#that Jack named Edmund after Edmund of Gloucester

[queenlucythevaliant]

“Do you honestly mean to tell me, Edmund, that you’ve never read King Lear?”

Professor Digory was leaning forward over his desk, regarding Edmund with unreadable eyes. His voice rested heavily, deliberately on the name. There was a note of irony in it that was difficult to place.

Edmund shook his head. “I’ve never been assigned it,” he said. “Hamlet, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, but never King Lear. Is something the matter?”

The Professor didn’t answer. “What do they teach in these schools?” he was muttering, reaching back behind him. His plays were crammed so closely together on their shelf that he struggled to extricate Lear. When at last he managed it, he ran a hand over the cover, then passed it over the desk to Edmund.

“Homework?” asked Edmund.

Professor Digory smiled cryptically. “Consider it self-exploration.”

*

There was something almost magic about seeing one’s own name in heavily-serifed font beside lines of Shakespearean dialogue. Edmund flipped through the pages before he began reading and his eyes stuttered over it. “EDMUND.” Centered on the page. Words below. A soliloquy perhaps. If nothing else, he understood the Professor’s humor better now.

“EDMUND, younger bastard son to Gloucester,” read the Dramatis Personae. Introduced on the first page along with his father’s crass embarrassment. In scene two, he became a traitor.

“Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land,” said Edmund the bastard. A moment later he was lying to his father and older brother, turning his family one against the other. Edmund—the boy reading the book, not a bastard, not a traitor any longer—felt his stomach turn over.

Older brothers, like Edgar, like Peter, were given good things. They were heirs and high kings, the masters of their families. They were good and faithful and trustworthy. There is nothing to resent, bastard Edmund. He’ll be a better king than you, don’t you see? Not a treacherous bone in his body.

Peter wouldn’t have doubted his brother had Lucy not been there to contradict him. Edgar did as Edmund told him. He ran, and he suffered for it.

Yet younger brothers resented. There was no way around it. Their fathers and brothers and sisters could love them until their hearts stopped, but the resentment would be there anyway. Edmund remembered what it was like to choke on it. Your older brother will always be better than you, and when you don’t know any better, you’ll hate him for it.

Even now, there was a part of Edmund— (small, miniscule, couldn’t find it with a map or see it with a magnifying glass)—that still resented Peter. Peter the Magnificent, whom Aslan called to rule above all others and who his parents left in charge whenever they were gone. Peter, who had never let them down. Edmund resented Peter with a tiny, barely acknowledged corner of his heart, and he locked that resentment up in a black box and stashed it where he didn’t have to look at it. Edmund loved Peter; he did. He’d wager that no one had ever loved his brother or his king more. But that love would always be complicated by the feelings of insufficiency that lived in its margins.

Younger brothers resented. Did the Professor know? Was that what he had meant when he said “self-exploration?” The thought made Edmund a little nauseous, if he was being honest. He had never wanted anyone to know.

*

When Gloucester, Edmund’s father, was violently blinded as a result of Edmund’s treachery, the old man lamented, “As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods/ They kill us for their sport.”

Now that he was thinking about it, Edmund—King Edmund the Just—began to realize just how pagan King Lear was. Men cried out to Jupiter, Juno, and Apollo for salvation. No one heard them. There was no divine solace to be found. Edmund stared at the page, furious on Gloucester’s behalf, and with a lurch he thought, Aslan is on the move.

It was Mr. Beaver’s voice he heard in his mind. They had been terrible words, once.

Gloucester thought that the gods made him miserable for sport, but the heavens in Lear were bleak and empty. No divine ear heard him when he renounced the gods at the cliffs of Dover, only Edgar, who for all his goodness could not save his father for more than a few scenes. There was no redemption, only the terrible weakness of human hands.

Edmund had nearly doomed a whole world with his treachery. He would not trivialize Edmund the bastard’s treachery, but all the same, he knew that he had done worse. That Edmund had gotten his father blinded, his brother exiled, the kingdom in chaos, and more still to follow, but Edmund—Edmund Pevensie—had given over his family and nearly allowed eternal winter in all Narnia. Yet there had been someone to fix his mistake, even to the point of death. Who could save Edmund of Gloucester?

