Forgotten Princess

James Holden-White

Description

King Edward of England looks to secure his annexation of Wales and resolves to put the heir to Gwynedd's throne, the orphaned infant Princess, Gwenllian, out of mind, secure and forgotten in a Lincolnshire Priory. The lady Rowena, ever loyal, undergoes many an ordeal to find, comfort and protect the miserable child, whose real identity has been cruelly kept from her.Eighteen years later when the King conceives a plan to settle any question of Welsh succession and news of the Princess leaks to those who would free her, Rowena finds herself faced with the most agonising of choices.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 21 mars 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785386497
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE FORGOTTEN PRINCESS
James Holden-White




First published in 2017 by
AG Books
www.agbooks.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2016 James Holden-White
The right of James Holden-White to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.




For my wonderful children, Sophie, Kate and Daniel who miss their beloved beagle, Gwenllian, very much.



Key Characters
The Norman-English
King Edward 1 st of England (‘Longshanks’)
Prince Edward (his son will become Edward 2 nd )
Robert Burnell (Edward’s Chancellor and Spymaster)
William de Beauchamp 9 th Earl of Warwick
Guy de Beauchamp (his son, will become the 10 th Earl)
Henry De Lacey Earl of Lincoln and patron of Sempringham
Thomas Earl of Lancaster, Leicester and Derby (Nephew of Edward 1 st and son in law of Henry de Lacey)
Roger Bigod Earl of Norfolk
Roger Mortimer Earl of Gloucester
Humphrey de Bohun Earl of Hereford
Father Crispin a Dominican Friar and Edward’s Confessor
The Welsh
Llywelyn ap Gruffydd Prince of Gwynedd
Gwenllian ferch Llywelyn (Llywelyn’s daughter. The forgotten Princess)
Lady Rowena (lady in waiting to Eleanor de Montfort, the mother of Gwenllian, and wet nurse to the Pincess)
Dafydd ap Gruffydd (brother of Llywelyn, Prince after him)
Llywelyn and Owain ap Dafydd (Dafydd’s sons)
Gwladys ferch Dafydd (Dafydd’s daughter)
Elizabeth de Ferrers (English -Norman wife of Dafydd)
Morgan ap Maredudd (the rebel) a Lord of Glamorgan
Cynan ap Madredudd (his brother)
Madog ap Llywelyn (Nephew of Morgan and Cynan, distant cousin of Llywelyn and Dafydd ap Gruffydd)
Rhys Wyndod a Lord of Deheubarth
Llywelyn Bren a Lord of Senghenydd
Cynfrig ap Madog Constable of Castell-y-Bere
Occupants of Sempringham Priory
Philip de Burton (Prior)
Father John de Hamilton (Cistercian monk)
Father Robert Manning of Bone (Cistercian monk)
Sister Constance (Gilbertine Prioress)
Sister Catherine (Gilbertine nun)
Sister Alice (Lay Cellaress)
Sister Edith (Lay Sister)
Sister Alethea (orphaned child who becomes Gilbertine nun)



