The Confession of Piers Gaveston (12 page)

Edward was discovered at dawn lying just outside my locked door, sleeping, curled up like a faithful puppy, upon the cold stone floor.

In spite of my bruises, aches, and pains, I kept my rendezvous with Harry the bargeman the next day. It was my way of striking back at Edward.

In a surprising contrast to his rough appearance Harry treated me royally; his calloused hands were surprisingly gentle, and his caresses almost reverent. He kissed my bruises and called Ned a brute and swore that if he ever saw him again he would crack his skull open like an egg.

For a moment I feared my scarred hands would give me away. “It was a play upon words when I told you I bore a marked resemblance to Gaveston,” I explained. “He is not the only Gascon in England with burned hands.”

“Aye,” Harry said as he took my hands and covered them with kisses, “and I’ll warrant yours weren’t caused by hellhounds licking!”

“My mother died in a fire,” I explained. “I tried to save her.”

“But I must call you something!” he insisted when I refused to tell him my name.

“Since I remind you of Gaveston you may call me Perrot; that is what Lack-wit King Neddy calls his male whore!”

Harry laughed and asked no more. It was the perfect revenge on Edward even if he did not know!

When I returned to the palace Edward demanded to know where I had been, so I told him.

“I’ve been betraying you with a bargeman!”

Edward erupted in gales of laughter. He thought it was a joke. I laughed with him and let him think what he liked.

THE BOGS AND MISTS OF IRELAND
 

Clad in full armor and led by Warwick and Lancaster, the peers of the realm clanked and rattled their way into the council chamber and presented Edward with an ultimatum—either Gaveston goes or civil war will rage throughout the land.

I sat back in my chair, irreverently propping my legs up on the council table, nibbling a pear, and pretending not to care while I watched Edward make a fool of himself, his voice growing increasingly desperate and shrill as he insisted that he could not live without me.

These grim unsmiling men have never understood me, but I understand them all too well. What they really want is what they think I want—power. They have already adjudged Edward incompetent and would have him be their puppet king, or like a figure on the prow of a ship, while the real power resides with them. The fact that I do not want power is incomprehensible to them because it is all they have ever wanted. Only Pembroke is devoid of personal ambition; yet he stands with them because Edward’s obsession with me does neither king nor kingdom credit.

“Oh leave off, Nedikins!” I snapped petulantly.

The earls gaped, gasped, and exchanged incredulous glances. Had they heard right? Had I actually dared to call the King of England “Nedikins” in the council chamber before the assembled peers of the realm? Was there no end to my audacity?

Edward blushed to the roots of his golden hair.

“What?” I affected innocence. “You did ask me to call you that!”

“Yes,” he hissed, “but only when we are alone!”

“Well,” I shrugged, “if these gentlemen insist on making affairs of the bedchamber into affairs of state then you must pardon me if from time to time my tongue slips. It may well be that tonight I shall cry out ‘Your Majesty!’ in the heat of passion!”

“Have you no shame?” Pembroke demanded of me.

“When the day came when I must decide between shoes and shame, My Lord, I chose shoes and would again!” I answered saucily.

“Oh, you are a silly thing!” Pembroke threw up his hands. “For the life of me, I do not know what His Majesty sees in you!”

“I would be most happy to show you!” I offered. I leaned back in my chair, caressed my silk clad thigh, and licked my lips, my eyes on Pembroke all the while.

“You will not!” Edward cried hotly. “My Lord of Pembroke, I will thank you not to encourage him!”

“Your Majesty, I assure you, I never … I …” anger and embarrassment mottled Pembroke’s face. “He needs no encouragement!”

“None!” I assured him ardently.

“Enough of this!” Warwick roared. “Take heed, Gaveston, when you cross us you play with fire!”

“I think he rather likes it,” Lancaster sneered. “To play with fire; observe his hands, I think long ago he discovered fire to be the most diverting of playthings!”

