‘By God, Warwick,’ cried Lancaster. ‘ Have you heard the news?’

‘Nay, my lord, and if your looks express your feelings, I fear the worst.’

‘He is back. That low-born traitor to the realm, the King’s evil-genius.’

‘Gaveston?’

‘Who else? By God, we should have had his head were he left in banishment.’

‘I think that the King’s father would not have said nay to such an act. Had he thought his son would break his word to him, Gaveston would not have lived to bring trouble back to our country. But ‘tis no use brooding on what might have been. He’s with the King, I’ll swear.’

‘Has been with him since the moment of his return. They’ll not be parted. It sickens me to see him there. The King will have him at his side, at his table, in his bed. He swears he’ll never let him go again.’

‘The King will have to learn that he rules by the will of barons. Even his great grandfather must have learned that lesson in the end.’

‘I see trouble, Warwick.’

‘Where Gaveston is, there will be trouble. So it was when the King was but his father’s heir. But Edward is King now. The people will support him― for a time.’

‘You mean we must do nothing to bring about Gaveston’s banishment?’

‘I think we should tread warily. Let us see what comes from his return. The King dotes on him and the people are with the King. They always are in a new reign. It seems likely that Gaveston will make such great demands and Edward doubtless grant them that the people will see for themselves what a menace this man is. They will not like the relationship between them. So what we must do at this time, my friend, is wait.’

Lancaster was disappointed. He wanted immediate action. He was noted for his impulsiveness and he was not an especially wise man. But for the fact that he was the grandson of a king, he would have been insignificant, so reasoned Warwick.

So he was eager to impress on Lancaster that they must act with care. That the new King was self-willed was obvious, that he had perverted sexual tastes was another— well he was not the first king to have been afflicted in that way.

He could be a good king for all that. Edward was young. He had much to learn.

It was the task of his barons, who were eager to see peace and prosperity in the country, to bring him to understanding of his responsibilities.

‘So Gaveston is back,’ he mused, ‘though the late King banished him. We must accept that.’

‘Aye!’ cried Lancaster, ‘and the late King advised us and his son never to have him back.’

‘Young Edward is the ruler now, my lord. And he has commanded Gaveston to return.’

‘That he may shower gifts on him― lands, possessions, titles― It is going to be Henry the Third with his extravagant friends soaking up the country’s life blood all over again.’

‘They were his wife’s relations, and they were numerous. This is the King’s lover. Listen Lancaster, Edward must be married without delay. He recognizes the necessity to do so, I’ll swear. He has to give us an heir or two and they say young Isabella is something of a siren. Nay, my lord, let us do nothing rash. We will acquaint the leading barons of Gaveston’s return. We will have them on the alert, shall we say? We have to crown the King and when he is married to this beautiful girl― Oh come, Lancaster. He is young yet. His father was stern with him. He is now free. Let us give him a beautiful wife and a chance. It may well be that Gaveston will mean nothing to him within a few months.’

‘I think you take too facile a view of this, Warwick.’

‘That may well be. But there is little we can do as yet. He has sent for Gaveston and Gaveston has returned. Let us get the coronation over and the King married and then if―’

‘Yes,’ said Lancaster. ‘And then?’

‘Then, my lord, if Gaveston is a danger to the King and the country, we must find some means of disposing of him.’

Lancaster looked into the shrewd dark-skinned face of the Earl and nodded.


* * *

‘Perrot, they say I must marry and soon.’

They were walking in the gardens arm in arm. They had not been out of each other’s company since Gaveston’s return.

‘I know it. They seek to turn you away from me.’

‘Fools! It would be easier to conquer Scotland than do that.’

‘I had hoped that it would be an impossible task.’

‘Absolutely impossible, dear Gaveston.’

‘Well, you must perforce marry, get the wench with child and do your duty to your crown.’

‘Well, I will do it for them.’

‘They say she is a beautiful girl.’

‘They say― they say. As you once said before, she is the daughter of the King of France. My stepmother remembered her. Isabella was but a baby when Marguerite left France to marry my father. There is a tradition of beauty in that family. Her father is Philip le Beu and her aunt was so noted for her charms that my father dearly wanted to marry her and he got her sister, my stepmother, instead. Marguerite is not uncomely. Yes, I do think I shall have a beautiful wife.’

Gaveston pouted. ‘You talk thus to plague me.’

‘Never, Perrot. She will mean nothing to me. But I am the King and there certain duties I must submit to.’

‘Hateful duties.’

‘Dear Perrot, I know your feelings well. Do not imagine that I shall not compensate you. I have news for you. You will not long be plain Piers Gaveston, you know. What would you say to an earldom?’

‘I should say my gracious thanks, my lord; and my heart would rejoice― not in the earldom― others have those― but in the love of my lord which is beyond price, beyond assessment and means more to me than any titles or lands.’

‘It shall be an outward sign of my devotion, dearest brother.’

‘My brother indeed.’

When they were young in the royal schoolroom where Edward’s father had put young Piers out of gratitude to the boy’s father who had performed a service for him— they had instant liking to each other. That attraction had never wavered and the first thing of consequence Edward his young friend had been, ‘You are my brother.’

From then on they called each other ‘brother’ and still did so in of nostalgic tenderness.

