Виктория Холт - The Vow on the Heron

The King of France! thought Joanna. Her father’s enemy! But it was because her father wanted Austria to be his friend that she was to marry Frederic.

It was a sad day when Duke Otho died. Joanna had been fond of him and it was yet another tragedy to lose him; and as the days passed she realized that more and more the attitude towards her was changing.

Frederic told her that her father had no right to the throne of France. He must have heard that somewhere for he would never have thought of it himself.

‘It is my father’s,’ cried Joanna, equally ignorant of the facts, but sure that her father was right. She would defend him even if it were dangerous to do so.

‘Your father will be driven out of France,’ cried Frederic. ‘Who says so?’

‘My Uncle Albrecht.’

She knew it of course. Duke Albrecht had always disliked her. Now his dislike was more than ever apparent.

Lord John came to her and when she heard what he had to tell her she was almost delirious with joy.

‘I have written to your father,’ he said, ‘to tell him of the death of Duke Otho and that the sympathies of Duke Albrecht, the Regent, are with the French. I have now heard from him that we are to leave at once and join the Queen in Flanders.’

Joanna was speechless with joy.

It was over then, this nightmare. She was going home. She wanted to run through the palace telling everyone.

She would start preparations immediately but Lord John warned that she must wait a little until Duke Albrecht himself spoke to her of her departure.

She saw him that very day. He was with Frederic as he often was. It was said he was teaching Frederic how to govern.

‘Why, here is our little bride,’ he said. ‘She looks radiant today, does she not, Frederic?’

Frederic said nothing. Oaf, thought Joanna. How happy I shall be when I do not have to see him again.

‘Tell us why you are so happy, little lady.’

‘You will know that my father has sent for me,’ she replied.

‘And the prospect of leaving us makes you happy?’

No need to placate them now. No need for anything but the truth. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does.’

‘Is that not a little ungracious?’

‘It is the truth,’ she answered.

‘Shall I tell you another truth, my Princess? You are here with us and here you will stay until we say you may go. Let us appeal to the Duke. Is that not so, Frederic?’

Frederic smiled his silly smile.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She cannot go until we say so.’

Cold terror seized Joanna. All the brightness had drained from her face. She turned and ran from the room.

* * *

‘Duke Albrecht will never dare to flout your father,’ said her attendants, but she could see that Lord John was not so sure.

There was no attempt now to hide the fact that Austria was going to be on the side of the French in the coming struggle and all the rich gifts and the proposed marriage might never have been given and arranged.

Frederic, who was very much under the influence of his uncle, told her that the French King was the greatest in the world and he would soon make the English King wish he had never thought of trying to take what did not belong to him.

Joanna refused to argue with him. She was sick at heart wondering what would happen to her now.

Looking into her sad little face Lord John tried to comfort her.

‘You know your father is a man who always gets what he wants.’

She did know that.

‘Well now he wants you to leave Austria and go to your mother. He has asked for your return and since you have not left he has sent another letter which I have taken to the Duke. In this he demands your return.’

She had great faith in her father. But still Duke Albrecht would not let her go.

‘Is he going to make me marry Frederic then?’ she wanted to know.

She talked of it with her attendants.

They were silent and she knew that meant they believed he might.

‘Why? Why when they hate me?’

She had to grow up. She had to learn that sometimes princesses were married to princes whom they hated and who hated them because of some political reason.

She heard someone whisper ‘as a sort of hostage, do you mean?’ and the answer, ‘Well, yes, it could amount to that.’ And she knew they were talking about her.

The weeks passed, tension was rising. Every day there was some mention of the coming conflict between her father and the King of France and she knew that she was among her country’s enemies.

Her father would come to rescue her, she promised herself, and she used to lie in her bed thinking of that wonderful day when she would see her parents again.

And one day, Lord John came to her in some excitement.

‘I have just taken a letter to Duke Albrecht from the King your father. I do not think the Duke will dare refuse to let you go when he receives it.’

‘He does not care for my father. He thinks the King of France will defeat him.’

‘He is afraid of your father as all his enemies must be. I do not think he will dare hold any longer.’

Lord John was right.

Duke Albrecht did not come to her nor did he send for her.

One of his equerries came and told her to make ready. She was to leave Austria within the next few days to make the long journey up the Danube to Munich, through Coblen to the Castle of Ghent where she would join her mother.

On a glorious April day she rode forth. Never was there anyone in the world, she was sure, as happy as the Princess Joanna on that bright April day.

* * *

This was an anxious time for Philippa. She was heavily pregnant and in a strange country. She was very worried about Joanna. Being well aware that her sister was not the most unselfish of women, she had thought at first that her affection for her sister and her compassion for a very young girl far from home would have induced her finer feelings. She had been presented with costly gifts in the hope that these would remind her that she owed her sister something, but Margaret had hardened she was sure now and the selfish little traits of her childhood had magnified. Philippa had been horrified by Lord John’s account of the neglect poor Joanna had had to suffer and she had long wanted to prevent the marriage and bring Joanna back.