“Tom! Take care!” Burstbelly cautioned. “Do not speak of the Devil’s Mark; you cannot know what he might do!” And he crossed himself as he saw the fury upon my face and my hands clench tightly round the arms of my chair.

“Aye, you’d best not!” I warned. “Else I cast a spell and turn you into a frog and only the Lady Alice’s kiss shall restore your manhood!”

The mention of his wife plunged The Buffoon into a mad red rage. He drew his sword and sprang at me. I drew mine and, blades clashing, we circled round the council table while Edward stood by wringing his hands, uttering shrill pleas that we desist, and shouting for the guards.

The guards came rushing in and Edward ordered them to restrain Lancaster while he swept me up into his arms and carried me, kicking and struggling, indignant and protesting, from the council chamber and set me down outside the door. Hastily, he kissed my cheek then rushed back inside and slammed the door.

I was so outraged at such treatment that I seized a tray from a passing servant and flung it full force against the door. The earthenware bowls and pewter tankards crashed against it and porridge and ale dripped down onto the floor. And with a satisfied nod, I turned and strolled leisurely back to my apartments.

An hour later Edward came to me, his face bathed in tears, and informed me that I was banished and could no longer call myself Earl of Cornwall. I must quit the country by June 25
^th
otherwise Holy Mother Church would excommunicate me.

To show how much I cared for that I would purposefully delay my departure by three days, leaving Edward to bombard the Pope with letters beseeching him to lift the ban, and also causing great distress to my devoutly religious bride.

While Edward had continued to whine, grovel, and rage before the council I had been turning my mind to more practical matters.

Edward was forever telling me that anything that was in his power to give me was mine, so, for only the second time, I asked for something.

I asked him to appoint me Lieutenant-Governor of Ireland. It was a calculated choice. From my conversations with the Earl of Richmond and much frustrated and tedious discourse in the council chamber, I knew ruling Ireland was a burdensome, bothersome task and all the men the Crown dispatched there seemed loath to do their duty and were wont to laze and fritter their time away instead, pining for a return to civilized society. But in their complaints of this wild, heathenish land and its uncouth denizens I saw the gleam of promise and a chance to prove myself.

“I do not want to leave you, Edward,” I said, kneeling before him with tears spangling my lashes and my hand upon his thigh. “But since I must, do not let them send me away in disgrace, but send me yourself in honorable estate.”

“It is done, my love,” he bowed his head solemnly and kissed my hand.

Of course, my appointment was heatedly protested. But, in the end, my enemies decided to make the best of things and hope that I would wander into a bog and drown.

While Edward remained in England behaving like a petulant child deprived of his favorite toy, I ruled Ireland in his stead.

Unlike the men who had held my post before me, I was not content to sit idle. I took immediate action and rode out with my troops to quell the rebellious wild Irish chieftains, and in so doing, I won their admiration and respect. We routed the rebels from the Wicklow Mountains, and the outlaws William Macbalator, Dermott O’Dempsey, and the O’Byrne clan were captured, condemned, and hung to great public acclaim.

Each time I returned to Dublin at the head of my army, with the outlaws chained and snarling surly in a cart, the people lined the streets to cheer and throw flowers at me. Maidens came to braid ribbons in my horse’s tail and mane and tuck posies in his bridle. And the crowd, old and young alike, surged forth to touch me, their fingers lightly, reverently, brushing my legs and seeking my hands. Mothers even held their babes up to catch a glimpse of me as I was proclaimed a hero.

Once I saw Meg standing with her maids in the crowd and I beckoned to her. Ever shy, she hung back but her companions urged her forward. I lifted her into the saddle before me and rode onward with my arms about her as she leaned back against my chest. The crowd roared with approval and tossed their caps in the air, so pleased were they to see their governor’s affection for his lady.

The next day a celebratory mass was held in the church of Castle Kevin. And I played my part so well I was accounted quite devout and given many jeweled crucifixes in consequence, but I didn’t mind; I could always have the stones pried out and reset in more pleasing settings.

