Howbeit, we marched upon Diserth, which the men of the Middle Country were already joyously investing, having leave now to go to extremes. That unlucky garrison had stores for a few weeks, but no more, and their courage was not heightened when they heard how the government of the reform, strongly in command in London, had diverted the king's muster against the Welsh to London itself instead of Chester, to ensure against a defiant stand by the Lord Edward in Windsor, and to enforce the evacuation of all his French mercenaries from England.
That was the most ferocious insult so far offered to the crown, though phrased in the king's name. And Edward, with what bitterness I could imagine, did not wait to be besieged and declared a traitor, but surrendered Windsor and saw his paid soldiers ushered out of the country, and himself stripped naked and helpless. By which time we had taken Diserth, escorted the captive garrison out of it, and razed the walls. Thence we went on to Degannwy, but by September, when we were encamped around that fortress, Earl Simon's party was in complete control in Westminster, King Henry had accepted their demands, and both parties were willing to halt all warlike operations, and spare Degannwy the fate of Diserth.
They urged a brief truce with us. Had it been any other voice that spoke then for England, I doubt if Llewelyn would have heeded or agreed. But though the seal might be King Henry's, the message was Earl Simon's, and the charm of his name and person worked magic wherever it reached. Llewelyn agreed that Degannwy should be revictualled at need, and he would not hinder. But so far was England gone in confusion then that it was never done. We offered passage, but no stores came. By the end of September the starving garrison surrendered, and Edward had not one yard of ground left him in north Wales.
Then there was peace, or at least a great quietness.
And all this time such forces as ventured out from Chester against us were English, every man. They never let David come forth to fight; he ate out his heart within the city. Doubtless at that stage they feared to use him here against the brother he had abandoned, for fear some of those with him might think better of their wager, and turn their coats again. Such was David's fate, that always he sold himself at less than his value, and redeemed himself at more. But what his value was, if every man had justice, that I dare not essay to judge. I leave it to God, who has better scales for weighing, and a more perfect law.
CHAPTER VIII
Now concerning the final months of that year twelve hundred and sixty-three, and what befell then in England, I tell only with the wisdom of hindsight, for to us, patrolling the rim of the march, it seemed then that nothing at all was happening, beyond a confused harrying of individual lands according to the harrier's allegiance or, all too often, according to his hopes of a quick gain at his neighbour's expense. For Earl Simon's terrible uprightness was no bar to the lawless ambitions of lesser, greedier and more unscrupulous mortals, such as mount in the train of every successful movement merely to share in the pickings. And much injustice was done, some in too hot enthusiasm, some coldly and cynically, to lords who had never turned against the Provisions, but only held back in doubt or timidity from too much zeal in their cause.
After September, when king, bishops and magnates met in St. Paul's, and the king's consent to the settlement laid before him was published and approved, it seemed for a time that Earl Simon had truly won, and that the new parliament called to meet in October offered a blessed prospect of repeating the fervour, unity and reconciliation achieved, for however short a time, at Oxford. But aside from the many grievances by that time clamouring for redress, and the many defections and changes of heart caused by them, there were other factors making against the earl, and eating away at the supremacy he seemed to enjoy. For timid and pliable men like King Henry, who cannot be broken, cannot be defeated, either, since they are incapable of despair.
With all his soft, uncrushable obstinacy he clung to hope, and wound about to clutch at every thread that offered. He was tired and in distress, he said, and he desired above all to confer with his dear cousin of France. And to maintain his position he declared, over and over again, publicly and in private, his adherence in principle to the Provisions, the sacred book of the reform. He did so because he had a quick ear for the public pulse, and he knew that the great mass of the people clung to that hope as to holy writ, and if he declared openly against it even that support he enjoyed must dwindle rapidly away. But by affirming piously his own faith in it, and asserting only that it must be subject to discussion and amendment by consent, he was able to show as a harassed and hunted monarch of goodwill, pressed unreasonably hard by men more unbending than himself.
He had his own mild, devious wisdom, for this stand began to work effectively upon many of the older barons close to his throne, who felt affection for him as a man, and some compunction at seeing him hustled and bewildered. So many turned gradually to the king's side again.
I think no man knew better what Henry could do in this kind than Earl Simon himself, but he was utterly bound by his own nature and his own inflexible honour. He could not be a tyrant, and he struggled with all his powers against those hard circumstances that were forcing him into tyranny. So though he knew how the king could twist and turn and break his word, he was compelled to take that word as he expected his own to be taken, and he accepted Henry's promise to return faithfully for the October parliament, and let him go to meet King Louis at Boulogne. And he himself with his foremost allies also crossed the Channel to that meeting, believing in Louis' goodwill and influence, and earnestly desirous of coming to a genuine reconciliation under his guidance. For since Earl Simon could not move against the king's person, to take his royal prerogative from him, it was clear that no order could be restored, no progress made, until king and earl could work together in amity.
Such were his hopes and aims, but it fell out very differently. For in France the Savoyard and Poitevin exiles had for months been building up a strong party of royal feeling, and as soon as the emissaries of the reform landed they were arraigned as in a court of criminal justice, and found no goodwill at ail to discuss or compromise. I will not say this was done with King Louis' approval, but certainly his efforts at mediation did little to amend it. The Pope also, who had coldly refused the appeal for a papal legate to give spiritual aid and wise counsel some years earlier, now hurriedly appointed Cardinal Gui to that office, and despatched him to the coast, not, I think, as a mediator, but as accuser and judge. And so thought the barons of England, for they made shift by legal delays to deny him entry to the realm, and he never got nearer England than Boulogne, for all his credentials.