Prologue
The Council of Lincoln - (February 1301)
“Ah, Burnell my friend.” The king rose to his full height from his seat on the dais as his chancellor entered the wood panelled hall. As he did so, those attending him scattered, bowing as they retreated backwards and leaving only his host, Henry de Lacey, the geriatric Earl of Lincoln, decrepit and hard of hearing, at his side. The king smiled in greeting, his arms wide. “Our Parliament would not be complete without you, Robert, whatever my son might think.”
“No indeed, my Lord.” The new entrant coughed and rubbed his cold hands together. “By your leave?” He glanced at the blazing fire of enormous seasoned oak logs positioned to the left hand wall and half way down the hall.
“Of course... and, hot wine for my Lord Burnell!” he gestured to a courtier as his chancellor, weary from his journey and soaked through by the rain and sleet he had ridden through, paced slowly and stiffly over to the fireplace.
Burnell exchanged his wet cloak for a steaming goblet of wine, knelt to warm himself briefly, coughed again, rubbed some life back into his aching limbs and slowly straightened up to face his monarch, his back to the enormous fire.
The king had reseated himself and regarded him carefully. Burnell was as grey as he was, as ever short and stout in the belly but hunched and arthritic now in his old bones. His pointed goatee beard was neat as usual and though his cough betrayed advancing illness his loyalty had been unfailing over the years.
“I regret, but I had to send you, Robert.” The king smiled. “I know you are more comfortable in your warm tower dealing with my papers and the more delicate affairs of state, but as we were in Lincoln I had to send you in person. In light of events here tomorrow I needed answers. Answers we could all believe in and trust.”
The old spy master coughed again, tasting a little blood. He would not have chosen February or Lincoln to hold the investiture of the Prince of Wales but he was better than anyone at practising discretion in the presence of King Edward. The king’s parliament of barons was assembled and tomorrow the seventeen-year-old Prince Edward of Caernarfon would be furnished with his new title though he be miles from his Principality and the Welsh themselves.
It was all part of the king’s succession plan. But while ‘The Hammer of the Scots’ was ageing too, he still cut an imposing figure who could handle a sword as well as any man alive and was not in need of immediate replacement.
“I am not disposed to campaigning as yourself, Lord King,” Burnell sipped his wine. “Not so comfortable in the saddle. But as you say, it was not too burdensome a ride from Lincoln. I am pleased to find you in good health, my Lord.”
“I have my young Queen to keep me warm on the winter nights, my friend.”
“The Queen is well, I trust?”
“She carries her baby capably and should deliver in the spring.” The king paused. “But I do miss my Eleanor. You passed her cross in Lincoln township?”
Burnell nodded, for he was well acquainted with the monuments the king had ordered be set up to mark the funeral procession of his first Queen ten years before.
“I paid my respects. We all miss her, Sire,” his old friend reassured him. “No doubt the Prince will think of her tomorrow.”
The king scowled and as he narrowed his eyes his drooping left lid all but closed his left eye completely.
“I wish but that the Prince would do some thinking,” he sighed.
“He will thrive in his new responsibilities, My Lord, as will befit his new position.”
“If but his brothers had lived,” the king shook his head. “He is weak, Robert, and has bigger eyes for the Queen and bigger ears still for that idiot Piers Gaveston than he does for his ageing father or for matters of state. More fool me for adding Gaveston to his household as a companion, Burnell. I’ve a mind to exile the knave, yet young Edward wants me to give him an earldom.”
“Then must he learn his craft, my Lord, with troublesome Wales?”
The Earl of Lincoln nodded sagely at this, but the king was decisive.
“He was born in Caernarfon and he has always known the people rebellious. Now must we see Wales finally put beneath our feet.” He paused in thought a moment then leant forward in his chair as if revitalised.
“Now then, Robert, you have news from the Priory of Sempringham?”
“Some news, my Lord,” Burnell spoke tentatively, and coughed again as he pulled up a stool closer to his master.
“Leave us,” the king ordered and the hall cleared noiselessly. Only the king, his chancellor and the immobile Earl of Lincoln remained.



Chapter 1
The House of Aberffraw
(Begins at Rhuddlan Castle early December 1282)
“It is a simple matter of homage, Burnell. I pay homage to the King of France for my lands there. Alexander of Scotland pays homage to me for his lands here. So why do they persist?”
The chancellor studied the rushes on the chamber floor and played with his pointed goatee beard as he considered his answer.
The speaker, Edward Plantagenet, stood tall at the window, also in ponderous thought. Thought interrupted by an itching in his beard. A louse? A flea? He scratched at it absent-mindedly with a single gold ringed finger. Such parasites did not discriminate, they afflicted both the mighty and the lowliest in the realm and this little tormentor had a liking for royal blood.
From his view in the tower, the king could see a flurry of activity at the twin turreted gatehouse and as he extended his flea combing to a full four fingered scratch of his jaw line, he sighted a single rider to clatter over the wooden draw bridge, pass through the barbican and enter the inner ward of the castle.
The horse was in a lather, having been ridden hard and as it was brought to a stop, the rider recovered a leather bag from the back of his saddle before dismounting and leaving his exhausted mount in the care of a waiting groom. If he had news for the king, it would take him a little time yet to negotiate the steps to his eyrie and any number of guards who would search him thoroughly.
“They told Llywelyn at the Council of Aberconwy that they would not accept a Lord who knows not their tongue, their ways or their laws,” the chancellor at last replied. “They hate us Normans and...”
“Stinking Welsh pox ridden cattle thieves!” The king interrupted impatiently. “They will hate more the yoke I place upon them and the scourge I beat them with! I have been merciful to them once, have I not? All he need do is acknowledge his feudal Lord and he can roam his mountains in peace. Yet I must humble him again!”
Burnell noticed the familiar lisp creeping into the king’s tone; a warning sign to those who knew him best that his temper was rising. His master was prone to spontaneous outbursts of ang