Once the servants had withdrawn and the tent flaps were closed, Pembroke came quickly to the point. The earls, he declared, the representatives of the Communitas Regni, the Community of the Realm, had no quarrel with anyone inside the castle except the lord Gaveston. We were free to come and go ad libertatem — with complete freedom. Gaveston however, Pembroke continued remorselessly, had broken the ordinances issued against him the previous year. He must surrender himself to honourable custody and await the will of Parliament, to be summoned at Westminster. Dunheved fastened on the word ‘honourable’. Pembroke explained that Gaveston should withdraw to a royal manor and await the king’s pleasure. Face all earnest, he leaned across the table, informing us that Gaveston would be treated according to the dignity of an earl and be directly under Pembroke’s protection. I was astonished at such generosity yet profoundly uneasy. On the one hand Pembroke and the rest wanted a swift resolution to this matter — that was understandable. They had spent great treasure deploying this army. More importantly, they had broken the king’s peace. They were, in law, rebels and could be accused of treason. If Edward decided to seize the initiative, unfurl his banners and proclaim a state of war, the earls and all their followers, if apprehended in arms, could face summary justice and immediate execution. Pembroke earnestly wanted a solution to these legal and military difficulties. Nevertheless, I remained deeply suspicious. Hereford kept nodding solemnly as if he understood every word, which I doubted. Warwick just stared down at the table. Now and again he’d move his hand, fingers tapping; occasionally he’d glance up and catch my gaze with those dark, dead eyes.
Demontaigu, and subsequently Dunheved, spoke hotly, demanding that Gaveston be truly protected. Pembroke, who could have taken offence at his word being challenged, solemnly promised to go on the most sacred oath possible. He shouted for a servant; when the man came, Pembroke gave orders that a priest carrying the Blessed Sacrament be brought immediately to his pavilion. A short while later, accompanied by a thurifer, an acolyte carrying a capped candle and a small page noisily ringing a bell, the Blessed Sacrament was brought in with all ceremony and laid upon the table. Immediately we all knelt. The priest intoned a prayer, then Pembroke took the oath, one hand on the book of the Gospels, the other grasping the pyx like a priest at the consecration. He swore by life and limb, by his hope of salvation, that if the lord Gaveston surrendered himself into his protection, he would be safe and accorded all the dignity of an earl. I asked if my lords Hereford and Warwick would offer the same oath. Hereford seemed eager enough; Warwick just shrugged. Pembroke swiftly intervened. He pointed out that all the great earls had taken a solemn oath to each other, and what he swore they would stand by. The priest then picked up the Blessed Sacrament, covered it in a white silken cloth and solemnly processed out of the tent.
Cynical though I was, I had to be satisfied. These were honourable terms, and we promised Pembroke that by nightfall he would have Lord Gaveston’s reply. Once the discussions were over, Pembroke grew even friendlier. He insisted that we toast each other with the best wine, which he’d brought specially for such an occasion. Of course courtesy demanded that we stay. The trestle table was withdrawn and for a while we exchanged pleasantries. Warwick sauntered over and commented on my gown: how fresh and sweet I looked after the rigours of the siege. I replied with some tart observation, Warwick threw his head back and laughed, rubbing his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t flinch. Warwick was a dangerous man, but I could tell from his eyes that he meant no danger or threat to me.
‘Little Mathilde,’ he whispered and glanced across to where the other two earls were deep in conversation with Demontaigu and Dunheved. ‘Little Mathilde, be assured, and tell your royal mistress this, we never did mean you any harm.’ He leaned a little closer. ‘We have heard of the deaths of the Aquilae, the eagles of Gaveston — what truth is there in that? That they were all murdered, dashed from a great height? Has Gaveston turned on his own?’
‘My lord,’ I whispered hoarsely, ‘why should he do that?’
Warwick withdrew his hand. ‘I shall tell you something, Mathilde, in confidence. I have known Gaveston many, many a year, since he was a lowly squire in the Prince of Wales’ household.’ He licked his lips. ‘I have a reputation, mistress, and I deserve it, but no one understands the ruthlessness of Gaveston, remember that! He will betray anyone to protect himself.’
‘Even his grace the king?’ I whispered.
‘Edward of Caernarvon is what he is, but even he doesn’t understand Gaveston like I do. The reason why, Mistress Mathilde? Because we’re the same kind. I recognise Gaveston for what he is. I beg you to be careful, and if. .’ Warwick paused to collect himself, then he put his hand on my shoulder and gently caressed it. ‘Mathilde, what do you wish for your mistress?’
‘Health and happiness, my lord, the same as you.’
‘And so I do.’ Warwick glanced quickly around. ‘But I assure you, this realm will have no peace until Gaveston is gone.’
‘You mean abroad, my lord?’
‘I mean until he is no more. Remember that, Mathilde.’ He tapped me on the shoulder, kissed me quickly on the brow and strode away.
We were escorted back to the castle and taken immediately to the keep, where Gaveston had called his chamber council. The discussion was brief but terse. The constable declared himself delighted by the terms and I recognised that Gaveston could no longer count on him. Demontaigu, Dunheved and I pressed Gaveston to accept. There was some hesitation on the royal favourite’s part, but within the hour he too had taken the oath. Dunheved was dispatched back to the earls to inform them that early the following morning Gaveston would leave the castle.
I was pleased it was over. I was desperate to rejoin my mistress. Later in the evening, however, Dunheved visited me with the news that he and I, together with Demontaigu, were to be part of Gaveston’s escort. The royal favourite argued that since we had witnessed Pembroke’s oath and played a prominent part in the negotiations, it was only right and proper that we should accompany him. We had no choice but to agree. The Beaumonts, intrigued, also decided to join us.
The following morning Gaveston, face shaved, hair all coiffed, dressed resplendently in beautiful velvet robes of green, black and red, his horse carefully groomed, its harness polished, left the castle to the blare of trumpets and the cheers of the garrison. The fool thought he had won their support; little did he realise they were delighted that this bloody affray was finished.