‘Listen, Perrot. What earldom do you think? Nay, I’ll tell you. You are to be the Earl of Cornwall.’

Even Gaveston, growing accustomed to lavish gifts, could not believe his ears.

‘Cornwall! That is a royal title!’

‘Well, Perrot, do you not like it?’

‘My lord, what can I say?’

‘You can say you believe now that your King loves you. Come my lord earl, let us discover what manors, castles and lands are attached to your new title.’

Gaveston felt giddy with power. He was realizing that there need be no end to his good fortune. Edward was so besottedly in love with him that there was nothing he could not have. He could be King— for Edward would do anything to please him. The old barons would not like it. He would have to watch them.

Old fools most of them; they would have to learn that Gaveston could outwit them— with the King beside him. Edward would be called the King, but it would be Gaveston who would rule.

They had always resented him in the royal household― those scions of noble families. They had sneered at his low birth. He was the son of a Gascon knight whereas many them considered themselves as royal as the King. Some of them had in fact been royal. He had always felt a certain rapport with Edward’s sister Joanna— alas now dead. She had had an adventurous spirit and an eye for an attractive man. Not that Gaveston was her kind, but she appreciated his cleverness She herself had married Ralph Monthermer— one of the handsomest men at court and of humble birth— in spite the King’s wrath which she had had to face afterwards. So she could not very well despise his low birth. Nor to do her justice had she shown that she was aware of it. She had been a good companion until her sudden death— by far the most friendly towards him of any member of the royal family.

Now he was to be Earl of Cornwall. He was equal with any of them.

‘And, Perrot,’ went on the King, ‘as I am to have a bride so shall you.’

‘A bride, Edward. You are jesting.’

‘Oh no, sweet friend. Indeed I am not. Only the most noble bride is good enough for my Perrot so whom do you think have chosen for you?’

‘Tell me.’

‘Joanna’s girl— Margaret de Clare.’ Edward stood back a little to see the effect on his friend. Gaveston found it hard to hide the upsurge of delight. The girl was one of the richest in the country— and with strong royal connections too, since she was the King’s niece. This was indeed favour.

‘Well,’ went Edward, ‘what say you, Perrot?’

‘I would say that you are determined to honour me, sweet lord. I have no wish to take a wife but who could say no to being connected to his royal lord through marriage.’

‘She is young and you need see little of her. But she will bring you much wealth. I said to myself: Hugh le Despenser has her sister Eleanor, so my Perrot shall have Margaret. I long to tell the child of her good fortune.’

‘Let us hope she will consider it such.’

‘How could she fail to admire you? And if she is a dutiful niece she will love one whom her lord uncle and King cherishes.’

Gaveston was still stunned. He had expected favour but not quite as strong as this. Edward was certainly impulsive. There was no doubt that the barons would soon be made aware of his intentions, and there would be stern criticism.

‘We must make immediate plans for your marriage,’ went on the King. ‘I want it performed without delay, before our enemies can raise their objections.’

‘My clever friend thinks of everything.’

‘Where your welfare is concerned, Perrot, indeed I do.’

It was such pleasure to be together. They laughed immoderately at the effect his announcement was going to have on the ponderous barons..

Perrot amused himself by giving them nicknames. Thomas Lancaster, for whom he had the utmost contempt, was the Fiddler.

‘He should have been a fiddler,’ commented Gaveston. ‘Yes, he would have done very well fiddling his tunes. He could have played at country fairs. The rustics would have loved him.’

‘Perrot, you are talking of my cousin.’

‘It was a joke of the Almighty mayhap. Or perhaps He was saving up all perfections for the King’s son and so had none to spare for others. The one we have most to fear is the black hound of Arden. You know who I mean.’

‘I’ll guess Warwick.’

Gaveston nodded. ‘And as for old Burst Belly he counts not at all.’

‘You mean Lincoln. Oh, Perrot, you will kill me with laughing! Yes, if he gets much bigger he will certainly burst.’

It did him good to hear these mighty barons ridiculed. He could be afraid of the Earls of Lancaster and Lincoln— but not when he thought of them as Fiddler and Burst Belly.

‘I will tell you this, Edward,’ went on Gaveston, ‘these men are not one twentieth as valiant or as significant as they believe themselves to be. And we shall prove this to them.’

‘How?’ asked Edward.

‘We will begin by giving a tournament. I’ll gather together the best knights of France and England. All young― unknown. I can bring them here. Then we shall see these mighty brought low. How is that for a start?’

‘A tournament. I shall enjoy that. And you will be the finest of them all.’

‘Bless you, sweet friend. It is an honour I shall share with you.’

They laughed together, making plans. Everything, thought Edward, becomes interesting and amusing when Perrot is here.


* * *

On a cold October day the funeral of the King took place and his body was laid in the tomb prepared for him in Westminster Abbey. In the streets the people talked of his greatness but they were already thinking of the new reign.

Young Edward’s flaxen good looks so like his father’s endeared him to them but they were hearing whispers of the favorite Gaveston― against whom the barons were murmuring― and the first breath of uneasiness was beginning to touch them. There had never been scandal about the dead King; he had been an example to all fathers and husbands and as such had had a good effect on the country.

‘The new King is young, said the women, ‘and very good-looking. He is going to have a wife soon. Then he will settle down.’