We have the rest of our lives, she thought. We can for a while pay homage to propriety.

In his death chamber, faintly lighted by a wintry sun, for the month was December, Joanna had ordered that candles be lighted and one by one his squires went in to take their last farewell of him – a good master, a man of strong character, who more than once in his life had defied his King. Yet he was a man to be respected, for in spite of the fact that he had once fought against royalty on the side of Simon de Montfort, the King had given him his daughter.

Joanna was watchful during those days in Monmouth Castle to which they had come that Gilbert might guard his Welsh estates, and only now and then she allowed herself to catch the eye of Ralph de Monthermer, and then hers conveyed the message: ‘Wait awhile. But not for long.’

The family burial place of the Clares was Tewkesbury, and with great pomp Gilbert was taken to the abbey there. Joanna commanded that a statue should be made of him in his chain armour for he had above all been a great warrior; and on his tabard she had engraved the family arms and in the right hand the spear, in the left his sword.

‘Alas, poor Gilbert,’ she said, ‘he was a good husband to me, but he was old and it was to be expected that he would go before me.’

And she smiled to herself. She had always said that if a woman married once for state reasons – which as a princess perhaps duty demanded that she should – the second time she married, her husband should be of her own choosing.


* * *

It was imperative that she make sure that she should lose nothing by her husband’s death. His estates were vast for he had been one of the richest barons in England and when her father was in St Edmundsbury she took the journey there to be with him.

Edward was delighted to see her.

He embraced her warmly and looked eagerly at her, expecting, she supposed, to see the grief of a sorrowing widow.

She could not pretend to such an extent and when he sought to soothe her she replied, ‘My dear lord, Gilbert was a good husband to me. I married him because it was your command. But he was so much older than I and as the years passed the older he seemed to grow.’

The King was a little disconcerted, but he was pleased to see that she was not as unhappy as he had expected her to be.

‘I have my children to think to,’ she said. ‘I want to be sure that Gilbert’s estates come to me. I know that you would not allow them to be withheld from me.’

‘There is a certain amount owing to the exchequer, I am told,’ said the King. ‘I believe it to be ten thousand marks.’

‘That cannot be so, dear Father.’

‘Yes, my dear child, it is so. The ten thousand marks cover debts which he incurred as a fine and which was never paid.’ The King pressed her hand. ‘The rest of the estate shall be made over to you. I know it to be considerable.’

She was pleased; but she wanted to see how far her father would indulge her. He had come determined to make much of her. He greatly missed his eldest daughter, the Princess Eleanor, and he was now turning to the daughter who remained in England.

‘Dear Father,’ she said, ‘could you not forget the ten thousand marks? I would have to raise them and that would not be easy. Please, Father, for my sake and that of my children …’

She had slipped her arm through his and laid her face against his. She was very attractive – not as beautiful as Eleanor, nor as gentle as Margaret, nor as good as Mary, nor as dependent as Elizabeth … but there had always been something very appealing about Joanna.

Moreover he had something on his mind and that was marriage. He had mourned his Queen and had genuinely suffered through her loss, but several years had passed and many of his ministers had suggested that he should marry again. He was not young by any means. He was closer to sixty than fifty; but he was unusually full of vigour and he felt an excitement at the prospect of female company. Except in his extreme youth he had never been a man to sport outside the marriage bed. He could hardly begin now. He did not want to cast a slur on Eleanor’s memory, but it seemed only right and natural for a king to take a second wife.

He had heard eulogistic reports about the Princess of France. Her name was Blanche and she was the daughter of King Philip known as le Hardi. Philip was dead and Blanche was under the guardianship of her brother, the new King Philip le Bel. Before the idea of marriage had occurred to him he had heard Blanche praised for her beauty and sprightliness.

It had occurred to him recently that he must therefore marry and the most suitable bride for him was beautiful Blanche. Negotiations were going on at this time.

While Joanna was pleading with him he was wondering how he was going to break the news to his daughters that he was hoping to marry. They had all loved their mother so devotedly and he had declared many times after her death that he would never put another in her place. Times changed and kings had their duties to perform. No, he was too honest for that. He had never seen Blanche, but from the rumours he had heard he was already in love with her and he had discovered that love at fifty-six could be as strong as it was at twenty. Perhaps more so, because at that age a man who still retained his vigour also had the knowledge that there was not much time.

He would need the support of his daughters. He wanted them to understand. Therefore he would not wish there to be any rift between them.

‘My dear child,’ he said. ‘I would not wish to displease you for the sake of ten thousand marks.’

It had been easier than she had thought. She was exultant.

This tempted her to take her schemes a little further.

‘My lord,’ she said, ‘there is another matter.’

He said: ‘I am listening, daughter.’

‘There is a squire who has served Gilbert well. I believe he should be rewarded. During Gilbert’s illness he was always at his side … a very faithful man, caring not what he did for his master’s comforts.’

‘What would you have for him?’

‘He is but a humble squire.’

‘Of what family?’

‘A most humble one, my lord, but in manners he is a true knight. Would you, out of love for me, grant him the boon of knighthood?’

‘I will do this out of my love for you,’ said the King.

She kissed his hand.

