The Confession of Piers Gaveston (4 page)

“Snakes and apples, how perfectly apt!” I remarked as I admired the heavy white satin bed curtains richly embroidered with emerald green serpents and apples of ruby red. “Do you think it is an omen, Agnes?” I teased. Looking round, I saw that the whole room was an allegory of temptation, the carvings, tapestries, hangings, and bedclothes all told the tale of Eve being tempted by the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

“Need you even ask, my dear?” she chuckled knowingly.

“Nay,” I smiled and lay back happily, stretching my arms above my head, “I needn’t.”

“You made quite an impression, Child!” she crowed with her green eyes twinkling.

“I always do!” I answered, with laughter in my eyes and bubbling from my lips.

Yet there was a strange sensation in my stomach, not unpleasant or painful at all, but distinctly peculiar, and like nothing I had ever felt before. It was a bit like the gentle fluttering of a butterfly’s wings or a cat rubbing soft against bare ankles, but even these are poor comparisons. I then pictured Prince Edward’s smile, so endearing, eager, childlike, and sincere, and realized that more than one person had left the Great Hall charmed.

COURTSHIP
 

And so I became the Prince’s Favorite, his constant companion, always at his side. We rode together to hawks and hounds, and made merry with music, minstrels, and masques, and rolled the dice till the candles burned out. We romped together, swam, wrestled, and regaled each other with songs, jests, and stories, and played at archery, bowls, bandy-ball, and Hoodman Blind. And I did try to interest Edward in swordplay and jousting, I really did, but he was hopeless in the tiltyard! It was only when I competed in tournaments that he managed to stay awake.

It was inevitable that I should rouse the jealousy of the nobly born boys who coveted the Prince’s favor. They were contemptuous of me, these titled lads with lands and monies to inherit, each one accompanied by a retinue of servants and governed over by a pompous eagle-eyed tutor. “The Gascon,” “The Landless Foreigner,” “The Nobody,” they called me. Their taunting condescension rankled me, but I would never let them see how much they hurt me. Instead, arrogance became my armor and vanity my shield. My tongue was my sword, ever ready with a jest, double-edged; witty on one side, cutting on the other. Yet behind these weapons lurked a sad and lonely boy. And in this, Edward and I were twins.

His had been a lonely childhood, with his father, whom he both respected and feared, so often away waging war on the French, Irish, Welsh, and the endlessly bothersome Scots. And, before she died, his mother, Eleanor of Castile, frequently accompanied the King on his campaigns. His sisters, with the exception of the worldly nun Mary, were married off to forge dynastic alliances. And his brothers were either dead or too young to be suitable companions for him. His life had been spent in splendid isolation, surrounded by servants and sycophants who hoped to find favor in the next reign.

I pitied him, but I held back from telling him about myself. It was not because mystery captivates; my life is not a pretty story, and I feared that if he knew the truth he would despise me. Now, when it is too late, I realize that this was a mistake. My silence allowed Edward to sculpt me to fit his dreams, and by these illusions I also became trapped.

We complemented each other well, despite our differences; we used to say that I was the moon to his sun. And, when we were alone, I tended to forget that my friend would someday be the King of England. It may be presumptuous of me to say this about a royal personage, but Edward was like a brother to me, and I loved him as such. When I was with him during those happy days at Langley, it was as if the years of my childhood that I lost had been blissfully restored to me, only my mother’s loving presence was lacking.

It was not long, however, before a subtle change began to steal like a shadow across our friendship. There were times when I would catch him watching me in a shy yet amorous way. I would emerge dripping, naked, from a swim in the River Gade or look up from a game of cards and find his eyes upon me. Each time he would blush and turn away, crimson-faced, to waylay whoever happened to be nearest and engage them in conversation, his voice stammering and high, while his fingers tugged at the neck of his tunic as if it fit too tight. When we talked he would lean forward in such rapt attention, drinking in my Gascon lilt, that he would topple off the edge of his chair. Other times his eyes would be so intent upon me that he would neglect to watch where he walked and would fall over the furniture or stroll straight into a fish pond.

One day he boldly inquired of me: “Did you hear music when we first met?”

“Yes, My Lord,” I answered, “your musicians were playing in the gallery overhead, and quite well too, if you will permit me to add.”

“Oh yes!” he exclaimed, grinning sheepishly as a flaming scarlet blush suffused his cheeks. Poor Edward, he had forgotten that there had actually been musicians present that day!

Another time, he sought me out in the meadow where I lay under the light of a full moon.