*

At the end of the play, Edmund repented. Was it enough?

Edgar charged him. “False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father,” he said. When Edmund read the words, he imagined that Edgar spoke them with a choked voice, holding back tears, determined not to cry. He sounded like Peter the morning of their reunion.

Edmund fought his brother and lost, and as he lay dying, he admitted his guilt and tried to save Cordelia. “Some good I mean to do, despite of my own nature.” What was that nature? Spite? Treachery? Resentment? All that and more, Edmund decided. Just as his own had been, once.

Human nature, the insufficiency of human love. “Yet Edmund was beloved,” the poor bastard insisted, panting for breath. Had Reagan and Goneril really loved him? Edmund Pevensie didn’t think so. Edgar had, though. Gloucester too, in his insensitive way. And Cordelia had loved Lear, but still she hurt him with her bluntness. Lear loved Cordelia, but he cast her off. Kent loved Lear, but he could not protect him. They all loved each other, hard and fierce and wrong. It wasn’t enough to save them.

Edmund imagined himself old and infirm. He imagined himself with no siblings and three daughters, trying to pass the rulership of Narnia on. What if he made Lear’s mistakes? It didn’t seem likely, but it would not be impossible. If his mind failed him in old age and his temper ran hot, he might doom his own kingdom just as Lear did. Did the thought frighten him?

No, not for a minute. He could never doom Narnia so completely. He did not have that power. Only Aslan, the infallible king, oversaw Narnia’s rising and falling.

Edmund’s stomach twisted again, this time with pity.

*

“Well? What did you make of it?” asked Professor Digory.

“It made me sad.”

Digory snorted, very un-Professorly for a moment. “Tragedies tend to do that, my boy.”

“I don’t mean the deaths or the misery or the loss,” said Edmund, trying to collect his thoughts. “I pitied them, in the end. And it was almost like pitying myself the way I was. Lonely and resentful. Foolish and treacherous.”

“Self-pity?”

“No. More like—I sorrowed for them because there was no one to fix them or to save them. Even a traitor may mend—but we can’t do it on our own.”

*

EDMUND.

What you have charg’d me with, that have I done;

And more, much more; time will bring it out.

‘Tis past.

 ASLAN.

Here is your brother, and there is no need

to talk to him about what is past.

[english-royal-history-1455-1603]