‘Dear Father, how good you have always been to us. The only reward I can offer you is my unswerving love.’

‘It would always be mine, would it not?’ said the King.

‘Always,’ she answered.


* * *

Joanna said goodbye to her father and with her retinue returned to Gloucester. She was well pleased. She was free and she had proved to herself that whatever she did she would be forgiven.

She sent for Ralph de Monthermer.

‘Why, my lord,’ she said, ‘you have grown in stature, have you not. A knight, no less!’

‘For which I have to thank my gracious lady.’

‘The King has always been a good father to us. I have a notion that he would deny me nothing.’

She was smiling secretly.

She held out a hand to him. Willingly he grasped it.

‘My lady,’ he began.

‘I have decided that we might marry,’ she said.

He caught his breath in amazement.

‘Yes,’ she went on. ‘I will be frank. There is that about you which pleases me. Do I please you?’

She laughed aloud at his expression.

‘Oh come, my lord. Do not be shy.’

‘My lady, I am afraid …’

‘You afraid. Then I have been mistaken. I do not like men who are afraid …’

‘Of nothing but displeasing you.’

‘But you do not please me standing there and trembling like a foolish boy.’

He came to her. She saw the wild light in his eyes and it matched hers.

He took her and held her, and she laughed exultantly.

‘This,’ she said, ‘is what I have waited for.’

‘You … the King’s daughter!’

‘And mistress of my knight.’

‘Joanna … My Joanna!’

Of course it was as she had known it would be. Gilbert had been such an old man. Now she was well matched. This sensuous tireless vital man was hers.

As they lay together she said, ‘We should wait a while before we marry. It is too soon yet.’

‘You would … go as far as that?’

‘Have you not discovered that there are no lengths to which I would not go?’

‘I am beginning to learn.’

‘Ah, you have much to learn, Ralph de Monthermer.’

‘And when we are married what will the King do, think you?’

‘He will rant and rage and threaten to disown me. Perhaps he will put you in a prison. Are you afraid? Will you hold back?’

‘I will never hold back.’

‘That is well. I would never want a coward. I want to live boldly … freely. Never fear, the King loves me dearly. He would never remain angry with me for long. And if you please me and I want my husband taken from his cold damp cell, I shall ask for him and he will be given to me.’

‘What if your husband has ceased to please you by then?’

‘He will have to take care that he goes on pleasing me … as he does now.’

They made love again and again.

This is living, thought Joanna. Of course this is what I always wanted.


* * *

After what Joanna considered to be a reasonable time had elapsed she and Ralph de Monthermer were secretly married. She was delighted by her wedding and the intrigue which had been necessary excited her a great deal, but when the deed was done she was anxious as to how she would break the news to her father.

She knew that at this time he was deeply weighed down with troubles of his own. He was thinking of marrying and really was becoming quite besotted about Blanche of France; it was said that when her name was mentioned his eyes lit up with pleasure and his voice took on an unusual warmth. She was young and beautiful and he wanted to marry her. At the same time he thought a great deal about the late Queen to whom he had always said he would be eternally faithful. He was a man who did not like to break his word.

There was another matter which deeply concerned him too. He was worried about his eldest daughter – his dear Eleanor, now Duchess of Bar-le-Duc, who had, some thought, been the one he had loved beyond everyone else before this obsession with Blanche.

Things were going badly at the castle of Le Bar. During Edward’s conflict with the King of France, as was to be expected Eleanor’s husband came out in full support of his father-in-law and, owing to his estates being so close to France, this was extremely useful to Edward. Edward had of course supplied him with arms and money and the Duke had attempted to take Champagne, a project with which Edward was in agreement as its capture would have meant the aggrandisement of his grandson.

Champagne, however, belonged in her own right to the Queen of France who held the title Countess of Champagne. She was furious at what she called the Duke of Bar-le-Duc’s audacity and she mustered all the strength she could, which was considerable, to come against the Duke.

The result had been disastrous … for the Duke.

His army had been defeated and he was taken prisoner. Not content with that the Queen, feeling vindictive against him, had had him fettered and sent to a dungeon in Paris. The King of France, however, had restrained his wife and while he agreed that the Duke should remain a prisoner he thought he should be treated with more dignity, and – perhaps his relationship with the King of England would make this advisable – the Duke was taken to a more comfortable prison at Bourges. But the King of France was determined that the Duke should not be granted his freedom as he would only use it in the service of the King of England against France.

Eleanor was therefore alone in the castle of Le Bar wondering about the fate of the husband whom she loved, protecting little Edward, her son, and Joanna, her daughter, and each day wondering what would become of them.

Edward was frantic with anxiety about her and was planning a meeting. He wanted Eleanor to come to Ghent where he could meet her and they could be together and discuss her future.

Joanna was wondering whether, in view of the King’s preoccupations, it would be a good thing to spring the news of her marriage on him or whether, beset by anxieties, he would be more inclined to fume against her. There was a great deal at stake, she told Ralph. He could confiscate their possessions. He could send Ralph to prison. There was no knowing how he might act. He had been an indulgent father but he did possess the notorious Plantagenet temper, and although he kept it well in check it could be terrifying when aroused.