“Piers,” he ventured shyly, “I see you do this often; you steal away to lie beneath the moon. Please tell me why, it worries me; I have heard it said that the moonlight brings madness!”

“The moon is sacred to the Lady, the Goddess,” I explained, “it is Her symbol, and in its light I worship Her and by Her I am blessed. And it also brings me peace.”

Edward gazed back at me, nervous and bewildered.

“I am a witch,” I confided, “as was my mother before me.”

“A Witch!” Edward gasped. “Piers, you must not say such a thing, let alone be such a thing! You could be burned!”

“I was burned.” I sat up on my knees and showed him my hands, extending them palms upward to display the scars, ugly, rough, and red.

Of course, he had noticed them before, but had always refrained from asking how the injury had happened lest it cause me embarrassment or pain.

It was then that I told him about the day they burned my mother.

“Do they hurt?” he asked softly as his fingertips traced lightly over my scars.

“Only in my memory,” I said, starting at the sudden feel of water splashing down onto my palms.

It was the first time anyone had ever wept for “The Witch’s Brat.” Looking back now, I think it was then that I fell in love with him.

Most people will say, and no doubt many will believe, that the sly Gascon saw a chance and seized it. And, given my history, I cannot blame them. But they are mistaken. You have only my word for it, and you may choose not to believe me, but it is the truth, I swear it, I loved Edward before he gave me a single jewel, castle, or sinecure. The day I met him, the lock upon my heart was fatally weakened, and when his tears fell upon my hands the hasp broke and I let him in.

At Christmas, in the cold of winter, our affection grew warmer. It was a night of feasting and revelry, games, dancing, and drinking, and Edward had indulged—nay overindulged—in them all. Indeed, he had upon a dare eaten an entire marzipan Nativity scene all by himself and I fully expected the royal physician to be roused out of bed to tend him during the night.

He found me alone in a small chamber to which I had withdrawn for a moment’s solitude, leaning against the stone windowsill, gazing out at the snow-blanketed land, glowing brightly beneath the moon’s silvery light.

He eyed me appraisingly over the golden rim of the goblet he raised to his lips, admiring my slender, lithesome body luxuriously sheathed in a tunic of wine velvet and matching hose that fit me like a second skin.

Boldly, I met his gaze and held it until, blushing, he looked away and busied himself with the now empty goblet, setting it down upon the nearest table, knocking it over, and fumbling to right it again.

Then, grinning apologetically, he turned back to me and explained: “I’ve drunk so much wine tonight that you’re beginning to look attractive to me.”

“Only just beginning?” I teased, arching my brows.

He lurched towards me, stumbling and swaying.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” he asked.

I tilted my head from side to side, pretending to consider the question.

“This,” I said simply and reached up to cup the back of his neck in my hand and draw his mouth down to mine.

I kissed him full upon the lips. His mouth tasted of wassail and marzipan. Poor Edward, he was too startled to respond, so our first kiss was entirely one-sided.

When I stepped back, arching my brows in a silent “Well?”, Edward toppled to the floor, cushioned by the spice-strewn rushes, overwhelmed, let us say, by drink, for if I claim my charms as the cause, you—whoever you are that read this—will most likely dismiss me as a shameless braggart, conceited, and more than a little in love with myself, if you have not done so already. Therefore, let us say that the wine went straight to poor Nedikins’ head.

I left him lying in a heap of gold-trimmed red velvet, senseless, with his limbs sprawled every which way.

I lingered for a moment in the doorway and looked back over my shoulder.

“Goodnight, my Prince!” I whispered.

CONQUEST
 

And then the unexpected happened, and I was as astounded as if fish had suddenly fallen from the sky; it was not I who seduced Edward—he seduced me!

It was one of those nights when I am condemned to relive my mother’s death in my dreams. I cried out and started awake with my face bathed in tears. Edward heard my cry and came to me, a candle held aloft, casting a golden glow about his anxious face. All tender concern, he eased the velvet robe from his shoulders and slipped into bed beside me, his arms reaching out to hold and comfort me.

I would not have him see my tears and turned quickly onto my side, so that I lay with my back to him. Undaunted, he curled around me, nestling close, and I could feel his linen nightshirt and the strong body beneath it against my naked skin. He murmured soothing words against my neck. A frisson coursed along my spine and I leaned back gratefully into the curve of his body. Soon my lids grew heavy and I drifted into a light, delicious sleep. I felt as if I were floating in warm water. Then the caresses changed and I came fully awake at the feel of Edward’s lips grazing my shoulder and his hand roving over my hip to curl round my manhood. I stiffened; in more ways than one.

