Georgette Heyer by My Lord John Page A

disturbing. John’s nights were witch-ridden, not because he cared whether Arundel lived or died, but because Father, and Bel sire, and Cousin Richard were all demeaning themselves in a way that made them seem like kindless strangers. Arundel was well liked by the citizens of London, and when he was hailed before his judges the King’s Cheshiremen had to draw their bows on an angry mob. Bel sire, presiding at the trial, and Father, amongst my lord’s peers, had each of them flung fierce words at Arundel, who stood proudly arrayed in scarlet before them, and threw back word for word. He relied for his defence on the pardon granted him years before; and when Bel sire said: ‘The faithful Commons have revoked it, villain!’ he answered, swift as the thrust of his dagger: ‘The faithful Commons are not here!’
    There was never any hope for him. He was condemned to die a traitor’s death – commuted, of course, to plain heading – and was led out at once. He was executed on Tower Hill, and he made a good end. Some said that his son-in-law, Nottingham, bound his eyes, but that was untrue: the Earl Marshal raised no hand to save him, but he was not present at his passing. Delicacy may have kept him away; it did not stop him snatching at the dead Arundel’s possessions as soon as the breath was out of his body. He and the Hollands picked over the bones between them, the Earl of Huntingdon obtaining the wardship of Arundel’s children, young Thomas Fitzalan and his sister Margaret.
    Hard upon the heels of Arundel’s death came the arraignment of my lords of Warwick and Cobham. This, thought John, was the worst of all, for although my lord Cobham, eighty years old and as brisk as a bee, cheerfully defied his judges, Warwick cast himself at the King’s feet, weeping, and imploring mercy. The King banished him and old Cobham to the Isle of Man, and confiscated their estates. Never had John been so glad to be at Framlingham, where no chance could bring him face to face with Richard Beauchamp! It was importable to picture Richard’s humiliation: had it been Father who had so abased himself could he, or Harry, or Thomas have met the eyes of any man again?
    On the day of Arundel’s heading, my lord of Nottingham, Captain of Calais, was ordered to bring the Duke of Gloucester before the Parliament. He answered that my lord Duke had died at Calais, of an accesse; but he was able to present to the King my lord’s confession of his guilt, made by him to Sir William Rickhill, a justice of the Common Pleas, who had been transported to Calais to receive it. The confession was read in Parliament, but Sir William was not called upon to give his evidence. My lord Duke was pronounced to have been guilty of treason; his estates were confiscated; his lady fled to sanctuary with her daughters; and the King took young Humfrey of Gloucester into his Household.
    Archbishop Arundel was also impeached; and when he would have replied to the charges brought against him, the King hushed him. The King told him privately that it would be well for him to leave the country for a space; and when the Archbishop replied that where he had been born he would also die Richard soothed him, promising that while he lived no other prelate should sit on the archiepiscopal throne. Arundel, knowing that sentence of banishment was being prepared, allowed his haughty temper to guide him; and on the eve of his departure for Rome sought an interview with his liege-lord, and set him upon the hone. It was whispered behind the hand at Westminster that my lord Archbishop addressed the King for half an hour without once checking for a word. He swept out of the chamber without giving the King time to make an answer. He betook himself to Pope Boniface, but the Holy Father had his own troubles, and however much he might sympathise with his austere son he was not in a position to make an enemy of any Christian monarch. King Richard supported Rome, but he seemed to be a wayward