Of one thing he was certain: they would not lightly let him go.


* * *

Philippa was overjoyed at the result of the battle of Neville’s Cross. She had been afraid that without Edward the troops would falter. Not so. They had gone into battle determined to fight and there had been a resounding victory.

She heard that the man who had captured David was a certain John Copeland a Northumbrian Squire and she sent for him to come to her and bring his prisoner with him. She had been amused to hear that Copeland had taken David to his house and had him well guarded there, so fearful was he that he might escape, although that was hardly likely considering how badly wounded David was. Moreover Copeland would let no one go near him but himself.

‘He is a good jailer,’ said Philippa with a smile.

She was told that they had wanted to bring David to her but Copeland would not let him go.

She nodded and sent for John Copeland.

He came—a plain simple man, she realized, unversed in court manners.

‘I congratulate you on your capture,’ she said. ‘The King will, I am sure, wish to reward you. I will take the King of Scots to London and would have you bring him to me here.’

John Copeland shook his head.

‘Oh no, my lady,’ he said. ‘Oh no.’

Philippa was amazed. ‘What mean you?’ she asked.

‘I took the King of Scots captive for my master, the King of England.’

‘I know that—and nobly done it was. Bring him to me and I will write immediately to the King and tell him that I have David of Scotland in my hands.’

‘No, my lady, when I say I deliver him to none but the King, that is what I mean. The King is my master. To him I swear fief for my lands. To none other. And not to Duke, Earl or woman will I deliver my prisoner.’

Philippa did not lose her temper though she thought the man a fool.

‘You must know that I am acting as Regent in the name of the King.’

‘I know naught of such matters, my lady. All I know is that I owe allegiance to my King and none other and only to him will I deliver up my prisoner.’

‘The King will be displeased that you flout me,’ Philippa warned him.

‘That must be as it will. I shall give up my prisoner to him and him alone.’

Philippa dismissed him.

The Earl of Kent came to her. He was angry. ‘But my lady, he insults you. Shall we arrest him? The man is a traitor. He refuses to obey you. The King will have him hanged. We shall arrest him and then bring the prisoner to you.’

The Queen shook her head.

‘There was something in him I admired. He is a true servant of the King. There is no doubt about that. Let it be. I will write to the King and tell him of this strange attitude of his. I have already written to tell him of the victory of Neville’s Cross, and he will know that David is our hands.’

‘I know the King’s nature,’ was the answer. ‘He will be furious with one who has insulted you.’

‘Perhaps not when I explain to him how this man spoke of his loyalty to the King. I think he will understand as I do. I shall try to put it clearly.’

The Earl was astonished. He wondered how many women would have taken Copeland’s insults so mildly.

Edward’s answer was prompt.

David was to remain well guarded in Copeland’s house and Copeland himself was to leave England immediately and present himself to him.

When Copeland received these orders his wife was thrown into a panic.

‘You fool, John,’ she cried. ‘See what you have done. You should have given up the King of Scots. It was the Queen who asked, wasn’t it? Oh my dear lord, I shall never see you more.’

Copeland was uneasy. He had heard of the temper of the King and his devotion to his wife. He liked people to do homage to her. The more he thought of it the more he realized how deeply he had insulted the Queen.

Edward was at this time outside Calais. He planned to take the town and knowing it would be a long task he had hastily erected dwellings to house himself and his army. As soon as Copeland arrived he was taken before the King. Edward, always vain about his appearance, looked magnificent at all times and the squire was overcome by awe and trepidation.

‘Welcome, my squire,’ said Edward. ‘I hear of your valour in capturing my enemy, the King of Scots.’

‘My lord, it was honour to serve you in this as I would at all times.’ The squire remained on his knees raising his wondering eyes to the King. ‘God has been good to me, a humble squire,’ he went on, ‘in allowing me to make such a capture. I felt, this being a king of our enemies, I should hand him to no one but yourself. I meant no discourtesy to the Queen but the Queen is not the King, my lord, and it is to the King that I have given my oath.’

Edward laughed. The simplicity of his own nature gave him an immediate knowledge of the way in which the minds of his humbler subjects worked. This man was a loyal servant. He had need of such. Everything he had done had been in his opinion in the service of his King. Poor Philippa, she had been humiliated, but she understood as well as he did.

‘Get to your feet, John Copeland. Perhaps we shall from henceforth call you Sir John Copeland. You will return to England where you shall have lands to the value of five hundred pounds.’

‘My lord ...’

The King held up his hand. ‘But we must placate the Queen. I doubt not that she was surprised when you would not give up the King of Scots to her. Take him to her. Give him into her hands and make your excuses as best you may. I believe she will accept them.’

‘My gracious lord, I would I had the chance to die for you.’

‘Ah,’ said the King, ‘who knows, some day I might even ask that. Now begone. I like well those who serve me with their hearts and if maybe there are times when they are mistaken in their acts then that is a small matter compared with good and honest loyalty.’

It was a very happy Sir John Copeland who returned to England and immediately delivered David of Scotland into the Queen’s hands with muttered excuses which she kindly deigned to accept.


* * *

Smarting with humiliation David lay in the small chamber in the Copeland house. From one aspect it was fortunate for him that he was so badly wounded, for it prevented his brooding too bitterly on his position. Copeland’s wife tended his wounds herself and he was too exhausted to protest.

