Lady of Hay (82 page)

She tried to swallow her tears. “But why? Why Tim? He never hurt anyone.”

“It was an accident—”

“It wasn’t an accident,” she cried miserably. “Nothing has been an accident. It has all happened by design. Every single thing, from that first time I met Sam in Edinburgh. I should have known then. I should have recognized the danger.” Her voice rose. “It has all been Sam, hasn’t it? Every bit was staged by him. It wasn’t real. You weren’t King John. I wasn’t Matilda. He set the whole thing up. He’s been laughing at us all the time.”

Nick said nothing. He was gazing
past her out of the car window, up at the silhouette of white stone against the brilliant blue of the sky.

He did not see the huge cracks in the masonry. He did not see the fallen slabs of stone or the weeds and the ivy. He was looking at the solid, newly built keep of a powerful great castle, with the three huge snarling leopards of England streaming in a blaze of red and gold from the topmost battlements.

He had been there before.

Epilogue One

10 October 1216

Margaret de Lacy pushed back her hood and carefully straightened her gown, shaking off the rain. The roars of merriment from inside the dining hall showed the people of Lynn were enjoying the feast they had prepared for the king as he progressed through the eastern counties of his realm. She took a deep breath and nodded to the page at the door, who, having bitten her coin, had pocketed it cheerfully. He pushed it open with a flourish and winked at her. The hall was packed with people and noisy, but determinedly Margaret pushed her way toward the high table where the king was eating.

He did not notice her at first, raising his goblet to toast the fat sheriff. There had been supplicants on and off all evening and he was disposed to be benevolent. Then he turned and saw the woman who waited at his elbow, her green eyes fixed quietly on his face. Slowly his smile faded and he lowered his goblet. Sweat stood out on his brow and he wiped it with the back of his hand. Rising to his feet, he pushed back his chair with sudden violence. Silence fell over the table as curious faces watched on every side.

John crossed himself, and she saw his lips move, questing, toying with a name.

She curtsied to the ground. “I am Margaret, sire. Her daughter.”

She heard the whispers running down the hall and saw the excitement and puzzlement on the faces near the king. He had grown pale as he watched her and his expression was guarded.

“I have come to beg a grant of land, Your Grace. To build a convent to my mother’s memory. I hoped you would do that much for her—now.” She looked down, not wanting, suddenly, to see the pain in his eyes.

“Of course.” She hardly heard the words, but she saw his lips move. “Where?”

“In the Marches that she loved, sire.”

He saw her eyes through a swimming haze, green and beautiful, flecked with gold; the eyes of another woman.

Suddenly the king doubled over, racked with a spasm of pain. He clutched his stomach, retching, and the silence around him turned to cries of concern, but he waved help away. “Bring me pen and ink.” He gasped. “Quickly. You shall have your convent, Margaret de Lacy. For her sake.”

The clerk took down the record of the king’s grant of land in the royal forest of Aconbury, south of Hereford, and the royal seal was appended to it, there in the hall at King’s Lynn, before he allowed himself to be helped, groaning, to his bed. In the chaos that surrounded his illness Margaret slipped away, clutching her parchment.

Eight days later John Plantagenet was dead.

Epilogue Two

Paris—January 1986

Judy was wearing a 1920s dress sewn with thousands of reflecting beads, her red hair brushed into a glossy cap over her forehead as she mingled with the guests. The paintings looked good. She was pleased with the exhibition, even more pleased with the catalogue, which under George Chippen’s tender nursing had already gone into two reprints before preview day. There had been a huge demand for Tim Heacham’s final piece of work.

Behind her Pete Leveson was supervising the champagne. She smiled at him over her shoulder. They had been married three days before.

Catching her eye, he put down the bottle he was holding and reached out for her hand. “Happy?”

She nodded.

“There’s a huge crowd. I can’t believe we asked this many.”

“I don’t care how many come. Just as long as everyone enjoys themselves.”

Behind them, in the doorway, Bet Gunning flourished her invitation and took a glass of champagne from the nearest tray. Threading her way toward them, she smiled at Pete. “So are you going to write this exhibition up for me as well?”

“Try to stop me.” Pete stepped forward and gave her a kiss. “Aren’t Nick and Jo with you?”

Bet took a sip of champagne. “They changed their plans,” she said. “When they got back from the States on Wednesday they decided to go straight on to Hay-on-Wye” She glanced at Pete with a sudden glimmer of malicious humor. “Perhaps I owe you this one, Peter. I think they’ve gone to get married.”

“I see.” Pete chuckled. “And the story comes full circle.”

“As good stories always must.” Bet smiled. “I for one will drink to them.”

“And to the baby.” Judy lifted her glass innocently.

“What baby?” Bet swung around on her. “Jo is supposed to be writing a book!”

“I’m sure the two are not mutually exclusive,” Judy purred. “It’s due at the beginning of May. Nick called us from New York to tell us.”

“And being the sweet, charitable girl she is,” Pete said softly, “Judy couldn’t help but start wondering.”

“Wondering?” Bet echoed. She looked at Judy suspiciously.

Judy smiled. “The way I see it, there are two candidates for paternity. Nick or King John.”

Bet took a sip from her glass. “For that matter, dear old Tim and the handsome Earl of Clare could also put in a claim, I suspect,” she said softly.

Judy raised an eyebrow. “So—” She whistled through her teeth.

“And you’ve both forgotten William de Braose himself,” Pete put in.

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Pete raised his glass. “Well, here’s to Jo, God bless her,” he said. “To her safe confinement and to the total discretion of the press!”