When I was not with the army, I busied myself with matters of justice and administration. The roads were in a deplorable state and I ordered them repaired and also dispatched masons to repair the crumbling castle fortresses. And, most important of all, I strove to maintain peace between the Irish chieftains. I even accomplished what was deemed impossible and persuaded these wild, stubbornly independent men to sit down and discuss their grievances with compromise and resolution in mind.

For most of my life I had believed that I was worth only what someone was willing to pay for me, but that year I spent in Ireland showed me that I was wrong, and that I could be so much more than just a whore. For the first time in my life I had accomplishments of which I could truly be proud of. I had proven myself an excellent and able military commander and governor, and no one, not even Warwick and Lancaster, could fault me. Pembroke even acknowledged that I had been “conscientious and dedicated” in my undertakings as governor.

And the Irish liked me! They praised my valor, charm, integrity, and earnest enthusiasm. And my court set a tone of elegance the likes of which they had never seen. It still amuses me to remember their awed whispers that the new governor owned four silver forks wrought especially for the eating of pears and his white greyhound wore jewels about her neck and had her meals prepared in the kitchen and served in a silver bowl instead of having to make do with bones and table-scraps.

After England, where all but a few despised me, it was wonderful beyond words to be so highly esteemed, and to have no one hovering over me telling me I was too beautiful to be encumbered by such burdensome things as thoughts.

Edward, or “Lovelorn Ned” as he once again signed himself, wrote that he pictured me as a priceless diamond dropped in the mud and he longed to pick me up and bring me home, and everyday he strove to convince the council to allow him to do just that.

Poor Edward, it will pain him much to know that I did not mind the separation. Please do not misunderstand me, for I love him dearly, but his is such a jealous and possessive passion that at times I think it will surely squeeze all the life out of me. His love can be so cloying, so sickeningly sweet, that I feel as if I have gorged all day upon sugary sweets, cream tarts, and marzipan.

Apart from my official duties, I gave much of my time to Meg. In that year we spent together we came to know each other better, we went walking and riding, and for picnics under the trees when the weather was fine. And I tried to coax her out of her shyness, for her new and more prominent role as governor’s lady terrified her. But I never truly succeeded in breaching that wall; though upon her modesty I made several playful assaults. One fine day I attempted to teach her to swim as I had taught Edward. Her shift grew heavy with the weight of water and impeded her limbs, so I lifted it over her head and cast it onto the grass. And oh how she blushed and tried to shield her pert little paps from my eyes when I remarked that her nipples were like rose-clad sentries standing at attention!

Every night when my duties did not compel my absence, I went to her chamber before she retired and brushed and braided her hair. I felt such a great tenderness for her that it saddened me that I could not fall in love with her. But together we lack that special alchemy that makes a couple go together like thunder and lightning instead of chalk and cheese. And though we talked much, there were many things I never told her. As my hands deftly plaited the silky red-gold strands we never spoke of Edward or my past. And of my many other lovers she never knew; she thought Edward was her only rival. It was not that I desired to enshroud myself in mystery or to pretend to be something other than I was, but her innocence is precious to me, and I would, if I could, protect her from how ugly and unkind the world and the people in it can be. Who knows better than a whore what a treasure innocence truly is? Once lost it is gone forever; there is no going back.

And then an unexpected joy came into my life when Meg shyly announced that she was with child. It was something I never expected, to feel joy at such a pronouncement. But I was happy, truly happy! I knew that I would never be one of those cold and distant parents, the sort of rigid, intimidating figure that children respect but fear, to whom love is given only as a duty. Instead, I would be warm and loving. And mayhap in fatherhood I would find the true and lasting love that had eluded me all these years.

I must take steps to set my life aright; I would not have my child be ashamed of me and taunted to tears because I had earned everything I possessed in the King’s bed.

And then the summons came. And I obeyed it. I returned to a land that despised me and Edward’s eager arms. What a fool I was!