Michael JECKS - The Oath

‘My lord, there is more,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘As we left, the city of Bristol was being surrounded. I fear that…’

‘It is besieged, I know,’ the King interrupted. He took a deep breath. ‘I need more men to go and lift the siege.’

‘Sire, I am afraid it is too late for that. The siege has ended. The city capitulated.’

King Edward slowly turned to stare at him. ‘What? No, Bristol would not surrender. The walls are strong, the city is powerful…’

‘It is true, my lord,’ Sir Ralph said, and brought forward the messengers.

Robert Vyke felt overawed as he cast a look at all the great men in this chamber. He was one among three messengers here, and had been told to wait until he was called inside. Seeing the King, he fell to his knees. ‘Your Majesty, I am sorry to bring such news. I have to tell you that the good Earl Hugh of Winchester arrived, but he could not hold the city for long.’

‘Had the city fallen when you left?’ Despenser demanded.

‘No.’

Despenser gave a satisfied nod. ‘Then what of the castle?’

It was another messenger who answered now. ‘Sire, the city had fallen when I left it two days ago. There was a traitor in the castle who ran to open the city gates to the Queen and Sir Roger Mortimer. They rode into the city without opposition. It was shortly after that, that Sir Laurence Ashby asked that I ride to you to warn you. He said that the castle would likely not be able to fight on.’

‘I too fear that the castle itself cannot survive long with the city in Mortimer’s hands,’ Sir Ralph said.

‘Why?’ Despenser shot out. ‘There are sufficient men there to protect it, and they should have been provisioned well. Why wouldn’t they be able to defend the castle? It was held before, when the city rebelled against the King ten years ago.’

‘Sir Hugh, when the castle was last attacked, it survived a long while. But then there was a strong garrison inside, and they knew that the posse comitatus was outside the city. They had a clear view of their rescuers. This time, they know that the Queen is all-powerful. How can even your father maintain the fighting spirit of the men there, when they know that the King has no force with him. How can they hope to be relieved? Without that hope, there can be no commitment to holding on to the castle. Why would men risk their lives for a vain hope?’

‘ No . They can’t have given up.’ Despenser had gone even paler of hue. ‘My father’s there, he’ll put some spirit into them. The garrison won’t submit so easily with him in charge. He’s a good motivator. Knows his men.’

‘Sir Hugh, I believe that the city must fall before any form of relief could be gathered,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘For that reason, I recommend that you, Sire, should seek to return to your ship and make your way to Ireland. At least there the population may have remained loyal to you.’

‘My people are loyal! It is only the damned barons who seek more control over me – they’re the ones who want to have me as a puppet, pulling my strings for me, telling me what I can and can’t do. Well, I won’t let them! I will gather a new host from here, from the Welsh.’

‘Your Royal Highness,’ Sir Ralph began.

‘Shut up!’ Despenser snapped. ‘The King has spoken, Sir Ralph, and you would do well to consider how to help him, not hinder him with pointless objections – if you wish to keep your head on your shoulders!’

Bristol Castle

The hall was filled with smoke from the fire, and the steward had already sent for more wood that was better aged and would smoke less.

When he was led in, at first Earl Hugh of Winchester was hopeful that this might prove to be a swift meeting designed to fine him and perhaps strip him of some of his honours, but the first glance about the chamber was enough to drive a dagger of ice into his spine.

If it were not for the strong arm of his servant, he would have toppled and fallen right there before the men, but he managed to make his way to the chair which had been set before the tribunal.

He could feel his legs tremble on his way there. It was the longest walk he had ever undertaken. His worst enemies were seated staring at him as he crossed the floor.

Sir Roger Mortimer, the Earls of Kent and Norfolk, brothers to King Edward himself, then two retainers of the Earl of Lancaster, who had himself been killed by the King, and Henry of Lancaster too. All detested the Earl and his son, and all would take delight in destroying him. He knew that.

His life was to end.

‘My lords, where is the Queen?’ he asked, and was surprised by how firm and steady his voice sounded.

‘Silence, Earl Winchester. You have no right to speak in this court,’ Mortimer said flatly. ‘If you speak, you will be gagged.’

‘May I not speak in my defence?’

‘No. We accord you the same rights you accorded to the Earl of Lancaster when he was captured. Your crimes are so manifest and obnoxious to all thinking men that you deserve no defence.’

‘Of what am I accused?’

‘Silence!’ Sir Roger snapped. He nodded to a clerk at a table nearby, who stood and nervously began reading from a list.

Earl Hugh listened with his face kept carefully blank. There was a slight pain in his breast over his heart, and his bowels felt as though they had turned to water, but over all that he was aware of a slow, building anger. That these men should think they could dare to bring him to trial! He was an Earl, the same rank as the highest in this chamber, and they thought they could serve punishment to him like some churl from the street? They would learn differently. Surely the Queen wouldn’t allow them to continue, once she heard. He had never hurt her. And the fact that he had agreed to give up the castle must count for something. He only prayed that his son would get to Ireland, that his own predicament would delay matters sufficiently for his son to make good his escape.

Not that they would dare to carry out any punishment. Not of a truly condign nature. He was a friend to the King, and Edward’s fury would know no bounds, were he to learn that someone had hurt one of his chief advisers.

So, his crimes were legion. He was to pay for supporting his son and his son’s government, for making laws that stopped men from defending themselves in court, for enriching himself at the expense of others, of stealing from the Church, and for participating in the execution of Earl Thomas of Lancaster, the Earl who had himself tried to accroach all power in the realm to himself, and control the King. A number of crimes. All perhaps repellent to the men here, while all were also designed to service the King. It was he who had demanded the removal of Thomas of Lancaster; he who had wished for strong government. Earl Hugh’s crime was to have supported his son. He was a father! Who would not do the same in those circumstances?

He opened his mouth to reject these ridiculous allegations, but Mortimer glanced at him, and in that look, Earl Hugh saw pure malevolent glee. This was not a show trial to scare a man before throwing him into confinement. This was a trial for his life, but a trial at which no argument might be submitted in his defence. His judges put on a fine show of deliberating over possible penalties, but the crimes themselves were accepted as proven. And there was only one punishment to suit the crimes, he realised: he was to die.

It was curious, to sit here and listen to the men talking about him in this abstract manner, as though he was not there. Only Mortimer and Lancaster would occasionally look at him, as though to remind themselves how repellent he truly was. The others tended to avert their eyes, as though they too felt a little of the guilt of sentencing a man without giving him even the semblance of fairness in his trial. It was a formality, this court, not a court of law in which the truth was weighed and assessed among other evidence.