Dame Joan de Vaux saith, "Dame, the King is there, and God will be with
the King. We may well be ensured that no wrong shall be done to them
that have done no wrong. This is not the contekes [quarrel] of a rabble
rout; it is the justice of the Crown upon his enemies."
"His enemies?--whose? Mine enemies are dead and gone. All of them--
all! I left not one. Who be these? who be they, I say? Cicely, answer
me!"
Afore I could speak word, I was called by another voice. I was fain
enough of the reprieve. Leaving Dame Joan with the Queen, I ran forth
into the Queen's closet, where stood the King.
What change had come over him in those few hours! No longer a bashful
lad that was nearhand afraid to speak for himself ere he were bidden.
This was a young man [he was now close on eighteen years of age] that
stood afore me, a youthful warrior, a budding Achilles, that would stand
to no man's bidding, but would do his will. King of England was this
man. I louted low before my master.
He spake in a voice wherein was both cold constrainedness, and
bitterness, and stern determination--yet under them all something else--
I think it was the sorely bruised yet living soul of that deep
unutterable tenderness which had been ever his for the mother of his
love, but could be the same never more. Man is oft cold and bitter and
stern, when an hour before he hath dug a grave in his own heart, and
hath therein laid all his hopes and his affections. And they that look
on from afar behold the sheet of ice, but they see not the grave beneath
it. They only see him cold and silent: and they reckon he cares for
nought, and feels nothing.
"Dame Cicely, you have been with the Queen?"
"Sir, I have so."
"Take heed she hath all things at her pleasure, of such as lie in your
power. Let my physician be sent for if need arise, as well as her own;
and if she would see any holy father, let him be fetched incontinent
[immediately]. See to it, I charge you, that she be served with all
honour and reverence, as you would have our favour."
He turned as if to depart. Then all suddenly the ice went out of his
voice, and the tears came in.
"How hath she taken it?" saith he.
"Sir," said I, "full hardly as yet, and is sore troubled touching my
Lord of March, fearing some ill shall be done him. Moreover, my Lady
biddeth me tell her who these be. Is it your pleasure that I answer the
same?"
"Ay, answer her," saith he sorrowfully, "for it shall do no mischief
now. As for my Lord of March, no worser fate awaits him than he hath
given better men."
He strade forth after that kingly fashion which was so new in him, and
yet sat so seemly upon him, and I went back to the Queen's chamber.
"Cicely, is that my son?" she cried.
"In good sooth, Dame," said I.
"What said he to thee?"
I told her the King had bidden me answer all her desire; that if she
required physician she should be tended of his chirurgeon beside her
own, and she should speak with any priest she would. I had thought it
should apay [gratify] her to know the same; but my words had the
contrariwise effect, for she looked more frightened than afore.
"Nought more said he?"
"Dame," said I, "the Lord King bade me to serve you with all honour and
reverence. And he said, for my Lord of March--"
"Fare forth!" [go on] she cried, though I scarce knew that I paused.
"He answered, that no worser should befall him than he had caused to
better men than he."
"Mary, Mother!"
I thought I had scarce ever heard wofuller wail than she made then. She
sank down in the bed, clutching the coverlet with her hands, and casting
it over her, as she buried her face in the pillows. I went nigh, and
drew the coverlet full setely [properly, neatly] over her.
"Let be!" she saith in a smothered voice. "It is all over. Life must
fare forth, and life is of no more worth. My bird is flown from the
cage, and none can win him back. Is there so much as one of the saints
will speak for me? As I have wrought, so hast Thou paid me, God!"
Not an other word spake she all the livelong day. Never day seemed
longer than that weary eve of Saint Ursula [October 20th]. That morrow
were taken in the town the two sons of my Lord of March, Sir Edmund and
Sir Geoffrey, beside divers of his friends--Sir Oliver Byngham, Sir
Simon de Bereford, and Sir John Deveroil the chief. All were sent that
same day under guard to London, with the Mortimer himself.
No voice compassionated him. Nay, "my Lord of March" was no more, but
in every man's mouth "the Mortimer" as of old time. Some that had
seemed his greatest losengers [flatterers] now spake of him with the
most disdain, while they that, while they allowed him not [did not
approve of him], had yet never abused ne reviled him, were the least
wrathful against him. I heard that when he was told of all, my Lord of
Lancaster flung up his cap for joy.
Some things afterward said were not true. It was false slander to say,
as did some, that the Mortimer was taken in the Queen's own chamber. He
was arrest in the Bishop of Lincoln's chamber (which had his lodging
next the Queen), and in conference with the said Bishop. They took not
that priest of Baal; I had shed no tears had they so done. Sir Hugh de
Turpington and Sir John Monmouth, creatures of the Mortimer, were slain;
Sir John Neville, on the other side, was wounded.
Fourteen charges were set forth against the Mortimer. The murder of
King Edward was one; the death of my Lord of Kent an other. One thing
was not set down, but every man knew how to read betwixt the lines, when
the indictment writ that other articles there were against him, which in
respect of the King's honour were not to be drawn up in writing. Wala
wa! there was honour concerned therein beside his own: but he was very
tender of her. His way was hard to walk and beset with snares, and he
walked it with cleaner feet than most men should. Never heard I from
his lips word unreverent toward her; and if other lips spake the same to
his knowing, they forthank [regretted] it.
