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

In such a case as this there was one way and one way only.

While Edward lived there would be danger and the older the King grew and

the less popular the Queen and her lover became, the greater the danger.

Mortimer wondered what Edward’s revenge on him would be if the tables

were turned and he held the power.

Mortimer knew it would be the traitor’s death.

They must not be squeamish. It had been obvious to him for a long time—

and it must have been to Isabella too— that there was one course of action open to them.

The King must die.

They did not need to say the words. They understood each other’s minds too well.

‘Your son-in-law is too gentle,’ she said.

‘I know it well.’

‘Then he should be removed.’

Mortimer nodded. ‘Berkeley is hampered by his conscience. He cannot

forget that Edward was once his King.’

‘Then he is no man to have charge of him.’

‘I want them to go back to Berkeley. Berkeley is the place. My son-in-law

shall take him back.’

‘And then?’

‘I shall find some pretext to remove Berkeley and send another man to help Maltravers.’

‘Who?’

‘I am turning it over in my mind. Gurney perhaps, Thomas Gurney. There is

a man who will work well for money and the prospect of advancement.’

‘My dear,’ said the Queen quickly, ‘it must not look like murder. There must be no wounds.’

Mortimer nodded. ‘You are right as ever. A slow death lack of food, lack of fresh air? despair? these should be our weapons.’

‘But we cannot wait too long. Edward is restive. But for the Scottish matter, he would want to see his father. Gentle Mortimer, we cannot afford to wait.’

‘Nor shall we. ‘Ere long I promise you this burden shall be lifted from us.’

‘Never forget, it must seem as though it were an act of God.’

‘So shall it,’ Mortimer promised her.

???????

So he was back in Berkeley? not the same room this time. They had chosen

one over the charnel house. The stench was nauseating. The food they brought him was inedible. Although he grew weaker his strength held out and he

astonished his jailers by his grip on life.

Maltravers told him how his friend the Dominican had died.

‘Quite a spectacle! They strung him up and cut him down alive?’

‘I do not wish to hear,’ replied Edward.

‘But, my lord, you are no longer in a position to decide what you will and will not hear. It is my wish to tell you how your dear friend died.’

‘Have done,’ muttered Thomas Berkeley. ‘It is a pointless matter. The

Dominican died bravely? leave it at that.’

Yes, thought Maltravers, it was time Berkeley went. That night Berkeley came into the room.

‘I have come to say good-bye,’ he told Edward.

Edward seized his hand. ‘No, no. You must stay with me.’

‘I have orders from the court to leave you. Another will be taking my place.’

‘Oh no? they are taking you away from me because you are the only friend

left to me.’

‘Oh, my lord,’ cried Berkeley, ‘I will pray for you.’

‘It is strange,’ said Edward, ‘that it was only when you became my jailer

that you were my friend.’

Berkeley did not speak. His emotion was too strong for him. He had

deplored the conduct of the deposed King. He had been one of those who had worked to bring him down. But he must have pity for the man and he was

convinced that none should be treated as he had been, no matter what his crimes.

His instincts cried out against it; and he was filled with misgivings because he knew that this was why he was being withdrawn from his post. The Queen and her lover would have no mercy.

He knelt before Edward and kissed his hand as though he were taking leave

of his King

When he had gone blank despair came to Edward.

He thought of the brave Dominican being tortured; the only relief he felt was that Stephen had escaped. Lancaster had been taken from him and now

Berkeley. And it was because these were humane men.

???????

Isabella had sent for Sir Thomas Gurney. Mortimer was with her when the

man arrived.

‘Go at once to Berkeley Castle,’ said the Queen. ‘You are to take Sir

Thomas Berkeley’s place. He will have left by the time you arrive.’

Thomas Gurney bowed.

‘You understand the position well,’ went on Mortimer. ‘The late King is an encumbrance to the good of the country. He is in a weak state. There can be no doubt that his days are numbered. It would be a blessing to bring him to his end.’

Gurney bowed. He understood that his task was to expedite Edward’s

departure.

‘There must be no sign that the King has been helped to his death,’ said the Queen. ‘No outward violence. Such could rouse the people to revere him. You know how they are all seeking martyrs.’

‘I understand, my lord, my lady,’ said Gurney.

‘We shall not forget those who are of service to us,’ replied Mortimer.

So Sir Thomas Gurney took his leave and with all haste left for Berkeley.

???????

Edward hated the man as soon as he saw him. He was another such as

Maltravers. He knew they meant him ill.

He would lie in his bed at night and listen to footsteps waiting for them to come in and kill him.

For that was what they were going to do. He was taking too long to die and they were impatient. He saw that in their faces. In the morning they came in to look at him and he would pretend to be asleep.

‘It would seem he has made a pact with the devil,’ grumbled Maltravers. ‘He has the constitution of an ox.’ Maltravers had picked up the stool and seemed about to crash it down on Edward’s head.

‘Have a care.’ That was Gurney. ‘You know the orders. No sign of physical

ill treatment. A blow from you could cost you your head.’

‘True enough,’ agreed Maltravers and Edward heard him put the stool down.

‘They are strong, these Plantagenets,’ murmured the new jailer Gurney.

So they insulted him and brought him muddy water to drink and food which

cattle would have refused. But weak as he was he still lived on. There was a mischievous tenacity in him. He was not going to die to please them.

???????

The messenger had risen with all speed from the Marcher land which had

been restored to Mortimer since his return to England. He had urgent news for his lord.

As soon as he was admitted to Mortimer’s presence he threw himself on his

knees for one always feared powerful men when bad news was brought to them.

Perhaps in this case the great Mortimer, now virtually ruler of England, would reward his good servant.

‘My lord, lord, I have lost no time. You will want to know that your enemy Sir Rhys ap Griffith is calling men to his banner. He is urging them to fight for the true King who now lies languishing in a prison.’

‘By God,’ cried Mortimer, ‘I should have guessed Rhys ap Griffith would

make trouble if he could. What response does he get?’

The messenger looked as though he would rather not tell and Mortimer

shouted: ‘Have no fear. I would know all.’

‘Many Welshmen are gathering to his banner. They are saying evil things of you, my lord. They are saying they will free the King. I had thought you should know.’

‘You did well to come to me,’ said Mortimer. ‘I tell you this; the upstart Rhys will find ere long that he has led himself and his followers into trouble.’

‘Would my lord give me orders?’

Mortimer was thoughtful. ‘Go back,’ he said. ‘Watch and send news to me

of how he fares.’

When the messenger had gone he was thoughtful. No army Rhys ap Griffith

could raise could have a chance against his and Isabella’s. It was not the thought of that petty force which disturbed him.

It was the growing support for the King throughout the country.