The Confession of Piers Gaveston (21 page)

“Well … I …” Edward’s face was all confusion. “I naturally assumed that when we lay together for the first time you were a virgin just like me!”

“Oh Nedikins!” I laughed. “You are naïve!”

“Was I the second then?” he asked hopefully.

Gleefully, I shook my head.

“The third?” he tried again. And again I shook my head. “The fourth? Fifth? Sixth? Seventh? Eighth? Ninth? Tenth? Piers! You were only sixteen when we met! Just how many lovers have you had?”

I smiled then and it gave me great pleasure to announce: “Too many to count!”

He let go of the oars then and lunged at me with an anguished scream, jerking me from my seat, his hands going straight for my throat. The boat dipped dangerously and water, salty and icy cold, came rushing in over me. It all happened so quickly that I did not have time to catch my breath, and oh how the water burned as it poured into my nose and throat and stung my eyes. Edward’s grip slackened and I gasped, coughing and spluttering, retching, as I slowly sat up. My ears were ringing and I was dimly aware of Blanche barking.

Edward returned to his seat and resumed rowing. Shaking his head dejectedly, he asked with a plaintive wail: “How could you do this to me?”

“If you are referring to those who came before you, very easily, I did not even know you.”

“That is no excuse!” Edward cried, whisking a sleeve across his eyes to wipe away the angry tears.

“On the contrary, I think it is the best excuse I ever gave you.”

“I don’t think either of us should say anymore,” he said quietly and thus we continued our journey in silence.

SCARBOROUGH CASTLE
 

Scarborough Castle was a dismal sight, though majestic from a distance, perched high upon the cliffs above an angry sea, it was actually cold, dank, and ill-equipped to withstand even a short siege. My paltry band of supporters, including the faithful Dragon and my brother Guillaume, boastful and drunk and eager to protect the family’s greatest asset lest he have to go back to soldiering for a living, were awaiting us when we disembarked from that accursed rowboat.

My other brothers, Arnaud and Raimond had gone scurrying back to Gascony the moment it was announced that I was banished from all English dominions before they too could be banned from their homeland. My star had fallen, so of what further use could I possibly be to them? Only Guillaume was willing to gamble on me. He said I was beautiful and clever, and that no one had ever starved possessing what I did. And if I lost the King, then maybe I could find a nice, amiable, and generous wine merchant to keep me.

The moment I stepped out of the boat my knees buckled and I collapsed, fainting, in the frigid surf.

My mind is a blur regarding the days that followed. All I know is that I was put to bed and Edward was far too busy being frantic, and jealous because I repeatedly called for Agnes, to dwell upon the revelations I had so recently made. And Edward has always excelled at forgetting that which he does not wish to remember. He rained kisses down upon my fevered brow and begged me to get well because he could not live without me.

Poor Edward, if you ever read these words I will be but a memory and you will be living without me. Believe me when I say that a year from now my features will have already begun to blur and dim in your memory’s eye and a day will come when you realize that you cannot remember my voice. You will strive with all your might to recapture its essence, to hold onto it, but you cannot fight Time, for He is the greatest thief of all. And He will rob your emotions of their intensity, dry up your tears, and suture your broken heart until it is whole again though it will forever wear a bittersweet scar that, like an arrow-pierced limb though healed will ache whenever it rains, will feel a pang of wistful sorrow or regret whenever my ghost flits unbidden, forever beautiful, forever young, across your mind. Edward, you can, and you will, live without me!

The first day I was able, I left my room and went out into the salty air and sunshine. There was a spring on the castle grounds and there I washed the sea salt and fever sweat from my hair and skin and donned fresh clothing.

Edward came upon me as I stood in my white linen shirt, black hose, and leather boots, eyes closed, chin tilted up to the sky, breathing in the clean sea air, before I slipped my red wool tunic over my head. I was fastening my belt when I became aware of his presence.

“We come full circle,” he observed. “You were dressed in a similar fashion the day we met.”

“Red and black have always been my favorite colors,” I reminded him.

“I remember how I sat there, so bored and languid, my eyelids drooping, and then …” As he looked back twelve years to that fateful day his smile was brighter than a summer’s day, and his eyes … his eyes were love! “And then I saw you! I felt as if I had been shot through the heart, only it was no earthly arrow that pierced me, and not painful at all! I loved you then and I always will. Though I suppose it was naïve of me to have thought you felt the same. Did you ever really love me, Piers?”

