Читать книгу The Three Edwards: The Pageant of England - Thomas B. Costain - Страница 13
ОглавлениеA Prince Is Born
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The subjugation of Wales had been completed in 1282 with the deaths of Llewelyn and David, but peace between the English and the Welsh did not come by any means. Edward still found it necessary to spend most of his time in and about his new dominions and he devoted much of it to the completion of the great castles which were to hold the wild tribesmen under control.
Where Edward went, Eleanor went also. She was in Wales the next year, holding court at Rhuddlan Castle, and it was here that her daughter Elizabeth was born. A year later the tall fortress of Caernarvon was ready for occupancy. A grim reminder of the power of the conquerors, it stood on the sea, with one gate looking out over the Menai Strait and the other commanding a view of the white summit of Snowdon, where the bravest of the Welsh leaders still held out. As Eleanor was with child again, Edward took her to Caernarvon. The impending event was not considered of any greater importance than the many other accouchements. There was an heir to the throne, Prince Alfonso, named after the queen’s brother in Castile. As several years had passed over his head, it was hoped that he would achieve the maturity denied his two older brothers.
At this point the story reaches debatable ground. Of recent years historians have been disposed to cast aside the best elements in the generally accepted legend of the birth of a fourth son in Caernarvon Castle who was to become king in his turn under the title of Edward II, the contention being that the early annals contain no mention of it and that it may, on that account, be an invention of some later writer. The legend, as it has been so often told, is set down for what it is worth.
The queen made her entrance into the castle through the east gate, a strong imposing structure. The natives of this part of Wales, who have not yielded in their adherence to the original story, still call this Queen Eleanor’s Gate. It gave direct entry to the Eagle Tower, a lofty and menacing pile of masonry high enough and strong enough to awe (if such had been possible) the proud chieftains who still refused to accept the fetters of Saxon servitude. Rather high in the Eagle Tower is a suite of rooms which is pointed out today as the queen’s; in one of them, a tiny chamber twelve feet by eight sunk into the thick stone walls, she gave birth to the new child. It must have been a cold and dismal room, because it contained no hearth; indeed there was little room in this far from regal niche for more than a bed. The grooms of the chamber had done their best to give a touch of cheer by hanging tapestries on the walls. The queen had brought many tapestries and wall hangings of gay colors from her native Castile, and it was her custom to have a supply of them carried in her train so she could enjoy that much alleviation of the bleak and dreary walls which always surrounded her. The child was a boy, a healthy specimen. He was placed in a cradle of oak, hung by rings to two upright posts, the whole of somewhat crude workmanship. This first couch of the royal infant has been kept and proudly displayed down through the centuries.
Edward had left his wife at Caernarvon and had returned to Rhuddlan, where matters of state demanded his presence. It was here that he received word of the birth of a son, and he was so pleased that he knighted the Welshman who brought the news and made him a grant of land. Even though the newborn infant would not be heir to the throne, it was well to have the succession doubly secured; and it is probable also that the continuous arrival of daughters had achieved a certain monotony for the royal father. It may have been concern for the state of health of his much-loved queen that caused Edward to depart in great haste for Caernarvon rather than the elation he felt over the arrival of another boy. He found Eleanor well and the new prince sleeping in abounding health in his plain cradle.
The legend has it that when the new son was three days old a number of Welsh chieftains came to Caernarvon to make their submissions to Edward. They begged him, if he would have peace in the land, to find for them a prince above reproach who would speak neither English nor French. The king was resourceful, as he was to prove innumerable times during his eventful reign. He listened to the plea of the tribesmen, and an ingenious plan took form in his mind. He accordingly left the reception chamber where the chieftains were assembled and, much pleased with himself, returned almost immediately with his newborn son in his arms. He held the infant out for their inspection. Here, he declared, was the prince they had asked for, the new Prince of Wales.
“He has been born a native of your country,” he said. “His character is unimpeachable. He cannot speak a word of English or French. If it please you, the first words he utters shall be Welsh.”
The chieftains, realizing that they had been caught in a skillful trap, made the best of things. They knelt in turn and kissed the hand of the royal infant, swearing fealty to him.
Such is the legend. It is a pleasant one, the kind that, once heard, is never forgotten. It is one of the favorite stories of English history and the narrator hesitates to put it aside, to condemn it completely to the discard. It must be said, of course, that there are grounds for skepticism. It was not until 1301 that the prince, grown to man’s estate, had bestowed upon him the title of Prince of Wales. This official step was taken when Parliament met in the city of Lincoln, and it is one of the strongest points advanced against acceptance of the old story.
But sometimes a small item, buried away in the records of the dark past, will obtrude itself into discussions of this kind. There is an entry in the royal household accounts of a date long after, when the small prince had grown to manhood and had taken his father’s place as King of England, to be known as Edward II. Twenty shillings had been paid to one Mary of Caernarvon, his Welsh nurse.
Quite apparently he had been very fond of her and he remembered her well enough to have her come all the way to London to see him. This might indicate that the child born in the great castle had been more than just another royal infant, one of sixteen; that some significance had attached to him which made it advisable to keep a nurse of Welsh birth in attendance long enough for him to remember her after all these years. A trivial occurrence, perhaps; and yet it burns like a small candle in a darkly shuttered room.
Four months later Prince Alfonso died, and the healthy child who may or may not have been displayed proudly to the Welsh chiefs in Caernarvon Castle became heir to the throne of England.
