evesham thought as he listened to the rain splashing outside. The clouds were all low and rimmed with black, and the views were of greyness in every direction. It was hard to remember a time when the sun had shone, he sighed as he mopped at the back of his neck with a square kerchief. He had been out to squat, his bowels playing merry blazes after too many days and nights with poor food and lodgings, and got a soaking in return.

They had been here in Chepstow for a couple of nights now, and in that time they had heard several reports about the progress of the Queen. It was enough to make a man weep. All were going to her, none coming to support the King.

‘More wine?’ enquired Bernard, his squire, holding up the wineskin.

‘Why not?’ Sir Ralph said, lifting up his cup.

They were seated about a fire in this little chamber. They had not stolen anything, but the owners were not around. As so often happened, the moment a force of men arrived, many householders fled. It was natural enough. No man wanted to wait in order that his daughter could be raped. Troops were always an untrustworthy mob at the best of times, and these were not the best of times.

‘You heard about the Queen’s proclamation at Gloucester?’ his squire asked, poking their fire with a stick.

‘No.’

‘It’s all over the camp. She has said that the King isn’t at fault, she’s not here to harm him; her argument is with Despenser, and she’s come to remove him from her husband’s side for the good of the realm.’

‘That’ll wash well with the people,’ Sir Ralph said.

‘Aye. But it won’t work.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If she is serious about getting rid of Despenser, she’d have to kill him. The King exiled him before, didn’t he – and how long did that last?’

Sir Ralph nodded. Sir Hugh le Despenser had been forced from the realm, but he didn’t go far. Instead, he based himself on the South Coast of England and preyed on the shipping in the English Channel, acting the pirate. To this day the French King had a price on Despenser’s head for the French ships he had robbed, so if he were to appear in France, he would be executed on sight. Then, as soon as the King felt strong enough, he had invited his most favoured adviser back to his court, and launched a war on those who had thwarted him. No, he would never willingly give up Hugh le Despenser, and it was equally unlikely that his Queen would believe him if he promised to do so.

‘There’s a story going round about London, too,’ Bernard added.

‘Oh yes? London has rebelled has it?’ Sir Ralph said dully, staring into the flames and playing with the cloth in his hands.

‘They’ve killed Bishop Stapledon,’ Bernard said quietly. ‘I heard they cut off his head, threw his body in a ditch, and sent the head to the Queen. She received it in Gloucester.’

‘God’s blood!’ Sir Ralph looked up at that. ‘Stapledon? He was a good man. Christ’s pain, but the country’s falling apart. It’ll be a wonder if we any of us survive,’ he breathed, shaking his head.

There was a shout, then a rattle of armour – the sound of many men hurrying.

‘Alarm!’ Sir Ralph hissed, and grabbed his sword. Bernard darted to the back of the chamber, calling for Pagan and Alexander, snatching up his own sword-belt and buckling it as he went. In short order all four were outside, running towards the tumult, and then, as they drew nearer, they all began to slow.

‘What is it, Sir Ralph?’ Pagan asked, frowning. His eyesight was never very good.

‘I think it’s the King,’ Sir Ralph said, listening intently.

It was. Edward’s speech was short. The entire household was to be disbanded, he said. Sir Hugh, Roger Baldock the Treasurer, and a few of the King’s closest retainers and servants would remain with him, but all others were released from their service.

Sir Ralph had heard the King speak many times, but never with such poignancy and calm honour. Sir Hugh le Despenser stood at his side, head bowed, sometimes pushing a fingernail into his mouth and worrying at it, but for the most part avoiding the looks of all the others ringing them.

The King looked about him as he spoke, smiling and giving occasional nods of encouragement to specific men. ‘My friends, for I can call you all friends, you who have remained so loyal to your King, enduring all the hardships of our journey here, all the trials of the long march from London in so short a time. My friends, I am betrayed. Doubly so. My General, Sir Roger Mortimer, is now my greatest enemy; my Queen, the mother of my children, has turned from me and openly cavorts with Mortimer, of damnèd memory; and as we have marched, none of those from whom I demanded aid has helped us. Even today, I have learned that Leicester has turned from me, and now gives his support to the Queen along with all his retainers. My friends, I fear that my time here is to be ended. I must travel away to gather a new army, and when I do, I shall return to this unhappy kingdom and crush this rebellion. With your help we shall punish all those who seek to thwart my rule and who defy God by rejecting me; and I shall reward handsomely those who have sought to aid me. For I am God’s anointed King! I alone can rule this realm. Me!’

There was a low growl of support from the gathered men, and then, slowly at first, but gathering pace, men slammed their weapons against their shields, or rattled dagger-hilts against their pairs of plates, or simply clapped, until there was so much noise all about that the King could not be heard. He held up a hand, nodding and smiling, and then both hands, high over his head.

‘Friends! Friends, wait! I must board ship now, and I sail for Ireland with my good friend Sir Hugh le Despenser, where I hope to gather up such men as will follow me. I will come back, do not fear. Protect yourselves as you may. Go to your castles, your manors, your peasants, and hold them safely. For when I return, my friends, there will be many rich lands for all of you to share. Those who defy me will find their lands broken up and given away, all their animals slain or passed to you, all their costly silver and plate, all their buildings, all their honours – gone. They will lose all!’

