The Confession of Piers Gaveston (8 page)

After the fine white linen nightshirt was slipped over my head Edward stepped forward and grasped my shoulders. “You are mine!” he said and kissed me hard upon the mouth. “Lest you forget!” he added as he reluctantly released me. It was fortunate indeed that we were thickly screened from the ladies’ sight, though they did wonder why all had of a sudden gone quiet.

When Meg stood in her shift and I in my nightshirt, each on opposite sides of the bed, the door was thrown wide and the Bishop led the other guests inside. He blessed the bed with holy water and then, to much laughter and encouragement, we climbed in. The Bride’s Cup was brought forth, filled with a warm, strengthening caudle of wine, milk, egg yolks, cinnamon, and sugar, and we must each drink from it, passing it between us. “Drink it to the dregs, you will need all the strength it can give you!” someone in the crowd shouted.

Only Edward stood apart, as silent and sullen as a monk. He was in a Hell of his own making and not even all his tears could douse the flames!

As the merry company filed out after drinking one last toast to us, Edward followed with leaden steps and tear-blinded eyes, causing Meg to marvel: “I never knew Uncle Edward to be so maudlin at a wedding before, by his manner one would think it was a funeral instead!”

I could not help myself, I threw back my head and laughed and laughed, and once I started, I just could not stop! I laughed until my sides ached and I was gasping for breath and tears ran down my face.

Meg drew back and cowered nervously with the covers pulled all the way up to her chin, no doubt thinking that she had married a madman. And Edward turned round and stared at me as if I had completely lost my wits, but that only made me laugh more. From the corridor my brother Guillaume wondered what had been in that caudle and bade a servant fetch him some if it would make him even half so merry.

At last, my laughter subsided. I held Edward’s gaze, licked my lips, and proceeded to taunt him further by lifting my nightshirt over my head.

“I always sleep as nature made me!”

Poor Edward, he became so flustered that he bumped into a table, sending golden cups clattering to the floor and rolling every which way.

When I saw the look on his face, so hurt and bewildered, I instantly regretted my teasing. I wanted to jump out of bed and run to him, take him in my arms, and assure him that all would be well. But I didn’t dare. Meg was there and I could sense her unease. Edward would just have to wait. I would make amends later, I promised, and hoped the look I gave him conveyed as much.

With a woebegone countenance and sagging shoulders, Edward departed our bridal chamber. I knew then I would have to go to him, even if it was my wedding night.

A long and awkward silence followed. Meg tensed when I reached out to take her hand. “All’s well, sweeting,” I said gently, “you need never fear me; I promise I will always be kind to you.”

I settled myself comfortably against the pillows and arranged the bedclothes to my liking. If truth be known, I prefer to sleep alone, though I often let Blanche sleep with me, especially during thunderstorms as they always frighten her. I suppose it is because the bedchamber has been the stage upon which I have earned my bread and butter for so long that I welcome the chance to lie solitary with no performance expected of me.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. We needn’t do anything tonight. We can wait until you are ready.”

“No, I …” Meg blushed and lowered her eyes, “I want to.”

I kept my amusement and surprise to myself and drew her gently into my arms.

She really is a pretty child; even though as I write this she is approaching eighteen, I still think of her as a child. At thirteen she had a gawky, coltish body, all legs, tall and too thin, but her amber eyes and wavy waist-length red-gold hair were beautiful, and I found the spray of freckles across her nose delightful.

I let her lie with her head upon my chest and grow calm listening to my heartbeat while I stroked her hair. I was very gentle with her. Indeed, I could not be otherwise. Her shyness touched something deep inside me, and to this day I recall the trembling timidity of her little hands that had not yet learned how to caress, and the curiosity that vied with her modesty. I held her close and kissed away the tears that came with the sharp pain that broke the barrier betwixt maiden and womanhood.

Afterwards, she surprised me by confessing that she had long been in love with me.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” she blushingly confided. “I was seven or eight years old, and I had come to Langley for a visit. I was walking in the orchard with my nurse when I saw you. I had never seen anyone so beautiful and I doubted for a moment that you were of this world. I nearly asked my nurse if you were one of the Faerie Folk. You were all in green and had a white puppy with you. You were wrestling with Uncle Edward under an apple tree. My nurse took my hand and insisted that we turn back; she said we had walked enough for one day. Do you still wrestle with Uncle Edward?”