That same day the King departed from Nottingham for Leicester, on his
way to London. He left behind him the Lord Wake de Lydel, in whose
charge he placed Queen Isabel, commanding that she should be taken to
Berkhamsted Castle as soon as might be. I know not certainly if he
spake with her afore he set forth, but I think rather nay than yea.
October was not out when we reached Berkhamsted. The Queen's first
anguish was over, and she scarce spake; but I could see she hearkened
well if aught was said in her hearing.
The King sent command to seize all lands and goods of the Mortimer into
his hands; but the Lady of March he bade to be treated with all respect
and kindliness, and that never a jewel nor a thread of her having should
be taken. Indeed, I heard never man nor woman speak of her but tenderly
and pitifully. She was good woman, and had borne more than many. For
the Lady Margaret her mother-in-law, so much will I not say; for she was
a firebrand that (as saith Solomon) scattered arrows and death: but the
Lady Joan was full gent and reverend, and demerited better husband than
the Fates gave her. Nay, that may I not say, sith no such thing is as
Fate, but only God, that knoweth to bring good out of evil, and hath
comforted the Lady Joan in Paradise these four years gone.
But scarce three weeks we tarried at Berkhamsted, and then the Lord Wake
bore to the Queen tidings that it was the King's pleasure she should
remove to Windsor. My time of duty was then run out all but a two-three
days; and the Queen my mistress was pleased to say I might serve me of
those for mine own ease, so that I should go home in the stead of
journeying with her to Windsor. At that time my little maid Vivien was
not in o'er good health, and it paid me well to be with her. So from
this point mine own remembrances have an end, and I serve me, for the
rest, of the memory of Dame Joan de Vaux, mine old and dear-worthy
friend, and of them that abode with Queen Isabel till she died. For
when her household was 'minished and again stablished on a new footing,
it liked the King of his grace to give leave to such as should desire
the same to depart to their own homes, and such as would were at liberty
to remain--one except, to wit, Dame Isabel de Lapyoun, to whom he gave
conge with no choice. I was of them that chose to depart. Forsooth, I
had seen enough and to spare of Court life (the which I never did much
love), and I desired no better than to spend the rest of my life at
home, with my Jack and my little maids, and my dear mother, so long as
God should grant me.
My brother Robert (of whom, if I spake not much, it was from no lack of
loving-kindness), on the contrary part, chose to remain. He hath ever
loved a busy life.
I found my Vivien full sick, and a weariful and ugsome time had I with
her ere she recovered of her malady. Soothly, I discovered that
diachylum emplasture was tenpence the pound, and tamarinds fivepence;
and grew well weary of ringing the changes upon rosin and frankincense,
litharge and turpentine, oil of violets and flowers of beans, _Gratia
Dei_, camomile, and mallows. At long last, I thank God, she amended;
but it were a while ere mine ears were open to public matter, and not
full filled of the moaning of my poor little maid. So now, to have back
to my story, as the end thereof was told me by Dame Joan de Vaux.
Queen Isabel came to Windsor about Saint Edmund the King [November
20th]; and nine days thereafter, on the eve of Saint Andrew [November
29th], was the Mortimer hanged at Tyburn. He was cast [sentenced] as
commoner, not as noble, and was dragged at horse's tail for a league
outside the city of London to the Elms. But the penalties that commonly
came after were not exacted, seeing his body was not quartered, nor his
head set up on bridge ne gate. His body was sent to the Friars Minors'
Church at Coventry, whence one year thereafter, it was at the King's
command delivered to the Lady Joan his widow and Sir Edmund his son,
that they might bury him in the Abbey of Wigmore with his fathers. His
mother, the Lady Margaret, overlived him but four years; but the Lady
Joan his wife died four years gone, the very day and month that he was
taken prisoner, to wit, the nineteenth day of October, 1356, nigh two
years afore Queen Isabel.
The eve of Saint Andrew, as I writ, was the Mortimer hanged, without
defence by him made (he had allowed none to Sir Hugh Le Despenser and my
Lord of Kent): and four days hung his body in irons on the gibbet, as
Sir Hugh's the father had done. Verily, as he had done, so did God apay
him, which is just Judge over all the earth.
And the very next day, Saint Andrew, came His dread judgment upon one
other--upon her that had wrought evil and not good, and that had
betrayed her own lord to his cruel death. All suddenly, without one
instant's warning, came the bolt out of Heaven upon Isabel of France.