“I cannot fight it anymore!” Edward moaned, his breath hot against my neck. “I want, I need, to love you!”

“And I need to be loved,” I said and surrendered, for me it was as simple as that.

A wonderful warmth came to replace the coldness and fill up the emptiness that had been so long inside me. For the first time, I knew passion and surrendered to it gladly.

I awoke smiling the next morning, blushing like a virgin at the memory of the night’s pleasures. Edward! My mind was awhirl with thoughts of him. “Edward loves me!” my heart sang. Like a well-contented cat, I stretched and rolled over to look at the pillow on which his head had lain. And in that instant the smile died upon my lips. My heart lurched, and I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. There, pinned upon the pillow, was a clasp of rubies set in gold as gleaming bright as Edward’s hair. I fell back, heavy as a stone, and lay flat, staring up at the canopy.

“Do you mean to mock me?” I demanded of the snakes and apples embroidered overhead. Did the green silk serpents hiss “Be careful what you wish for lest you get it!”? How cruel of them to remind me when it was already too late! I felt hot and cold at the same time, and I had to close my eyes against the dizziness, and the snakes and apples that had seemingly begun to writhe.

This sparkling clasp pinned upon the pillowslip, was it payment for services rendered? Had I misjudged the situation entirely? By allowing Edward to become my lover had I lost what I valued most of all—my friend?

Agnes came in a little while later and I hastily composed myself. This really would not do! All these maudlin thoughts about love when finding a costly piece of jewelry pinned to one’s pillow is far from an unpleasant way to start the day!

“I enjoyed myself royally!” I announced.

“Oh Child, I’m so happy for you!” Then, she must have sensed something. Her brow furrowed and she reached out and gently tilted my chin up so I would meet her eyes. “You are happy; aren’t you, Child?”

“Of course I am!” I smiled.

Before she could question me further, Edward came bounding in with his fearsome, shaggy-haired wolfhounds. His face wreathed in smiles, he announced that he had come to roust “the lazybones” out of bed as it was far too fine a day to remain inside.

“Come along, Piers!” he urged, “you’re lazing away the best part of the day!”

“Very well, My Lord,” I smiled, stretching and yawning once more, “for you I shall make the effort!” And I kicked the covers down around my feet.

“Piers!” Edward gasped as he sprang forward to quickly draw them back up, covering me to the chin. “Sleep has befuddled your brain; Dame Agnes is present!” he added, darting a meaningful glance towards where she stood beside the fireplace heating water in a small cauldron for my morning ablutions.

“Of course she is! Agnes sees me to bed every night and comes to me every morning when I wake!”

At my words, his frown deepened.

“Forsooth, Edward, it would be ridiculous for me to suddenly be struck shy before Agnes now! Had she a gold coin for every time she has seen me thus she would be the richest woman in the land and live in a palace with a diamond spangled ceiling and ermine carpets! Is that not so, Agnes?”

“Aye, Child,” she nodded, “and emeralds on the walls!”

“In fact,” I continued, “her eyes were the first to see me; she acted as midwife when I was born!”

“Well you are no longer an infant!” Edward informed me. “You are seventeen now, and certain parts of you are considerably larger!”

“Every part of me is larger than it was when I was born, Edward,” I quipped, “including my eyelashes.”

Edward clenched his fists and, as his face turned an alarming shade of red, screamed: “The whole world can gaze upon your eyelashes to their heart’s content, but as for the rest of you …”

“Peace, Edward!” I laughed. “Do not court apoplexy over a trifle!”

“A trifle!” he shouted. “A trifle! You account this a trifle?”

“I do!” I sat up and rebelliously kicked the covers to the floor then stood, gloriously nude, and shook back my hair. “And if you continue to shout and glower at me like a thundercloud then I shall keep to my room all day!”

“Well …” Edward began, relenting slightly.

With a satisfied nod I withdrew behind the ornately carved screen to attend the call of nature. A moment later I peeked round the side and flashed him my most beguiling smile.

“You may bring me my basin of hot water if you like, Nedikins,” I offered, employing the love-name by which he had asked me to call him.

How quickly he rushed to comply! Agnes had to caution him to go slowly lest he spill it. He stood beside me, rapt and worshipful, watching my every move. Suddenly he took the washcloth from me, absently flinging it over his shoulder, over the top of the screen, and maneuvered me so that my back was against the wall. He put his hands on my shoulders and, with an insistent pressure, pushed me down onto my knees.