“Constantly!” I bit my lip to suppress the laughter that threatened to bubble forth.

Later, when Meg was sleeping soundly and the night was still, I stole softly from our bridal bed, found my robe, and went to Edward. And oh what a state I found him in! He was upon me in an instant, regaling me with the horrors of the agonizing hours he had passed without me, how he had wept and rolled upon his bed in hellish torment, biting his nails until they bled, and tearing at his hair, trying yet unable to banish the visions of me doing my husbandly duty with Meg. He was just about to send for the royal physician and have him bring his leeches!

“How could you do this to me?” he wailed.

“But Nedikins,” I said sweetly, “it was you who did this to me, and to Meg; we both know she deserves better!”

Yet it soon became apparent that only I knew that. Edward had no idea what I meant and demanded that I explain. I knew full well the folly of attempting that, so I just smiled and let my robe fall to the floor and pool round my ankles in a silken caress. Edward did not press me for an explanation; he pressed me onto the mattress instead.

Later, as we lolled back against the pillows, it was decided that Meg, being so young and accustomed to country living as she was, should depart forthwith for my castle of Wallingford, the traditional seat of the Earl of Cornwall, and take up her duties there as chatelaine, while I remained with Edward as he had greater need of me.

I was half asleep when he said: “Piers, it occurs to me that you might send Agnes to Wallingford to look after Meg. She is young and still of an age to have a nurse.”

“Then she may choose someone of her own liking, and you may pay her wages since you feel so strongly about it,” I replied, “but Agnes stays with me.”

“You are too familiar with her, Piers!” he accused.

“And you are aloof and kingly in your bearing when you consort with ditch-diggers, thatchers, and bargemen?” I countered.

“That is neither here nor there; when men labor together beneath the hot sun they should be on friendly terms! But you are three-and-twenty and in excellent health, so what need have you of a nurse? You are too affectionate with her, Piers, it is not seemly!”

“Really, Edward!” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Agnes is almost seventy and is a second mother to me, so it is absurd for you to be talking about her as if she were a love-rival! After my mother died she took care of me, and I assure you she was under no obligation to do so, and received no remuneration for it either!”

“Then give her a gift of money and send her to Wallingford to look after your wife!”

“Never!”

“But what if she wanted to go?”

“You would not dare!”

“I am the King of England, Piers, so do not presume to tell me what I will and will not dare!”

“Very well then,” I shrugged, “if the King of England dares to persuade Agnes that she would be happier elsewhere then Perrot will leave Nedikins and go elsewhere too!”

“Oh Perrot!” Edward gasped, clutching his heart as if it ached. “No! Please! You would not leave me! Would you?”

“For those I love, I would dare anything! Just because you are my lover, Edward, does not mean you rule my heart! Love comes in many guises; lust is not the only robe it wears; methinks you have forgotten that! I love you, Edward, and I have forsaken dignity and peace of mind to be with you! This very day I have committed a grievous wrong against an innocent young girl to satisfy a whim of yours, so do not presume to dictate who deserves a place in my heart! Forsooth, you would have me love none but you! You even object to my dog coming into bed with us when it storms, and you know Blanche is terrified of thunder!”

“When you turn away from me to hold her and give the impression of having forgotten all about me, then yes, I most certainly do object! Last time there was a storm you fell asleep with your back to me and that animal in your arms! How do you think that made me feel?”

“And how do you think that made me feel?” I retorted, taking him completely by surprise. “You know I like nothing better than to fall asleep lying on my side with your body curled around mine, and your arms about me; it reminds me of our first night together. Now I ask you, Edward, how do you think I felt? I lay there with my back to you, expecting, wanting, waiting, to feel the warmth of your skin as you nestled against me, and to feel you put your arms about me, and you never did! And there was no reason for you not to; you know Blanche doesn’t bite! I assure you I passed a most miserable night! And thinking of it now, I am made miserable all over again!”

“Oh Perrot!” he cried, instantly contrite. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I always do,” I shrugged with a sigh worthy of a martyr, “so why should this time be different from any other?”