Margaret of Anjou, Queen of England (1430–1482) On 25th August 1482, a fifty-two year old woman died in poverty at Dampierre Castle, France. Wholly dependent on the charity of her King, Louis XI. Her father's death two years previously, left her destitute. Her will requested the King to sell her meagre possessions in part payment of her debts. The remainder she asked him to settle on her behalf. Yet this woman had once been a Royal bride. A Queen. Mother of a future King of England. A country where she was reviled, deemed a She-wolf, an unnatural woman. Margaret was born on 23rd March 1430, into a title rich, cash poor French noble family. She was no stranger to conflict or privation. Niece of Queen Marie of France. Daughter of the nominative King and Queen of Sicily, Naples and Jerusalem, Duke of Maine and Anjou, Duchess of Lorraine. Her parents were often away fighting for their rights. She was raised by her grandmother Yolande of Aragon, the power behind the Dauphin. These women taught her that women could raise armies and fight. Lessons that would become valuable in later life. Her marriage was negotiated by the Earl of Suffolk, to bring peace between England and France. Following a proxy ceremony in Tours, she journeyed across France, setting sail in early April 1445. She arrived in England on 9th April, a fifteen year old bride for King Henry VI, eight years her senior. Henry eager for a glimpse, disguised himself as a page and delivered her a letter. Not recognising him, she kept him on his knees until she had read it. He was apparently delighted with her. They married at Titchfield Abbey on 22nd April and Margaret was crowned on 30th April at Westminster Abbey. She soon had a strong influence over her husband. She would collude with Suffolk and the rising Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, to persuade him to support their policies. In 1447 she was involved in the plot that removed Henry's uncle, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, from power. Letters survive, as evidence that she conspired with Charles VII to persuade Henry to release Maine and Anjou to France, in 1448. The English nobility, quickly began to resent her influence. They protested that Suffolk had negotiated an inferior marriage, Margaret was “only a King's niece by marriage”. Henry had known her dower was worthless, yet accepted it. Her father possessed Minorca and Majorca in name only. Unable to fund his daughter's voyage, England had paid the bill. These grievances lead to factions forming. The war in France was going badly and was costly. Henry lacked his father's martial abilities and ambitions. Margaret was blamed for persuading him not to send troops when his Lieutenant in France, the Duke of York requested them. Hostilities had resumed when King Charles began taking back land in 1449. By the end of the year, York had been recalled and sent to Ireland for his failure. As putative heir to the throne following the death of Gloucester, York was bound to resent this. In 1450 this growing dissatisfaction was aired in parliament. Suffolk and Somerset were impeached. Somerset was jailed but the nobles wanted Suffolk's head. Henry refused and banished him but he was murdered on his voyage to France. The Queen's grief added fuel to the rumours that she was Suffolk's lover. Likely a groundless accusation, used as a political weapon during the ensuing Wars of the Roses. The Jack Cade rebellion followed soon after. The rebels were ordinary men who joined with disaffected minor nobles to march on London, where they were refused admittance by the citizens. Despite Henry forgiving them all, the unrest continued until Cade's death in July 1450. York was suspected of being involved. He was recalled from Ireland to answer to parliament in August. He convinced them of his innocence and returned to Royal favour for a short time. York's proximity might have been unsettling for the childless Margaret. Her position was precarious if anything happened to Henry. A medieval Queen's main role was filling the Royal nursery. She wanted a child, and took pilgrimages to Canterbury and Walsingham in the ten years before she conceived. We have no idea what caused the delay. Either could have had a physical problem. They may have chosen to delay consummation until Margaret was physically mature. Margaret might have suffered multiple miscarriages. The Duke and Duchess of York experienced similar problems. By early 1453 Margaret was pregnant. However her pregnancy was overshadowed by the loss of Bordeaux in July. Calais remained the only English territory of the French lands Henry's father and uncles had fought for. This loss seemed to tip the balance for Henry. He collapsed into a catatonic state. Margaret, aided by Somerset initially took the reigns, hiding his illness. The King's doctors expected him to recover quickly. He was still unresponsive when she went into confinement in September. And after his son, Edward of Westminster's birth on 13th October 1453. Margaret was in a difficult position, as the rumours that the child was Somerset's could not be dispelled until Henry recognised the child as his. Following a futile attempt to rouse the King in late January, Margaret made a move to become Regent.She presented a bill to parliament in February 1454. Parliament instead appointed York as Protector of England. Margaret and Edward, joined Henry at Windsor. Somerset was imprisoned in the Tower. York invested the infant Edward as Prince of Wales in June 1454, suggesting things were not difficult between himself and the Queen at this time. In late December 1454, Henry awoke as suddenly as