In the face of this treatment Earl Simon repudiated all dealings and returned home. And so did King Henry, in time for parliament as he had promised, but he left the queen in France to work with the exiles. Nor did the parliament produce any relenting on either side, but only bitterness. That, and the first revelation of a third power looming large beside those two who already held the eyes of all men. And that was Edward.
It was Earl Simon himself who provided Edward with his first weapon. He was deeply anxious to have a better understanding with the prince, whom he respected and liked. So during that autumn the earl made many approaches through the young men of his party who had been Edward's closest personal friends, Henry of Almain, Roger Leyburn and such, several of them from marcher families. But instead of these persuasions working upon Edward, Edward worked upon them, and to such good effect that he won most of them back to his side. And as I know from Cynan since that time, his best argument in their ears was the threat from Wales. For a shadow they were throwing away the substance, leaving the way open for the constant enemy. So he prevailed and convinced them where their true interest lay, with him and with the crown. Man after man he wooed back to him, in and out of that parliament. And when he was ready, having quietly prepared and provisioned Windsor, he withdrew there and took his father with him, leaving Richard of Cornwall and certain others, chosen in desperation as mediators, to try to arrive at some compromise that should at least make government possible.
Doubtless Richard tried to be fair, but his judgments came down heavily on Henry's side, yet again restoring to his hands the main offices of state. Thus Henry won the compunction and loyalty of the old, and Edward seduced the affections and ambitions of the young. And from this time forth it was not Henry who ruled and schooled Edward, but Edward who nursed, cherished and governed Henry. So much must be said for him, in extenuation of the deceits and lies he employed without shame later, that he was fighting for his father, and made use of whatever weapons came to his hand.
I remember what David once said of Edward, after we had ravaged the lands bestowed upon him in Wales. "He has had his nose rubbed well into the mire," said David, "and that was never a safe thing to do to Edward, man or boy." So it was now. All that had been done against him, by the citizens of Bristol who locked him out of his own town, by the order to the host to muster against Windsor if he did not surrender it and disband his French mercenaries, by the London mob that chased his mother into sanctuary in St. Paul's, by us who had captured and razed his last two Welsh castles, everything any man had done against him and his he remembered and recorded, and for every act he would have revenge. But all he attributed to Earl Simon, whom once he had followed and admired. And now that he had turned against him there was no limit to his animosity. The measure of his former love was the only even approximate measure of his new and implacable hate, and that measure fell far short.
Safe in Windsor, King Henry issued letters under his privy seal, and took back the chancellery and the exchequer into his own hands, while Earl Simon held the Tower. They say that Henry of Almain, the best of those young men, at least faced the earl and took a personal farewell when he deserted him, pledging himself with earnest grief never to bear arms against his former idol. But Earl Simon was without tolerance for those who looked back, once having set their hands to the plough, and he told him with cold contempt that it was not his prowess in arms for which he had been valued, but the constancy with which he had once been credited, and that he was at liberty to go, and to take his arms with him and use them as he would, for they inspired no terror. So he departed, and went to Edward.
In spite of his protestations and pieties, King Henry showed his hand early in December, when he suddenly made a sally to the south from Windsor, most likely at Edward's urging, to attempt to regain Dover castle, so precious to any monarch hoping to import soldiers from France. But Richard de Grey, who held the fortress, would not hand over his trust, and the king was obliged to retreat again upon London. Earl Simon at this time had retired to his castle of Kenilworth, to leave the mediators free from his shadow, but when he heard of the king's journey he hurriedly came south to London to see what lay behind it. He had the earl of Derby with him, and a limited following, and as they entered London from the north, the king, returning empty-handed, approached from the south.
King Henry conceived that at last he had an opportunity to seize his enemy, and sent in haste to order the citizens of London to close the city against "the troublemakers." And certain of the rich men of the town did indeed plot to close London bridge behind the earl, who had entered Southwark, thus leaving his force exposed while the royal army encircled and captured him. But the common people of London, discovering his danger, broke down the gates and brought him safely out of the trap. Virtuously the king denied all ill intent, or any design of bringing in foreign soldiers. But I think it was this adventure that convinced Earl Simon that without reconciliation England was lost to chaos, and he must make all possible sacrifices to obtain a compromise in which all could work together. So he was the first to agree, when the mediators proposed that the final arbitration should be referred to King Louis, and his judgment on all points should be faithfully accepted by both parties.
But he would never, I think, have accepted this but for the king's assurances that the Provisions themselves were not at issue, being generally accepted by all. Less surprising, King Henry also jumped at the proposal, and the road was prepared for a solemn assembly at Amiens in January of the coming year.
As for us, we guarded the march and waited for word, receiving news of all these things after the event, and the fate of England was decided before we knew anything of it. And in singular contrast to that sad confusion beyond the border, the fate of Wales shone steady and bright as a lamp, its unity crowned at last. For about the same time that the men of London were escorting Earl Simon out of the king's net, Llewelyn at Aber received a visitor he had hardly expected, and one who came in state and bearing gifts, with outriders going before him to smooth his entry, for he was a stranger to Llewelyn's court, and bent on ensuring his welcome now that he had made up his mind to come.
His herald came into hall where we were at meat, and made his reverence before the whole household.
"My lord and prince, the Lord Griffith ap Gwenwynwyn, prince of Powys, desires audience and grace at your court, for he comes to speak with you concerning his reception into your peace."
Llewelyn rose from his place, astonished but wary, and asked: "How far behind you does the Lord Griffith ride?"