‘Much should we care.’

‘I wonder sometimes ...’

He soothed her as he always did. He snapped his fingers at danger by refusing to see it.

He was the great Mortimer; she was the Queen of England. It was true there was another Queen—but she was of no importance, no more importance than her young husband. Edward and Philippa were the figureheads. The real rulers were Isabella and Mortimer—and so it should remain.


* * *

Every night Joanna cried herself to sleep. It was no use their telling her that she was going to be happy in Scotland. She knew she was not. She was going to have a hideous little bridegroom, two years younger than herself, David the Bruce, who was five years old.

She knew that many princesses were betrothed at her age and sometimes they had to go to the homes of their bridegrooms to be brought up in his way of life, but that did not help at all. Eleanor was older than she was and she did not have to go away. And now Philippa had come and she loved Philippa. Philippa was her new sister but what was the use of having a new sister if you were not going to be with her?

She heard the servants talking about how the new Queen had saved a girl from hanging, and how the King had indulged her although the Queen Mother and the Earl of March had not been very pleased and had wanted to continue their journey without delay.

Perhaps if she asked Philippa to save her from going to Scotland she could speak with Edward and as Edward could deny Philippa nothing—so the gossips said—then perhaps she would be saved.

It was her only hope. She would ask Philippa.

Philippa listened gravely. Yes, it was true Edward had allowed her to save the girl, but this was not a state matter. The marriage with Scotland was, and it might be that there could be no way of stopping it. But Philippa would speak to Edward.

She did. He was sorry but there was nothing he could do. It was a state matter and it was in the treaty.

But when a child is so young surely she could be married by proxy and stay in her own home until she is of an age to leave?’

Edward could only say that it was in the treaty.

He himself was disturbed for he was fond of the little girl and her sister and his brother John. But he was so young himself and after his adventures in Scotland he felt loath to act on some matter of which he was not quite sure. He felt that he had looked rather foolish, marching north with an army and chasing the elusive Scots who had obviously been playing a game with him.

He had to be careful in future.

He hated to disappoint Philippa so he said he would go into the matter and see what could be done.

This meant talking to his mother.

Isabella was pleased that he should have consulted her instead of attempting to act on his own. She pretended to consider the matter but she was determined that Joanna must go to Scotland. It had been agreed upon and if the treaty broke down the Scots might demand the return of the money which Mortimer had already taken.

‘We are dealing with barbaric -people, my sweet son,’ she said. ‘You saw what they were like when you went up to chastise them. What a dance they led you.’

He flushed a little. He was very young. It was good to bring home to him in a subtle way how inexperienced he was.

‘We could not say what would happen if we did not keep to the treaty. War might break out again.’

‘The people are against this marriage, my lady.’

‘The people sway with the wind. They know not what is best for them.’

‘The Queen is worried about Joanna. She is but a baby ... and to be sent away ...’

Isabella stiffened imperceptibly. The Queen? My lady Philippa would have to learn that she had not come here to govern the land.

‘Dear Philippa,’ said Isabella, ‘she is so soft-hearted. I saw lips curl with amusement when she allowed that woman to get the better of her.’

You mean the woman with the daughter whom Philippa saved from the hangman’s rope? I think the people loved her the more for that.’

‘Criminals will, my son. They will say we can commit our crimes and be caught. Never mind. We’ll make a plea to the Queen.’

‘This was but a young girl ...’

‘Of course she is young, our dear Philippa. She will grow up. She will learn quickly I think. She is a charming girl. I am so happy for you Edward.’

Edward smiled. He loved to hear praise of Philippa.

‘Dear Edward,’ went on his mother, ‘you know my thoughts are all for you. Everything I do is what I think is best for you. But you have always known that.’

Her beautiful eyes were moist with tears; he kissed her cheek.

She clung to him. ‘It has not been easy for me, Edward,’ she went on. ‘Sometimes I look back over my life and wonder how I have come through it all. I was so petted in my young days at the Court of France and then when I came to England ...’ she shivered. ‘And when I think of all I had to do ... well, it was worth while because it brought me you. If I can see you secure on the throne, grown into the great King I know you will be ... in time ... I shall die happy.’

‘Dear lady, you are not going to die yet ... not for a long long time.’

‘I pray it will be a long time ... for I will refuse to die until you have become such a King as your grandfather was.’

She had successfully made him realize his youth, his dependence upon her. He accepted her word that the Scottish marriage must go through.

He told Philippa that he saw clearly that there was nothing he could do about it, and Philippa accepted his word.


* * *

Through the sultry July days the procession travelled north to Berwick. At its head rode Queen Isabella, beside the most wretched little girl in the kingdom.

Joanna often thought of running away and she might have attempted it if the Earl of March had not ridden beside her and she had not been so afraid of him. In fact she did not know whom she feared most—her mother or the Earl.

Her mother had spoken sharply to her. She must not be a baby. She must accept her fate. She was not the first Princess who had to leave her home. The Scots would make much of her. Didn’t she understand that she would leave her home as a Princess and in Scotland become a Queen.

