The Oath

They were all given a little time to take some refreshment and settle themselves in any spare corners they could find. Only the King’s closest companions would share the hall, while he took a chamber set next to it, over a small storage room. The Abbot had offered his own chamber, but the King piously refused his generosity. ‘This is your kingdom,’ he had said with a small smile.

At the time it had sounded wondrously gallant, but Baldwin was sure that there were more prosaic reasons for his decision, such as the fact that the chamber the Abbot had was further from a room large enough to house all his guards, and the hall with its chamber was further from the abbey walls. Even now, tired and emotionally drained as he was, the King was careful about his safety.

The summons for Baldwin and Sir Ralph came as the two were sharing a mess with two others. Their meal, a bowl of good, nourishing broth, with some barley to thicken it, and a loaf of bread between them, was marvellously warming, and Baldwin could feel the heat distributing itself through his body. The call was doubly unwelcome, for it meant leaving the remains in the dish for the other men, but Edward’s orders were impossible to ignore.

‘You called for us, Your Royal Highness?’ he enquired, after he and Sir Ralph had been permitted to stand again.

The King waved his servant away, and leaned back in his seat. He was pale and nervous, a tic twitching near his left eye. Behind him, Despenser said nothing, but chewed at his nails and lower lip all the while. Baldwin thought he seemed unaware of anything that was being said.

‘Sir Baldwin, Sir Ralph, I wanted to ask you what you think we should do next,’ the King said quietly. ‘This is no longer a matter on which I can decide without suggestions from those whom I trust.’

‘My firm belief is that you should cross the sea to Ireland,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘There is no other course open to you, my lord.’

‘Sir Baldwin?’

‘Your Royal Highness, I do not know this land or the best places in which to fight,’ Baldwin replied. ‘If I had seen a place better suited than Caerphilly, I would suggest you go there. As it is, I would seriously think about returning to the castle, for the reason that it’s got excellent defences and a good store of food. Even with a great siege-train, Mortimer would find it an extraordinarily difficult fortress to demolish, and it would take him a long time. And in that time, perhaps, your people would remember that you are their King. Surely some would come, and perhaps raise the siege?’

‘I like this advice better!’ Edward said with a triumphant tone, shooting a look over his shoulder at Despenser. ‘I would return with a sword in my hand, rather than scuttle off with my tail between my legs.’

‘Your Highness,’ Despenser began. His voice had become weaker, as though he was fading from the strain of the last months. ‘If we had any additional men, Sir Baldwin’s advice would make sense. However, we have to live with the position we find ourselves in now. How can we rush back to Caerphilly, now that the Mortimer and his men are no doubt already at its drawbridge? It is too late. The only choice is for you to do as Sir Ralph said, and head further west.’

‘Run away to exile, then,’ the King said flatly.

‘There are times when a leader has to escape the traps set for him,’ Despenser said. ‘Even the Mortimer succeeded in that.’

‘You want me to copy a traitor?’ the King rasped suddenly.

‘There is another aspect, Your Majesty,’ Sir Ralph said in a placatory tone. ‘If you keep heading west, you may come across more allies among your people in Wales. You have enough friends here. Many will come to your call.’

‘Not one has come to my aid so far, and we have journeyed so far through the land already. How can I believe that there is a host of men waiting to support me when not a one has shown me his face, eh? Do you think me a fool who must be cosseted and lied to, in order that I may continue to believe? Believe in what? I don’t believe that the country wants me, I don’t believe that the realm will come to my banner any more. I have lost, lost all. But if I turn back and fight, then maybe the people will see that their King is resolute, and may come back to my standard.’

‘Send men to the west, Your Majesty,’ Sir Ralph urged him. ‘Send to see whether they will come to your assistance, as they should, for they are all men of Despenser’s lands.’

‘They are my men, but I fear they do not want to obey their own lord,’ Despenser said dully.

‘Then we should ride and find a ship,’ Sir Ralph said uncompromisingly. ‘You must not be captured, my liege. Under no circumstances should we permit that to happen.’

‘I… I do not think I should leave the kingdom. They already say I have deserted the realm – did you know that? The son of a whore has said that I have left England extra regnum, and that this is the reason why he is permitted to declare himself Regent. Have you heard such a thing before? He dares to do this, and I cannot prevent it because no one comes to my support!’

‘My liege, please! He has done this already, so there is nothing to be changed by taking ship to Ireland. All you need do is collect a host of men from that land, and return and defeat these people. You have skill as a warrior – you showed that at Boroughbridge when you defeated Earl Thomas of Lancaster. Fetch a host and then come back to retake your kingdom. As soon as the people see you with a force, they will flock to your banner. You only need those first few men with you to make it all a reality.’

‘I do not know!’ the King cried out.

To Baldwin, it felt like watching torture. The King had sunk in the last days until now he was a pale shadow of his former self. Despenser had gradually declined over the last year, the fear omni-present that soon he would be captured by the King’s enemies and killed. Edward’s fears were more for his friend than for himself, but whereas before he had always had a belief that at some point men would come to rescue him and Sir Hugh, it was growing clear that no such support existed, because Sir Hugh was detested by one and all.

Everybody knew that the reign of King Edward II was teetering on the cliffs, and ruin lay below. Not only for the King himself, but for all those who had remained loyal to him in recent years. There was certainty about the fate of Sir Hugh le Despenser should Mortimer or the Queen capture him, and a degree of equal certainty about many of Sir Hugh’s servants; many of the King’s other advisers could go the same route. It was not a consideration which gave anyone in the Abbey great comfort.

‘Sir Hugh, what should I do?’ the King said at last, turning in his seat and giving his friend a look in which Baldwin saw anguish and longing

‘Send to find a ship,’ Despenser said flatly.

‘You think I should leave the kingdom?’

‘You need to ask me that? We’ll die if we remain here, my lord! We must get away while we still can.’

The King turned to face Baldwin and Sir Ralph. ‘There,’ he said, and even as Baldwin watched, he looked as though he was shrivelling into himself, his skin going as grey as a corpse’s, his hands suddenly clawlike as they gripped the chair’s arms.

As he was dismissed from the company of the King and his adviser, Baldwin felt a pang of sympathy for both men. They were trapped in a cage which they had forged for themselves, and gradually the walls were contracting in upon them. Against his advice, the King had decided to flee the country.

But first they must find a ship to take them.

Sunday before the Feast of St Martin[37]

Hereford

The party straggled along back into Hereford, defeated by the weather and their failure to find anyone who would aid their search for the King.

They had been riding every day since their departure. Down to the coast, all along towards Cardiff and beyond, up to the manors of Sir Hugh le Despenser, visiting all the local magnates to ask who had seen the King or Despenser. All denied any knowledge. Nobody had seen either.

Simon found it soul-destroying to ride about the countryside convinced that the surly, ungracious folk who denied all knowledge of the King were lying; but as the grinning Sir Charles kept pointing out, although the Welsh might not want to surrender him, King Edward was hardly in receipt of their undying devotion, either. At least that