“Do what you did last night, Perrot,” he said, using the love-name he had given me. “Show me that such bliss does not exist only in the realm of dreams!” As he spoke, he hitched up his tunic and fumbled with his hose.

“Edward …” I began hesitantly.

“Please Perrot!” He grasped the back of my head and urged it forward.

“I live only to serve you, my Prince!” I said tartly and did what he desired.

Edward did not notice my lack of enthusiasm. He got what he wanted and was happy, for him it was as simple as that. But it did not end there. On the contrary, I was to discover that Edward’s newly awakened sensuality was on a par with gluttony. Had he craved food the way he did my body he would have been too immense to move!

Clad in my riding clothes with my face clean-shaven, I hastily ate two spoonfuls of porridge, washed down with a sip of breakfast ale, while Edward looked on impatiently.

“Child, you really must eat more than that!” Agnes protested when I stood up and Edward instantly seized my hand, ready to rush me out the door.

I smiled and came back to take the little oatmeal cake, seasoned with cinnamon and raisins, from the tray. I kissed her cheek and then, settling my plumed cap at a rakish tilt, let Edward lead me to the stables.

Peasants paused to respectfully doff their caps as we flew past, racing across the countryside, with the sheep scattering and bleating before us. It was exhilarating to feel the wind in my hair and the power and speed of my night-black steed, and soon all worrisome thoughts fled, seemingly blown out by the clean country air, and I began to truly enjoy myself.

“I win!” Edward announced, reining in his chestnut stallion and leaping from the saddle.

“I did not know we were racing, My Lord,” I said as I dismounted, “I do not recall your uttering a challenge.”

“It matters not,” Edward said breathlessly, his arm going round my waist as he guided me beneath the spreading branches of a massive oak tree. “Now it is time for me to claim my prize!” He dropped to his knees and pulled me down beside him. “Take down your hose, Piers! Never mind,” he gasped, grappling with my clothes when I did not instantly comply, “I’ll do it for you!”

It was a performance that would be repeated several times before the day was done.

When I returned to my chamber Agnes gave a cry of alarm at my bedraggled appearance. “Sweetheart, what happened to you? Did you take a tumble from your horse?”

I certainly looked as if I had. I was all rumpled, muddy, and grass-stained.

“Nay, from Edward!” I said tartly, tossing aside my cap and sinking down onto the bed. “And more than one; this day I have been tumbled aplenty! And I like it not!” I tugged off my leather boots and flung them at the wall.

“Tell me,” she said gently, sitting down beside me.

“It is different now! He is different now! He cannot keep his hands from me! He says: ‘Why talk at all when there are so many much more interesting uses for our mouths and tongues?’! I’ve had lovers before who were very ardent, but none so voracious as Edward! And if I make my annoyance known he accounts it just a trifle to be smoothed over with kisses! He is not the same sweet boy who wept over my scarred hands, now he is Lust incarnate! And I want him as he was before! That is the Edward I love, not this lusty glutton!” I let my head sink onto her shoulder in despair.

“Indeed, my love, it has gone sour!” Agnes lamented. “I am so sorry, Child, I never thought … He is smitten, to be sure, but …” she shook her head, sighed, and stroked my hair. “Perhaps there is cause to hope; you were Prince Edward’s first, were you not?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“I thought as much. I would have wagered my last coin that he was a virgin. He’s not as worldly as you are, my sweet, it’s all very new to him, and, at the moment, it’s all he craves. But in time … mayhap he will settle and be his old self again?”

“Verily, I hope so!” I cried.

There are few things in life that are said to be everlasting, and hope is reckoned to be one of them, but now, as I write these words, I have long since abandoned it. Edward never did get his fill of me, when last I saw him he was as ardent and insatiable as ever, a glutton feasting at the banquet of my body.

Perhaps it was naïve of me, but I honestly did not know what a transfiguring effect the sexual act can have upon a friendship. It changes everything, like night to day or white to black. Still, I determined to make the best of things.

And yet every morning when I awoke to find a new present pinned upon my pillow—the star sapphire of Saint Dunstan, a magnificent table diamond, a brooch of balas rubies, a black cameo set in a nest of glittering dark garnets, a pair of peridot rings, one set in silver and the other in gold, and countless more—I suffered the same sadness all over again. Disappointment and discontent became my constant companions and, try as I might, never could I elude them.