‘It is so unnatural,’ she had complained to Edward, ‘to send a child so young away from her home.’

Edward agreed but it was necessary to find allies if he were to win the crown of France.

The crown of France! thought Philippa. That bauble! What was that compared with the heartbreak of a little girl and her mother. And even if he won it—which could she was certain only be after years of struggle, suffering, privation and endurance—what then?

How she longed to leave the Low Countries. She thought longingly of Windsor--the forests. the river and the castle which she had grown to love. Now her child would be born in a foreign land.

Edward was worried too. The campaign was so costly and nothing at all had been achieved so far. It was disconcerting that those whom he had taken such pains to please and at great expense were now turning towards France as the more likely side to be the victor.

This infuriated him. Moreover he must raise more money and how could he do this in Flanders?

He came to the conclusion that he would have to return to England. He must persuade Parliament that he needed money for his armies. He had to pay his soldiers; he had to keep them supplied with arms.

He told Philippa this and it added to her anxieties. True, he had sent to Austria demanding the return of Joanna and she was hourly expecting news that her little daughter was on her way to her. What a happy day that would be when she could hold the child in her arms.

The time came when Edward could delay no longer. He must have money and would have to pay a brief visit to England in order to get it. He was uneasy about leaving Philippa behind but she assured him that she would be capable of looking after herself. Moreover she had good friends in Ghent, the chief of these being Jacob von Arteveldt for whom the King had such regard.

‘How I wish I could come with you,’ said Philippa sadly.

The King shared her regret but reminded her that just as his duty lay in finding money for arms and men, hers was in giving England heirs and so far she had made an excellent job of that.

Tor your greater safety,’ said the King, ‘I am going to send you to the Abbey of St Bavon. You will be safe there and when I see you again our child will be born.’

So Philippa retired to the Abbey of St Bavon in the town of Ghent and Edward left for England.

Within a month of his going Philippa gave birth to a boy. He was a fine healthy child and she decided his name should be John. He quickly showed himself to be a lusty Plantagenet and he became known as John of Ghent which the English, using the Anglicized form of the name, called Gaunt.

* * *

As each day passed Joanna’s happiness increased. It seemed strange to her to be making the same journey as she had made before in the company of her father. Then her heart had been heavy with foreboding. Now she was light-hearted, full of joyful anticipation.

Everything seemed so much more beautiful—the silver Rhine, the grey stone castles, the towns and villages through which she passed and where the people ran out of their homes to stare at her.

She smiled at them, gaily, happily. Joanna loved the whole world during that journey to Ghent.

It was eighteen months since she had seen her mother and it seemed a lifetime to the little girl.

At length she came to the city of Ghent and Lord John was told that the King was in England and at first her heart sank; but when she heard that her mother was at St Bavon’s Abbey, her spirits revived.

And there it was, the old grey stone Abbey and as they rode towards it she saw her mother and she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

She leaped from her horse. There could be no ceremony. She could not endure that.

She ran to her mother and threw herself into her arms.

Philippa was holding her tightly, murmuring words of endearment. ‘My little one ... It has seemed so long ... I thought you would never come back to me.’

‘Dearest dearest lady mother ... I am here ... at last. It is like a dream.’

Philippa stroked her daughter’s hair. She had changed. She had had so many experiences since she had left home ... and not happy ones.

‘My love,’ crooned Philippa, ‘there is so much to tell you, so much to show you. You have a little brother.’

Joanna was laughing with sheer happiness.

‘Another brother!’

‘Little John. He was born here in Ghent. They call him John of Gaunt ... He can already give a good account of himself.’

‘And my father?’

‘Alas, he has had to return to England.’

‘Then I shall not see him.’

‘He will be back soon.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Joanna, ‘to have seen him too would have been to much happiness all at once.’

‘You have that joy to come, my dearest child.’

So they were together; and Joanna could only think of the happy present.

And the Queen rejoiced that she had her daughter back.

AS soon as Edward had conferred with his Parliament and persuaded its members to grant him more funds for carrying on the fight for the crown of France he went to see his daughter Isabella in the palace of the Tower.

It was a tearful Isabella whom he found there. She threw herself into his arms and clung to him.

He was deeply touched. Dearly as he loved all his children, Isabella was the favourite. Edward very much enjoyed feminine society. He had been a faithful husband but that did not mean he was unaware of beautiful women and there had been times when had he been less determined he might have strayed. One of his greatest pleasures was jousting, with himself the champion of course and riding triumphantly round the field being aware of the applause and admiration of the ladies. He enjoyed wearing splendid garments to show off his outstanding good looks. This side to his character was in direct contrast to the great warrior and dedicated king, but it was nevertheless there and he was liked for this weakness which emphasized his strength in other directions.