What a scene there had been! The old man had turned scarlet in the face.

The Plantagenet temper which had haunted the family since the days of Henry II was ready to flare into being. They had all had it. In Edward I, it had been largely held in check. In King John, it had run so wild that he would have a man’s eyes plucked out or his ears or nose cut off simply for having aroused it.

Well, he, Edward, had seen it in his father’s eyes when he had asked for Ponthieu for Perrot.

All his father’s fears for the future, all his dissatisfaction with his son was there in that moment when he seized him by the hair and had even pulled out some by its roots.

Edward touched his head now remembering. It was still sore from the attack.

In it had been all his father’s resentments, his dislike of his son’s way of life, his longing for a son who, would follow him to battle and of whom he would have made a king to match himself.

It had been a mistake. It had resulted in Perrot’s banishment. Perrot and he had slipped up there. Edward had been lenient with his daughter’s misdemeanours. When his sister Joanna had been alive, she had twisted her father round her finger many times. But she had been a girl, and the King had doted on his daughters. But his son had failed to give him what he wanted. He cried out for a brave son who would go to war and bring Scotland to the crown; and fate had give him Edward, who was handsome but not in a manly way, who was clever enough but lazy, who had no taste for battle an liked better to frivol with his giddy companions, roistering in the streets, or playing music and dancing and lavishing time and attention on his players. Edward’s little half-brother, Thomas and Edmund, fruit of the King’s second marriage were as yet too young to show what they would be.

So― his coronation, then his marriage― but first there must be his father’s burial.

The casket which would hold the dead King’s body being prepared. It was simple, as the King would have wished and made of black Purbeck stone. It was not to be sealed for they would have to make a show of carrying out his orders which were that his bones be carried in a hammock before the army when it marched against the Scots. Every two years, according to his orders, the tomb was to be opened, and the wax of the cerecloth renewed. His tomb should not be sealed until complete victory over Scotland was achieved.

They would do it of course. They were afraid to do anything else. Dead Edward was as terrifying as living Edward had been.

There was a light tap on the door and one of Edward’s attendants looked in.

He seemed apprehensive. The King started up as the messenger bowed low.

‘My lord, a man awaits without. He says to tell you to be prepared for grave news.’

‘Grave news! What news? Who is this man?’

‘He will tell you himself, my lord. Those were his orders. Will you see him?’

‘Send him to me without delay.’

He was frowning. Grave news! What now? He wanted nothing― nothing but news of Perrot.

The door opened. The messenger was back. He bowed low. ‘Come in, my lord,’ he said. ‘The King will see you.’

Into the room came a figure wrapped up in an all-concealing cloak. The messenger stepped backwards, bowed and shut the door on them.

‘Who are you?’ cried the King. ‘Why do you come in this way―’

The cloak was flung off and, as it fell to the floor, Edward gave a cry of great joy and flung himself into the arms of his visitor.

‘Perrot! Perrot?’ he cried, ‘Oh, you villain― to hold yourself back from me even for those moments― This joy has been delayed.’

‘That my beloved King might find it all the more precious.’

‘Oh Perrot, Perrot, if you but knew what it has been like without you.’

‘I know that full well, my beloved lord. Have I not been without you? But it is all over now. We are together again and you are the King. You are the master now, sweet friend. That old man delayed his departure too long but at last he has gone.’

‘Oh Perrot, what joy! What joy! You came with all speed then.’

‘I was ready awaiting the signal. I had news that your father was nearing the end. As soon as I saw your messenger, I knew. I was ready and waiting.’

‘Let me look at you, sweet Perrot. You are a little different. What is it? You long dark clever eyes. No. Your dark curling hair, your rather arrogant nose, your laughing mouth― no it is not these.’

‘It is this silk robe. Where have you seen silk like this? I must show you the cotehardies I have brought with me. You will be amazed. What a becoming garment. I promise you, you will love it.’

‘Talk not to me of clothes, Perrot. What care I for clothes? You rogue, you, to talk of grave news― a messenger― from afar. How could you keep me from this bliss even for a moment?’

