Michael JECKS - The Oath

‘I never want to see that place again,’ his wife breathed.

Simon was not surprised to hear her say so. They had both been shocked by the sudden explosion of violence as the King fled his capital and the Queen approached.

‘Nor me, neither,’ he said. ‘Nor Westminster.’

In the last months he had been forced to travel here too often, mostly supporting his friend Sir Baldwin, but also on the King’s own business. This last time, he and Baldwin had witnessed the hideous slaying of so many people, including their good friends… but he wouldn’t dwell on it. He would have gone to their rescue, but luckily Baldwin had stopped him. There was no courage or cowardice involved. It was simple mathematics: there were so many men in the crowd that anyone attempting to divert them from their prey would himself become the target of their uncontrollable rage and immediately be killed.

‘We shall soon be home,’ he said. ‘A week, no more, and we’ll be away from all this.’

‘I hope so,’ his wife said.

He had fallen in love with his Meg the first time they had met. She was tall, slender, and blonde as a ripe cornseed, while he was heavier, squarer of feature. He hadn’t expected to be able to win her heart, but she had succumbed to his charm, and they had soon been married.

‘Don’t suppose it’s time for lunch yet?’

This was Rob, a whining, malcontented lad whom Simon had acquired when he was Keeper of the Port at Dartmouth under Abbot Champeaux at Tavistock. Such a short while ago, that seemed, and yet so much had changed. The Abbot had died, the post at the port was taken from Simon while the Brothers at Tavistock bickered over who should take the reins of power, Simon’s own home had been stolen from him by the Despenser, and now he had only his farm for his livelihood. Yes, much had changed.

‘Shut up, boy!’ Hugh, Simon’s servant, snapped.

‘Are you sure it will take a week to get home?’ Margaret asked.

‘I am afraid so,’ Simon said.

‘A whole week of that fellow complaining,’ Margaret said wonderingly. She knew her man too well, and his concerns were apparent to her now. He was worried about their son, Peterkin. She hugged her son to her belly. Peterkin was already yawning, and while he was safe enough here, she didn’t want to drop him. The boy was not yet four years old, and very precious to them both. He was their second son – their first-born son died when only a baby, of some foul wasting disease that took him gradually over several days – and both were ever wary of danger to this, their second. Meg had suffered miscarriages and had fallen pregnant only after many attempts, which made Peterkin still more important to them both.

‘He may improve,’ Simon said, glancing at Rob without enthusiasm.

Margaret nodded. ‘A week… I had not realised it was so far.’

‘When we came from Porchester, that was a shorter distance,’ Simon agreed. They had been forced to stay at the coastal town for some time, helping search for spies, whose messages were rumoured to be sent by ships. The King had ordered that all men with experience in such matters should monitor all shipping and capture the letters. As Simon had said, it was about as effective as searching for a needle in a field of corn. An utter waste, in fact, of his time.

‘I believe that as the crow flies it is some seventy leagues,’ [18] There were three miles to a league, so two hundred and ten miles. he said, peering ahead. ‘We should be home again in a little over five days, with fortune.’

They had asked directions as they left Farnham, where they halted to buy provisions, and were told to find their way to Winchester, and thence to continue west.

‘Are we likely to be waylaid?’ his wife asked in a lower voice.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, and grinned at her. ‘And the Queen’s riding north of us.’

‘We hope.’

‘The King’s been gone for two weeks,’ Simon said. ‘He’s probably in Wales by now.’

‘Why would he go there?’

Simon shrugged. ‘From his point of view, he needs friends. He hasn’t many, but at least Despenser is still with him, and Despenser owns the whole of South Wales. It’s his power base, so I suppose the King thought it would be the best place to install himself. From one of the great castles he can begin to form a host so he can stand up to his wife and son.’

‘What a terrible position,’ Margaret murmured, pulling her cloak about her shoulders and tightening her grip on her son. ‘To know he has the enmity of his wife and child.’

‘He should have kept closer to them,’ Simon said without sympathy. ‘It was his choice to ignore them and turn to Despenser in their place.’

Margaret nodded, but her thoughts were far from the King and his wife.

Simon cast an eye at her. ‘You are thinking of Edith, aren’t you?’

Their daughter Edith had married only the last year, and had given birth to her first child, but before the birth, her father-in-law became estranged from Simon. The Despenser had decided to make use of Edith and her new husband in an attempt to force Simon to his will, and as a result the newly-weds had been separated and forced to suffer greatly. Edith’s father-in-law swore after that that his son would have nothing to do with Simon and his family, and that if Edith wanted to maintain her marriage, she must renounce her father and mother, and agree never to see them again. It was a terrible act, and one that made Margaret and Simon desperately sad, for they had not been able to see their grandson. The only contact they had was through Baldwin’s wife, who managed to keep in touch with the girl.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Simon said.

‘Yes,’ Margaret said, but without conviction. There was no telling how their daughter might be. Not while they could not speak to her.

Third Sunday after the Feast of St Michael [19] 19 October 1326

Bristol Castle

Sir Laurence left the pile of requisitions and other papers with his clerk David, and walked out to the battlements, as was his wont, checking that the men on the ramparts were awake and alert, seeing for himself what the mood of the city below was, and glancing about the castle’s inner ward as he walked. Only out here in the open air, did he feel a man again. He was not suited to dealing with clerks and papers.

It was one of the regrets of his life that he must now subject himself to this office incarceration each day. Staring out over the city, he felt the resentment of a prisoner. This castle might be a glorious fortress, and the city might be his favourite in the kingdom, but when a man was effectively tied to them, it took the savour from both. He gazed longingly out to the east, over the woods and fields. The trees of the ancient woodlands and coppices rose high, while the cattle in the pastures moved sluggishly in the cold morning air, and he felt envious of those men out there now, peasants with their billhooks ready to attack the trees in the coppices, preparing to go hedgelaying, or merely running or riding for the pleasure of it.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself on horseback again, the wind in his face freezing his shaven cheeks, his hair flying behind him, the smell of sweating horse in his nostrils as he bent down to hurtle all the faster along the roads…

He opened his eyes as he heard footsteps, and saw his porter hurrying along the walkway towards him.

‘Yes?’ he said testily.

‘Woman to see you, Sir Laurence.’

Near Amesbury

They had started off in good spirits, but by noon it seemed the day was to end in disaster for Simon and his wife.