Edward sent him back to Carlisle with instructions to attack the English traitors and inform him at once if they were joined by the Scots.
Action took place at a long bridge which crossed the River Ure. This bridge was very long but narrow and at its approaches, the Lancastrians came face to face with Sir Andrew Harclay and his force which was drawn from the counties of Cumberland and Westmorland. These man had very good reason to hate the Scots and their allies; and that the latter should be English incensed them.
Humphrey de Bohun, Lord Hereford, attempted to take the bridge on foot, while Lancaster tried to cross the river on horseback and attack Harclay’s men from the flank. Lancaster however found Harclay too strong for him and he suffered great losses. Meanwhile de Bohun while on the bridge was killed by a spear being run through a gap in the planks of the bridge from below and entering his body.
The Battle of Boroughbridge had ended in the annihilation of Lancaster’s forces and his own capture.
At Pontefract Edward was waiting to receive his cousin.
Lancaster faced him with a lack of animation. He knew that the long battle between them was over. He despised Edward and wondered what the future held for him. He shrugged his shoulders. Whatever it was it would have no consequence for him.
He did not attempt to remind the King of their relationship; he would not plead for his life.
It was over. He had enjoyed power but he had not possessed the talents to keep it.
‘Your trial will take place at once,’ said the King. Lancaster bowed his head and was led from the King’s presence.
The trial was quick and Lancaster was found guilty of conspiring with the Scots against the King. He had used the soubriquet of King Arthur in his dealing with Robert the Bruce. King Arthur! the court tittered. It was clear that Lancaster had had a high opinion of himself and where his ambitions lay.
Papers had been found addressed to Bruce containing a suggestion that he come into England with a good army and Lancaster would see that a good peace was made.
Edward sat watching his cousin, and he was thinking: You killed Perrot. You boasted of it. Yes, you were proud of it. And when he thought of that beautiful body being destroyed he almost wept. But this was revenge. This would be the end of Lancaster.
He could almost hear Perrot laughing beside him. Dear Perrot, he should be avenged.
Edward listened to the words of the prosecutor.
‘Wherefore our Sovereign Lord the King having duly weighed the great enormities and offences of the said Thomas, Earl of Lancaster and his notorious ingratitude has no manner of reason to show mercy―’
He was to die the traitor’s death, that horrible one, which had now become the custom— hanging, cutting down alive and burning the entrails after which the body was cut into quarters and distributed for display.
But in the case of noblemen the sentence was diverted to death by beheading, and as Lancaster was royal this should be done to him.
They put him on a grey pony, and thus he rode through the town where the people came out to jeer at him and throw at him anything they considered disgusting enough. Stones cut his face and he turned neither to right nor left and it was as though he was completely unaware of the blood which ran down his face.
‘King Arthur,’ cried the mob, ‘where are your knights, eh? Why don’t they come and rescue you? Let them take you back to your round table.’
He looked straight ahead. Gaveston had suffered a similar fate to this ten years before. Was this why they were taking him to the hill? Was this why they made him ride on the little pony, why they sought to rob him of his dignity?
All men must die at some time, but it was sad that a royal earl should come to it this way. Then suddenly the enormity of what was happening to him seemed too strong for him.
‘King of Heaven,’ he murmured, ‘grant me mercy for the King of Earth has forsaken me.’
They reached St Thomas’s Hill outside the city of Pontefract. He saw the block. He was aware of the watching faces avid for blood, eager to see the ignoble end of one who had not long before been the most powerful man in the land.
He turned his face to the east.
Someone cried: ‘Turn to the north, man. That’s where your friends are.’
He was roughly pushed. Now he was looking ahead to where beyond the border was the land of the Scots.
He knelt and placed his head on the rudely constructed block.
The axe descended and Lancaster was no more.
Warenne brought the news to Lancaster’s wife.
Alice de Lacy looked at him with disbelief.
‘‘Tis so,’ said Warenne. ‘He was found guilty of plotting with the Scots and that has been his undoing. He was sentenced to the traitor’s death but because of his noble birth he was not hanged drawn and quartered but taken to St Thomas’s Hill near Pontefract where they cut off his head.’
‘Pontefract,’ she murmured. ‘It was his favourite spot.’
‘Well, it is over, Alice. What now?’
‘I am free,’ she said. ‘It is what I and Ebuio have longed for. But I wish it could have come about in a different way. Poor Thomas, he was so proud― and clever in a way, but he did not understand how to treat people. It has been his downfall.’
‘There is no longer the need for you to remain in hiding.’
‘I have so much to thank you for.’
‘Lancaster was my enemy, you know. It was my pleasure to disconcert him.’
‘I think you had a certain kindness in your heart for a woman placed as I was.’
‘It could be so,’ he answered. ‘And now?’
She answered: ‘I am going to Ebulo. We shall be married.’
‘The daughter of the Earl of Lincoln, the wife of royal Lancaster to marry a humble squire!’
‘Even the daughters and wives of earls have a right to marry for love,’ she answered.
Very shortly afterwards the nobility was astonished to learn that the Countess of Lancaster had married Ebulo le Strange, a squire who was not only far below her social standing but who was also lame.
THE LOVERS IN THE TOWER
THE lust for power had now seized Edward. It was as though with Lancaster’s death he himself had taken on new life. Moreover the truce with Scotland had come to an end and Robert the Bruce was celebrating this by attacking the English towns in earnest. When he came as far south as Preston it was decided that it was time to attempt the invasion of Scotland once more.
Everyone was astonished by the change in Edward. The Londoners were with him to a man. He had avenged the insult to Isabella and they liked him for that. The Despensers were banished. A plague on them. Now perhaps the King had outgrown his follies and was going to show them that he was a true son of Great Edward.
At one point the English crossed the border into the Lothians. They reached Holyrood House and took it. They should have been astonished by the lack of resistance of a commander like Bruce. It was too late when they realized that he had crossed the border and had come as far as Yorkshire, his object being to attack Edward’s army from the rear.
Isabella was travelling with the army and was staying outside the town of York. She was in a pensive mood. Events were changing her outlook rapidly.
Edward was winning the confidence of the people. For him the affair at Leeds Castle had been a blessing in disguise. By avenging her, he had won general approval and particularly that of the Londoners and was enjoying a popularity which he had never known before.