he collapsed. Having recognised his son, he rode to London within days and ended York's protectorate. At somepoint in the following months Margaret became suspicious of York. The King called a Great Council in Leicester during the summer of 1455. York and his supporters were excluded. He raised an army and marched toward's London. Meeting the King at St Albans. Henry refused to hear him. York attacked and was victorious. Somerset, Percy and Clifford were killed. York captured the King. He was the power behind the throne for much of the following three years. The Queen had no scope to oppose him left the Tower, where she had taken refuge. However she continued intriguing with her supporters to regain Royal authority. In 1458 Henry took steps to reconcile all parties. He declared 25th March as a “Love-Day”. A public ceremony where both factions walked hand in hand into St Paul's for a blessing. Margaret walked hand in hand with York. The peace did not last. In October 1458, an attempted assasination of Richard, Earl of Warwick, York's nephew by marriage, took place. Warwick fled Westminster for Calais and began raising troops. His father the Earl of Salisbury and York did likewise in the North and Wales. Margaret took the steps of issuing calls to arms on behalf of the King. In 1459, her army defeated the Yorkists Blore Heath, then routed York, his eldest son Edward, Earl of March, Salisbury, and Warwick at Ludlow. She then issued attainders and seized their lands. The Yorkists raised armies in Calais and Ireland, and defeated the Royal army at Northampton in June 1460. Her husband was back in York's hands and her son would soon be disinherited by parliament in his favour. Margaret did not have long to wait for revenge. She fled to Wales and then Scotland where she raised an army. She was soon marching south. A surprise attack saw York killed at the Battle of Wakefield on 31st December. Salisbury was captured and beheaded. York's second son, Edmund of Rutland, was murdered after the battle, by Lord Clifford. Their heads were set up on Micklegate Bar, York. Margaret's actions after Wakefield, added fuel to the fire. Edward, Earl of March, Richard, Earl of Warwick and his brother John would seek revenge for the deaths of their fathers. Edward took the first victory at Mortimers Cross on 2nd February 1461. Margaret then defeated Warwick at 2nd St Albans on 1th February. She freed the King and marched to London. However her Captain's had failed to control their troops as they marched South. The citizens of London refused her entry, fearful of the harm they would cause. She turned north, allowing Edward, Earl of March to enter London. He was proclaimed King Edward IV on 4th March 1461. Edward then trounced the Lancastrians at Towton on Easter Monday 1462. Edward had the ability to move swiftly, and surprised the retreating army. Henry, Margaret and their son fled to Scotland. From there, she and Edward went to France to petition her nephew Louis XI for aid. After intervention from his mother, he agreed in return for Calais. Margaret had seriously misjudged, not understanding the English attitude to Calais. She returned to England in October 1462 with an army of 500 French soldiers. Her invasion was troubled from the start. She was finally defeated at Hexham in May 1464. She was lucky to survive, having been set upon by robbers in the forest as she fled. Henry was captured 1465, having been found wandering, confused on the Yorkshire moors. Edward kept him in genteel confinement in the Tower. Margaret returned to France, spending her time unsuccessfully petitioning her nephew for aid. Louis ignored her pleas. Seeing an opportunity to make mischief he changed his mind in 1470. Edward IV and Warwick's relationship had irretrievably broken down. Louis brokered peace between Margaret and Warwick. Although she kept him kneeling for over quarter of an hour, she realised Warwick was vital to her plans. She also agreed to her son Edward marrying Warwick's youngest daughter Ann. Warwick set sail first, surprising Edward IV, who fled into exile in Burgundy. Warwick freed King Henry and crowned him again. The Lancastrians enjoyed a brief period in the sun. Their natural suspicions of Warwick, likely influenced their loyalty. By the time Margaret, Edward and Ann landed in England on 18 April 1461, Warwick was dead. The Battle of Barnet had taken place on the previous day. Henry had been recaptured and Edward IV was ready to reclaim his throne. Margaret chose to fight on. Planning to cross the Severn and rendezvous with the Welsh troops of Jasper Tudor. What followed was a game of cat and mouse across the South and West of England. Edward leading his troops on a forced march to block Margaret. He succeeded, sending messengers ahead, ordering city gates and bridges closed to her army. He pinned the Lancastrians down at Tewkesbury on 4th May 1471. Margaret's son was killed in the ensuing battle, aged seventeen and with him, her purpose. Edward's retribution against the Lancastrian army was swift and harsh. The leaders taking sanctuary in the Abbey were dragged out and slain. Some without trial. Margaret returned to London in Edward's train. Not a triumphant Queen but a pitiful prisoner. Driven slowly through the streets and pelted with rubbish by the angry populace. Her husband died that night, in suspicious circumstances. Although it was announced he had “died of a broken heart”. Margaret initially confined to the Tower was released into the custody of her friend, the Duchess of Suffolk. She was ransomed to France as part of the peace deal between Edward and Louis in 1476, for 50,000 crowns.