In Convent Walls Page 4

  PART ONE, CHAPTER 4.

  THE GLAMOUR OF THE QUEEN.

  "Hast thou beheld thyself, and couldst thou stain So rare perfection? Even for love of thee I do profoundly hate thee."

  Lady Elizabeth Carew.

  So I was got into the Annals of Cicely, was I? Well then, have back.Dear heart! but what a way have I to go back ere I can find where I wasin my story!

  Well the King left the Tower for Wallingford, and with him Sir Hugh LeDespenser, and Hugh his young son, Archdeacon Baldok, Edward de Bohunthe King's nephew, and divers of his following. I know not whether hehad with him also his daughters, the young Ladies Alianora and Joan, orif they were brought to him later. By Saint Denis' Eve [October 7th] hehad reached Wallingford.

  The Queen was in march to London: but hearing that the King had left,she altered her course, and went to Oxford. There tarried we one day,and went to our duties in the Church of Saint Martin [Note 1], where anhomily was preachen by my Lord of Hereford [Note 2]. And a strangehomily it was, wherein Eva our mother stood for the Queen, and I supposeAdam for the King, and Sir Hugh Le Despenser (save the mark!) was theserpent. I stood it out, but I will not say I goxide [gaped] not. Thenext day went the Queen on toward Gloucester, pursuing the King, whichhad been there about ten days afore her. She put forth fromWallingford, on her way between Oxford and Gloucester, a letter whereinshe earnestly prayed the King to return, and promised that he shouldreceive the government with all honour if he would conform him to hispeople. I had been used to hear of the people obeying the King, as induty bound to him whom God had set over them; and this talk of the Kingobeying the people was marvellous strange to mine ears. Howbeit, it wastalk only; for what was really meant was that he should conform himselfto his wife. And considering how much wives be bidden of God to obeytheir lords, that surely was as ill as the other. Which the King sawbelike, for instead of coming nearer he went further away, right overthe Severn, and strengthened himself, first in the strong Castle ofChepstow, and after in the Castle of Caerphilly. For us, we went on,though not so quick as he, to Gloucester, and thence to Bristol, whereSir Hugh de Despenser the father was governor, and where the citizens,on the Queen's coming, opened the gates to her, and Sir Hugh onperceiving it retired into the Castle. But she summoned the Castle alsoto surrender, which was done speedily of the officers, and Sir Hughdelivered into her hands. Moreover, the two little ladies, the King'sdaughters, whom he had sent from Gloucester on his retreat across theSevern, were brought to her [Note 3], and she welcomed them motherly, orat least seemed to do so. Wala wa! I have no list to set down whatfollowed, and will run by the same as short as shall serve truth.

  The morrow of Saint Crispin, namely, the 26th day of October, the Queenand her son, now Duke of Aquitaine--whom man whilome called Earl ofChester--came into the great hall of Bristol Castle, and sat in state: ICicely being behind the Queen's chair, and Jack in waiting on my Lordthe Duke. Which done, they called council of the prelates and nobles ofthe realm, being the Archbishop of Dublin and five bishops; the King'stwo brothers, my Lords of Norfolk and Kent; my Lord of Lancaster theircousin; and all the nobles then present in Bristol town: thus theygathered, the Duke on the right hand of the throne and the Queen on theleft, the throne all empty. Then a marvellous strange thing happened:for the Queen rose up and spake, in open Council, to the prelates andnobles of England. When she first arose (as afterwards I heard say)were there some murmurs that a woman should so speak; and divers up anddown the hall rowned [whispered] one the other in the ear that it hadbeen more seemly had she kept to her distaff. But when she ended, sogreat was the witchery of her fair face, and the gramary [magic] of hersilver voice, that scarce man was in the hall but was ready to live anddie with her. _Ha, chetife_! how she witched the world! yet never didshe witch me.

