The Confession of Piers Gaveston (19 page)

“Forsooth, Gaveston, have you not had enough of games? You would curse me now?” he chuckled and it was the closest I ever knew him to come to genuine mirth.

“Nay, Sir Hugh, I curse you not, my memory shall do it for me, so I need not speak the words that bind! And now, farewell,” I smiled, drawing up my hood, “my coach awaits!”

But he had more to say and called after me: “You are like a child, Gaveston, playing at sorcery the way children do at battle, knights, and ladies-fair! Only a fool would fear you! Vainglorious peacock, you think too highly of yourself! I say the people will forget, even as I shall forget; indeed, I have forgotten you already!”

As I climbed into the coach I lingered for a moment and looked back, up at the frost-rimmed window behind which Edward stood weeping. I raised a velvet-gloved hand to my lips and gently blew him a kiss, then I ducked inside and drew the heavy velvet curtains shut. I settled back against the cushions beside Agnes. Dragon knocked on the roof to signal the coachman that we were ready to depart. The whip cracked and the heavy wheels began to turn, churning and crunching over the snow.

I journeyed first to France, but the enmity of Isabelle’s father made that country an inhospitable clime for me and I soon fled, narrowly evading arrest, amidst a flurry of rumors that King Philip would have me burned on charges of heresy, sorcery, and sodomy. I traveled next to Flanders where Edward had assured me that his sister Margaret, the Duchess of Brabant, would make me welcome. To her credit, she did try, but her forced and fragile smile betrayed the truth, that my presence was an embarrassment, and I soon took my leave.

Every place I ventured made fresh the fear that there was no place in the world for me. Wherever I go I am an object of embarrassment, curiosity, and scorn. My infamy has spread far and wide, it follows me wherever I go, I cannot escape it, and I know now that I shall never be free. People’s expectations are like a set of heavy chains weighing me down. I am the villain in “the poor besotted king’s tale,” a warlock dabbling in the black arts, and my sex is my magic wand. It is common knowledge that I have cast a spell over Edward and they expect me to do the same to them, whether they are willing or not, they expect it just the same. I am a figure of dark fascination; they are at once frightened and intrigued. Even as I live, I have become a legend. And I have grown so weary of the world that I think I shall not be sad to leave it.

When I returned to England a few months later I tarried for a time in Corn-wall. I did not go to Wallingford, I knew I would be recognized there and my presence betrayed, besides there was no need; we had arranged that Meg would go to York for her confinement. Instead I sought refuge in Grunella’s cottage in the forest nearby.

I spent nearly a month in that tiny cottage. And it was a joy immeasurable to have this precious time with my daughter. To hold Amy in my arms, play with her, sing to her, and to have her near me every hour of every day. To watch her toddle across the earthen floor and pick her up and kiss away her tears when she toppled, to feed her porridge every morning, and lay her tenderly in her cot at nightfall. I treasure these memories, only, selfish creature that I am, I wish there were more of them!

As the time drew nigh for us to begin the journey to York so that I might keep my promise to Meg, a day came when my confidence and hope seemed to bloom anew. Grunella was away, birthing a babe, and I was sitting by the fire with Agnes, glorying in my new-cropped hair. I had bade her take the shears to it, and now it covered my head like a glossy black cap, baring my neck to the breeze. My head felt pleasingly light and Agnes and the little square mirror I held told me that it suited me and made me appear younger than my years.

