The Confession of Piers Gaveston (14 page)

“But Your Majesty did say you desired everyone to depart!” I exclaimed innocently.

“You know perfectly well that you are the exception to every rule! All others may go! Now!”

The scene that followed was not a pretty one. I was weary to my bones and in no mood to smile and beguile. So I told the truth without bothering to coat it in sugar.

Edward was aghast. How could I possibly want a child? It was bad enough that I doted excessively upon my greyhound! He stormed and raged and declared himself betrayed, calling me a Brutus and a Judas and likening himself to both Julius Caesar and Jesus Christ.

“There are three people in this marriage, Edward!” I reminded him. “You are not the only one whose feelings count! What of Meg? She came innocent to this marriage while we both knew it was all your scheme to quiet the tongues that raged against your endowing me with Cornwall! If you did not mean for me to be a husband to her then you should not have married me to her, or else laid the truth before her and let her decide if it was something to which she would willingly be a party!”

“Now really, Piers! Would you have me negotiate with a girl of thirteen?”

“By the Law, she became a woman at twelve,” I reminded him. “And laws be damned, Edward, woman or child, she has feelings to consider! I have tried to do right by her and as long as our marriage endures I shall continue to do so!”

“Do not speak to me of rights and wrongs, feelings and laws, you did this because you desired it, because you desired her!” he charged as tears poured down his face.

“No, Edward,” I flared back at him. “I did it because it is what the role of husband requires; indeed, that is something you would do well to remember yourself! Have you forgotten that all England is waiting for you to produce an heir?”

Edward sank down upon the nearest bench and buried his face in his hands and wept. Violent sobs shook his shoulders and tugged at my heart until I could not help myself and knelt before him uttering soothing words. That was a mistake. The sailors have a saying: “If you do not like the weather at sea bide awhile and it will change.” The same is true of Edward’s temper; even lightning cannot flash as fast as his emotions veer. He sprang on me like a serpent striking and I found myself flat on my back with my wrists held fast as he straddled me.

“Have your precious child if you will, but never forget that you belong to me!”

He flipped me over onto my stomach and struggled to wrest the hose from my sweat-slick body.

“Edward! No! This is not the proper place! Others will be coming soon to doff their armor! We have delayed them too long; we will be seen!”

“I don’t care!” he breathed, his hands roughly brushing aside my hair so he could nuzzle my neck.

“But I do!” I cried as I tried to wriggle out from beneath him. “I care very much!”

“You do not!” Edward scoffed, nuzzling my neck again.

But I did care. Yet I ceased to fight, I accepted defeat and let my body go limp. And, closing my eyes and pillowing my cheek against the warm green grass, I let him do as he would. It was the easiest way, and I wanted it over and done with even though I despised myself for surrendering.

Outside the tent I heard voices and the rattle of armor.

“But what nonsense is this?” Warwick’s voice boomed. “We cannot stand about out here in our armor being baked by the sun; we shall be burnt to a cinder!”

I heard the rustle of heavy silk as the entrance flap was brushed roughly aside, then the startled and outraged oaths and gasps before it was quickly whisked back into place again.

I never turned my head or opened my eyes. I didn’t want to see them seeing me, seeing us, like that.

Edward was too intent on his purpose to notice them, but such was ever the case with Edward.

LOSS
 

It was at Wallingford that Meg caught the toe of her shoe in the hem of her gown and fell down the steps descending into the rose garden. Our child was lost.

I was at court with Edward when it happened. I journeyed swiftly to Walling-ford, ignoring Edward’s clinging and frantic pleas that I was in no fit state to travel, and the royal physician’s complaint that I must pay for the jar of leeches I had hurled at the wall when he would apply them to my temples to “soothe my nerves back into serenity.”

Meg lay in her bed, sobbing her heart out. When she saw me she wept all the more. Poor child, she feared I would be angry and blame her.

I bade her attendants and sister leave us and lay down upon the bed beside her and took her in my arms.

“I was so afraid you would be angry!” she cried, her frail little body wracked by sobs as she clung to me.

“Nay, love,” I assured her, “of course I am not angry! It was an accident and you are not to blame! Our daughter has merely decided to delay her entry into the world, but I think we shall see her soon; we must only be patient and wait a little while. But now we must think of you and of getting you well! Come now, sweeting, no more tears!”

“It is not true what Eleanor said?” she ventured timidly. “That you would account it no great loss. You truly do want us to have a child?”

“Verily, my sweet,” I said lightly, hoping to make her smile, “I never listen to my brothers, so why should you heed your sister, especially when she says such false and foolish things? Indeed, it shall be my great pleasure to have as many children as you care to give me!”

There was a knock upon the door and Agnes came in with a strengthening tea brewed from raspberry leaves. I sat with Meg while she drank it then left her to rest and went to walk in the garden.