“My darling, you are as tender-hearted and generous as you are beautiful!” he declared and would have taken me in his arms again but I held back and pressed my palm against his chest.

“There will be no more talk of sending Agnes away?”

“Not a word, my love! I want my Perrot to be happy; he is too beautiful to be anything else! And Blanche shall have a new jeweled collar! And what shall my beautiful Perrot have for himself? Name it and it is yours!”

“Your love!” I answered fervently, lying back and reaching up to draw him down to me. But just before his lips met mine I pressed my palm against his chest again and turned my face away. “But first, I would have you send to Agnes; I would like her to brew me a posset of rosemary to settle my nerves; this has been a trying night and they are most sorely jangled.”

Edward looked at me as if he would gladly murder me, but I held his gaze, and in the end he did as I desired, though not without murmuring that the Devil could take my nerves and that I would be the death of him. Methinks Time will prove it to be the other way around.

THE REGENCY
 

Of the many titles and endowments Edward has given me throughout the years I only requested two—the first being to be appointed Regent when he crossed the Channel to wed the French Princess Isabelle. I asked not out of a desire to lord it over all and sundry, but in the hope that if my enemies saw that I would do nothing to take advantage of the power such a position entails then, perhaps, in their eyes I would be redeemed. And if I performed my duties well and displayed good and sound judgment, maybe Edward would realize that there is more to me than what his eyes see.

Of course, Edward readily acquiesced. But all my good intentions came to naught. My Regency only fanned the flames of hate that already surrounded me. Otherwise, it passed uneventfully. It lasted exactly two weeks.

Perhaps “uneventfully” is the wrong choice of word, as something important of a personal rather than a political nature did occur. It was at this time that I began what was, until recently, a longstanding affair with the Earl of Richmond.

I had known the Earl since my early days in the old King’s army. He was a highly valued friend and trusted advisor of the King. He was also a friend of my father, but to me he was merely an acquaintance.

Then, two years after I joined Edward’s household and became his “beloved Perrot,” I was summoned to Winchester to attend my father’s funeral. The Earl of Richmond was there and, after offering his condolences, invited me to dine with him. I eagerly accepted. Richmond was a renowned conversationalist and I looked forward to a pleasant evening with him. It is a sad truth to tell, but with Edward I often felt the lack of stimulating conversation so keenly that it was like wandering in a desert, lost and longing for a taste of cool, sweet water.

John de Bretagne, Earl of Richmond, was a man of intelligence and learning, a seasoned soldier, courtier, and diplomat, famous for his affable charm and ability to get along with everyone. He was the kind of man whose enemies—if he had enemies—liked him. He was exactly the sort of man I always longed to be. He was also very handsome, with a full head of unruly brown hair kissed with golden lights and jolly blue eyes. He was, at the time of my father’s death, five years past thirty.

I spent that afternoon with Edward clinging to me like a drowning man, weeping on my shoulder, and marveling at how stoical I was being in the face of my great loss. In truth, I had hardly known my father. He had been so often away and, even when we served in the army together, we were more like strangers than father and son, though our relations were always cordial. But Edward took my words as further proof of my bravery and declared me “stalwart in the face of grief.”

“Now my Perrot is really and truly an orphan!” he sobbed. “I promise I will always take care of you! Here is my shoulder, do not hold back, drench it with your tears even if they be vast as an ocean and flood this palace and drown everyone in it!”

In the end, I was forced to feign a headache and steal away to lie on my bed and enjoy the blessed peace that ensued as Edward tiptoed around shushing any noisy servants and courtiers nearby lest they disturb “poor Perrot who is prostrate with grief.”

Much to my surprise, Edward did not object to my dining with the Earl of Richmond. On the contrary, he insisted that it would do me good; the Earl had been my father’s friend and Edward was certain it would prove comforting for me to talk to someone who had known him. He even selected my garb to spare my grief-stricken mind the torment of such trifles. Thus, I sallied forth to meet the Earl of Richmond in a tunic of bright purple velvet with long silky fringe that jiggled teasingly about my thighs when I walked and black silk hose embroidered with purple roses along the sides. Agnes deemed it a most provocative ensemble—the tunic was cut daringly short—and professed serious doubts about its suitability for such an occasion. I was inclined to agree, after all, I was supposed to be in mourning. But Edward insisted I was as beautiful as an angel.

