The Follies of the King - Plaidy Jean (мир бесплатных книг .TXT) 📗

Edward felt dizzy with joy. He had succeeded. Oh, clever he had been. Soon Perrot would be in his arms. they would laugh together when he heard of

Edward’s cunning diplomacy. To think that he could win over old Burst Belly to their side. The Mad Dog was still foaming venom at the mouth, but a plague on the Mad Dog. They would get along very well without him.

‘Piers Gaveston has it seems done well in Ireland.’ said Pembroke. ‘It may well be that he has grown serious-minded and changed his ways.’

‘Oh God forbid that he should do that,’ prayed Edward. ‘Let my Perrot

return to me exactly as he was when he went away.’

‘His titles must be restored to him,’ said Edward, a trill of happiness in his voice.

‘It would be well,’ advised the ponderous Lincoln, ‘for him to behave with greater decorum than he did before he went away.’

‘He has learned his lesson,’ said Edward; and he thought: And so have I!

Once you are back, sweet Perrot, there shall be no more wanderings.

‘I can promise you he will,’ said the King.

Surrey held up a hand. Edward guessed that he had come scarcely of his

own free will. He reckoned they had had to argue with him, placate him. He would never forgive Perrot for defeating him at Wallingford and snatching his championship from him forever.

Surrey said: ‘Gaveston will have to tread with the utmost caution.’’

‘I promise you he shall,’ cried Edward.

It was clear that they had agreed reluctantly to the return of Gaveston.

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Edward lost no time. He sent the messenger without delay. Come back,

brother Perrot. I am waiting for you.

Edward went to Chester. That beautiful city which was to be their meeting

place. Gaveston meanwhile had left Ireland immediately. He came like a great warrior, for he retained his love of pomp and ceremony— with himself at the centre. He landed at Milford Haven with a retinue of followers? Irish, English and Gascons.

Impatiently, the King waited for him. He stood on the top of that wall which had been built by Marcius, King of the British, and looked out for the coming of his friend. He walked the two red-stoned miles of the walls and had climbed old square tower of Julius Caesar when finally he saw Gaveston coming.

He called for a horse and galloped out to meet him.

There they embraced.

‘Perrot! Perrot, my beloved. At last you are home.’

Gaveston looked eagerly into the King’s face. ‘Nothing has changed,’ he

said. ‘Tell me nothing has changed.’

‘It is as it always was, dear friend,’ the King assured him.

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The Queen was incensed. So they had brought back Gaveston! Edward was

completely infatuated with him. So far, she was not pregnant. If she had been she could have been more reconciled. It was maddening that she, one of the most beautiful of queens, should be so neglected. One day she would have her revenge.

If she had not been a queen, she would have taken a lover. There were

plenty who would be ready to risk a great deal for her. But no, even she dared not. There must be no doubts as to the royalty of her children. It was to be the old battle with Gaveston again.

She realized with a certain exultation that Gaveston was a fool. He had

suffered banishment more than once and he should have been warned; but it

seemed the man’s overweening vanity would be his downfall as it had on

previous occasions. One would have thought that having felt the power of the barons he would have done his best to keep in their good graces. Heaven knew they had been given grudgingly enough. But no! Edward’s Perrot could not

forget that he was the King’s favourite; he wanted to rule the country through the King and this was what he was attempting to do. As for poor besotted

Edward he could deny his minion nothing. It was nauseating.

But she could watch with amusement because she knew that Gaveston’s

downfall could not be far off. It was her duty to lure Edward to her bed when she could. She had impressed on him the need to get children and he did realize this. God, she thought, if this were not the case, I would scorn you, Edward Plantagenet. Do you think I have no pride? I, a Princess of France, to be set aside for a low-born adventurer?

In her heart, though, she knew that one day she would be revenged.

Meanwhile she watched foolish Gaveston prance about the Court. She saw

the offence he gave to high and low. He was becoming more and more insolent every day and would talk audibly of Monsieur Boele Crevee in the presence of the Earl of Lincoln, calling attention to the Earl’s enormous paunch and

although humbler men might take up the soubriquet of Burst Belly, they did not admire Gaveston for using it.

Gaveston’s brother-in-law, the Earl of Gloucester been a good friend to him once, irritated him ; and he had the impudence to dub him a whore’s son, which was a slight on his mother— Joanna, the King’s aunt.

Gaveston believed that the great esteem which the King had for him entitled him to behave exactly as he felt inclined by the mood of the moment.

Let him, thought Isabella. He is sharpening the axe which will one day sever that insolent head from his shoulders.

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Gaveston had been back but three months when Edward called a council to

appear in York. It was disconcerting when a number of the barons, led by

Lancaster, refused to appear and when the King demanded to know the reason why, he was told quite bluntly that it was because of Gaveston’s presence.

‘They are all jealous of me,’ said Gaveston blithely. ‘They envy me your

lordship’s love.’

But he did not really think that was the reason. They envied him because he was richer, more handsome and so much more clever than they were.

‘A plague on their council,’ he added. ‘Come sit, my lord, and let us talk of other matters than this dreary community of slow-witted oafs.’

Edward said: ‘You must not talk so of my relations, wicked one.’

‘As I have told you many times, my lord, the perfections allotted to your

family were all saved for you.’

So they laughed and snapped their fingers at the barons, but knew that they were moving towards a repetition of what had happened before.

‘Let us do a play for Christmas,’ suggested Gaveston. ‘What say you, my

lord?’

‘You know how to divert me.’

‘Then we will go to Langley and have Christmas there together. Oh how the

thought of that pleases me!’

‘It fills me with great joy to have you back with me,’ said Edward.

So they spent Christmas at Langley, in Hertfordshire, and they were very

merry and for days they were happy together. Edward showered gifts on

Gaveston and calculating their worth, Gaveston felt it was indeed a pleasant Christmas that they spent at Langley.

February came and it was time to attend the Parliament at Westminster.

Edward and Gaveston came south together lamenting that thee happy days of

Christmas were over.

They knew there would be trouble. What had happened at York had been a

pointer to that. This would be more serious. This was Westminster. If any of the barons refused to attend the Parliament and gave as their reason the presence of Gaveston, that would have to be taken seriously.

Edward was downcast, terrified that it would mean separation again.

Gaveston was more optimistic.

‘We will find a way, sweet lord,’ he said. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘You are clever Perrot, I know,’ replied Edward. ‘But how I hate these men!

I think most of all I hate Warwick. Your name for him is apt. He is like a mad dog, and I fear mad dogs. Their bite can mean death.’

‘We will draw the fangs of this one, Edward, before he has time to infect us with his venom.’