  How can it be, I marvel at times, that men--and women too--will sufferthemselves to be thus led astray, and yet follow on, oft knowing whitherthey go, after some one man or woman, that casteth over them a manner ofgramary? There be some that can witch whom they will, that God keepethnot. And 'tis not alway a fair face that witcheth; I have known fullunbright [plain, ugly] folks that have this charm with them. And I notemoreover, that many times he that wields it doth use it for evil, andnot for good. I dare not say no good man ever hath the same; forsecurely I know not all folks in this world: yet of them I do know, Icannot call to mind a verily good man or woman that hath seemed me topossess this power over his fellows. I have known some metely good folkthat had a touch thereof; but of such as I mean, that do indeed wield itin power, and draw all manner of men to them, and after them, nearhandwhether they choose or no--of such I cannot call to mind one that wastrue follower of our Lord. Therefore it seems me an evil power, and onethat may come of Satan, sith it mostly is used in his service. And Ipray God neither of my daughters may ever show the same, for at best itmust be full of peril of pride to him that possesseth it. Indeed, hadit so been, I think they should have shown it afore now.

  But now to have back to the hall of Bristol Castle, lest Jack, coming into look stealthily over my shoulder as he doth betimes, should say Ihave won again into the Annals of Cicely.

  Well, all the prelates and nobles were full witched by Dame Isabel theQueen, and agreed unto all her plans, the which came ready cut anddried, as though all had been thought on and settled long afore.Verily, I dare say it so had. First, they elected the Duke of Aquitaineto the regency--which of course was the self thing as electing hismother, since he, being a mere lad, was but her mouthpiece, and wasbuxom [submissive] unto her in all things: and all present sware tofulfil his pleasure, as though he had been soothly king, under his privyseal, for there was no seal meet for the regency. And incontinent[immediately] thereafter, the said Duke, speaking doubtless the pleasureof the Queen, commanded Sir Hugh Le Despenser the father to be broughtto his trial in the hall of the Castle.

  Then was he led in, an old white-haired man, [See note in Appendix, onthe Despensers], stately and venerable, who stood up before the Councilas I would think none save innocent man should do, and looked the Queenstraight in the face. He was not witched with her gramary; and soothlyI count in all that hall he was the sole noble that escaped the spell.A brave man was he, of great probity, prudent in council, valiant inwar: maybe something too readily swayed by other folks (the Queenexcept), where he loved them (which he did not her), and from this lastpoint came all his misfortunes [Note 4].

  Now stood he up to answer the charges laid against him (whereof therewere nine), but answer such as man looked for made he none. He passedall by as of no account, and went right to the heart and verity of thewhole matter. I could not but think of a Prisoner before him who hadanswered nothing; and I crede he knew that in like case, "per invidiamtradidissent eum." [Note 5]. Moreover, he spake not to them that didthe will of other, but to her that was at the core of the whole matter.

  "Ah, Dame!" quoth he, bowing low his white, stately head, "God grant usfair trial and just judge; and if we may not find it in this world, welook for it in another."

  I trust he found it in that other world--nay, I know he must have done.But in this world did he not find it. Fair trial had he none; it was anend foregone from the beginning. And as to just judge--well, she isgone now to her judgment, and I will leave her there.

  I had forgot to say in due order that my Lord of Arundel was he that wastried with him, but he suffered not till later. [This appears to be thecase from comparison of the best authorities.] He, therefore, was hadback to prison; but Sir Hugh was hung on the common gallows in his coatarmour, in strong cords, and when he was cut down, after four days, hishead was struck off and his quarters cast to the dogs. On whose soulGod have mercy! Amen. In very deed, I think he deserved a better fate.Secure am I, that many men be hung on gallows which might safely beleft to die abed, and many more die abed that richly demerit thegallows. This world is verily a-crooked: I reckon it shall be smoothedout and set straight one day. There be that s
ay that day shall last athousand years; and soothly, taking into account all the work to be doneere the eve droppeth, it were small marvel an' it did so.

