Those who, being conscious of Lollardism, or knowing themselves suspected of it, felt danger threatening them, got out of the way, or in some other manner prepared for the inevitable as best they could. The prominent Lollard, Sir John Montacute, Roger's great-uncle, made his will, and then waited the event. The young Lord Le Despenser, a boy of Roger's age, was sent off by his friends to sea, being sagaciously placed under the nominal care of the Earl of Arundel.
Having finished their work, the Lords Appellants now thought it time to distribute their rewards. The heaviest prize fell to Gloucester's share, for he granted himself—of course in the King's name—all the lands of the Duke of Ireland, about the second man in England as to wealth, and the smaller property of the Earl of Suffolk. He also appropriated to himself the office of Justice of Chester, which the conspirators had showed such indignation that Ireland should possess. To Arundel was granted the marriage of the young Lord Poynings. To Edward of York was given the earldom of Rutland, with lands in the county, and a hundred marks in money. The Bishop of Ely received the archbishopric of York. Derby was more easily satisfied: he coveted only the breastplate of Sir John Beauchamp, one of the murdered Lollards. He was, in truth, not anxious to show too distinctly his status as one of the conspirators. The Archbishop of Canterbury was made happy by a proclamation that "whosoever should be found to possess any books, pamphlets, or handbills, of Master John Wycliffe and others, deceased, in English or in Latin, should be arrested and put under penalty by the Council." Norfolk and Warwick it was not thought necessary to notice in the general distribution: but, perhaps to blind the eyes of the public, perhaps to keep the King content in the menial position which they had assigned to him, that suppressed gentleman was allowed to make a few insignificant grants to his own friends. He was graciously permitted to restore a single manor to Lady Poynings, their own inheritances to Emma Tresilian, and Idonia Brembre, and her wardrobe to Joan Salesbury, widows of his murdered councillors.[#] He was also allowed to grant to his younger brother the castles of Berkhamsted and Tintagel, and to the elder the constableship of the Tower, and the marriage of Roger, Earl of March.
[#] The widows of Tresilian and Brembre, the two members of the attainted group who alone were not Lollards, received by far the best treatment of any.
"'Tis an ill wind blows nobody good," said Mistress Grenestede when this last piece of news was published.
"Ah, my dear master! is it good it has blown you?" was the silent response of Lawrence Madison in his inmost heart.
Whatever were Lawrence's doubts, none oppressed Roger. He arrayed himself for his bridal without a shadow of apprehension of any sort.
The King, the Queen, the royal Dukes and Duchesses, and half the nobility, were bidden to the marriage of the heir of England, which took place early in March, in the Royal chapel of the Tower.[#] The bridegroom was dressed in blue golden baldekyn, one of the richest silk stuffs then manufactured, the cost of which when plain was about seven guineas: but this was richly wrought with fleurs-de-lis in gold embroidery, which had cost three pounds more. White frills of costly lace encircled his neck and wrists, and closer sleeves of crimson velvet protruded from the wider sleeves of the blue gown. His boots were of crimson velvet, buttoned with pearls. In his hand was a hat of black velvet, over which swept a full plume of white ostrich feathers. From a chain of massy gold about his neck depended the White Hart, in enamel and gold, which was at once the badge of the King and that of the bride.
[#] The place is not on record; February or March, 1389, is the probable date.
The Lady Alianora, who was given away by her royal uncle,—an uncle only about five years older than his niece—was arrayed with the utmost care and costliness that her wardrobe could afford. She appeared in a long robe of crimson velvet, embroidered with golden flowers in an elaborate rambling pattern, and over it a cote-hardie, or close jacket without sleeves, of the choicest miniver, cut low in the neck, as a bridal dress then usually was: cuffs of gold filagree finished the sleeve at the wrist, and a girdle formed of ten golden clasps fitted round the hips. Down the front of the cote-hardie ran a row of gleaming jewels—sapphires, rubies, diamonds, and emeralds—which flashed and sparkled with every motion of the wearer. A golden fillet adorned her head, set with similar gems; and from under it flowed the golden glory of her magnificent hair, which streamed almost to the ground. This last item was an essential part of the bride's costume at this date. Beneath the crimson velvet robe, when she lifted it out of her way, could be seen glimpses of a rich skirt of gold-coloured satin, and black velvet shoes studded with gold. The bride wore no gloves: they were not usual except on some ceremonial occasions, and then only for royal persons, or for the bird to perch upon in hawking. The wedding-ring was set with a ruby.
Around the principal actors stood a crowd of the English nobility, and on its outskirts a motley assemblage of officials then deemed necessary—seneschals, heralds, minstrels, trumpeters, and many others.