silence around him turned to cries of concern, but he waved help away. “Bring me pen and ink.” He gasped. “Quickly. You shall have your convent, Margaret de Lacy. For her sake.”
The clerk took down the record of the king’s grant of land in the royal forest of Aconbury, south of Hereford, and the royal seal was appended to it, there in the hall at King’s Lynn, before he allowed himself to be helped, groaning, to his bed. In the chaos that surrounded his illness Margaret slipped away, clutching her parchment.
Eight days later John Plantagenet was dead.
Epilogue Two
Paris-January 1986
Judy was wearing a 1920s dress sewn with thousands of reflecting beads, her red hair brushed into a glossy cap over her forehead as she mingled with the guests. The paintings looked good. She was pleased with the exhibition, even more pleased with the catalogue, which under George Chippen’s tender nursing had already gone into two reprints before preview day. There had been a huge demand for Tim Heacham’s final piece of work.
Behind her Pete Leveson was supervising the champagne. She smiled at him over her shoulder. They had been married three days before.
Catching her eye, he put down the bottle he was holding and reached out for her hand. “Happy?”
She nodded.
“There’s a huge crowd. I can’t believe we asked this many.”
“I don’t care how many come. Just as long as everyone enjoys themselves.”
Behind them, in the doorway, Bet Gunning flourished her invitation and took a glass of champagne from the nearest tray. Threading her way toward them, she smiled at Pete. “So are you going to write this exhibition up for me as well?”
“Try to stop me.” Pete stepped forward and gave her a kiss. “Aren’t Nick and Jo with you?”
Bet took a sip of champagne. “They changed their plans,” she said. “When they got back from the States on Wednesday they decided to go straight on to Hay-on-Wye” She glanced at Pete with a sudden glimmer of malicious humor. “Perhaps I owe you this one, Peter. I think they’ve gone to get married.”
“I see.” Pete chuckled. “And the story comes full circle.”
“As good stories always must.” Bet smiled. “I for one will drink to them.”
“And to the baby.” Judy lifted her glass innocently.
“What baby?” Bet swung around on her. “Jo is supposed to be writing a book!”
“I’m sure the two are not mutually exclusive,” Judy purred. “It’s due at the beginning of May. Nick called us from New York to tell us.”
“And being the sweet, charitable girl she is,” Pete said softly, “Judy couldn’t help but start wondering.”
“Wondering?” Bet echoed. She looked at Judy suspiciously.
Judy smiled. “The way I see it, there are two candidates for paternity. Nick or King John.”
Bet took a sip from her glass. “For that matter, dear old Tim and the handsome Earl of Clare could also put in a claim, I suspect,” she said softly.
Judy raised an eyebrow. “So-” She whistled through her teeth.
“And you’ve both forgotten William de Braose himself,” Pete put in.
They all looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Pete raised his glass. “Well, here’s to Jo, God bless her,” he said. “To her safe confinement and to the total discretion of the press!”
Historical Note
King John and Matilda de Braose were real, but their personal relationship, if any, is a matter purely of surmise. That she goaded him about the murder of his nephew and, on more than one occasion, provoked him to outbursts of fury, is recorded. Matilda’s affair with Richard de Clare is purely imaginary, as is my speculation as to the possible illegitimacy of any of her children.
The circumstances surrounding the death of young William and Matilda are mysterious, but the chronicles are more or less unanimous in saying that John deliberately had them starved to death, either at Corfe or at Windsor Castle.
The king’s actions have never been satisfactorily explained, even though his patience must have been considerably strained by William’s behavior. The viciousness of his treatment of Matilda and Will caused such an outcry at the time, when cruelty and revenge were commonplace, that the king himself felt it necessary later to issue a statement explaining the course of events leading up to the outlawry of William senior. The death of the two hostages he could not or would not explain, but his statement was signed by various friends of Matilda and relatives, including Adam de Porter, Earl Ferrers, and the Earl of Clare himself.
There were two generally accepted reasons put forward to explain John’s behavior: one, that Matilda had unforgivably taunted the king about the murder of Arthur of Brittany, and the other that John had decided anyway to make an example of a rich and powerful baron and selected the brash upstart William for the role. It is possible that when he had eventually to carry out the sentence of death against the hostages he could not bring himself openly to order execution.
For whatever reason, the downfall of the de Braose family, if it was intended to intimidate other powerful nobles, succeeded in achieving the opposite effect. It scandalized the country and the signatories of John’s statement were among those who, four years later, signed Magna Carta, with its famous clause 39, which stated:
No man shall be taken, imprisoned, outlawed,
banished or in any way destroyed, nor will we
proceed against or prosecute him, except by
the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land
William de Braose died in exile in France on 9 August 1211. His funeral service was conducted by Stephen Langton and he was buried in the Abbey of St. Victor in Paris.
Giles, Bishop of Hereford, returned from exile in France in 1213, ostensibly ready to make his peace with the king, but when John showed no signs of returning to him the confiscated de Braose lands, Giles sent his brother Reginald to the Marches, and eventually the castles of Abergavenny, White Castle, Skenfrith, Brecknock, Hay, Radnor, Builth, and Blaen Llynfi were recaptured by the de Braose family with the help of the Welsh. Reginald’s wife, Gratia de Burgh, had two children, William and Matilda, and died young. He then married Gwladys, a daughter of Llewelyn, allying himself to the Welsh, who supported the de Braoses in their efforts to regain their lands. Painscastle returned to the Welsh and was held by Gwallter, the son of Einion Clud.
Giles died in 1215 and the following year the new king, Henry III, at last recognized Reginald as inheritor of the de Braose estates.
Margaret and Mattie were released unharmed. Mattie returned to her father, Richard de Clare, who until his death held the wardship of her eldest son, John, although her sons were technically kept hostages until January 1218. John later married Margaret, another daughter of Llewelyn, and challenged his uncle Reginald’s right to the family estates.
Richard de Clare died in the autumn of 1217.
Matilda’s eldest daughter, the young Matilda, died on 29 December 1211 at Llanbadarn Fawr and was buried, as she wished, next to her husband at Strata Florida.
Of Isobel Mortimer little is known. Her husband, Roger, died in June 1214 and was succeeded by his son, Hugh.