“Yes,” I answered, “if I have ever been in love it was with you. I will not lie to you, Edward; I did look to you to improve my circumstances, but I did love you; indeed, I loved you so much that I began to die a little inside each time you would reward me. I wanted something more from you than worldly goods and riches, Edward, and in the beginning I thought I had found it, but then my beauty got in the way, it dazzled your eyes and blinded you and made you forget all about me and my hopes and dreams. Loving me is expensive, Edward, and many men and women have paid dearly for my favors; lives, fortunes, and reputations have all been squandered for lust of me, but you alone made me feel cheap, and often even worse than cheap—worthless! All those jewels pinned upon my pillow and charters on my breakfast tray, it is richer, grander, but payment left upon my pillow is something I was accustomed to long before I met you. Did you never wonder how I lived so well on the pittance the army and your father paid me without any lands or inheritance from my family?”

“No,” Edward admitted, “I feel very foolish now for not … it was obvious you lived beyond your means—you wore diamonds and ermine when you were six-teen!—but you were so beautiful, I … I was distracted!”

“I know, Edward,” I said gently, “as the Lords Ordainers rightfully say, I have always been a distraction to you. And though I wanted something meaningful, something useful, to do, I never meant to interfere with the workings of the realm. I wanted to make your private hours, your pleasures, pleasanter still; I meant only to be your friend and lover, not the power behind the throne. Oh what I would not give to emerge from the shadow of Gaveston, The King’s Catamite, The Gas-con Upstart, The Devil’s Minion, The Witch’s Brat!” I said fervently. “I always meant to be so much more before I died, but now it is too late!”

“No!” Edward cried with the desperate gleam of madness in his eyes. “Do not say that! Tomorrow I leave for York! I will bring back reinforcements! We will win! You must believe that, Piers!” He grasped my shoulders and shook me hard. “You must! I love you! And when victory is ours, you shall sit beside me on the throne and wear a crown of rubies! You can design it yourself if you like; you have a flair for such things! And you will look so beautiful all the angels in Heaven will weep with envy! Or would you rather I gave up my throne? Ask and it shall be done! I never wanted to be King, so to give it up is no sacrifice! You mean more to me than any crown! Yes, that is what I will do! I shall give it all up and be free to spend the rest of my life with you! A wandering laborer I shall be, traveling the countryside with a pack of tools slung over my shoulder, taking work as I find it! And I shall skip, and prance, and sing as we go on our way, and at night we will sleep together beneath the stars, and we will be so happy!”

I shut my eyes and wished I could shut my ears to these insane ramblings.

“Edward,” I said, irritable and tart, “I do not sleep beneath the stars unless they are painted on the ceiling or embroidered on the canopy above the bed!”

Undaunted, Edward smiled and clutched me tighter. “Then we shall carry a tent of blue satin embroidered with silver stars! Or would you prefer gold stars, my love? Whatever pleases you best! But, Piers,” he said, the hysteria in his voice mounting, “you must believe, victory will be ours! You shall see, when I return from York I shall be at the head of a mighty army and we will vanquish them! You shall have the heads of Warwick and Lancaster on a golden platter! We will have them preserved and you can mount them on your wall, they will be your trophies! I love you, Piers, and you can have anything, or do anything, you want, you need only ask and it is yours! I would snatch the moon from the sky and

present it to you on a velvet pillow if you asked me to!”

“Then set me free!” I shouted, shoving him as hard as I could, away from me.

“Anything but that, my love,” he smiled as he shook his head and reached for me. “You belong to me and with me; I will never let you go!”

“Edward,” I sighed, shaking my head in weary resignation. “Oh, it is no use!”I threw up my hands, and, shrugging free of his grasp, I called to Blanche and went back inside the castle. Granted it was a dreary place, but it matched my mood.

That night, our last together, I sat on the fur rug beside the hearth while Edward made ready for bed. He was leaving for York at first light, and I knew in my heart that we would never meet again, and I was both sorry and glad for it.

Love and hate, I think, are not so dissimilar. I often think of them as a circle, the two stand back to back and begin their respective journeys in opposite directions, hate traveling to the left, love to the right, but it is inevitable that they meet face to face. I have loved Edward, and I have hated him, I have despaired of him, and desired him. I have found him endearing and exasperating, often at the same time. We could live without each other, but only one of us will have that chance, and I hope Edward will make the most of it.

