An Honourable Estate (29 page)

Once they had the tents up and the horses unsaddled, Dicken
asked if he could go back to watch what was happening.  William could see
from his bright eyes that he had been fascinated by the crane and the catapult
and was eager to take a closer look.

“Don’t get too near, and don’t get in the way,” William told
him.  “And don’t get lost!” he shouted after him as the boy sprinted
off.  One tent looked much like another, he thought, and even though the
boy was quickly growing towards manhood, he still felt unaccountably protective
of him.

Leaving Ned to make sure that everything was secure he
wandered out to where men were sitting around a roaring fire, drinking and
talking.  Someone moved up for him and a cup of ale was thrust into his
hand as he was recognised as ‘one of Harcla’s men’.

“Lancaster won’t be at all pleased when he hears that the
king means to give the governance of Berwick to Hugh Despenser,” said one man.

“Who told you that?” asked another.

“The men who came with the king and Despenser are boasting of
it openly.  Mind you Lancaster’s men are calling them filthy liars, and
worse, and there’s been a scuffle or two broken out already.”

“Men are eager to fight,” commented another.  “If they
can’t fight the Scots, they’ll fight each other.”

“And do you think the siege will hold?” asked someone.

“All sieges break in the end,” remarked another.  “It’s
just that some take longer than others.”

William, sitting listening to the conversation but not
joining in, was the first to hear the horns of the heralds as they ran through
the camp.  He turned to see men jumping up from firesides all around him
in agitation.  Hands and arms were being waved as they stared at one
another in disbelief and as he jumped up, spilling his drink in his eagerness
to discover what was amiss, his companions fell silent to hear what the
approaching messenger had to say.

“My lords,” panted the herald, having run the length of the
field to impart his news.  “The Scots have invaded!  They rode south
plundering and burning everything in their path and then headed for
York.”  The silent men stared as the messenger briefly related, probably
for the umpteenth time, how the Archbishop of York had hastily raised a force
of local citizens, farmers, priests and monks to defend the city.  They
had bravely marched out to battle with the Scots and engaged with them at Myton
on Swale, but these untrained men had stood little chance against Robert
Bruce’s army and many had been slaughtered.

“Where are these Scots now?” asked someone as the shock of
what had happened took hold.

“On their way to Pontefract.  And my lord of Lancaster
is rallying his men to head them off.”

In the ensuing turmoil the siege of Berwick was forgotten as
earls and lords rounded up their men ready to ride home to protect their own
properties.  Back inside his tent William’s thoughts were all for Haigh
and for Mab and he was discussing the implications with an equally worried Ned
when the flap was lifted and Dicken crept inside.

“I couldn’t find the right place,” he said, shamefaced. 
“Everyone is shouting and running about and people are taking down their tents
and preparing to leave.”

“The Scots have killed many priests and monks in Yorkshire,”
William told him and felt the boy shiver in his arms.  “And the lords will
ride home to protect their manors.  Tomorrow we will return to Carlisle
with Sir Andrew to defend that city should Bruce decide to pay it a visit on
his way home with his plunder.  I pray to God that the Lady Mabel is
safe,” he said out loud.

“Amen,” whispered
Dicken.       

If it
had been William then Mabel would have lifted her skirts and run to meet him as
soon as she heard the horses, but even though she restrained her desire to do
the same for Edmund she could not wait inside, but stood outside the hall door
watching for him.  It was a sultry summer’s day with a hint of thunder
building on the horizon.  It would rain again before nightfall, she
surmised, as she watched him turn his tired horse into the courtyard and give
orders to his men to tend to the needs of the animals and stow away the armour
and weapons and other accoutrements of battle.

She walked shyly to meet him and curtseyed as he came towards
her.  She was always surprised at how tall he was.  William had been
a head smaller, but with Edmund she needed to rise on tiptoe even when he bent
to kiss her.  William would have taken her up in his arms and lifted her
from her feet and whirled her around before kissing her lingeringly on the lips
and been damned to who was watching, but Edmund only took her hand and raised
it briefly for a perfunctory kiss.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked.  His shrewd look
reassured her that his concern was genuine – or maybe he was just hoping she
would tell him that she was, at last, with child.

“I am well,” she said and gave a small shake of her head in
response to his raised eyebrow.  He said no more, but she knew he was
disappointed.

They went inside and she poured him wine, but he asked for
ale and drank thirstily, still standing.  Mabel called for Edith to bring
water for him to wash and, after allowing his squires to help him off with his
armour, he dismissed them and said he would go to the bedchamber to change the
rest of his clothes and bathe.

“Come with me,” he said to Mabel and she followed him,
obeying his instruction to close the door behind them.

“Have there been any raids by the Scots?” he asked her.

“None,” she said and watched as the relief crossed his face.

He pulled off the undershirt that was sticking to his skin
with sweat and grime and then plunged his face into the basin and rubbed hard
before standing back to watch as the dirt discoloured the swirling water. 
As she looked at him, standing wearing only his braies, Mabel wondered why she
was always surprised to discover that she found him handsome. He plunged his face
again and when he stood up for a second time, with the water dripping from the
ends of his hair, he began to relate to her what had taken place whilst they
were trying to break the siege at Berwick.

“So all the lords rode home in haste to defend their lands,”
he told her.  “Lancaster withdrew to Pontefract, but as far as I’ve heard
none of his estates have been raided.  The king and Despenser fled but the
queen was almost captured by the Scots, though now she is safe at
Nottingham.  Hugh Despenser has claimed that Lancaster betrayed her and
that he is in the pay of the Scots and has given them secret aid.”

Mabel watched as he rubbed his face on a linen towel.

