Виктория Холт - The Vow on the Heron

How lucky he was with his Philippa.

Being depressed by trouble in the family, he had thought a great deal lately about his mother, and decided he would go to Castle Rising and see her.

There was no doubt of her pleasure when he arrived.

She embraced him and wept a little and he noticed with relief that she was more serene than he had seen her ever before.

‘Ah,’ she said, ‘you are indeed a King now.’

‘I have grown older—and perhaps more quickly than most.’ ‘It was necessary. You were such a boy when the crown was placed on your head.’

‘Tell me, my lady, are you content here at Castle Rising?’ She was silent for a while and he wished he had not asked that question for it had set her looking back into the past. ‘There is peace here,’ she said.

‘Peace ... ah peace! Is that not what we all long for?’

never wanted it when I was young. It is only when you are old and wise that you realize its virtues. You, my dear son, would not like to be shut away here in Castle Rising. I see very few people but I have good servants. I ride a little. I go out with my falcon now and then. I hunt the deer. I read a great deal and I pray, Edward. I pray for the remission of my sins.’

‘You are ... better than you were?’

‘You mean do I still have my fits of madness? Now and then, Edward, now and then, but I fancy they are less frequent nowadays and of shorter duration. I see visions in my dreams but not in my waking moments. Sometimes I lie remembering all the evil deeds of my life.’

‘An unhealthy occupation which would do none of us much good, I fear.’

‘Some of mine will need a great deal of prayer for forgiveness. And now your brother is dead. I think about him, Edward. I was never a good mother to him.’

‘He thought of you as a goddess. He said not long ago that he had never seem a woman whose beauty compared with yours.’

She shook her head. ‘I scarcely looked at him. I wanted children for the power they would give me. Oh, I am a wicked woman, Edward. John’s death has brought that home to me.’

‘You must not brood on it, my lady.’

‘At least it has brought you to see me.’

‘I should have come before.’

‘You have been lenient with me, though you killed Mortimer ...’ Her voice broke at the mention of that name. ‘I must not think of him,’ she said quietly, ‘or I shall have bad dreams. Edward, I want to come to see you sometime. You ... and the children and your good Philippa.’

He went to her and kissed her brow.

‘You shall come to us, Mother. Philippa would wish it. You should see young Edward.’

‘He is like you when you were his age. I am glad you called him Edward.’

Questions came into her mind. She wanted to ask him if his father’s murderers had ever been discovered. But she dared not. She did not want him remembering what part she had played in the most horrible murder in history.

She knew that the long exile could be over if she wished. She could go to Court. People would forget.

They talked of John for a while and it was clear that she mourned this son though she had never loved him in life. His death had brought home to her another of her failings. She had been a bad mother to her children ... all except Edward and she had led him to depose his father.

Edward took an affectionate farewell of her.

Life could change now if she wished. He had come to see her; he was telling her that whatever she had done she was his mother and he had loved and admired her until he discovered her true nature.

He could forgive her.

Her spirits were lifted. But she would have one of her attendants sleep in her room this night. She was afraid that the ghosts would come.

Edward had revived memories.

COUNT Robert of Artois, Queen Isabella’s cousin, had arrived in England. He had quarelled with the King Philip and came as a fugitive, having escaped from France disguised as a merchant.

Robert of Artois was a man born to make trouble. It had been his lot in life never to achieve what he thought was his by right; he suffered from a permanent envy and a desire to bring misfortune to those who possessed that which he would like to have.

His great animosity was directed against the King of France. He was a great grandson of Robert the first Count of Artois, who had been a younger brother of St Louis, and it was frustrating for a man of Robert’s temperament to be descended from the royal tree and yet not of the main line. He constantly reminded himself of how different everything would have been if instead of being a younger brother his great grandsire had been the elder.

Moreover Philip, the present King, was not of the direct line. Yet there he sat on the throne, elected by common consent as the nearest to Philip the Fair since his father was brother to that King. Philip’s three sons, Louis, Philip and Charles had reigned ignobly under the shadow of the Templar’s curse and now Philip son of Charles de Valois had become the King of France.

For some years Robert had had to sue for what was his by right—that was the countship of Artois which had belonged to his great grandfather.

Philip the Fair had refused to grant him these lands and had tried to fob him off with others and during the reigns of Philip’s three sons he had tried again; he had even married Philip’s sister; but it was no use. Philip had shown clearly that he was not interested in his kinsman’s claims.

When Queen Isabella had been in France he had been struck by her beauty and had become one of her ardent partisans. At the time when her brother was finding her presence at his court embarrassing, it was Robert of Artois who had hastened to warn her to get away and had helped her to reach Hainault.

The fact was that Robert could never resist being involved in any intrigue. He liked to be at the heart of it and if he could not enjoy the estates which he believed were his due, he could at least enjoy trouble.

If there was anything likely to bring that about he would seize the opportunity to be in the thick of it. He could only soothe his envy for the King of France by making the position more difficult for him to hold.

Again and again sources of disaffection would be traced to him; and there came a time when the King decided he would have no more of it.