Edward came to kneel beside me. “When I return I will bring you a beautiful dressing gown trimmed with ermine!”

All my robes had been left behind at Newcastle; I had room in my satchel for only two changes of clothes, a few necessaries, some coins, jewels, and this book. I was thankful my black leather boots, though beautiful, were sturdy and newly made as they were the only shoes I had.

“I had much rather you brought Agnes; I can live without a robe, but I have need of her healing skill.”

“Only her healing skill?” Edward asked dubiously.

“I cannot shake this fever, Edward! It is always with me! I am better for a day or two then I am back in bed again! My fever rises and falls, but never departs! I sleep only fitfully, I am plagued by nightmares, I have no appetite, my ears hurt, and my head aches constantly!”

“You just want to be coddled, and not by me!” he snapped petulantly.

“Believe what you like, Edward!” I sighed. “I know I shall never see Agnes, an ermine dressing gown, or you ever again so let us not quarrel about them now! And I have probably lost my health as well, not that it matters since I shall soon be killed; my life snuffed out like a candle, it is folly to think otherwise!”

“Piers, I promise you, if you do as I say no one will harm you!” Edward insisted irritably. “It is perfectly simple: just stay inside the castle until I come back with my army and I will bring you many fine things, including, if you insist, your wretched Agnes!”

“If I stayed in this castle until you returned with an army you would not even find my skeleton as my bones would already have crumbled into dust! You should have let me go when I had the chance! Now even if I swore upon my mother’s ashes that I would depart this realm forever nary a soul in England would believe me!”

“You want to leave me!” Edward, on the verge of tears, accused.

“Dearest Edward, I am weary of this life!” I took his hand in mine and very patiently explained. “I have lived too fast in too brief a span. Though I am but seven-and-twenty I feel ancient and decrepit inside. You who have so much life can never understand, but my strength, my vitality, is gone. I would have liked to have lived, to start anew and travel far away, perhaps to some exotic land of sunshine and spices, where the scent of cinnamon hangs in the air. I still have my mind, and in time I might have regained my health enough to compete in tournaments again. And there are many beds in the world, and when I saw my reflection in the spring today it told me, though thin and pale and wan, I still have what it takes to bring the coins in. Edward, I implore you, as you love me, send for the Earl of Pembroke, though he despises me he is also a man of honor and integrity. I will humbly beseech his pardon for any offense I have given him. And you will renounce me and swear that you will have nothing more to do with me, and England shall evermore come first and foremost in your mind and heart. We will say goodbye and mean it and have nothing to do with each other ever again! This too may end in failure; Pembroke may refuse to intercede, but, if you truly love me, Edward, you will love me enough to try, and make an earnest attempt to save my life.”

“But my darling, I will save you!” Edward insisted. “At dawn I leave for York, and soon I will return at the head of a mighty army …”

“Edward,” my eyes filled with tears. “Please, I beg you, let me live!”

“Piers,” he grasped my shoulders and shook me hard. “Listen to me! You shall live, I promise, you shall!”

“No, Edward,” I shook my head resignedly, “not in any real sense, only in your heart, and as an infamous legend; I have already ceased to exist as anything else. And very soon now, not only the world, but I too, shall be free of the hated Gaveston.” I stood up and walked over to the bed. “You can make love to me if you like,” I offered with an indifferent shrug. “I think that is how you would prefer to remember me; it is how you have always thought of me, and it is our last night.”

Never one to quibble about the spirit in which such an invitation is made, Edward tackled me in a breathless rush and together we fell onto the bed, sinking into the soft feather mattress in a tangle of naked limbs. Not even our sorry plight or my despair could dampen Edward’s ardor. He was as passionate as I have ever known him to be.

I did not sleep at all that night. While Edward slumbered blissfully with his head upon my shoulder and a contented smile upon his lips, I lay awake with a river of tears running down my face.

I wept because this last night of love should have been poignant, both bitter and sweet, and yet I felt nothing, nothing at all. No pleasure or pain, love or hate, anger or desire. We had indeed come full circle and I had found myself back where I started from, merely going through the motions to satisfy a lover, pretending a passion I did not feel to disguise the emptiness inside. I am sorry, Edward, I am so sorry! But we have dragged this out far too long; it really is time to say goodbye, in truth, we should have said it some time ago! The truth is you fell in love with a fantasy, an illusion; we both did. Neither of us could in reality be what the other expected. I failed you, Edward, and you failed me.