  This done, we tarried not long at Bristol. Less than a month thereafterwas the King taken at Neath Abbey in Wales, and all that yet obeyed himwere either taken with him or dispersed. The news found the Queen atHereford, whither she had journeyed from Bristol: and if I had yet adoubt left touching her very nature [real character], I think it haddeparted from me when I beheld how she received that news. Sir ThomasLe Blount, his Steward of the Household, was he that betrayed him: andmay God pardon him easier than I could. But my Lord of Lancaster (whomI can pray God pardon with true heart, seeing he afterward repentedbitterly), the Lord Zouche of Ashby, and Rhys ap Howel--these were theythat took him. With him they took three other--Sir Hugh Le Despenserthe son, and Archdeacon Baldok, and Sir Simon de Reading. The goodArchdeacon, that was elect [_Bishop_ is understood] of Norwich, wasdelivered over to the tender mercies (which, as saith the Psalmist, werecruel) of that priest of Baal, the Bishop of Hereford, whom indeed Icannot call a priest of God, for right sure am I that God should neverhave owned him. If that a man serveth be whom he worshippeth, then wasSir Adam de Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, priest of Sathanas and noneother. The King was had to Kenilworth Castle, in ward of my Lord ofLancaster--a good though mistaken man, that used him not ungently, yetkept him straitly. Sir Hugh and Sir Simon were brought to the Queen atHereford, and I was in waiting when they came into her presence. I hadbut one glimmer of her face (being behind her) when she turned her headfor a moment to bid me send Oliver de Nantoil to fetch my Lord ofLincoln to the presence: but if ever I beheld pictured in human eyes thedevilish passions of hate, malice, and furious purpose, I beheld themthat minute in those lovely eyes of hers. Ay, they were lovely eyes:they could gleam soft as a dove's when she would, and they could shootforth flames like a lioness robbed of her prey. Never saw I those eyeslook fiercer nor eviller than that night when Sir Hugh Le Despenserstood a captive at her feet.

  For him, he was full calm: stately as his father--he was comelier of thetwain, yea, the goodliest man ever mine eyes lit on: but I thought noton that in that hour. His chief fault, man deemed, was pride: not thevanity that looketh for applause of man, but rather the lofty-mindednessthat is sufficient to himself, and despiseth other. I beheld no tracethereof as he there stood. All that had been--all that was of earth andearthy--seemed to have dropped away from him: he was calm and tranquilas the sea on a summer eve when not a breath stirreth. Wala wa! we haveall our sins: and what be we, to throw the sins of another in his face?Sir Hugh did some ill deeds, belike; and so, God wot, hath done Cicelyde Chaucombe; and whose sins of the twain were worser in His sight, Heknoweth, not I. Verily, it was whispered that he had taint of heresy,the evillest thing that may be: but I trust that dread charge wereuntrue, and that he was but guilty of somewhat more pride and ambitiousdesires than other. Soothly, pride is one of the seven deadly sins--pray God save us all therefrom!--yet is heresy, as the Church teacheth,an eighth deadlier than all the seven. And if holy Church hath thewords of God, and is alonely guided of His Spirit, then must it be anawful and deadly sin to gainsay her bidding. There be that take in handto question the same: whom holy Church condemneth. I Cicely cannotpresume to speak thereof, not being a priest, unto whom alone itappertaineth to conceive such matter. 'Tis true, there be that say layfolk can as well conceive, and have as much right as any priest; butholy Church agreeth not therewith. God be merciful to us all,whereinsoever we do err!

  But now was the Queen in a sore strait: for that precious treasure thathad once been in her keeping--to wit, the Great Seal--was no longer withher. The King had the same; and she was fain to coax it forth of hiskeeping, the which she did by means of my said Lord of Hereford. I knownot if it were needful, but until she had this done, did not Sir Hugh LeDespenser suffer.