“After the child is born,” I said, as, with mounting excitement, I began to devise a new life, “you shall give me a henna rinse, Agnes, to lend it a reddish cast, and we shall away to Rome. I shall take a new name, as must we all. And you must bandage my hands as if they were newly burned, so that none shall link me with Gaveston. We shall invent a tragedy to explain it all and say that we have come to Rome on my physician’s advice. I shall dress in celestial blue and be carried about the city on a litter; like any merchant I must show the goods I have for sale. And you shall be my grandmother, and Grunella shall come with us as nurse to my daughter. We shall take a fine house and bide our time while we wait for my hands to heal. Then I shall send for the finest glovemaker in the city and pick his mind; before I open shop I want to know who the best customers are, who to expect, who to avoid, and who to entice. And we shall see what fortunes the Holy City may hold for us. Rome is a fine city for courtesans, and I have heard there are many who fancy my kind there, and as a witch no one will expect me to go there; we will hide in plain sight! And I am still young and comely enough to make us another fortune! I am only seven years past twenty! But I must look to the future! I have worked hard to preserve my looks—all the baths, massages, creams and lotions, and the ivory picks, polishing cloths, herbal and vinegar mouthwashes, and spice comfits to keep my teeth clean and white and my breath sweet, the weekly enemas, daily exercise, and restraint at the banquet table to maintain my slender figure. I’ve always looked younger than my years, and I think, with the Lady’s blessing, and if my luck holds, I have another ten years left before my value starts to fall. I’ll make us rich again, Agnes, and this time I’ll make it last; there will be no Lords Ordainers to take it away! And if we find that Rome is not for us, then there is always Spain, and from there, if we like, we can take ship to some faraway exotic land, somewhere warm where the scent of cinnamon hangs in the air!” I clasped her hands. “There must be a place in the world for me; we have but to find it!”

“Aye, Child, and we will! But how are we to pay for this now that all your wealth has been taken from you?”

I smiled and held up my left hand. “With this ring!” The ruby cherry on its band of gold flashed in the firelight. “La Cerise! It is worth £1,000!”

“And you would part with it, my love?”

“It is like a ballast stone weighing me down and holding me steady to a course I would veer from, and I would be free, Agnes,” I said adamantly, “I would be free!”

THE BEGINNING OF THE END
 

It was after midnight when Agnes and I forged our way across the snow-covered courtyard, the wind whipping at our cloaks, and our boots sinking ankle-deep into the snow. We made our way up the backstairs, Agnes preceding me to make certain the corridors were clear of those whom it would be in my best interest to avoid. But fortune was with us, the hour was late, and the night cold, so none who did not have to be were abroad.

I heard Meg’s anguished cries and my heart froze.

“Come, Child,” Agnes said gently, “like as not it sounds worse than it is. Sit you down by the fire now and I’ll go in and see.” And taking her old brown leather satchel, she hurried into the birthing chamber. A little while later she came to the door and beckoned me inside.

My poor Meg, she lay writhing upon the bed, clutching her stomach, her knees making twin tents beneath her shift which, despite the cold, was soaked with sweat.

The ladies attending her greeted my appearance with glowering eyes and deep frowns. The birthing chamber is a woman’s domain and they resented my intrusion. And being all too familiar with my history, my presence was even more unwelcome. Just by being in England I was risking my life, like a common outlaw, there was a price on my head. “I daresay he trusts the Devil to protect His own!” I heard one of them whisper loudly as they made a great show of busying themselves around the hearth with the boiling water and stacks of clean linens.

“Piers!” Meg gasped and stretched out her hand to me.

I sat on the bed stroking her sweat-matted hair, kissing her tears away, murmuring soothing words, and holding her hand.

“I knew you would come!” she said, smiling through her pain. “I knew you would!”

I stayed with her until Agnes signaled that I must depart.

I do not know whether it was hours or moments I passed sitting, lost in thought, by the fire before the door opened and I heard an infant’s weak, quavering, shrill cry. I came instantly alert and leapt to my feet.

“Another girl, my sweet,” Agnes whispered as she placed the baby in my arms, “but we knew that all along!”

I could only nod; I was too overcome to speak. Indeed, I could do nothing but smile as I gazed down at my newborn daughter’s red and crinkled face.

“She does not appear very lively,” I said worriedly, tracing my fingers lightly over the sparse growth of carroty hair that covered her scalp.

“The birthing was long and arduous,” Agnes reminded me.

“Meg!” I realized with a sudden pang of guilty alarm; I had not asked about Meg! “How fares she?”