She would lie in her bed at the various castles in which they stayed during the journey and talk to her sister Eleanor. She was glad Eleanor had come. Eleanor tried to pretend that it was going to be wonderful in Scotland and marriage was exciting. Look how pleased Edward and Philippa were with theirs!

Sometimes Joanna was comforted by her sister; but there were occasions when Eleanor could think of nothing comforting to say and was only too aware that before long she herself might be in a similar plight.

It was sad that Edward and Philippa had not accompanied them. They had talked a great deal about the marriage and Edward longed to stop it. Once more he raged against his youth and inexperience. In his heart he felt the marriage was wrong, and yet he did not feel confident enough to stop it. If he had had a resounding success in Scotland he would have behaved differently.

It was not that he lacked strength of purpose; what he missed was experience; and if he could have convinced himself that there was a right thing to do, he would have done it.

Queen Isabella was hurt that he did not accompany them. She had tried to tempt him by arranging a mock battle and had had special spears made for him elaborately painted with his royal arms; she had others less glorious made for other combatants. It was the sort of entertainment Edward would have enjoyed taking part in and would have excelled at. But he was not tempted. In fact Isabella had misunderstood her son. The last thing he wanted was to be treated like a boy who is bribed with a special treat.

He did not like the idea of the marriage. He did not want to go to the North again where he considered he had recently been humiliated. He was uncertain and unhappy about Scottish matters. So he was going to stay in the soothing company of his beloved Queen.

Meanwhile the royal party arrived at Berwick and the ceremony of betrothal took place with a sad little bride weighed down with the magnificence of her jewelled garments and a little bridegroom who was even younger and seemed to be wondering what all the fuss was about.

It was a splendid ceremony but none was more magnificent than Roger de Mortimer who had brought one hundred and eighty knights to attend him and they in their turn were served by their squires; and all were elaborately and splendidly attired.

Days of feasting followed. There were pageants and tournaments and all these the little bride attended with wondering looks. She was less afraid now when she saw that her bridegroom was only a weak little boy who seemed very young to her because she had the advantage of being two years his senior.

In due course it was time for her to take her leave of the English party. Her mother embraced her and gave her some rich jewels which Joanna did not care very much about. Nor did she feel sad to say good-bye to her mother. She had always been afraid of her.

Isabella with Mortimer and the splendid cavalcade rode south while Joanna, who had been given into the hands of the Scottish nobles and their ladies, was taken to Edinburgh. There she was brought to the King of Scotland—an old old man who, though he was so feeble and could scarcely move, had brilliant eyes which smiled at her and a kindly look.

He was Robert the Bruce, her new father-in-law, and he gave orders that she was to be treated with the utmost care and it was to be remembered that she was very young and in a strange land.

There was something odd about him. He was dying, she knew, of a terrible disease, but he did not inspire her with fear as her own mother and Roger de Mortimer did.

She was bitterly homesick. She wanted the nursery at Windsor. She wanted Johanette Jermyn and dear Isabella de Valance; she wanted her sister Eleanor and her brother John. And most of all she wanted Edward and Philippa.

She had to be brave though. She had to remember that this happened to most princesses. That was what they were born for. They had to make peace and stop wars.

She was not surprised when she heard herself referred to as Joanna Make-Peace.


* * *

Events in France had brought dazzling new prospects to the English crown. The history of France over the last few years had been overshadowed by the Curse of the Templars. Philip the Fair, father of Queen Isabella, had made the error of the century when, in order to take their wealth, he had destroyed the Knights Templars. The final act in that dismal tragedy was the burning to death of Jacques de Molai in the Ile de la Cite. As the flames licked his limbs de Molai had uttered the curse—no good should come to the King and his heirs and God would be revenged on them for this evil deed. This had been uttered in the presence of the thousands who had come to witness the end of the Grand Master. It was taken very seriously and, when within a year both the Pope (who had been deeply involved) and the King had died, it was accepted as certain that the curse would work. And so it seemed it had. Philip had three sons and one daughter Isabella, wife to Edward the Second. All three sons became Kings of France—Louis the Tenth le Hutin, the Quarrelsome, Philip the Fifth known as The Long because of his unusual height and Charles the Fourth, the Fair because of his good looks. They all reigned for short periods and none of them had left a male heir. This was generally believed to be due to the curse.

Charles the Fourth had just died and people were looking to Philip of Valois, son of Charles, younger brother of Philip the Fair, as the heir to the throne.

But, reasoned Edward’s advisers, Philip had had a daughter—Isabella—and Isabella had a son Edward, King of England.

The Salic Law prevailed in France and that meant that a woman could not inherit the throne. Perhaps not, but what if that woman had a son? Why should he not have a right to the crown?

The matter was discussed in Parliament and the prospect of enriching the country and themselves was an agreeable one. Edward glowed with anticipation. He had failed to win Scotland but what a great prize France would be. And he could convince himself that he had a claim through his mother.

The French rather naturally had different ideas and elected Philip of Valois as their King.