  It was at Hereford, the eve of Saint Katherine, that he died. I thankthe saints I was not there; but I heard dread stories of them that were.Dame Isabel de Lapyoun was in waiting that day; I think she was fittestfor it.

  I ween it was on that morrow, of the eve of Saint Katherine, that mineeyes first began to ope to what the Queen was in very deed. Whereforewas she present at that deed of blood? Dame Tiffany reckoned she deemedit her duty: and truly, to behold what man can deem his duty, is of thequeerest things in this queer world. I never knew a cow that reckonedit duty to set her calf in peril, and herself tarry thereout; nor a dogthat forsook his master's company by reason of his losing of worldlygear; nor an horse that told falsehoods to his own profit. I have wistmen that would do all these things, and more; because, forsooth, it wastheir duty! Now, after what manner it could be duty to Dame Isabel theQueen to preside in her own person at the execution of Sir Hugh, thatcannot I Cicely tell. Nay, the saints love us! what need was there ofan execution at all? Sir Hugh was dying fast. Since he was taken wouldhe never open his lips, neither to speak nor yet to eat; and that eve ofSaint Katherine had seen his end, had they left him die in peace.Veriliest, I wis not what he had done so much worser than other men,that so awesome an ensample should be made of him. I do trust therumour was not true that ran of his heresy; for if so, then must not manpity him. And yet--

  _Virgo sanctissima_! what is heresy? The good Lord wot.

  My Lord of Lincoln was he, as I heard, which brought tidings to theQueen that Sir Thomas Wager had done him to wit Sir Hugh would die thatday. Would die--whether man would or no. Holy Mary, the pity of it!Had I been Sir Thomas, never word would I have spoken till the breathwas clean gone out of him, and then, if man coveted vengeance, let himtake it on the silent dust. But no sooner was it known to the Queen--toher, a woman and a mother!--than she gave command to have the scaffoldrun up with all speed, and that dying man drawn of an hurdle through thecity that all men might behold, with trumpets going afore, and at lasthanged of the gallows till he were dead. Oh, the pity of it! the pityof it!

  The command was obeyed--so far as man could obey. But ere the agonywere full over, God Almighty stepped in, and bare him away from what shewould have had him suffer. When they put him on the hurdle, he lay asthough he wist not; when they twined a crown of nettles and pressed iton his brow, he was as though he felt not; when, the torture over, theymade ready to drag him to the gallows, they saw that he was dead. Godcried to them, "Let be!"

  God assoil that dead man! Ay, maybe he shall take less assoiling thanhath done that dead woman.

  Man said that when my Lord of Lincoln came to tell her of this matter,she was counting the silver in my Lord of Arundel his bags, that wereconfiscate, and had then been brought to her: and but a few days later,at Marcle, Sir William de Blount brought from the King the Great Seal inits leathern bag sealed with the privy seal, and delivered it unto theQueen and her Keeper [Chancellor] the Bishop of Norwich. Soothly, itseemed to me as though those canvas bags that held my Lord of Arundel'ssilver, and the white leathern bag that held the Great Seal, might besaid to be tied together by a lace dipped in blood. And somewhat later,when we had reached Woodstock, was Sir Hugh Le Despenser's plate broughtto the Wardrobe, that had been in the Tower with the Lady Alianora hiswife--five cups and two ewers of silver, and twenty-seven cups and sixewers of gold; and his horses and hers delivered into the keeping ofAdam le Ferrour, keeper of the Queen's horses: and his servants eithercast adrift, or drafted, some of them, into the household of the LordJohn of Eltham. Go to! saith man: was all this more than is usual inlike case? Verily, nay: but should such things be usual in Christendom?Was it for this our Lord came to found His Church--that Christian bloodshould thus treat his Christian brother? And if no, what can be said ofsuch as called themselves His priests, and passed by on the otherside?--nay, rather, took into their own hands the arrows of Sathanas,and wounded their brother with their own fingers? "_Numquid adhaeretTibi sedes iniquitatis_?" [Psalm 94, verse 20]. Might it not have beensaid to Dame Isabel the Queen like as Moses said to Korah, "
Is itnothing to you that you have been joined to the King, and set by hisside on the throne, and given favour in his eyes, so that he sufferethyou to entreat him oftener and more effectually than any other, but youmust needs covet the royal throne theself?" [Itself.]

