Виктория Холт - The Vow on the Heron

* * *

When they were alone together Philippa talked to Edward about Joanna’s fears.

‘Poor little girl,’ she said, ‘she has had a very sad life. She and Eleanor seemed to be constantly expecting something unhappy to happen to them.’

Edward frowned. ‘They were always well looked after in Pleshy Castle in Essex. Isabella de Valence was put in charge of them. She was connected with the family because she had married Ralph Monthermer after my aunt Joanna died. Johanette Jermyn was their gouvernante and she was a pleasant woman. They should have had a happy household.’

‘I have no doubt their comforts were taken care of,’ said Philippa. ‘But I think they missed love. In my family our parents were always with us and we were all happy together.’

‘Yours was an unusual family, sweetheart. That was why they produced you.’

She smiled lovingly at him but she pursued the subject. ‘Is it really true that Joanna is to marry the son of Robert the Bruce?’

‘It’s part of the treaty. It’s a good thing really. These wars with Scotland are costly in life and money. The country is too wild and mountainous for a complete conquest. Even my grandfather could not do it. I am all for a peaceful settlement between our two countries and this is what this treaty is all about.’

‘The Scots agree?’

He nodded. ‘Robert the Bruce is anxious for it. He is a very sick man. He has been slowly dying of leprosy for many years and the end cannot be far off. All that he leaves is a five-year- old boy, David, and David will be King of Scotland when Robert dies.’

‘So the plan is to marry Joanna to him.’

‘That is so.’

‘As the boy is five and Joanna seven the marriage will not take place for years.’

‘It will have to take place soon. Anything could happen in a few years. It has to be clear that there is union between England and Scotland and the only way of making this apparent is to celebrate the marriage.’

‘Then Joanna will stay in her own country until she is older.’

Edward frowned. ‘I’m afraid not. Joanna will have to go to Scotland.’

‘Poor child! Then her fears are not groundless.’

‘Oh come, Philippa, these things happen to princesses. They have to reconcile themselves to the fact that they are bargaining counters. It always has been so.’

‘But such a child!’

‘Princesses grow up quickly.’

He kissed her lips. ‘I’ll not have you worrying about these matters. Come, my love, I never have half the time with you that I want. Let us forget these tiresome Scots. They have been a thorn in our side for centuries. This matter may well settle the problem.’

She slipped into his embrace and forgot Joanna, but only temporarily. Later her anxieties concerning the child returned to her with those uneasy stirrings of apprehension which Isabella and the Earl of March aroused in her.

* * *

The treaty had been signed. Edward explained the terms to her. He was giving up his feudal claim to Scotland and the great stone of Scone which his grandfather had taken away from Scotland was to be restored to them with certain treasures which had been confiscated. The Scots were to pay twenty thousand pounds to the King of England over the next three years. But the most important clause was the marriage between David, son of Robert the Bruce, and Joanna, daughter of King Edward the Second, the marriage to take place four months after the signing of the treaty.

Philippa was horrified. So the poor child was to be sacrificed. She saw at once that there was nothing she could do about it. Isabella and the Earl of March were in favour of it. They had no desire for a lengthy war. They wanted to enjoy the spoils of their victory and that could not be done if treasure was to be wasted in fighting what could only be a prolonged war which might not bring success in the end. Edward the First, one of the mightiest warriors ever known, had been unable to subdue the Scots.

This was what Edward told her, but she did suspect that he was in some way under the spell of his mother. She could understand it in a way because Isabella was so beautiful and she made such a point of showing her affection for her son—though, thought Philippa sadly, she did not show the same to her other children. Poor little Joanna was in urgent need of comfort, for before the year was out, if this unhappy matter were carried out, the poor little girl would be in Scotland.

There was nothing Philippa could do. She was too young and inexperienced. She was glad that Edward was sympathetic towards his little sister, but as he said to Philippa, it had to be.

It was a mercy that there was a little time left to Joanna and with the resilience of childhood and for weeks at a time she forgot the ordeal ahead of her.

Easter had come and after the church service and celebrations the whole Court prepared to travel south.

As they came out of the city of York and into the village of Bishoppesthorpe, a strange incident occurred which seemed to indicate that already the people had begun to guess the nature of their new young Queen.

Philippa was riding beside Edward at the head of the cavalcade when a woman ran into the road before the uncoming horses and kneeling held up her hands.

The horses were brought to a sharp halt and the woman, ragged and unkempt, came straight to Philippa. She fell to her knees and Philippa leaning forward spoke to her gently and asked what she wanted of her.

‘I have heard of your goodness, my lady,’ said the woman, ‘and it shines in your face. My daughter who is but eleven years is to be hanged by the neck. I beg of you, my lady, speak for her. Save her. She is my child ...’

‘What was her crime?’ asked Philippa.

‘She stole some trinket. It was but a childish impulse. Believe me, my lady, she is a good girl.’

Edward said: ‘I fear my love, you will find many to beset you in this way.’

‘I must help her,’ replied Philippa firmly.

The Queen Mother said: ‘Take the woman away. We wish to ride on.’

For a moment the two queens looked at each other. Isabella’s gaze was impatient and then faintly disturbed. She had seen a hint of firmness in the wide candid eyes. Philippa had turned to Edward.