Gradually they began to heal and by the time John Copeland arrived home flushed with the triumph of knighthood and new lands, it was decided that he should be taken to London. John Copeland himself made sure that the King of Scotland was securely guarded for, as he said to his wife, now that he was getting better who should say what tricks he would be up to.

The humiliation for David was bitter. Seated on a black horse, the son of Robert the Bruce was led through the city of London at the head of a procession of twenty thousand composed of the city companies in their state liveries and the people of London and those of the surrounding districts who rode with him.

He was the symbol of defeat. Now perhaps there would be peace on the Border, no more ravaging of English towns; no more threats from the unruly Scots. This was a day of rejoicing.

It was a pity the King was not there to see it. Nor was the Queen.

Edward had summoned her to join him in France and she had already gone.

Humiliation of humiliations he was taken before the council and there seated on the throne of state was the eight-yearold Prince Lionel, Duke of Clarence, to condemn him to his prison in the Tower.

His dream of riding triumphantly into London had been bitterly reversed.

JILTED

EDWARD’S reputation had been greatly enhanced after the Battle of Crécy and the Flemings having murdered Edward’s friend Jacob van Arteveldt greatly feared his wrath and when he sent ambassadors into Ghent to discover the means and cause of the murder of Arteveldt their apprehension grew and they sought about for a means of placating him. Yes, they admitted, the murder had been committed and the reason was that the people had objected to van Arteveldt’s seeking to depose the Earl of Flanders who was after all their true ruler. They knew that Edward had wished his son to become the Duke of Flanders but to attempt to enforce this was certain to mean bloodshed. Why should not the matter be amicably settled by the marriage of the new Earl of Flanders who had just succeeded to the title? They did not stress the fact that his father had been killed by the English at the Battle of Crécy. The new Earl was young, unmarried and would be an ideal bridegroom for the eldest daughter of the King of England.

This seemed to Edward an excellent idea. Much as he hated the thought of Isabella’s marrying, he must not, he knew, shelve the matter altogether. If she married into Flanders they could meet often. He was constantly in Ghent and it would not be difficult for her to come to England.

Moreover the King of France was eager that Louis of Flanders should many Margaret of Brabant which would mean an alliance favourable to France. Oh yes, Edward could see the advantages of this marriage. He wrote at once to Philippa. He was outside Calais where he would remain until that town had fallen into his hands. He told her that he was arranging a marriage for Isabella with the young Earl of Flanders. The burghers of Flanders were agreeable to the match for their prosperity depended upon England’s supplying them with wool from which they wove their goods and without this concession their trade would suffer. Always eager to stimulate business the Flemings saw the point of this. They needed English wool; therefore young Louis should marry Isabella.

‘Leave England without delay,’ wrote the King. ‘The Scots can give us no more trouble. We have their King thanks to you and the army at Neville’s Cross. I am anxious that this marriage shall be made as quickly as possible before Philip is able to bind Louis to him through Margaret of Brabant.’

When she received the letter Philippa went at once to her daughter in the palace of the Tower and there told her that she must make ready for a journey.

The Princess Joanna, who was with her sister, listened apprehensively. Poor Joanna, she dreaded being sent to a bridegroom. She would never forget her unhappy experiences in Austria and feared that one day they would be repeated. She knew that negotiations were in progress to marry her to the son of the King of Castile and she lived in terror of hearing that she must prepare to leave for Spain.

Isabella felt quite different. She was so sure of herself, so certain that she was the most fascinating creature in the world that she had no doubt of her ability to charm anyone.

‘Your father wants us to leave at once,’ the Queen said. ‘No, not you, Joanna. You will remain here with the others. Isabella is to be married to the Earl of Flanders.’

‘Only an Earl! ‘ cried Isabella, dismayed.

‘My dear child, this is a most important marriage. Your father is most anxious for it. The Flemings have a great influence, particularly now when your father has to win his French crown. He is particularly anxious for this marriage because it means you will be within easy reach of him. There. That is what he said.’

Isabella was placated. ‘I knew he would not want me to be too far away.’

‘So now we shall make sure that you are properly provided for. I must see the seamstresses without delay.’

Isabella was elated.

She was fourteen, old enough for marriage, and had supposed that a bridegroom would soon be found for her. She had expected a grander one it was true but it would be pleasant to be not too far from her father and she was sure that this Earl of Flanders must be overcome with delight at the prospect of marriage with the eldest daughter of the King of England.

So, in a state of great excitement she made her preparation. Inordinately vain of her appearance she revelled in the beautiful garments which were made for her, for she had inherited her father’s love of finery, and she could scarcely wait for the journey to begin. With her she was taking a company of ladies of the Court, many of whom had husbands or sons serving in the King’s army, so it was a time of happy reunion for them.

Edward welcomed them ashore and when he saw his daughter he was overcome with pride and emotion.

There would be great rejoicing in the camps throughout the temporary town Edward had built outside the walls of Calais, and if it seemed strange to rejoice and celebrate a betrothal at that spot when so near, within the walls of the city, the people were starving and were waiting anxiously for rescue, Isabella did not think of it.