  Ah, what good to write such words, or to speak them? When man hath nofear of God before his eyes, what shall he regard the reasonings of men?But the day of doom cometh, and that sure.

  The morrow of that awesome day, to wit, Saint Katherine, departed wefrom Hereford, and came to Gloucester and Cirencester, going back on theroad we had come. By Woodstock (where Dame Margery de Verdon joined usfrom Dover) we came to Wallingford: where was the Lord John of Eltham,that had come from London, and awaited the Queen his mother. So, byReading and Chertsey, came we to Westminster Palace, on the fourth dayof January [1327]. And here was Dame Alice de Lethegreve, mine honouredmother, whom I was full fain to see after all the long and somewhatweariful time that I had been away from England.

  My mother would have me tell her all I had seen and heard, in the whichshe oft stayed me by tears and lamentations. And saith she--

  "I bid thee well to note, Cicely, how much ill can come of the deeds ofone woman. Deeds, said I? Nay, but of the thoughts and feelings; forall deeds are but the flowers whereto man's thoughts be the seed. Andforget not, daughter, that there must ever be one first thought that isthe beginning of it all. O Cis, take thou heed of the first evilthought in thine heart, and pray God it lead not to a second. They thatfear not God be prone to ask, What matter for thoughts? Deeds be thethings that signify. My thoughts are mine own; who shall govern metherein? Ah, verily, who shall, without God doth, and thou dost? Hethat makes conscience of his thoughts, men reckon a great saint. Iwould say rather, he that maketh not conscience of his thoughts cannotserve God at all. Pray God rule thee in thine innermost heart; thenshall thy deeds please Him, and thy life shall be a blessing to thyfellows."

  "Dame," said I, "would you signify that the Queen is not ruled of God?"

  "He governeth better than so, Cis," saith she.

  "Yet is she Christian woman," quoth I.

  "A Christian woman," made answer my mother, "is a woman that followethChrist. And thou followest not Jack, Cis, when thou goest along oneroad, and Jack goeth another. Man may follow near or far; but his facemust be set the same way. Christ's face was ever set to do the will ofGod. If thou do thy will, and I do mine, our faces be set contrary."

  "Then must we turn us around," said I.

  "Ay, and flat round, too," she saith. "When thou standest withoutAldgate, ready to pass within, 'tis but a full little turn shall takethee up to Shoreditch on the right hand, or down Blanche Chappleton onthe left. Thy feet shall be set scarce an inch different at beginning.Yet pursue the roads, and the one shall land thee at York, and the otherat Sandwich. Many a man hath reckoned he set forth to follow Christ,whose feet were scarce an inch out of the way. `Go to,' quoth he; `whatcan an inch matter? what difference shall it make?' Ah me, it makethall the difference between Heaven and Hell, for the steps lead todiverse roads. Be well assured of the right road; and when thou so art,take heed to walk straight therein. Many a man hath turned a score outof the way, by reason that he walked a-crooked himself."

  "Do we know alway when we walk straight?" said I.

  "Thou hast thy Psalter and thine Evangelisterium," made she answer: "andthou hast God above. Make good use of the Guide and the map, and thouart not like to go far astray. And God pardon the souls that go astray!Ay, God forgive us all!"

  She sat and span a while, and said nought.

  "Cicely," then quoth she, "I shall not abide here."

  "Whither go you, Dame?"