“Mayhap he means a fallen angel?” I whispered to Agnes as Edward knelt to smooth the silken fringe over my thighs.

Clearly he had no qualms about the Earl of Richmond seeing me so alluringly arrayed. But since the trail of brokenhearted ladies Richmond left languishing in his wake wherever he went provided fodder for so much gossip, I daresay it never occurred to him that he should be concerned.

We dined in his private apartments, seated at opposite ends of a long table. The Earl dismissed the servers, summoning them by bell only when we had need of them.

Alas, the conversation failed to meet my expectations! Richmond seemed troubled and preoccupied, as if weighty issues preyed upon his mind. Then the conversation changed. His questions were delicately phrased and politely probing as he tried to discern in what direction my desires lay. He had heard rumors, but one seemed to contradict the other. My father used to laugh about my exploits with lusty widows, while my brothers sanctimoniously declared that such antics were all too typical of “mother’s witch-child.” And someone else claimed they had heard me complaining to Agnes that I had gotten a bad bruise on my middle bending over a table with the weight of a certain captain on my back. I was disconcertingly sophisticated for one so young, and I had more clothes than anyone had ever seen without seeming to have the means to afford them. I rode blood horses instead of the usual army nags, and traveled with my own bathtub, two eccentric servants, and was rumored to be a witch. Yet, in spite of all this, I was not effete, and anyone who assumed I was, was quickly disabused of this notion by my sword or fists. And none could say for certain whether it was lads or lasses that I fancied.

His interest surprised me. Richmond was a man renowned for his prowess with the ladies; from serving wenches to countesses they all capitulated to his charms. He was proud of his conquests, and not above carrying on more than one love affair at the same time.

“Damnation!” In frustration Richmond banged his fist upon the table. “This is so unlike me! My mind is all a muddle and I do not know …”

“I do,” I interrupted softly with a look of invitation in my eyes as I raised my goblet and took a sip of wine. “You are trying to seduce me.”

Richmond blinked in surprise and blushed to the roots of his hair.

“Do not be discouraged, you are doing splendidly! Here, allow me to help you; I shall meet you halfway.”

I left my chair and walked half the length of the long table then paused and stood expectantly, waiting for him. He came to me and, in a surge of passion, seized hold of me and kissed me hard and long.

Verily, I was overwhelmed by the intensity of it, and by my own emotions; I found myself truly stirred, and to feign desire there was no need.

It occurred to me that I should feel guilty because of Edward, but since he did not know … And did he really need to know? After all, it would only upset him! And Edward is so emotional! Besides, this really had nothing to do with him!

The Earl stepped back and stared at me, startled and amazed.

“Have you no respect for yourself?” he demanded.

Then it was my turn to be startled and amazed; this is not how my lovers usually respond to our first kiss.

“You’re only seventeen, yet you behave like a practiced tart!”

Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrist, dragged me to his chair, sat down, put me over his knees, and spanked me. Hard! And this was no amorous love-play; I would have the bruises to show for it!

When he was done he took me by my collar, dragged me out the door and all the way back to my room. To my immense relief, Edward was not waiting for me, only Agnes.

“This child is up far past his bedtime, Madame,” he curtly informed her, “see that he retires at once! He is not yet ready to sit at table with his elders!” And with that he left us, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m not a child!” I shouted after him. “I’m almost eighteen!”

“Child, what ails the Earl of Richmond?” Agnes asked in wide-eyed amazement.

“He made advances to me, and when I responded he became angry and … spanked me!”

“Spanked you?” Agnes asked incredulously. “Do you mean a proper spanking?”

“I thought it most improper, but yes, it was what would be called a proper spanking. It was certainly not done in play! How dare he? I’ve never been spanked in my life!”

“Well of course not!” Agnes exclaimed. “Your lady-mother would never have sanctioned it even if it had ever occurred to me!”

“And to tell you to put me to bed as if I were a child of five!” I fumed.

“Naturally, you may stay up as late as you like, my sweet,” Agnes said soothingly. “Come sit by the fire now and try to calm yourself.”

