Michael Jecks - The Bishop Must Die

The two women had exchanged a few words in the last days, and had nodded to each other from a distance, but they were living in different quarters, and Margaret was not keen to wander about the castle grounds while there were so many men in the garrison, so she had not made the effort to seek out Isabella. However, just now any companionship was welcome.

‘Where is the king going?’ she asked.

‘He isn’t going anywhere,’ Isabella said. ‘No, he’s sending money to pay men to fight for him. They say he’s ordered Sir Robert Waterville to gather fifty thousand men to repel the invaders.’

‘I thought he had men there already?’ Margaret said with some confusion. ‘There was talk of a huge number of men — that he was sending them to the coast to stop Mortimer and the queen before they could form a hold on the land.’

‘Is that what you heard?’ Lady Isabella asked. ‘What of your husband?’

‘I don’t think he knows more than that himself,’ Margaret protested. ‘Why? What is happening?’

‘Sir Peregrine has told me what they have been discussing,’ Lady Isabella said. ‘He thinks that the king’s reign could be about to end. There has been no fighting whatever since Queen Isabella landed. She arrived with only some thousand men, they say. The king’s navy did nothing to harry them on their way, and when they landed, no one challenged them. The king’s captain and arrayer for Essex, Norfolk and all about there, made no effort to halt the queen, and Sir Peregrine thinks he has gone to her side, and taken his men with him. And he believes that many others will do the same. There are few who will stand by the king.’

‘Surely there must be enough men who will do their duty and obey their monarch?’ Margaret wondered.

‘Where? All the most loyal have been dispossessed by the king or robbed by Despenser,’ Isabella said harshly. She was staring down at the men by the little landing-stage, and Margaret saw that her eyes were fixed upon Bishop Walter.

Without fanfare, the barge moved slowly away from the fort. There was a drum on board, and the oarsmen began to row to its beat, the great vessel starting its voyage up the river.

‘Where will he go?’ Margaret asked.

‘To Westminster, I think. There he’ll give orders for the country, and collect such of his household as are still loyal.’

‘He looks broken,’ Margaret said.

‘He knows his rule in the country is over,’ Lady Isabella said. ‘He will come back tonight, I suppose, since this is the strongest fortress in his realm. But it will be clear to him that his reign is over. This is the end.’

Outside the Tower of London

Simon, Rob and Hugh watched the barge as it slowly passed by, and Simon was taken by the sudden change in the crowd’s behaviour.

Where before there had been shouting, abuse, waved fists and occasional weapons displayed as men roared their defiance at a king no longer honoured, now there was a funereal silence.

The king and Sir Hugh le Despenser could be seen standing on the barge, amid the wonderful crimson cushions scattered on the benches. Neither sat, but both stared back at the crowds on the shore with a sort of desperation in their faces. Simon actually thought, looking at them, that they both thought they were at real risk of attack from the mob on the shore.

Certainly that was in the mind of some in the crowd, Simon reckoned. But there was an appreciation that if the king were to lose his crown, then their sovereign and protector was gone. And most people knew that when the ruler left, there was no rule. This felt like a city which was about to fall to lunacy and danger for all involved.

Simon had seen enough. ‘Come with me,’ he said tersely, and set off to the gate, but as he did so, he saw that the way was still blocked. The gates were closed, with no guards risking their lives by standing beyond them, and even as he watched, he saw a stone lobbed towards the gates. It struck with a dull, echoing thud that seemed to reverberate around inside the Middle Tower, but even that didn’t seem to rouse the crowd from its torpor. However, the sight of a bailiff walking up to the gate and tapping to ask to be allowed inside, might be enough to do just that, and Simon wanted no part of it.

‘Can’t get in there,’ Hugh summarised succinctly.

‘Wonderful! Then how do we get into the castle, if we cannot go in by the gate?’ Simon said curtly, still thinking.

‘Like the king,’ his servant grunted.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘River’s there, isn’t it?’

Simon glared, and then turned about. ‘Then we’ll go to Billingesgate and see whether we can get a ride,’ he said, furious with himself that he hadn’t seen the obvious way in.

‘Master, what’s going to happen now?’ Hugh asked as they trudged along the lane.

‘I don’t know, Hugh. The people here seem more than happy to let the city fall apart. I haven’t seen much in the way of bailiffs or sheriff’s men to stop the mob taking over.’

‘It’s a long ride home,’ Hugh commented.

‘I don’t think it’s a good time to attempt it, either,’ Simon said. ‘Not with the king trying to raise an army west of the city, and the queen’s forces about to arrive.’

‘You think they are coming here?’

‘I don’t reckon the king would have been running quite so quickly unless he was sure of it,’ Simon said. ‘If Edward reckoned he could protect the city, he’d have remained here. He provisioned the Tower against a siege for the full garrison — and that means weeks of food. He must have felt that the risk was there for him to be bottled up inside, and that no one would come to protect him.’

Hugh pulled a face. He looked up at the sky, checking the weather as a good shepherd always would, then glanced around at the street. ‘Best get on, then,’ he said. ‘Rob, move yourself, boy!’

‘You’re always ordering me about,’ the boy complained.

‘You’ll get a kick up your backside if you start that again,’ Hugh said imperturbably.

Simon smiled through his concern. It was good to know that, no matter what else happened, these two would carry on bickering.

It was worrying that the king had fled though. There was nothing in his appearance that spoke of a man making a short journey, only to return with a new host. Rather, it was the broken figure of one who radiated failure, a king who was running into exile.

And that meant that those who remained in his service would find life rather too exciting for their taste. The immediate problems were to get back inside and ensure that Meg and Perkin were safe, then to see what, with Baldwin, might be done to secure their escape from the Tower, and from London itself. Perhaps it would be possible to ride from the city and make their way to Devon by degrees. He didn’t like to think of his daughter in Exeter, all alone but for her husband and father.

But problems of this nature were more easily dealt with one at a time. The first was how to return to the castle, and this was soon resolved. While they stood on the wharf, staring out at the grey river, Simon saw a rowing boat making its way towards them. It drew level, and as the man grasped a rope and lashed it to an iron ring in the stonework, Simon accosted him. ‘Would you take us a little way down the river? I’ll pay for it.’

‘You three? Where you want to go?’

‘Let us in, and we’ll point it out,’ Simon said. ‘We’re not from around here.’

‘I can hear that,’ the rower said suspiciously, but his face lit up at the sight of the coins in Simon’s hand, and any reservations he might have felt seemed to dissipate. Soon they had all clambered aboard, and the little craft was moving out into the middle of the waters to miss a ship coming into the quay.