  "Like Abraham of old," she saith, "to the land which God shall show me.If I could serve my dear master,--the lad that once lay in mine arms--bytarrying hither, I could bear much for his sake. But now can I donought: and soothly I feel as though I could not bear to stand and lookon. I can pray for him any whither. Cicely, this will go on. Man thatsetteth foot on slide shall be carried down it. Thou mayest choose totake or let be the first step; but oft-times thou canst not choosetouching the second and all that be to follow. Or if thou yet canstchoose, it shall be at an heavy cost that thou draw back thy foot. Onesmall twinge may be all the penalty to-day, when an hour's deadlyanguish shall not pay the wyte to-morrow. Thou lookest on me aswhasay,What mean you by this talk? I mean, dear heart, that she which hathentered on this road is like to pursue it to the bitter end. A bitterend it shall be--not alone to her. It means agony to him and all thatlove him: what maimer of agony God wot, and in His hand is the ell-wandto measure, and the balances to weigh. Lord! Thou wilt not blunder togive an inch too much, nor wilt Thou for all our greeting weigh onegrain too little. Thou wilt not let us miss the right way, for therough stones and the steep mountain-side. Thou hast trodden before usevery foot of that weary road, and we need but to plant our steps in Thyfootmarks, which we know well from all others by their blood-markedtrack. O blessed Jesu Christ! it is fair journeying to follow Thee, andThou leadest Thy sheep safe to the fold of the Holy Land."

  I mind her words well. For, woe is me! they were nearhand the last thatever I heard of her.

  "Dame," said I, "do you bid me retreat belike?"

  "Nay, daughter," quoth she, and smiled, "thou art no longer at mybidding. Ask thine husband, child."

  So I told Jack what my mother had said. He sat and meditated thereonafore the fire, while I made ready my Christmas gown of blue kaynetguarded with stranling. [Note 6.]

  "Sissot," saith he, his meditation ended, "I think Dame Alice speakswisely."

  "Then wouldst thou depart the Court, Jack?" said I.

  "I? Nay, sweet heart. The young King hath about him no more true menthan he needeth. And as I wait at his _coucher_, betimes I can drop aword in his ear that may, an' it please God, be to his profit. He isyet tender ground, and the seed may take root and thrive: and I am toughgnarled old root, that can thole a blow or twain, and a rough wind bynow and then."

  "Jack!" cried I, laughing. "`A tough gnarled old root,' belike! Thouart not yet of seven-and-thirty years, though I grant thee wisdom enoughfor seventy."

  "I thank you heartily, Dame Cicely, for that your courtesy," quoth he,and made me a low reverence. "Ay, dear heart, a gnarled root ofcross-grained elm, fit for a Yule log. I 'bide with the King, Sissot.But thou wist, that sentence [argument] toucheth not thee, if thoudesire to depart with Dame Alice. And maybe it should be the best forthee."

  "I depart from the Court, Jack, on a pillion behind thee," said I, "andno otherwise. I say not I might not choose to dwell elsewhere therather, if place were all that were in question; but to win out of illcompany at the cost of thy company, were to be at heavier charge than mypurse can compass. And seeing I am in my duty therein, I trust Godshall keep me from evil and out of temptation."

  "Amen!" saith Jack, and kissed me. "We will both pray, my dear heart,to be kept out of temptation; but let us watch likewise that we slip nottherein. They be safe kept that God keepeth; and seeing that not ourself-will nor folly, but His providence, brought us to this place, Ireckon we have a right to ask His protection."

  Thus it came that I tarried yet in the Queen's household. And verily,they that did so, those four next years, had cause to seek God'sprotection.

  On the first of February was--but, wala wa! my pen runneth too fast. Imust back nearhand a month.