“I can’t sit down!” I responded petulantly.

“Oh the brute! The savage monster!” Agnes cried, taking me in her arms and hugging me tight. “To raise his hand against my darling!”

It would be years before either of us forgave the Earl of Richmond for that spanking, or the attending difficulties it caused. I had to explain the bruises to Edward, and believe me, it was no easy task! I told him that in my grief for my late father my tear-blinded eyes had caused me to misjudge my distance to a chair and I had missed the seat and fallen onto the floor. When Edward replied that I must have fallen very hard indeed to account for such bruises, I told him that if he really loved me he would never have brought me to a place with such hard floors in my grief-stricken condition and retreated behind my locked door. Edward spent the rest of the day lamenting his thoughtlessness and insensitivity while I played cards with Agnes and Dragon until I decided to forgive him.

Therefore, it was a great surprise when, six years later, the Earl of Richmond sought me out the very day Edward departed for France and asked me to dine with him.

“Are you going to spank me again?” I asked.

“You are no longer a child, so do not be childish and hold a grudge! Say that you forgive me and that you will dine with me tonight. His Majesty says you are as generous as you are beautiful!” Confusion flitted across his features when, at these words, I began to laugh.

When he left my bedchamber that morning Edward’s opinion of my generosity had not been very great. But it was not my fault! He had kept me up far past midnight, and then to shake me awake at dawn just to tell me that he had lost his shoe when I was sleeping so soundly … it was most unkind! Edward is the King of England and if he cannot find one misplaced shoe which he knows is somewhere in a single locked room then no wonder his subjects have no confidence in him! I burrowed deeper into the warm bed, but Edward would not let me be. He shook my shoulder again. “Piers, Blanche has taken my shoe and run under the bed with it!”

It was a cold morning and I was not inclined to stir, so I yawned and said: “Surely you have others!” and went back to sleep.

“I do not know why you are laughing, but it is music to my ears!” Richmond ardently declared. “Please, say you will have dinner with me!”

“And what of you, My Lord?” I asked. “Have you forgiven yourself? Methinks you were angry that night, and not only with ‘the practiced tart of seventeen.’”

“I was angry because I desired you,” he admitted. “All my life I have been a devout admirer of the fairer sex, and then to suddenly discover that I desired you … Can you even imagine my horror, my shame? Yet try as I might—and I have spent these six years trying—my desire for you lives on. Now please, punish me no more, Piers, and say you will have dinner with me! Or must I beg you on my knees?”

“Very well, My Lord,” I sighed with a wave of my hand both magnanimous and grand. “If you insist, then yes, I will have dinner with you tonight.”

This time our dinner was a much more convivial affair. Our conversation was lively and free, and he bade me call him by his given name—John. And afterwards, this time it was he who stood and walked half the table’s length, paused, held out his hand to me, and asked: “Will you meet me halfway?”

And I did. The kiss that followed was even better than our first. And then, instead of dragging me over to his chair and spanking me, he took me by surprise in an altogether different fashion. He stooped and, before I knew what was happening, had slung me over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He carried me into his bedchamber, dumped me on the bed, and kicked the door shut with his heel. It was one of the most interesting nights of my life!

Maybe I should have felt guilty about going into another’s bed when Edward had scarcely quit the country, but it would be a lie if I said I did. I have been untrue with many while he was in England or even under the same roof, so why should I regret dallying in his absence? Richmond offered me something Edward could not give me, so I took it; people generally do take what they are offered.

As my Regency neared its end, and Edward’s return was imminent, we decided that we did not want our affair to end, so it didn’t. Of course, I explained everything to Edward, how in my eagerness to do well as Regent I had sought the advice of the Earl of Richmond whom I had always respected and admired. With a knowing smile, Edward said he had known all along that the Earl would be as a second father to me. This remark gave birth to a private jest; henceforth in our letters John and I would always address one another as “Father” and “Son.”

Incredibly, there has never been a whisper of gossip about me and the Earl of Richmond. In the eyes of the world we are exactly what we seem: two friends, one considerably older than the other, who are like father and son. John and I have deceived everyone; while Edward and I fool no one, for no one is fool enough to believe our love is brotherly.