There would never be peace in a realm while Artois was there to make trouble so the King called together a court of peers to examine the case against Robert of Artois with the result that he was banished and his property confiscated.

Robert was not the kind of man to go meekly. He lingered. He sought further means of making trouble until the King was so exasperated that he sent guards to arrest him. If Robert would not live peaceably in freedom, he would have to be put somewhere where he could do nothing to disrupt the country.

It was then that Robert, having warning of his intended arrest, disguised himself as a merchant and took flight.

Where should he go? Where but to England. But for him Edward might never have had his throne, so he believed.

He presented himself at Court in most dramatic fashion. Edward was dining at the time in the great hall of Westminster with a large company of people. The Queen was seated beside him and as was the custom the people were allowed to walk in and watch the King at his meal.

There was a sudden commotion among the crowd and a merchant stepped forward. As he had come very close to the table the guards moved in to restrain him.

Edward, his knife in his hand, had been in the act of conveying a tasty morsel of lamprey to his mouth.

‘What means this?’ he demanded.

The merchant came forward. ‘Allow me a word with the King,’ he said.

The guards stood hesitantly awaiting the King’s orders. All eyes were on the merchant.

‘My dear dear cousin,’ he said. ‘I have come from afar to seek hospitality at your Court. I know you will not deny it.’ Edward stared in astonishment. ‘It is. It can’t be. But yes ... Robert ... Robert of Artois ‘

‘Your own cousin ... your loyal friend. It warms my heart to see you in the midst of your devoted subjects.’

Edward rose, embraced Robert and made him sit beside him and eat of the food, which Robert did with great heartiness while he talked a great deal about the wickedness of the King of France.

He was so different from Robert’s dear cousin of England.

The just requests which he, Robert, had made had been denied him. He never wanted to return to France while Philip of Valois sat on the throne. He would go back though when that unworthy monarch was ousted from that position.

This was a reckless manner in which to talk in public but Robert had been born reckless.

‘This Foundling I ‘ went on Robert. ‘That is what they call him in France. He had no idea that he would ever come to the throne ... nor would he but for a course of mishaps. First the father and then the sons ... one by one. It was clear was it not that they were a cursed line? And who is Valois? The son of a King’s brother. Methinks there are others who come before him.’

There were sly looks at Edward who was flushed a little—either with this suggestion or with the excitement of the reunion.

Philippa studied this flamboyant man who looked as though he had seen a great deal of the world and was dissatisfied with it.

* * *

She did not greatly like him. Something told her that where he was trouble would follow.

She was right. Robert immediately became a member of that intimate circle about the King. He was after all royal. He hunted with the royal party and declared his intention of helping in the war against Scotland. He had a certain charm and was experienced, being a good many years older than Edward. He had many fascinating anecdotes to tell of his adventures and he became a favourite particularly with the women. He travelled with the royal cavalcade up to Scotland, but war was not his idea of enjoyment. Certainly not the war with Scotland.

He talked a great deal to Edward about Scotland. ‘Why concern yourself with this poor little country? This Baliol—why bolster him up? He is doomed to be a failure, that man. He will never hold the country together. Philip has not been a very good friend to you, has he? He has shown clearly his preference for your enemies. Look how he keeps the young King and Queen of Scotland at Château Gaillard.

‘He has certainly been no friend to me, that is clear enough,’ admitted Edward.

‘My dear friend and lord, it is a sad state of affairs when your own sister is the guest of the King of France, and in flight from you.’

‘I have offered them a refuge here. I have promised that on the death of Baliol their throne shall be restored to them.’

‘Ah, but they do not take advantage of your goodness, my lord. Why? Because the King of France tells them not to. Do you realize that this wily enemy of yours has taken those two children under his wing for the sole purpose of making trouble for you in Scotland?’

‘I know that, Robert.’

‘Scotland!’ Robert snapped his fingers. ‘What is Scotland? This is a poor little country ... and yet so much blood has been shed to get possession of it. I marvel at you, Edward. You waste your energies on Scotland when there is a far greater crown waiting for you. It is not as though you had no right to it.’

‘The crown of France!’ said Edward. ‘There are many who would say I have no right.’

‘The Valois would! Naturally. He wants it for himself. The Foundling King!’

‘He was chosen by the people to reign. I hear he is a good King.’

‘Any king would be called good who came after the last three. Mercy be that their reigns did not last long. Your beautiful mother was the daughter of Philip the Fair. Her three brothers ruled—if you can call it rule—and she is the next in line and through her, her son.’

‘You know full well the Salic Law prevails in France.’ Robert snapped his fingers. ‘I do not ask that Isabella should rule. No. But she has now a son, a son who now carries the crown of England. Why should he not, instead of wasting his skill, his men and his arms on petty little Scotland, seek a worthier crown?’

‘Ah, Robert, you almost convince me. But think of the bloodshed there would be. It would not be something which could be settled in a month or a year. I could see it going on and on ...’

‘Nothing that is worth while comes easily.’