I breathed deeply of the roses and felt the breeze from the river ruffle my hair. Suddenly a fanfare of trumpets shattered the silence and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Servants started running about hither and thither, like chickens in a barnyard frightened by a fox, shouting “The King! The King!” Verily, there are times when I think Edward cannot go to the privy without blaring trumpets, silk banners, and pageboys shouting “Make way for the King!” I wanted to scream and tear the walls down; it was either that or murder Edward, I was so angry!

“Not now!” I clenched my teeth and seethed. “Oh please, not now!” Why couldn’t he leave me be? Why must he always come running after me, following me like a kitten’s tail?

Then I turned around and there was Edward, standing regal in his royal purple riding vestments at the top of the stone steps, his hands upon his hips and his golden hair glistening in the sun. He thrust his feathered cap, gloves, and riding crop into the hands of his squire then brusquely waved him away.

“Leave us!” he commanded as he descended the steps. “The Earl of Cornwall and I have much to discuss!” And the boy bowed and scurried away.

“I bid Your Majesty welcome,” I said, sweeping into a low court bow.

“Do you indeed, Piers?” he asked, arching his brows dubiously.

“Why have you come, Edward?” I asked wearily.

I turned away from him and went to stand gazing out upon the river.

He came to stand behind me. “I am glad that Meg shall recover. I am fond of her, you know.”

“Are you? Indeed, My Lord, I did not know.”

“Piers, upon my soul, she is my favorite niece, and I like her well! But I cannot help it; I resent any who would take you from me, even if it be for only an hour!”

“Edward, there is more to life than me, than us!” I turned round to face him. “Do you really not want more than what we have?”

He reached for my waist. “Only more of you!” he said ardently, gripping me tight. And he would have kissed me if I had let him.

Gently, I drew away from him and turned my eyes back to the rippling waters, so cool, blue, and inviting. How I longed to strip off my clothes and plunge in!

“It is where we differ then, for I would have more. Mayhap I am greedy, Edward, but I find my life lacking.”

Edward grabbed me roughly and spun me round to face him. “Do you mean that I am not enough? That what I have given you is not enough?”

“I am not speaking of possessions, Edward! Do you remember those happy days at Langley when I first came to you? When we would swim together in the River Gade—it was I who taught you how to swim!—and how we would laugh and splash! And then we would lie upon the grassy bank and let the sun dry us. Or else we might spend an afternoon fishing, but you would always have me bait and afterwards take the fish from the hook for you! Sometimes we would go boating. How you loved to row! You never seemed to tire! And you would never let me help, you would have me sing to you and play upon my lute instead. And when we grew hungry we would knock upon the cottage doors and buy bread and fresh churned butter, a round of cheese, and the makings of a stew from the farmers’ wives. And then we would sit and talk by our fire while our stew simmered. Verily, that stew was more pleasing to my tongue than the finest court banquet! And all the festivals and fairs we attended in common clothes! Do you remember dancing round the Maypole on the village green and the bonfire and bobbing for apples on All Hallow’s Eve? And we would ride, racing our horses over the countryside, and fence with wooden swords so your father could not accuse you of neglecting your training. And the day you made your first horseshoe at the smithy, how proud of it you were, you went around showing it to everyone for days afterwards! And the plays we devised and acted in! I can still see the costumes, so bright and gaudy; I can even hear the music! And in winter we would frolic in the snow and pelt each other with snowballs, and then we would fall to wrestling, and always we would end in laughter! And in the evenings we would sit by the fire and tell each other stories and riddles. And the jests we played upon others! Do you remember the special pie we made to welcome Burstbelly? When he broke the crust dozens of little green frogs came hopping out! How we scurried about trying to catch them all! And the next morning he complained that he had hardly slept for the frogs croaking and had even wakened during the night to find some perched upon his great belly! And we would play at archery, and bowls, and bandy-ball, and fly our hawks. And once you wagered me that I could not learn to juggle, and I did and won a purse of silver off you! And your pet camel that was kept in the stables! Oh, Edward, do you remember how the people would stop and stare as we rode past upon it? Their eyes were fit to pop and their mouths would gape until I feared their chins would touch the ground! They didn’t know what to make of such a curious beast! Oh Edward, we were so happy then!”

“Aye,” Edward nodded, smiling, “it was before I had all the cares that come with a Crown, and it was also before you became mine.” He reached for me again. “But when I became a man, I put away childish things …”

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face,” I continued the quotation. “Only we do not, Edward, we do not! Forsooth, Edward, I was more yours then than I have ever been!” I cried desperately, wishing with the whole of my heart that I could make him understand.

Abruptly, his hands released my waist. “Do you think I do not know that? You were mine alone then and now you are untrue!” His voice broke upon the last word and tears filled his eyes and I knew it cost him much to say it. “Cousin Tom and the others trip over each other and nearly break their necks in their haste to be the first one to tell me that you have been seen with someone or entering or leaving another’s room; they think to kill my love for you, but it will never die!”

“Edward,” I sighed, “Edward, I am not the person you think I am!”

