The Follies of the King - Plaidy Jean (электронная книга TXT) 📗

think of his days at Kenilworth as happy ones.

He was in the baronial hall— a fine place at the end of which was the

chapel.

‘I would like to say a prayer,’ he said. ‘Allow me to go to the chapel and kneel before the altar.’

‘You can pray in your room,’ said Thomas Berkeley.

Maltravers sneered: ‘You should have thought more of praying when you

had the time. You could have knelt before your altars then instead of before little Hugh.’

They were determined to torment him. He knew they would be cruel jailers.

He was mounting the great staircase leading to the keep and passing along a gallery when they came to a room which was heavily locked and barred.

‘Your new palace, my lord,’ said Maltravers with a mock bow.

Berkeley unlocked it and the door swung open with a creak suggesting it

was long since it had been used. It was dark. The only light which came into the room was from a slit high in the wall. It was narrow with enough room for a man to get his arm through, nothing more. On the floor lay a straw pallet; there was a stool and a small wooden chest which would serve as a table.

‘You cannot mean to lodge me here! cried Edward.

‘The man is ungrateful,’ cried Maltravers turning his eyes to the ceiling.

Berkeley looked uneasy.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘it has been chosen as the room you shall occupy while you are here.’

Edward shivered and said no more.

They left him and he heard the key turn in the lock. This was abject misery.

He knelt down and prayed. ‘Oh God,’ he said, ‘let me die? now. Let this

wretchedness end. God help me.’

He rose from his knees and lay on his straw pallet. And then it seemed that God answered his call for help for he began to think of his son. That dear boy had loved him. It was true he himself had neglected the child. There had never seemed to be time to concern himself overmuch with children in the

schoolroom. Hugh had demanded so much of his attention. But he had always

shown his son love and affection. Edward could not know that his father was being treated thus. He would never allow it.

Hope had entered the dismal room.

Edward, the King, would save him. If he could but know what was

happening to his father he would come and rescue him.

If he could only get word to Edward. Meanwhile he was here in Berkeley

Castle in the hands of men who hated him.

???????

And how they hated him! It was their pleasure to heap indignity upon him.

Maltravers was the worst. Sometimes he thought he detected a gleam of pity in Berkeley’s eyes and when he visited him without Maltravers he behaved almost humanely. The discomfort of his room was intense. Fortunately it was summer.

He did not think he could live through a winter in such quarters. But perhaps by then Edward would have come to save him. If he could only get a message to his son!

The food they brought him was almost inedible— the leftover slops from the platters of the serving men, he believed. They brought him cold muddy water from the moat in which to shave himself and Maltravers had brought with him a wreath of ivy to place on his head to resemble a crown.

He had steeled his mind against their mockery.

He had always enjoyed physical health. Like his father he had in his youth been full of vigour. He had preferred the outdoor life to study. So had his father but he had never let that preference prevent the attention to state matters and the study of documents which were part of a King’s duties.

Lying on his bed, drifting back into the past, he knew he had failed

miserably. He knew he deserved to lose his crown, but not this degradation. No, no man whatever his sins should suffer thus.

He could not eat the foul food they sent him. Sometimes he thought of

Kenilworth as a kind of paradise. So it had been in comparison.

If only Lancaster were here that he might talk to him? He would not have

cared what they talked of as long as they talked.

The odour of the food on the platter sickened him. He longed for someone to take it away.

He lay on his straw and closed his eyes.

???????

There were voices in his room.

‘Perhaps we should send for a priest.’ That was Berkeley.

‘A priest! What matters it? Let him go unshriven to hell!’ Maltravers indeed.

‘Nevertbeless I will send a friar to him. No man should be denied such a

privilege on his deathbed.’

‘Who would have thought he could have lived so long? He has the strength

of an ox.’

‘He is like his father. They are giants, these Plantagenets.’

‘If his father could see him now?’

‘Perhaps he does, Maltravers.’

‘You are nervous, Thomas. You always have been. You can never forget,

can you, that he was once a king?’

‘I am going to send a friar to him.’

‘If you wish it. I would save myself the trouble of sending for him.’

There was quiet in the room.

So they had gone and he was near to death— so near it seemed that Berkeley was going to send a friar to him.

I welcome death, he thought. If I went to hell it could be no worse than this.

I have seen Satan himself in Maltravers. I have touched the bottom. I can go no deeper.

Edward, my son, you will come for me one day. If you knew what they were doing to your father, you would not allow this to happen to me.

Edward, come to me, before it is too late.

???????

Someone was kneeling by his bed. A cool band was on his brow.

‘Are you streng enough to pray with me, my lord?’

‘Who are you?’ asked Edward.

‘I am Thomas Dunhead of the Dominican Order.’

‘So you have come to pray for me?’

‘And to pray with you.’

‘I thank you. I have need of prayers.’

‘So think I, my lord. Let us pray for your return to health.’

‘Stay,’ murmured Edward. ‘If I return to health what is there for me? It is better for me to die. I am half way to death it seems and cannot have much farther to go.’

‘Life is God’s gift. We must wait until we are called to abandon it. Until that time comes it is our duty to cling to it, to preserve it, and to live it in that manner whch best pleases God.’

‘You are a free man, Friar Thomas.’

‘Let us pray together,’ said the friar.

‘Shall you come to me again?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘If I am still here.’

‘You must be. Your sins are many and you will need time to earn

remission.’

When the friar had gone Edward felt better. It was comforting to have

contact with human beings.

The next day the Dominican came again. When they were alone together

from his robes he brought forth meat and bread.

‘I have brought food for your body as well as for your mind,’ he said. ‘You are in need of nourishment if you are going to live long enough for repentance.’

Edward took the food and ate it ravenously.

‘That is well,’ said the friar. ‘I will bring more tomorrow. And we will work together to save your soul.’

And the next day he came again.

They prayed at first and then the Dominican said: ‘I have talked with my

brother Stephen of your state. He is a bold fellow. He has many friends. When they heard of what was happening to you here, they were enraged, for they

know that your Queen lives in adultery with Roger de Mortimer.’

‘It is all so remote to me,’ said Edward. ‘I scarcely ever think of it now.’

‘The people are growing restive. My brother Stephen loves a cause,

providing he thinks it a good one. My lord, when your strength is built up?’

‘Yes?’ said Edward slowly.

‘My brother is thinking of a plan of rescue.’

‘God is answering my prayers,’ said Edward. ‘And my son? could you

speak to my son?’

‘It would not be easy to approach the King. He is surrounded by men who