Historical Note

King John and Matilda de Braose were real, but their personal relationship, if any, is a matter purely of surmise. That she goaded him about the murder of his nephew and, on more than one occasion, provoked him to outbursts of fury, is recorded. Matilda’s affair with Richard de Clare is purely imaginary, as is my speculation as to the possible illegitimacy of any of her children.

The circumstances surrounding the death of young William and Matilda are mysterious, but the chronicles are more or less unanimous in saying that John deliberately had them starved to death, either at Corfe or at Windsor Castle.

The king’s actions have never been satisfactorily explained, even though his patience must have been considerably strained by William’s behavior. The viciousness of his treatment of Matilda and Will caused such an outcry at the time, when cruelty and revenge were commonplace, that the king himself felt it necessary later to issue a statement explaining the course of events leading up to the outlawry of William senior. The death of the two hostages he could not or would not explain, but his statement was signed by various friends of Matilda and relatives, including Adam de Porter, Earl Ferrers, and the Earl of Clare himself.

There were two generally accepted reasons put forward to explain John’s behavior: one, that Matilda had unforgivably taunted the king about the murder of Arthur of Brittany, and the other that John had decided anyway to make an example of a rich and powerful baron and selected the brash upstart William for the role. It is possible that when he had eventually to carry out the sentence of death against the hostages he could not bring himself openly to order execution.

For whatever reason, the downfall of the de Braose family, if it was intended to intimidate other powerful nobles, succeeded in achieving the opposite effect. It scandalized the country and the signatories of John’s statement were among those who, four years later, signed Magna Carta, with its famous clause 39, which stated:

No man shall be taken, imprisoned, outlawed,

banished or in any way destroyed, nor will we

proceed against or prosecute him, except by

the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land

William de Braose died in exile in France on 9 August 1211. His funeral service was conducted by Stephen Langton and he was buried in the Abbey of St. Victor in Paris.

***

Giles, Bishop of Hereford, returned from exile in France in 1213, ostensibly ready to make his peace with the king, but when John showed no signs of returning to him the confiscated de Braose lands, Giles sent his brother Reginald to the Marches, and eventually the castles of Abergavenny, White Castle, Skenfrith, Brecknock, Hay, Radnor, Builth, and Blaen Llynfi were recaptured by the de Braose family with the help of the Welsh. Reginald’s wife, Gratia de Burgh, had two children, William and Matilda, and died young. He then married Gwladys, a daughter of Llewelyn, allying himself to the Welsh, who supported the de Braoses in their efforts to regain their lands. Painscastle returned to the Welsh and was held by Gwallter, the son of Einion Clud.

Giles died in 1215 and the following year the new king, Henry III, at last recognized Reginald as inheritor of the de Braose estates.

Margaret and Mattie were released unharmed. Mattie returned to her father, Richard de Clare, who until his death held the wardship of her eldest son, John, although her sons were technically kept hostages until January 1218. John later married Margaret, another daughter of Llewelyn, and challenged his uncle Reginald’s right to the family estates.

Richard de Clare died in the autumn of 1217.

Matilda’s eldest daughter, the young Matilda, died on 29 December 1211 at Llanbadarn Fawr and was buried, as she wished, next to her husband at Strata Florida.

Of Isobel Mortimer little is known. Her husband, Roger, died in June 1214 and was succeeded by his son, Hugh.

Margaret de Lacy was still living in 1255. She had three children, Egidia, Katherine, and Gilbert.

Three carucates of land in the Royal Forest of Aconbury were cleared at Margaret de Lacy’s order, and there was founded, sometime before 1218, a rich Augustinian convent and chantry chapel to commemorate, in perpetuity, the souls of Margaret’s parents and her brother Will.

All that remains today of the priory on John’s gift of land is a small, redundant, haunted church, locked and used as a store.

Principal Dates

(Dates in italics are approximate)

1154 Accession of King Henry II

1160 Birth of Matilda de St. Valerie

1174 Marriage of Matilda

1175 Massacre of Abergavenny

1176 Birth of William de Braose the Younger (Will)

1176 Betrothal of Prince John to Isabella of Gloucester

1177 Birth of Giles

1178 Birth of Matilda the Younger (Tilda)

1179 Birth of Reginald

1182 Fall of Abergavenny

1182 Birth of Margaret

1184 Birth of Isobel

1188 Summons to the Third Crusade

1188 Betrothal of Mattie to Gruffydd ap Rhys

1189 Marriage of Mattie to Gruffydd

1189 Death of Henry II. Accession of Richard I

1189 Wedding of Prince John

1189 Prince John visits the West

1191 William seizes Elfael and builds Castel Mallt (Painscastle)

1192–99 William Sheriff of Herefordshire

1195 Siege of Painscastle

1196 William itinerant justice for Staffordshire; gains co-rights in Barnstaple and Totnes

1197 Year of Pest and Plague. Death of Trehearne Vaughan

1198 Second Siege of Painscastle

1199 Death of Richard I

1199 William one of John’s supporters at his coronation

1200 William succeeds to the Honor of Limerick

1200 John grants William the right to take land from the Welsh

1203 William becomes Lord of Gower

1203 William in attendance on John in Normandy at time of Prince Arthur’s death

1205 William becomes Lord of the Three Castles

1207 First signs of William’s impending fall from grace

1208 23 March. John’s conflict with Rome over appointment of Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury leads to interdict of Pope Innocent III

1208 The de Braoses flee to Ireland

1209–10 William back in Wales

1210 Spring. King John arrives in Ireland

1210 Matilda flees to Scotland

1211 Death of Matilda and Will

1211 9 August. William dies in Corbeil. Buried in Paris by exiled Archbishop Langton

1215 Magna Carta

1216 10 October. The authorization of a grant of land at Aconbury to Margaret de Lacy is one of the last pieces of business John transacts

1216 18 October. King John dies