“Is it true?” she asked.  He paused then dropped the
towel onto the bed, ran his fingers through his hair and looked at her. 

“It isn’t true that he betrayed the queen, but he has met
with Robert Bruce to discuss a way of ending these constant troubles.”

“That is treason then!”

“Treason against an incompetent king, in an effort to promote
peace.  If Lancaster had had the governing of this land we’d all have been
better off,” he told her as he held out his hand for the clean undershirt she
was holding.

The
strained relations between the king and his cousin, Lancaster, eventually broke
down completely.  But although Lancaster’s reputation had been damaged by
talk of his involvement with the Scots, there were still many who supported
him.  Hugh Despenser had grown ever more powerful and craved not only
power, but wealth as well.  He’d begun to gather territory in Wales by
whatever means he could, which had endeared him to few apart from the
king.  His acquisitiveness had particularly alarmed the Marcher Lords and,
as the earls and barons split into factions, civil war threatened England and
Wales, and those who hated his influence over the king began to look towards
the Earl of Lancaster for leadership.

During the late spring and early summer of 1321, Lancaster
began to gather supporters with the intention of bringing about the downfall of
Hugh Despenser, although many of the greatest northern families, who were still
paying protection money to the Scots, held themselves aloof from him, still
suspecting him of involvement with Robert Bruce. 

In July, Parliament sat at Westminster and the Earl of
Hereford and others who opposed Despenser occupied the city, cutting off the
king from his military supplies in the Tower of London.  At first the king
resisted, but when they told him that they would utterly renounce their homage
and set up another ruler in his place he was persuaded by the Earl of Pembroke
to submit and in August Hugh Despenser was banished from the kingdom.

In October, Queen Isabella went on a pilgrimage to the shrine
of Thomas a Becket at Canterbury Cathedral and on her way home she sought a bed
for the night at Leeds Castle.  The governor of the castle, Lord
Badlesmere, had been a supporter of Lancaster against Despenser and, although
he wasn’t in residence, his wife saw fit to refuse the queen admittance and she
was forced to take refuge in a nearby priory instead.  When the king
discovered this enormous insult he was furious and his justifiable anger won
him strong support in the south-eastern counties where many of the barons
rallied to his call for Badlesmere to be punished.  But as Lord Badlesmere
rode to raise support for his own cause, Leeds Castle fell after a week long
siege and Lady Badlesmere was imprisoned at Dover.

This success renewed support for the king and as Badlesmere
fled northwards King Edward pursued him, intent on finally destroying his
cousin Lancaster and his supporters and at last wreaking revenge for the murder
of his beloved Piers Gaveston.

William
stood beside Sir Andrew Harcla in his tent as he addressed a group of knights. They
had just returned from Coventry where Sir Andrew had sought a meeting with the
king to beg him to take decisive action against the continuous Scottish
incursions which they were failing to keep in check.

“The king has ordered me to treat the Scottish menace as of
only secondary importance,” he told them.  “Instead, we are to join with
his forces to put down the rebellion by the Earl of Lancaster.  We are to
intercept him as he marches north to seek to ally himself with the Scots. 
So go to instruct your men and tend to your horses and ensure that you are all
prepared.  Much may be asked of us and I expect every man to do his duty
and fight to his last breath for his sovereign king.”

As the sombre men filed out of the tent William heard Sir
Andrew call him back.  “Do you know Sir Robert Holland?” he asked.

“I do indeed, my lord.  I lived under him at
Haigh.  Why do you ask?”

“What manner of man is he?”

William paused, not sure what response was required, but he
knew that Holland was one of Lancaster’s supporters so saw no reason not to
speak the truth.  “He is a man who will always look to his own back,” he
said.  “I would not trust him.”

Sir Andrew nodded, apparently pleased with William’s
assessment.  “I have received word that he has betrayed the Earl of
Lancaster,” he told him.  “The earl sent him home to Lancashire to raise
men to fight, but rather than taking them back to Pontefract he has taken them
to the king instead.  But I will bear in mind your words.  Thank
you.”

Dismissed, William ducked out from the tent and paused to let
out a whistle of surprise.  If Holland had turned against his master
Lancaster, and Lancaster could be defeated by the king’s army, then it would be
safe for him to return home, thought William.  He could go back to Haigh,
back to Mab and his girls.  He smiled at the thought and found that he was
rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the battle to come.

Two days later on a cold March afternoon one of Sir Andrew’s
spies galloped into their camp at Ripon to say that Lancaster’s forces had been
seen heading up the Great North Road.  Immediately, Sir Andrew ordered
them to strike camp with all haste and march south towards
Boroughbridge.   Here Lancaster and his men would need to cross the
river Ure by either the bridge or the ford and Andrew Harcla told William that
he was confident that if they reached the town first they could hold the bridge
and stop them.        

With snow flurries adding to the white covering on the
distant hillsides, the mounted men quickly covered the four miles south to
secure the bridge before their enemy arrived, leaving the archers and baggage
train to follow behind.  As soon as these arrived and they had made camp a
little distance from the river, Sir Andrew called his commanders to his tent to
discuss tactics.  William was impressed by his plan.  His admiration
for Andrew Harcla had grown during the eighteen months that he had served under
him.  The harsh lessons of Bannockburn had been well learned, thought
William, as he listened to how Sir Andrew planned to copy the best of the
Scots’ tactics to outwit Lancaster.  To set men on foot against men on
horses seemed rash at best and foolhardy at worst, but they had all come to
trust his judgement and William acknowledged that it could work in their
favour.

As they were studying the roughly sketched map a scout came
to the tent flap to say that the Earl of Lancaster had arrived in the town and
was arranging lodgings for his men.