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.
Whatever happened now she did not want Edward. The plan which had been
forming in her mind for some time was not yet fully developed, but nothing Edward could do now would make her want to change it. In brief it was that Edward should be deposed and their son Edward take the crown, with his
mother beside him as Regent. But if Edward was going to reform his ways? If he was going to be a victorious king and a faithful husband, what then?
I shall never forgive him for the humiliation I have suffered at his hands, she thought.
Even as she sat brooding she heard the sound of arrivals and there was an
urgency about those sounds. She rose and went down to the great hall to see what was happening.
At the sight of her one of the men who had just come cried out: ‘My lady,
make haste. We must go from here. The King’s army is routed and the Scots are on their way to take you prisoner.’
It was the old pattern. Why had she thought for a moment that Edward
would become a successful general?
No, he had failed once more.
Never mind. That made it all the easier for her to continue with her plan.
Hastily she prepared to leave. After the gallop to Tynemouth she boarded a boat. It was a rough passage but she did not care.
It could not be long before events began to go her way.
There was despair in the north among those who had been loyal to Edward
for it was clear that he was no match for Robert the Bruce. Once again he had been put to flight and had narrowly escaped. He was not meant for battle.