“You are Piers Gaveston and I love you!” he declared, pulling me close to him. “And, by my soul, I wish you loved only me! Why, Piers, Why? Why am I not enough? I am the King of England, so what need have you of any other? What is it they give you that I cannot? Titles, lands, revenues, wardships, and manors I have given you! All the gold in my treasury is yours to command! I have raised you until you are like a second king, and for no luxury do you lack! No one in the world wears jewels or garments finer, guards protect your precious person, I would even give the Great Seal of England into your hands so that you might honor and condemn as you please! And greater even than these gifts, I have given you my heart! Why, Piers, why isn’t it enough?”

How could I explain to him what I scarcely understood myself? Now all these honors, and even the beautiful gems, left me cold. For me power held no allure. As King’s Favorite and the Earl of Cornwall I no longer needed to play the harlot, yet I went on the same as always. Only now it was not the need and greed for gold that drove me. It was something else … something even more elusive that I sought in all those beds and hasty fumblings in alcoves, darkened corridors, and moonlit gardens. I needed to find someone who could see past the flamboyant and flippant façade of the King’s Favorite, the persona of Piers Gaveston, my beauty and the sensual delights my body promised, and love me for myself alone, whoever, whatever, I am. I want what I thought I had found with Edward, a companion, a friend, and lover combined in one wonderful, loving person. Someone I can laugh and play with, talk and take walks with, someone who can touch my hand without dragging me to the floor or taking me to bed. I know I shouldn’t be so free and easy with my favors, all these casual encounters that actually mean nothing are surely not the right way to go about it, but it’s what I know, it’s become a habit, and a way of acting out, of spiting Edward for being so clinging, possessive, and jealous, and for failing to understand me, and for giving me everything but the one thing I truly need. I want to be something more than beautiful, because I know I will not always be beautiful, I want to be secure in the knowledge that old age, wrinkles, and gray hair or a bald pate will not oust me from my beloved’s heart. If I am loved only for my beauty’s sake, when that withers and fades, what else is there, and is what remains worthy of love? I do not know! And that scares me! I’ve been playing games and pretending for so long that the lines have become blurred, the boundaries confused, black and white have melded into murky gray, facts have become distorted, and I have lost myself. I was born Piers Gaveston, but I also created Piers Gaveston, and others have had a hand in that creation as well. Life and experience mold and shape us. But along the way I became something I never wanted, never intended, to be—infamous; notorious. The legends and rumors and lies have taken on a life of their own, and I want to shed this Piers Gaveston like a snake sheds its skin and start again, reborn fresh and new! If only I had the courage and knew how! I feel like I’ve been spinning round and round, fast, out of control, and wild, for a very long time; I’m dizzy and tired, and I want to stop!

I had thought, mayhap naively, that my success in Ireland would herald a new beginning for me. I had proven myself, so why not give me something, some useful work, to do? But no, once a whore always a whore, just a pretty plaything, both an objet d’art and an object of contempt, to be dismissed, insulted, ridiculed, despised, and used as those about me see fit. Edward loves me, Edward wants me, Edward needs me to be always at his beck and call and to never stray too far from his side, and what Edward wants is all that matters. Everyone laughs at me, both behind my back and to my face, but what they don’t realize is that I laugh first and loudest at Piers Gaveston. But only I apparently hear the bitterness in my laughter. I know full well what I have become, but I also know what I could have been!

“I am lost, Edward,” I said softly, as tears filled my eyes. “I am lost and I would be found!”

Edward gripped me tighter still. “Perrot, you are here in my arms, so you are not lost! You are found, Piers, you are found!”

“Nay, Edward,” I said, pulling away from him, “I am lost!”

I turned and ran up the stone steps.

“Piers!” he called after me. “I love you more than life itself!”

I halted and looked back at him. “I would not mind if you loved me less if you understood me more.”

That evening Edward sat alone at the great trestle table, waited upon by servants, with musicians playing in the gallery overhead, and a jester capering before him, while I kept to my chamber, “sulking behind my locked door,” to quote Edward.

“I wish Edward would go away,” I said petulantly to Agnes. “I want to visit my daughter!”

It was a well-kept secret, but I was the father of a little girl. She had been born while I was in Ireland and I did not learn of her existence until after I returned.

Before we left England, I escorted Agnes to visit her friend Grunella, an ancient midwife who lived in a cottage in the forest near Wallingford. It was then that I met Sarah, Grunella’s granddaughter. I saw her for the first time making an offering to the Lady in a forest glade. She had apple green eyes and hair the color of spiced red wine served warm. She was wonderful; warm, caring, and wise, and utterly devoid of jealousy, ambition, pretense, and spite. I did not know her long or well, but I regret her loss deeply to this day. When she looked at me there was no contempt in her eyes or the cunning avarice of favor-seekers. She died giving birth to my child. Grunella tried but could not stop the bleeding.

I named my daughter Amy after my little sister who was lost so long ago. I remember how happy and proud I felt the first time Grunella laid her in my arms. My heart swelled nigh to bursting and I wanted to take her home with me, but Agnes prevailed upon me to be sensible: “Anyone can tell she’s yours, Child, she looks just like you!”