While the body of the Mortimer hung upon the gibbet at the Elms of
Tyburn, God stripped that sinful woman of the light of reason which she
had used so ill, and she fell into a full awesome frenzy, so dread that
she was fain to be strapped down, and her cries and shrieks were
nearhand enough to drive all wood that heard her. While the body hung
there lasted this fearsome frenzy. But the hour it was taken down, came
change over her. She sank that same hour into the piteous thing she was
for long afterward, right as a little child, well apaid with toys and
shows, a few glass beads serving her as well as costly jewels, and a
yard of tinsel or fringe bright coloured a precious treasure. The King
was sore troubled; but what could he do? At the first the physicians
counselled that she should change the air often; and first to Odiham
Castle was she taken, and thence to Hertford, and after to Rising. But
nothing was to make difference to her any more for many a year,--only
that by now and then, for a two-three hours, she hath come to her wit,
and then is she full gent and sad, desiring ever the grace of our Lord
for her ill deeds, and divers times saying that as she hath done, so
hath God requited her. I have heard say that as time passed on, these
times of coming to her wit were something oftener and tarried longer,
until at last, a year afore she died, she came to her full wit, and so
abode to the end.
The King, that dealt full well with her, and had as much care of her
honour as of his own (and it was whispered that our holy Father the Pope
writ unto him that he should so do), did at the first appoint her to
keep her estate in two of her own castles, to wit, Hertford and Rising:
and set forth a new household for her, appointing Sir John de Molynes
her Seneschal, and Dame Joan de Vaux her chief dame in waiting. Seldom
hath she come to Town, but when there, she tarried in the Palace of my
Lord of Winchester at Southwark, on the river side, and was once in
presence when the King delivered the great Seal to Sir Robert Parving.
Then she was in her wit for a short time. But commonly, at the King's
command, she hath tarried in those two her castles,--to wit, Hertford
and Rising--passing from one to the other according to the counsel of
her physicians. The King hath many times visited her (though never the
Queen, which he ever left at Norwich when he journeyed to Rising), and
so, at times, have divers of his children. Ten years afore her death,
the King's adversary of France, Philippe de Valois, that now calleth him
King thereof, moved the King that Queen Isabel should come to Eu to
treat with his wife concerning peace: and so careful is the King, and
hath ever been, of his mother's honour, that he would not answer him
with the true reason contrary thereto, but treated with him on that
footing, and only at the last moment made excuse to appoint other
envoys. Poor soul! she had no wit thereto. I never saw her after I
left her service saving once, which was when she was at Shene, on
Cantate Sunday [April 29th], an eleven years ere her death, at supper in
the even, where were also the King, the Queen of Scots [her younger
daughter], and the Earl of March [grandson of the first Earl]; and
soothly, for all the ill she wrought, mine heart was woe for the caged
tigress with the beautiful eyes, that was wont to roam the forest wilds
at her pleasure, and now could only pace to and fro, up and down her
cage, and toy with the straws upon the floor thereof. It was pitiful to
see her essaying, like a babe, as she sat at the board, to cause a wafer
to stand on end, and when she had so done, to clap her hands and laugh
with childish glee, and call her son and daughter to look. Very gent
was the King unto her, that looked at her bidding, and lauded her skill
and patience, as he should have done to his own little maid that was but
three years old. Ah me, it was piteous sight! the grand, queenly
creature that had fallen so low! Verily, as she had done, so God
requited her.
She died at Hertford Castle, two days afore Saint Bartholomew next
thereafter [August 22nd, 1358. See Note in Appendix]. I heard that in
her last hours, her wit being returned to her as good as ever it had
been, she had her shriven clean, and spake full meek [humble] and
excellent words of penitence for all her sins, and desired to be buried
in the Church of the Friars Minors in London town, and the heart of her
dead lord to be laid upon her breast. They have met now in the presence
above, and he would forgive her there. _Lalme de qui Dieux eit mercie_!
Amen.
Here have ending the Annals of Cicely.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The chroniclers (and after them the follow-my-leader school of
modern historians) are unanimous in their assertion that the Black
Prince was born on June 15th. If this be so, it is, to say the least, a
little singular that the expenses of the Queen's churching were defrayed
on the 24th and 28th of April previous (Issue Roll, Easter, 4 Edward the
Third). On the 3rd, 5th, and 13th of April, the King dates his mandates
from Woodstock; on the 24th of March he was at Reading. This looks very
much as if the Prince's birth had taken place about the beginning of
April. The 8th of that month was Easter Day.
Note 2. Modern writers make no difference between a Colloquy and a
Parliament. The Rolls always distinguish them, treating; the Colloquy
as a lesser and more informal gathering.
Note 3. Second son of the elder Sir William de Montacute and Elizabeth
de Montfort. He appears as a boy in the first chapter of the companion
volume, _In All Time of our Tribulation_.
Note 4. Discretion, wisdom.
Note 5. The pavon was a slow, stately dance, but it also included high
leaps.
Note 6. Occasion, opportunity. Needles, at this time, were great
treasures; a woman who possessed three or four thought herself wealthy
indeed.
Note 7. Striking clocks were not invented until about 1368.
Note 8. Had the Queen spoken in English, she would certainly have said
_sweet_, not _gentle_, which last is an incorrect translation of
_gentil_. This latter speech, though better known, is scarcely so well
authenticated as the previous one.
Note 9. Royal etiquette prescribed a scratch on the door, like that of
a pet animal; the knock was too rough and plebeian an appeal for
admission.