  It was the seventh of January, being the morrow of the Epiphany, andthree days after we reached Westminster, that the Queen met the King'sGreat Council, the which she had called together on the eve of SaintBarbara [December 3rd], the Duke sitting therein in state as keeper ofthe kingdom. Having opened the said Parliament, the Duke, by hisspokesmen, my Lords of Hereford and Lincoln, laid before them all thathad taken place since they last met, and bade them deliberate on whatwas now to be done for the safety of the realm and Church of England.[Note 7]. Who at once adjudged the thro
ne void, and the King to be putdown and accounted such no longer: appointing certain nobles to go withthe Duke to show these things unto the Queen.

  Well do I mind that morrow of the Epiphany. The Queen sat in thePainted Chamber, spinning amongst us, when the nobles waited upon her.She had that morrow been full furnish, sharply chiding Joan de Vilersbut a moment ere the Duke entered the presence: but no sooner came he inthan she was all honey.

  "Dame," saith he, "divers nobles of the Council pray speech of you."

  The Queen looked up; she sighed, and her hand trembled. Then pulled sheforth her sudary [handkerchief], and wiped her cheek: I am somewhatunsure of the tears thereon. Yet maybe they were there, for verily shecould weep at will.

  Dame Elizabeth, that sat in the casement, saith to Dame Joan, that wason the contrary side thereof, I being by her,--"Will the Queen swoon,think you?"

  "She will come to an' she do," answered she.

  I was ready at one time to reckon Dame Joan de Vaux somewhat hard towardthe Queen: I saw later that she had but better sight than herneighbours.

  Then came in the prelates and nobles which were deputed of theParliament to convey the news, and the Queen bowed her head when theydid reverence.

  My Lord of Winchester it was that gave her the tidings that theParliament then sitting had put down King Edward, and set up the Duke,which there stood, as King. All innocent stood he, that had been toldit was his father's dearest wish to be free of that burden of state, andhimself too true and faithful to imagine falsehood or unfaithfulness inher that spake it.

  Soothly, she played her part full well. She greet plenteously, shewrung her hands, she tare off the hood from her head, she gripped herhair as though to tear that, yea, she cast her down alow on the rushes,and swooned or made believe thereto. The poor young Duke was fullalarmed, and kneeling beside her, he would have cast his arms about her,but she thrust him away. Until at the last he arose, and with mien fullprincely, told the assembled nobles that he would never consent to thatwhich so mispaid [displeased, distressed] his dear mother, without hisfather should himself command the same. She came to, it seemed me, fullsoon thereafter.

  Then was sent my Lord of Lancaster and other to the King to hear hiswill thereon. Of these was my Lord of Hereford one, and man said hespake full sharply and poignantly to the King, which swooned awaythereunder (somewhat more soothly, as I guess); and the scene, said manthat told me, was piteous matter. Howbeit, the King gave full assent,and resigned the crown to his son, who was now to be king, he that hadso been being thenceforth named only Sir Edward of Caernarvon. This wasthe eve of Saint Agnes [January 20th, 1327], the twentieth year of thesaid King.

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  Note 1. Better known as Carfax. The exact church is not on record, butit was likely to be this.

  Note 2. Adam de Orleton. He and Henry Burghersh, Bishop of Lincoln,are the two Bishops whom Thomas de la Moor, King Edward's squire, brandsas "priests of Baal" and "Caiaphases."

  Note 3. I have here given the version of events which seems best toreconcile the accounts of the chroniclers with the testimony ofcontemporary documents. See Appendix.

  Note 4. This is the character sketched of him by De La Moor, to whom hewas personally known.

  Note 5. "For envy they had delivered Him." Matthew, twenty-seven,verse 18.

  Note 6. Kennet, a coarse Welsh cloth, trimmed with stranling, the furof the squirrel taken between Michaelmas and Christmas.

  Note 7. The idea of some persons that the Church of England began toexist at the Reformation would have astonished the medieval reckoners"according to the computation of the Church of England," who wereaccustomed to hear Parliaments summoned to debate "concerning thewelfare of the kingdom and Church of England." The former notion ispurely modern.