Now the noises reached a peak, and there came a hoarse roar from hundreds of throats as the men began to cheer, weapons waving in the air, enthusiastic in the promise of largesse to come.

‘Sir Hugh’s father, the renowned Earl of Winchester, left this morning, because I have given him a new responsibility: command of all the men of the West Country. He is in charge of the men all about here, including Bristol. So those of you who live far away, go to Bristol to join with him, and protect that city for me. The rest of you, go to your homes and guard them against my return.’

‘All you have to do is prove yourselves loyal and hold on to what you own now,’ Sir Ralph muttered drily. ‘While the Queen and her men wander the land punishing all of you!’

‘Sir Ralph,’ Bernard said, touching his arm.

Sir Ralph followed his gaze. In front of them, the King was walking away down towards the sea, but Sir Hugh le Despenser was still in the same position, and now looking directly at them. As Sir Ralph met his gaze, Despenser raised a hand and beckoned him.

‘Damn. Bernard, take Alexander and Pagan and break our camp. I’ll be back as soon as I may.’

Bristol

Simon had entered many cities in his life, and although this was not the most imposing one, there was something about it that attracted his attention. It seemed neater and better regulated than London, and as he headed with Sir Charles towards the castle, he liked the feeling of airiness about the place. The limewash on the buildings was cleaner, the thatch newer, the streets less smothered with ordure generally. Which could have been the work of the rain over the last weeks, he reminded himself.

‘I like this, I reckon,’ he said to Margaret as they entered the bridge.

This was a smaller version of the great bridge over the Thames at London, with massive stone arches raising the road over the water, while houses and shops thronged the roadside, leaning out over the river on jetties.

They made Simon whistle. ‘Look at them, Meg – wouldn’t you like that? You could sit at your parlour and stare out over the river, watching the shipping. It’d be a little like Dartmouth, but without the fog and the sea pounding at you in winter, or the sailors cursing and swearing all day long. And your privy would be right over it, too. No need to have a box of ashes and empty it over the field every so often.’

She shuddered. ‘No! I’d be constantly worried that the house would topple over and fall into the river, and as for the sailors, the ones who go to the quayside up here would be just as rude and unmannerly as any in Dartmouth, I reckon.’

Simon chuckled. She was a farmer’s daughter, and he would never convince her that life in a city was remotely better than a quiet life in a rural haven. It had been hard enough to persuade her to join him at Lydford when he had been given his job there by the Abbot of Tavistock, Robert Champeaux. Until his death, Abbot Robert had been Simon’s patron in all matters. The kindly gentleman had seen to it that Simon had been promoted to Bailiff of the Stannaries, and then, as an especial reward, he had given Simon the post of Keeper of the Port of Dartmouth – a generous gift which had unfortunately missed its mark, since Simon had no desire to move to the coast and, more to the point, neither did his wife. In the event, the post was only to be short-lived, for the Abbot of blessed memory died quite suddenly and Simon found himself removed, but the sadness at Abbot Robert’s death was tempered by the fact that it helped refresh his marriage, which had been tormented by the inevitable separation while he was based in the south and his wife remained in Lydford.

It was strange to think how much they had both travelled since then. Simon had been to London, to Paris, and many strange places between. Margaret herself had joined him on his last journey, which had proved to be the most dangerous yet, because of the mobs. At least now, they should be safer.

‘Simon, please, join me at the castle for ale,’ Sir Charles said with a laugh. He cantered past them as they walked slowly on their horses up the slight incline towards the castle itself.

‘It is a lovely city,’ Margaret admitted. She smiled at two urchins who ran beside her, begging for coins, found a farthing and threw it to them. One caught it and bowed gravely, while the other danced and skipped.

‘You shouldn’t spoil them,’ Simon grumbled.

‘They will hardly be spoiled for the cost of one farthing,’ Margaret said tartly.

‘If they learn that they can get all they want by begging, they’ll never see the need to work,’ Simon said.

‘Perhaps they will see the advantage of money, and thus learn to love work, husband,’ she replied.

‘And perhaps they will learn to love reward without effort, woman.’

Margaret leaned forward and laid her hand upon his wrist. ‘Are you angry, Simon?’

‘No,’ he smiled.

‘Good, because you are speaking like a horse’s arse, dear,’ she said sweetly.

‘I don’t think–’ he began, but stopped as they turned a corner and saw the castle before them.

The curtain walls were enormous, at least as large as the Tower’s in London, and as befitted the second city in the realm, the castle within was as imposing as the White Tower. However, it was not the sight of the buildings or the enormous walls that stilled them both.

It was the carts, wagons, and men who lined the roadway, waiting to enter the castle with provisions. Simon felt ice invade his bones. He and Meg had seen that selfsame picture only a matter of weeks ago, in London.

‘They think they will soon be under siege!’ Margaret breathed. And the sob in her throat was enough to make Simon’s heart lurch.