The Hammer of the Scots (8 page)

‘I vow,’ Edward whispered to her, ‘that once I can take it off my head I shall not wear it again in a hurry.’

‘You are still a king, Edward, and seen to be such, without your crown.’

He pressed her hand and amid the acclamation of the spectators took his place in the chair of state on the dais.

Now was the time for his subjects to do homage to him.

First came the King of Scotland – Alexander, husband to his sister Margaret. A fine figure of a man, this Alexander, a man of courage and pride. He had made it clear that he was not here to do homage to Edward as King of Scotland for one king did not bow the knee to another – but merely to recognise that Edward was his liege lord in relation to the land he, Alexander, held in England. Fair enough, Edward had said; and he was glad to have the King of Scots as an ally.

Alexander, whose kingdom was smaller than that of England, had by the very nature of kings to make a brave show of his power and riches and there was no one in the entire company more splendidly accoutred than he was. Edward had smiled to see his mother’s eyes sparkle at the contemplation of her son-in-law of Scotland. Any show of extravagance delighted her. She would have liked to see this occasion far more splendid. She would have to be cured, thought Edward. As for Alexander, he would doubtless have to face lean times to pay for the show he had made at the King of England’s coronation.

So Alexander rode into the hall accompanied by one hundred of his knights only slightly less splendidly garbed than himself, and when he came to the dais on which Edward was seated, he dismounted, throwing the reins on the neck of his horse so that it was loose to wander where it would. His knights did the same so that one hundred and one horses made their way out of the hall to where the people were crowding to see the ceremony.

The King of Scotland had it proclaimed that any who could catch the horses who would be discarded by his company might keep them. There were shouts of joy as the horses came out and were seized by the lucky ones who could catch them.

Not to be outdone in this lavish gesture and determined that the Scots might not have all the credit for such unparalleled generosity, the King’s brother, Edmund, Earl of Lancaster, who was also followed into the hall by one hundred knights, did the same. Then the Earls of Gloucester, Pembroke and Warenne let their horses free so that the most memorable event of that coronation day for the people was that five hundred valuable horses were let loose to become the property of any who could catch them.

But there was one other event which was of greater importance and Edward was deeply conscious of it.

One by one the great dukes, earls and barons came to swear their allegiance to the King but there was one notable absentee.

Edward caught the eye of Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, who murmured, ‘I see not Llewellyn of Wales, my lord.’

‘And for a good reason, sir Earl. He is not here. What means this, think you?’

‘Defiance of the royal command, my lord.’

‘Trouble to come, Gilbert.’

‘It would seem so, my lord. But it is but a little chieftain of Wales.’

Edward nodded. All very well to refer to him as that. It was true up to a point but Wales like Scotland had long been a source of irritation – and worse – to Edward’s predecessors, and he had hoped that if he showed himself willing to be friendly, he might win the confidence of these people. And now Llewellyn had openly disobeyed the summons to come to the coronation. Edward could be sure that he was not the only one who had noted this – and many present would be aware of its significance.

A curse on Llewellyn!

But this was his coronation and he must feign to be merry and full of hope for the future. He must not allow it to be seen that the absence of a pert Welsh chieftain disturbed him.

But it was on his mind during the feasting which followed the allegiance ceremony. Very merry were those in the hall, and equally so those outside who danced and sang in the streets and grew intoxicated on the King’s free-flowing wine. Those who had acquired valuable horses were ready to die for the King … at least on coronation day.

The people happy; the future bright. What more could a king ask?

His Queen beside him – happy in his triumph, his mother pleased but comparing this with her own coronation which had been far more lavish, his family gathered about him – he should be content.

But he was too much of a king to be able to brush aside the fact that trouble could be brewing on the Welsh border.

When the company was getting drowsy through the wine, the heat and the merry-making, Edward was alert, still thinking of the Welsh defaulter. Gloucester, Pembroke and Warenne were aware of this.

‘Even had he come to the coronation we could not have been sure that he would not have gone back and made trouble,’ commented Warenne.

‘He could scarcely have done that after giving his oath,’ Edward reminded him. ‘At least not yet.’

‘’Tis better to know where we stand with him.’

‘How can we ever know where we stand with the Welsh?’ demanded Edward. ‘Give them opportunity and they are ready to go to war. Hasn’t it always been so?’

‘Since the days of the Conqueror,’ agreed Warenne.

‘And before,’ added Edward. ‘They can swoop on our lands, attack and then scuttle back into their mountains. You mentioned the Conqueror. He tried to stop it. He even ventured into Wales with an army. Then – great warrior that he was – he realised that because of its mountainous nature, to conquer that land would cost more in lives and wealth and time than it was worth. So he contented himself with forays and little wars which have been going on ever since. I see no reason to go against his judgement. He was a wise man, that ancestor of mine. He had a genius for strategy. He decided to make that strip of land through which all armies had to pass – the English or the Welsh to reach each other – a no man’s land. Then he set up those barons who have become known as the Marcher Barons, and in exchange for the lands he bestowed upon them they must guard the country and be responsible for keeping the Welsh in order. This state of affairs has been going on for two hundred years. I see no reason why it should be changed.’

‘And what has happened?’ asked Gilbert. ‘The Marcher Barons control the land and they, like the Welsh, have become a law unto themselves. They see themselves as apart from allegiance to any, even to you, my lord.’