‘Pardon, sweet lord. It was a mischief in me. I had suffered so―’

‘Forget it. Forget it. You are back., How long has it seemed without you.

You teased me then. You always did. How I missed your teasing. I am surrounded by these dreary lords. They depress me. They compare me with my father―’

‘You are incomparable.’

‘Oh Perrot, my love. I thought I should die when you went away.’

‘Thank God you did not. For how could I have lived without you? It would have been a greater tragedy for Perrot to be robbed of his Edward than for England to lose her King.’

They were incoherent in the joy of their reunion.

‘Let us savor this,’ said Edward. ‘Tomorrow we will talk of many things.’


* * *

Lancaster burst into the apartments of the Earl of Warwick and seeing his expression, Warwick immediately dismissed all those who were in attendance on him.

‘By God, Warwick,’ cried Lancaster. ‘ Have you heard the news?’

‘Nay, my lord, and if your looks express your feelings, I fear the worst.’

‘He is back. That low-born traitor to the realm, the King’s evil-genius.’

‘Gaveston?’

‘Who else? By God, we should have had his head were he left in banishment.’

‘I think that the King’s father would not have said nay to such an act. Had he thought his son would break his word to him, Gaveston would not have lived to bring trouble back to our country. But ‘tis no use brooding on what might have been. He’s with the King, I’ll swear.’

‘Has been with him since the moment of his return. They’ll not be parted. It sickens me to see him there. The King will have him at his side, at his table, in his bed. He swears he’ll never let him go again.’

‘The King will have to learn that he rules by the will of barons. Even his great grandfather must have learned that lesson in the end.’

‘I see trouble, Warwick.’

‘Where Gaveston is, there will be trouble. So it was when the King was but his father’s heir. But Edward is King now. The people will support him― for a time.’

‘You mean we must do nothing to bring about Gaveston’s banishment?’

‘I think we should tread warily. Let us see what comes from his return. The King dotes on him and the people are with the King. They always are in a new reign. It seems likely that Gaveston will make such great demands and Edward doubtless grant them that the people will see for themselves what a menace this man is. They will not like the relationship between them. So what we must do at this time, my friend, is wait.’

Lancaster was disappointed. He wanted immediate action. He was noted for his impulsiveness and he was not an especially wise man. But for the fact that he was the grandson of a king, he would have been insignificant, so reasoned Warwick.

So he was eager to impress on Lancaster that they must act with care. That the new King was self-willed was obvious, that he had perverted sexual tastes was another— well he was not the first king to have been afflicted in that way.

He could be a good king for all that. Edward was young. He had much to learn.

It was the task of his barons, who were eager to see peace and prosperity in the country, to bring him to understanding of his responsibilities.

‘So Gaveston is back,’ he mused, ‘though the late King banished him. We must accept that.’

‘Aye!’ cried Lancaster, ‘and the late King advised us and his son never to have him back.’

‘Young Edward is the ruler now, my lord. And he has commanded Gaveston to return.’

‘That he may shower gifts on him― lands, possessions, titles― It is going to be Henry the Third with his extravagant friends soaking up the country’s life blood all over again.’

‘They were his wife’s relations, and they were numerous. This is the King’s lover. Listen Lancaster, Edward must be married without delay. He recognizes the necessity to do so, I’ll swear. He has to give us an heir or two and they say young Isabella is something of a siren. Nay, my lord, let us do nothing rash. We will acquaint the leading barons of Gaveston’s return. We will have them on the alert, shall we say? We have to crown the King and when he is married to this beautiful girl― Oh come, Lancaster. He is young yet. His father was stern with him. He is now free. Let us give him a beautiful wife and a chance. It may well be that Gaveston will mean nothing to him within a few months.’

‘I think you take too facile a view of this, Warwick.’

‘That may well be. But there is little we can do as yet. He has sent for Gaveston and Gaveston has returned. Let us get the coronation over and the King married and then if―’

‘Yes,’ said Lancaster. ‘And then?’