‘You will want to please me, I know, my lord.’

‘More than anything on earth,’ answered Edward.

‘Then,’ said Philippa, ‘we will call a halt here and I will look into this matter. I could not have our subjects believe that I would not listen to a mother’s plea. It is clear that this woman is deeply distressed.’

‘Do as you will, my dearest,’ answered Edward.

‘How good you are to me,’ she murmured.

So there was a stay at Bishoppesthorpe and Philippa herself saw the young girl who had stolen the trinket and she spoke to the stewards and marshal of the household in which the theft had taken place and the judge who had condemned the girl; and as a result the child was saved from the hangman’s rope.

The mother fell to her knees and kissed the hem of Philippa’s gown while Edward smiled on the scene benignly, and the people said : ‘It was a happy day when our King brought good Queen Philippa to our shores.’

After that they continued their journey south and at last they came to the palace of Woodstock in Oxfordshire that most enchanting residence in sylvan surroundings so beloved of Edward’s ancestor Henry the Second.

‘We will rest here awhile,’ said Edward, ‘Philippa and I with a few attendants, for there has been so much state business and travelling since our marriage, and a little peace is due to us.’

So there they stayed at Woodstock and Philippa’s attendants who had travelled with her from Hainault now returned to their native land. She retained only one. Walter de Manny who was her carver, because he had already shown himself to be a worthy knight and had sworn allegiance to the King.

‘Now,’ said Edward, ‘you have left Hainault behind and are my English Queen. Are you sad, sweet Philippa, to see them go?’

‘I have rewarded them well,’ she said, ‘and they are my friends. But I could not be sad while I am with you and you love me.’

The idyllic life continued at Woodstock.

ISABELLA could not escape from the dark shadows which crowded in on her. Sometimes she thought she was going mad. She dreamed continually of her murdered husbane-that he came to life and would not Te-airs-re her, that he appeared not only in her bedroom at night when she lay beside her lover, but sometimes she thought she saw his face in a crowd, and once even at a conference table.

Mortimer laughed at her. Mortimer was strong and had little understanding of whimsical imaginings. Mortimer lived entirely for the present and if there were threats in the future he would not look at them.

Sometimes she thought of Gaveston and Hugh—both of whom had met violent deaths though neither could compare with what had happened to her husband—and how they had refused to see their fate approaching them. It had seemed clear enough to everyone else, but those two had continued to plunder the King and snap their fingers at the hatred of the people. If she were not besottedly infatuated by Mortimer, would she say he was the same?

He never wanted to talk about the possibilities of disaster. He never wanted to take heed of warning shadows. He delighted in the pact with the Scots because Robert the Bruce was to pay Edward twenty thousand pounds. The first instalment arrived and Mortimer had taken charge of it, which meant that he would spend it. He was a great spender, Mortimer. He liked to live flamboyantly, and so did she. Well, they deserved it after all that they had suffered—he a prisoner in the Tower with an uncle who had died of starvation, as he might have done if he had not been so strong; and she, what humiliation she had endured for years, thrust into the background while all the favours were showered on her husband’s men friends, bearing his children while she loathed him just because she had to give the country heirs.

Now, they were reaping their reward. Mortimer was the richest and most powerful man in the country and she and he ruled it together. Edward was such a boy and remained amenable.

She was uneasy though about Philippa.

She talked to Mortimer about it. ‘Mortimer what do you think of Philippa?’ she asked.

‘I never think of her. What is she? A simple country girl, fresh and untutored. Why should we think of Philippa as anything but a nice playmate for our boy. He likes married life evidently. Well, let them enjoy it. It will keep them occupied.’

‘That woman on the road ... She insisted, you know, and Edward wants to please her.’

‘She held us up yes. But it was of no great importance.’ ‘Only to show us that he will do a great deal to please her.’ ‘Of course he will ... for a while. He is a boy; he experiences early love. It seems very important to him. Wait till she bears him children and he discovers that there are women in the world more attractive than his plump little Hainaulter.’ ‘At the moment she could guide him.’

‘How could such an innocent guide anyone?’

‘He is changing, wanting his own way. It could be less easy to control him.’

‘Come, sweetheart, let us leave that problem until it arises.’ ‘This peace with Scotland ...’

‘I welcome it.’

Of course he did. It had brought money into his pocket. ‘The people of London are rioting.’

‘A plague on the people of London.’

‘Do not say that. It could be disastrous to the country.’ ‘I mean I care not a groat for them.’

‘They can be dangerous. They are saying the Scone stone shall not be given up and that it is a disgrace to send a baby to that barbarous land to marry the son of a leper.’

‘She will be Queen of Scotland.’

‘They do not like it. Mortimer, do you remember how they supported me? How they cheered me in the streets.’

‘They always loved you. You only have to appear and they shout their loyalty.’

‘Not any more.’

‘It is a momentary matter. They don’t like the wedding. They won’t part with the stone of Scone. They have too high an opinion of their importance, these Londoners. It will blow over.’

‘Yesterday someone shouted “Whore” as I rode by.’

‘Did you see who? He could be hanged, drawn and quartered for that.’

‘Yes, and still he did it. They are turning from me, Mortimer. They are turning from us.’