“She’s fine, Child, sleeping like a babe herself,” Agnes assured me. “She’s really not built for bearing and the strain wore her out.”

“She will be all right?” I asked anxiously.

“Aye, though she may be some time in regaining her strength. Cease your worrying now, love,” she slipped an arm about my waist, “and take joy in your beautiful new daughter!”

Lost in admiration, we did not hear the door open behind us and started at the familiar voice. My heart seemed to stop and sink like a stone and my blood ran cold as ice water.

“You do that very well,” Edward remarked as he strode into the room in his purple velvet slippers and dressing gown. “To look at you one would think you had vast experience of holding babies!”

“Is Your Majesty implying something?” I asked, striving to appear nonchalant though my heart was beating like a drum. “Come look at my beautiful new daughter, Edward. She is to be called Joan after Meg’s mother, your favorite sister.”

“She looks like a very tiny bald and toothless crone!” Edward pronounced decisively with a grimace of distaste.

“There! Now see what you’ve done!” I fumed as Joan began to scream, her little red face scrunched up in rage and her tiny fists weakly pummeling the air. “And she is not bald; when she is older she will have a fine head of red-gold hair just like Meg!”

“Here, give her to me,” Agnes directed, reaching out her arms to take the linen and lace swathed bundle.

“Yes, do!” Edward urged, fastidiously shooing Agnes and the mewling babe away. “And now, Piers,” he turned back to me, “kindly explain what you have done to your hair!”

“Do you not like it?” I ran a hand over my glossy black crop. “I felt like a change so I bade Agnes cut it.”

As soon as the door closed behind Agnes, Edward smiled and said confidently: “I knew you would come back to me.”

“But you are mistaken, Edward. I have not come back to you. I came only for Meg, to keep my promise to her. I shall be leaving soon and you will see me no more. I have taken back my heart and mean to put the past behind me and start a new life.”

With a sudden lunge Edward pinned me against the wall. The stone was cold against my back and I shivered. His hand caressed my face, from my brow to my neck where it came to rest, curling lightly round my throat.

In spite of myself, I felt the familiar stirring. I was aroused and Edward knew it and a smile of triumph spread across his face. I squirmed uncomfortably against the wall, furious with myself, trying to suppress the surge of desire I felt. I wanted to twist round and bash my head as hard as I could against the wall, but I was trapped, Edward held me fast.

“Look at me!” he ordered. “Tell me you do not love me and I will let you go!”

His grip tightened, reminding me just how easily the delicate bones in my throat might snap.

“I think that if I do you will strangle me.”

“I think you are right,” he nodded, his voice eerily calm as he subtly increased the pressure on my throat. “Tell me that you do not love me and you are free to go, to the Devil or anywhere else it may please you to go!”

“Will you believe me if I do?”

“No!”

“Then there is no point, it has long been my practice to only tell you lies that you are likely to believe.”

“So you do love me then?”

“I suppose I do,” I shrugged as his grip slackened, then before I could extricate myself from my uncomfortable position against the wall, his lips were pressed to mine, hard and bruising.

“Come to my bed, you have been absent from it far too long!” It was not an invitation, it was a command. He grasped the front of my tunic tightly in both hands and began backing towards the door, pulling me along with him, never noticing my expression of weary resignation or my leaden steps.

When I awoke I was in Edward’s bed. It was morning and the pale winter sunlight was streaming into the room. I was alone except for a diamond brooch that was like an exploding star pinned on the pillow beside me.

Heedless of the cold against my naked skin, I went to the window and stood staring out at the feeble golden light, like a delicate coating of butter upon the snow. The door opened behind me, but I did not bother to turn round, if it were an assassin come to plunge a dagger into my back then so be it. If it were Edward better that I should act cold and aloof because I felt the distinct desire to murder him. I heard the clatter of breakfast dishes being set down, then the heavy fur coverlet was being whisked off the bed and draped around my shoulders.

