The Hammer of the Scots (55 page)

A slim white hand adorned with jewels touched the Prince’s lips as he stifled a yawn. He had heard it all before. When the old man had gone there would not be all this preoccupation with the Scots. Piers and he talked about it often. When the old man was gone …

The voice droned on. The need to do this and that. The Prince was not listening and when the King paused he said: ‘I have a request to make to you, my lord.’

The King opened his eyes wider. ‘What request is this?’

‘Ever since you put Piers Gaveston in the household we have become close friends.’

‘I know that well and perhaps the friendship has become too firm.’

‘You have always said that one cannot have too many friends, my lord.’

‘If they are good and loyal one cannot of course.’

‘Piers
is
good and loyal. He lives for me, Father. All he thinks of is my comfort. I want to reward him.’

‘He has his reward. He has royal patronage. He has lived in the royal household. What more could a man ask?’

‘I should like to show my appreciation and there is one thing he greatly desires. I have promised I will do my best to get it for him.’

‘And what is this?’

‘Ponthieu.’

‘Ponthieu! What do you mean? Piers Gaveston wants Ponthieu!’

‘I have promised him that I will get it for him. Dear Father, do not disappoint me.’

‘Disappoint you! I tell you this, I know little but disappointment from
you
. Ponthieu! Your mother’s inheritance to go to this … this … adventurer!’

‘My lord, pray do not talk of Piers in this way.’

‘I will remind you, sir, that I will speak of my subjects as I will. No! No! No! Gaveston shall never have Ponthieu while I live. And let me tell you this, I like not this man. I have heard that he has a strong and growing hold over you. That it is spoken of in whispers and disgraces our royal name. No, sir. Go and tell him no! And that I regard his pretensions as insolent. He had better take care. As for you, you will leave with me for Scotland, and that will be very soon, I promise you. I am going to take you away from your fancy companions. I am going to make a
man
of you.’

The Prince was pale with fear and anger, but he knew his father’s rages – though rare – could be terrible. He knew too that he must take his leave before the full fury of the King burst upon him.

When he had gone Edward sank into his chair. He felt sick with rage and apprehension.

What can I do with him? he asked himself. Why did he grow up like this.
My
son … and Eleanor’s. Everything I gave him. The best tutors … the best governors! He has been schooled in war. If he were foolish and without talent it would be understandable. But he is not. He could have been clever. He could have been a worthy king …

And now …

Action was needed.

Piers Gaveston should be banished without delay. That friendship must be severed; and he would get an undertaking from the adventurer – and from the Prince – that they should never meet again without his consent.

Edward was marching up to Scotland accompanied by a sullen Prince. Gaveston had been banished and the Prince was telling himself that he would never forgive his father for robbing him of the one he loved the best in the world. There was one comfort for the Prince. The old man was looking more sick every day. He could not last much longer. He was not in a fit state to come marching north. Why couldn’t he leave these matters to his generals?

The King was too preoccupied to notice his son’s depression.

A new danger had arisen in Scotland.

Robert the Bruce, grandson of the claimant, the Earl of Carrick, who for some years had been on terms of friendship with Edward, had left the English Court and gone to Scotland. He had at one time been one of Edward’s partisans and Edward had quickly become aware of the man’s talents.

Now he was in Scotland and for what purpose Edward had guessed. He had often wondered what would happen to Scotland when his son was King and he had believed that many of the Scots who feigned friendship with England now, would turn when a strong king was replaced by a weak one.

So Bruce was in Scotland. What did it mean? He was soon to learn. Bruce had gone to Scone where he had been crowned King of Scotland by the Bishop of St Andrews.

It was clear to Edward that Bruce had been waiting for his death believing that it would be easier to defeat Edward the Son than Edward the Father, which was, he feared, a wise conclusion. He had, however, decided to wait no longer.

Bruce would have seen Wallace’s head rotting on London Bridge. ‘By God,’ said Edward. ‘I’m not dead yet and before I go I’ll have that traitor’s head beside Wallace’s.’

He did not like these heroes. Wallace had been one. He believed Bruce would be another.

‘Oh God, give me strength,’ he prayed. ‘Let me finish this task before I go.’

But God did not listen. Each day he grew weaker. He hated to admit it, but riding exhausted him and when he could only travel four miles a day he had to stop pretending and to accept the litter which those about him advised him to use.

They came to rest at Burgh-on-Sands and all knew – and even the King must agree – that he could go no farther.

He ordered that he should have a room from which he could see the Solway Firth. He knew he would never leave this bed. He would die in England in sight of that water which separated England from Scotland.

The news would reach the Scots that he was on his deathbed. That would fill them with rejoicing. Edward would be glad too. Oh, God preserve England with my son Edward as her King.

His dear Queen would mourn him; so would his daughters. There were some who loved him.

But he must think of the future. There was little time left. He had seen the sun rise but it might well be that he would not see it set.

He sent for his son. His sight was failing a little. The priest should come to him; but he had his duty first.

‘Edward, my son …’

‘Father.’

He saw him through a haze – handsome, tall. Such a fine king he could have made. Where did we go wrong? Edward asked himself. Where, oh where?

‘Edward,’ he said, ‘take care of your little half-brothers and sister.’

‘I will, Father.’

‘When I am gone I want you to send a party of knights to the Holy Land. There is much wrong I have done in my life …’ His voice trailed off. He thought he was looking up at London Bridge and seeing Wallace’s head … or was it Llewellyn’s or Davydd’s? He had been harsh in battle. He had slaughtered many. He had commanded that his enemies be hung, drawn and quartered as Wallace had been. An example to others, he had said. Others had been tied to the tails of horses and dragged to the gallows. The deaths of brave men had made spectacles for the people. He had had a cage built for the Countess of Buchan, who had worked against him and had the ill fortune to be captured, and condemned her to remain there like a wild beast until he gave the order for her release, which he had never given.

These things he remembered as he lay on his bed. They were enemies of England and he had lived for England. But he must send those knights to the Holy Land to please God, that He might forgive him his sins.

‘My heart shall be taken from my body and the knights must carry it with them.’

‘Yes, Father,’ said Edward dutifully. ‘It shall be done.’

‘Pursue the Scottish war, Edward. Carry on where I have left off. God sees fit to take me before I have finished my task. He has left it to you. Take my bones with you into battle. Always carry them before the army when it marches. I shall be there. The Scots will know that my bones are with my army and that will strike terror into their hearts.’

‘It shall be done,’ said Edward.

He was thinking, A few days and I shall be King. Piers, my Gaveston, my first act will be to bring you to me.

As though reading his thoughts the King said, ‘Never recall Gaveston without the consent of the nation.’

Edward did not answer. One must not make promises to a dying man.

The King did not notice. The light was fading fast.

He was murmuring something. Edward bent close to listen.

‘Let my bones be placed in a hammock … carry them before the army … Let the Scots know I am there … and I will lead my army to victory.’

That night the end came. Edward the First was dead and the reign of the second Edward had begun.

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