‘That’s true,’ said Edward. ‘And since Llewellyn sees fit to flout me thus it occurs to me that it may be necessary for me to settle this question of the Welsh once and for all.’

‘Ah, if that could be done, my lord, I doubt not it would be good for England and for Wales,’ said Pembroke. ‘But is it possible?’

‘My lord,’ replied Edward, ‘nothing is possible to those who think it impossible. The first rule when undertaking a difficult task is to stop saying “I can’t” and say “I will”.’

The lords nodded agreement and Warenne said, ‘Llewellyn has become very friendly with the de Montforts.’

‘I know that and I like it not,’ replied Edward. ‘The de Montforts caused enough trouble to my father. I am determined they shall not cause it to me.’

‘There are two of his sons left and one daughter,’ commented Warenne.

Edward nodded. ‘Henry died with his father at Evesham as we know, and Simon died in Italy soon after the murder of my cousin. By God, I shall never forgive them for what they did to Henry. They are cursed and doomed for that for ever. To murder him, so vilely while he knelt at his prayers … my cousin Henry! You know my feelings for him. He was my companion … come to that we were all companions in the royal nursery – Henry of Cornwall, the cousin I loved the best, and those others … cousins also … the de Montfort children. Henry of Cornwall was a man of outstanding nobility. I learned much from him, for he was those few years older than I which are so important when one is young. I looked up to him. There was a time when I was wild and foolish, when I was capable of senseless cruelty. Thank God my cousin Henry showed me the folly of that. I owe him much, and when I think of him as he must have been kneeling at the altar and those wicked men creeping up on him … when I think of the foul and obscene things they did to his corpse after they had murdered him, I cry vengeance on those who carried out this wicked crime. I say a curse on de Montfort.’

‘As those who saw the same done to the bodies of Simon de Montfort and
his
son Henry cried on you and yours,’ said Gilbert who could never resist making a logical comment even if he put his life in danger through making it.

But Edward was a logical man himself. ‘True,’ he said shortly. ‘True. But I had no hand in the murder of Simon de Montfort. He died in battle. That he was mutilated afterwards was the fortune of war. But to take this good and noble man as he knelt in prayer! No, Gilbert, I’ll not have it. A curse on the de Montforts … the whole family … even my aunt who became one through her secret marriage.’

‘Your feelings are easy to understand, my lord,’ said Warenne. ‘And it is the de Montforts we have to guard against.’

‘Guy is a murderer and despised as such,’ said the King. ‘He will not prosper. But my cousins Almeric and Eleanor live in exile with my aunt and there is a rumour that Llewellyn is enamoured of my cousin Eleanor.’

‘It is so!’ said Gilbert. ‘She is royal, for her mother is King Henry’s sister, and Llewellyn and she it is said fell deeply in love.’

‘She was a beautiful girl when I last saw her,’ said Edward.

‘Nurtured as she must have been, how would she feel towards the rough mountain chieftain?’ wondered Pembroke.

‘I heard that she was as taken with Llewellyn as he with her and that pledges were made between them. Of course she is in exile and cannot come here and he – rebel chieftain that he is – is in no position to bring her. Thus are true lovers kept apart.’ Edward’s mouth was firm. ‘And shall remain so.’

‘Unless of course …’ began Gilbert.

‘Unless, my lord?’ Edward interrupted. ‘I guess what you will say. Unless we can use my cousin, the Demoiselle Eleanor, as a bargaining counter to bring Llewellyn to heel.’

‘If that were possible it would be a good plan.’

‘It would indeed,’ said Edward. ‘I think we are noticed. Our serious conversation gives an impression that we are holding a council of war.’

‘Which in a way we are, my lord,’ added Gilbert.

‘And that is no way in which to conduct a coronation. Let us ask the minstrels to sing.’

The coronation festivities continued. There was no more popular man in the city of London than the King. He was strong, said the people. He would not be a man to be ruled by his wife; nor was she a woman to seek to rule.

All knew that the late King had been ruled by his wife and she had been the one they hated; though they despised the King. But this was a new era.

This King was just. The matter of the bridge confirmed their belief in him.

A party of London citizens had asked leave to see the King during that period of coronation celebrations and he, knowing full well the importance of his capital, agreed to receive their leaders and hear what they had to say.

The head of the party bowed low before the King and when asked what troubled him he explained that it was the state of London Bridge.

‘My lord King,’ said the man, ‘it has fallen into such a state of decay that it is scarcely safe.’

‘Then this must be rectified without delay,’ cried the King. ‘Why has it not been done?’

‘My lord, repairs are made from the revenue received from the custody of the bridge and have previously been done regularly that the bridge may be kept in good order.’

‘Then why has it not been done now?’

There was silence and the King urged them to continue.

‘My lord, the King your father gave the custody of the bridge to the Queen your mother that she might enjoy the revenues therefrom. Since then the lady Queen has collected the dues and careth nothing for the state of the bridge.’

Edward felt a surge of anger against his mother. He knew that he need not verify the statement. Was this not exactly what his mother had been doing since she had come to the country? Was this not the reason for her unpopularity and that of his father and would she never understand that it was deeds such as this which had brought them within sight of losing their crowns.