“Child, whatever are you thinking of? You’ll catch your death!” Agnes chided.

“I think we both know I already have. Death thy other name is Edward!”

There was a scroll lying upon my breakfast tray and I picked it up, expecting my usual reward of a castle or market dues. All the color drained from my face and my hands began to shake. I dropped the scroll as if it were searing hot and sank down onto the bed, hugging the fur coverlet close about me.

“Child, what is it? You’ve gone white as a ghost!” Agnes picked up the scroll and stood squinting down at the small, tightly formed black script as if sheer concentration could give her the power to read.

“My death warrant,” I answered, and, taking it from her, I read aloud: “I Edward the Second, King of England by the Grace of God, hereby proclaim Piers Gaveston to be a good and loyal subject, and hereby restore to him the earldom of Cornwall and with it all the lands and titles previously held by him. Formerly exiled contrary to the laws and customs of the land, he has returned and stands ready to justify himself before his King.”

I let the scroll fall from my hands. This time neither of us bothered to retrieve it. We sat silently upon the bed staring down at it as if it were a snake poised to strike us.

After that it all happened very quickly. Warwick and Lancaster began marshaling an army to march against us, using tournaments to hide their true intent and justify such large gatherings of armed men.

In desperation, I turned to the Earl of Richmond. For the first time, he failed to welcome me warmly and there was a rigid coldness about him that I had never seen before. And though esteemed as the perfect host, he offered me neither a chair nor a goblet of wine. Instead, we stood face to face alongside the table where our affair had begun, and I wondered if he was also remembering those two most interesting dinners and the “practiced tart of seventeen” he had spanked and the King’s Favorite he had carted off to bed over his shoulder like a sack of grain. How time changes us! I marveled.

I took a deep breath and began: “I’ve come to ask your help. I want you to plead my case before the Lords Ordainers and explain that I came back only for Meg, because I promised her I would be with her when our child was born. It was never my intention to stay or to see Edward again! I planned to steal away as quietly as I came! Then Edward issued that accursed proclamation! By the Lady, I swear, I knew nothing about it before I saw it on my breakfast tray! And now I dare not set foot outside the King’s protection! I would be hunted down and killed! I would willingly tell them myself but the very sight of me sends their anger soaring! But they will listen to you …”

“I am sorry, Piers,” he said abruptly. “I cannot help you.”

“Cannot or will not?” I asked pointedly.

“Both. They would never believe that you came back for the wife you so shamelessly neglect. I’ll wager I could count the number of times you’ve bedded her on one hand. Many jest that the conception of your daughter was immaculate; another virgin birth.” I started to protest but he held up his hand. “I know you have had a fair number of women, Piers, including Lancaster’s wife, but in the end it means nothing; it does not amount to evidence you can present to prove your husbandly devotion, far from it in fact. Nor would they ever believe that one so cynical and self-centered as you is likely to be sentimental about a child, especially a daughter. Granted, you display great affection for your greyhound, but that is neither here nor there. You are a luxury that has grown too expensive for this realm; find another protector, Piers, neither Edward nor I can afford you.”

“It is a bitter blow to find you so cold and distant, My Lord,” I said quietly. “I thought you loved me.”

“Then you are rightly deserving of your reputation as a fool. We all make mistakes, Piers, and mine was ever to have become smitten with you. Since I do not believe in witchcraft, I can only ascribe it to a brief madness of which fortunately I am now cured, had it endured it might have cost me dearly. I will not be dragged down by or with you, Piers. Edward may do as he pleases but thankfully I have better sense. Goodbye, Piers, if you will excuse me, I have guests and I have neglected them far too long.” And he returned to his bedchamber. As the door opened and closed I caught a glimpse of two young women, naked and giggling, in his great four-poster bed.

I stood there for a long time beside that table, feeling like the oak shattered after the lightning. Against my enemies I stood defenseless and alone. None with any influence would bestir themselves to help me. I knew better than to believe Edward that he would save me. Verily, I would not risk a penny bet on his succeeding!