Harlot Queen by Hilda Lewis Page B

he’d expected that; they hadn’t lost much time about it!
    ‘All such customs shall, in future, be paid straight into the Exchequer and a sufficient allowance made the King.’
    Sufficient? What was sufficient? Who was to judge? On and on the indictment; on and on the restrictions to cage a free, crowned King.
    The King must not leave the realm without consent of his Parliament; without that consent he must not go to war…
    The King must no longer choose his own officials, great or small; appointments both in the royal household and in the state to be made by the barons in Parliament. All present appointments—and, in particular, Keeper to the Wardrobe—must be reviewed. Every official high or low, sheriffs, magistrates and judges must take the oath to observe the Ordinances.
    He listened; he listened. They lied in their throats. He was the King to reward, to appoint his household officers, and his officers of State; to elect his judges and sheriffs were his inalienable rights. To make war as he chose—not that he ever would choose—was his inalienable right. But for all that he’d bargain with them, give up rights and freedoms so he could save Piers.
    They had made an end of speaking; they were waiting for his reply. He rose in his place.
    ‘My lords, those things I have done are within the King’s rights; and have been his rights from immemorial time. Yet time moves on and makes his changes. To these Ordinances I will consent; but upon one condition. And one only. You shall make null and void the sentence you have passed upon my lord earl of Cornwall, restoring to him every honour, land and due.’
    He saw by their faces they were going to refuse: he lost his head entirely. He burst into a frenzy of speech. Pardon Gaveston and he’d sign anything; anything at all. If not—then nothing, nothing, nothing!
    And still they sat, dark faces of stone.
    Lancaster came carrying the parchment, carrying the quill. The King dashed it aside; in direst grief flung himself out. They hated Piers, all, all! And the wife that should give a man comfort—she was the bitterest hater of them all! That he had given her cause, and cause enough, he did not consider. Suddenly he remembered one person’s kindness, one person’s truth.
    Into Queen Margaret’s closet he burst distraught.
    ‘Their demands—endless, endless!’ He threw out shaking hands.
    She nodded, grave. Of course endless; like his abuses, endless .
    ‘It is not the law they seek to change, but me, me the King. Nor is it the people they mean to better, but themselves, only themselves. These Lords Ordainers !’ He was bitter with contempt.
    She thought there was some truth there. The barons had much right on their side but would they use it rightly? They were, she had long thought it, looking less to the welfare of the country than to the increase of their own power.
    ‘Me and my household censured! And first and foremost—Piers!’ He leads me into evil ways, if you please! What am I—a child? As for evil ways! They should talk! There’s more than one of these same loud-mouthed bullies has his pretty chamber-boy. But let them burst for all I care. Piers and I—we’re not the public business; we’re our own private business!’
    ‘The King has no private business.’ And would he never learn, this foolish, headstrong, beloved stepson of hers? She hesitated; she went steadily on. ‘Indeed, sir, this business between you and Gaveston is very much public business. It concerns the Queen… and the lack of an heir.’
    This he would have taken from no-one else; yet furious as he was, bitter and harassed, still he knew her for his friend.
    ‘You must expect some bitterness against him on that score alone; but there are other accounts, also!’ She grieved to add to his hurt; yet she must spare him nothing to make him see more justly and so save him. ‘They say Gaveston lays hands upon the royal treasure—and God knows we’re poor enough! They say he’s