Виктория Холт - The Follies of the King

It seemed a good plan if it worked.

Finaily the day came. The two men entered the room. They knelt and prayed for a while. Then Edward put on the robe and he and Thomas walked out of the castle without protest. Stephen as the scullion left soon after.

Less than a mile beyond the castle, horses were waiting.

To feel the fresh air intoxicated Edward. He felt suddenly young and strong again, full of hope.

‘It is over,’ he cried. ‘I have come through hell. God is with me.’

* * *

He rode between the brothers Thomas and Stephen.

‘To Corfe Castle,’ said Stephen. ‘There you will be received, my lord, by your friends. Once It is known that you have escaped from your captors there will be many to rally round you. The people are weary of rapacious Mortimer and the sinful Queen.’

‘And the King―’

‘The King is but a boy but there are signs that he is wise beyond his years and he likes not his mother’s conduct. He is displeased with Mortimer― Everything will be different soon, my lord.’

‘I would not wish to be put back on the throne,’ said Edward. ‘I accept my unworthiness. But if I could but see my son― if I could do homage to him as England’s King― I should be content.’

Corfe Castle rose before them. One of the strongest castles in the kingdom set there on the peninsular of Purbeck, impregnable, menacing to enemies, guarding the land.

‘Henceforth I shall always love Corfe Castle,’ said Edward.

The gates were opened. The party rode in. What a different reception this was.

‘How can I ever thank you?’ cried Edward.

‘We but did our duty,’ answered Thomas Dunhead.

‘My first desire is to send a message to my son,’ said Edward. ‘It shall be done. First we will rest awhile and then we shall take your message. Stephen and I will take it together.’

‘I thank God for his mercy,’ said Edward.

They partook of food and wine and Edward was taken to the chamber which had been prepared for him.

He could not help but compare it to the misery of Berkeley.

‘We shall leave at dawn,’ said Thomas.

‘I know my son will soon be with me,’ replied Edward.

He fell into a deep sleep. It was light when he awoke. Something had awakened him. He had been prodded. He could feel the sharp pain in his back.

He opened his eyes.

It was a nightmare. It could not be true. Fate could not be so cruel.

Standing by his bed were Berkeley and Maltravers.

‘My lord’s attempt has come to naught,’ said Maltravers in a tone of mock concern.

‘What happened?’ cried Edward starting up.

‘It was not without its shrewdness, that plot,’ went on Maltravers, talking over him, ‘but we were not so easily deceived. The empty bed was discovered almost as soon as Edward Plantagenet had left. He must think we are fools at Berkeley. We discovered the direction in which he had fled and here we are at Corfe to continue taking good care of him.’

Berkeley said almost gently: ‘We have our duty to perform, you will understand, my lord.’

‘We have got the Dominican. In the short time left to him doubtless he will regret his recklessness.’

‘His brother has escaped,’ added Berkeley.

‘But not for long,’ said Maltravers. ‘It will be the gallows and the traitor’s sentence for them. Mayhap they will regret their folly when the rope is cut and the fire applied to their entrails.’

Edward shivered and Berkeley said: ‘We shall await orders, my lord. In the meantime we shall stay here.’

So he lay on his bed and despair enveloped him.

It seemed to him that God had deserted him.

THE Queen was frantic.

‘Think what might have happened. He might even have raised men to support him!’

‘He could never have done it,’ declared Mortimer. ‘He might have sent word to the King.’

‘But he did not, my love. And he must never have a chance to come so near to it again.’

Isabella looked at him, her beautiful eyes brilliant with the excitement which burned within her. There was something in the way Mortimer spoke which told her that his thoughts were the same as hers.

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.