Again and again Robert had pointed out the differences in France and Scotland. The Scots were a wild people; they had their mountains to help them. It was difficult to keep the Border fortified. How different it would be in France. He imagined the crown being set on his head, the French people acclaiming him.
Would they? wondered Edward. Why should they? Because they hated Philip, the oppressor, the usurper, the Foundling King.
But they had put him on the throne and by all accounts France had been more stable under his rule.
How exasperating Edward was! Artois was getting very impatient and when he was impatient he was reckless.
He rode out alone in a fever of impatience and as he came through the forest he saw a stream and wading in the water looking for food was a slate grey bird with a thin black crest which curled down the long neck. Its pointed yellow beak was like a dagger poised ready to spear some unsuspecting creature. A heron!
Robert watched it quietly for some time. He must be still he knew for it was one of the most timorous of birds. A coward bird he had heard it called. Then an idea came to him.
He freed his hawk and very soon he held the heron in his hands.
Laughing to himself he returned to the castle.
* * *
The King and Queen were in the dining-hall. Artois was late. The King was on the point of asking for him when Robert entered. Behind him walked two women carrying a dish and in this dish was the heron which he had ordered to be roasted.
‘What means this?’ asked Edward preparing to be amused for Artois was notorious for the tricks he liked to play.
Artois went up to the King and bowed low. ‘While hawking in your forest, my lord, I found this bird. I thought it would please you, my lord. It must be a favourite bird of yours.’
‘A heron. Why so?’ asked Edward.
‘My lord,’ said Artois speaking so loudly that everyone in the hall could hear and all were eagerly listening now to what the Count had to say. ‘My lord, the heron is the most timid of birds. Everyone knows this. And you are a King who is not ready to fight for what is his. A timid bird ... a timid King. There must be a certain partiality. So I have brought this bird to you for though he is but a bird and you a king you are alike in one respect.’
Edward rose, his face scarlet. Philippa trembled for the first signs of the Plantagenet temper were beginning to show themselves.
Artois folded his arms and studied the King mockingly, and to everyone’s surprise Edward burst into laughter.
‘You are a rogue, Artois,’ he said.
‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Artois meekly.
‘You have compared me with the heron. You call me a coward.’
Artois said nothing and all marvelled at his temerity. Whatever else he was he was a brave man.
Edward cried : ‘It is true that I have a claim to France and I swear on this heron that I will take an army there and I shall give battle with the King of France be his forces twice the number of mine. Come, my friends, we will all take a vow on this heron. We will all swear together. We shall go to France. We shall take the crown from the head of the imposter Philip and we shall not rest until it is placed where it belongs. Never shall the Count of Artois compare me with a heron again. Come, those who love me, those who would serve me, take the vow of the heron.’
And one by one all the great nobles present advanced to the table and they vowed themselves to the French adventure. Artois stood by smiling benignly. At last he had succeeded.
JOANNA’S BETROTHAL
NOW that he had decided on war with France, Edward knew that he was to make sure of his allies. The most important of these was Philippa’s father, William of Hainault, for Edward believed there was one on whom he could rely.
Philippa was worried about the health of her father for the letters which came regularly from her mother were disturbing. Count William was, she wrote, mightily sick of the gout and he could not leave his bed.
But his support for Edward’s claim was strong. This was a good sign for although some might say that naturally he would be on the side of his son-in-law, his wife, Philippa’s mother, was the sister of the King of France so his ties with both countries were very strong. However, he came down on the side of Edward and as, though only a small country, by reason of its hard-working people and their concentration on trading it was one of the most prosperous in Europe, it was therefore a very worthwhile ally.
Austria was important and for this reason young Joanna who had been promised to the son of the Duke of Austria could no longer delay leaving England for her new home.
When her governess, kind Lady Pembroke, had told her she was going to leave England with her parents, Joanna had been delighted for she had not then known the significance of this journey.
It was her sister Isabella who told her. Isabella was very pretty and had always been spoilt by her father. She could not understand why she should be left behind. She knew that her mother hated leaving any of them and would not do so unless it was for some special reason, but she and Edward were to stay in the palace of the Tower with Lady St Omer and Joanna was to go with her parents. What could it mean? Isabella was only six years old—just over a year older than Joanna but she was very much the big knowledgeable sister.
‘You are going to your husband,’ she said. ‘That is why you are going.’
‘I am not,’ replied Joanna. ‘I am not old enough to be married.’
‘Girls go to their husbands and grow up with them, do they not Edward?’
Edward said they did, and Joanna was plunged into misgivings.
Then her hopes were raised. Her mother would never let her go, she was sure. Yet it was strange that she was to travel with her parents and Isabella and Edward were not to go with them.
When she next saw her mother she clung to her hand and Philippa immediately guessed what was wrong. The child had been listening to gossip. She had wondered whether it would be wise to tell her what lay in store and prepare her or to wait until later. Now she had no alternative.
‘Yes, my dear child,’ she said, ‘you are going to Austria. You see you are going to have a husband and he is the son of the Duke of Austria. As your husband is Austrian it seems best that you should be brought up in their Court so that he would not be a stranger to you when you marry. I was brought up in Hainault and then I came to England and I had to learn how to be English. You will learn right at the beginning to be Austrian.’
‘I want to stay English,’ said Joanna.
‘My love, you will laugh at that in time. You will want to be just what your husband is. I wanted to be English when I married your father.’
Joanna listened but she was afraid.
‘Your new family wanted you to go over a long time ago but your father would not allow it,’ Philippa went on. He said “No, she is too young and I must keep my Joanna here with me.
‘Perhaps he will still say it,’ suggested Joanna eagerly.
‘He is going to Europe himself and so am I and you will be with us. Your father would not let you go without him. He loves you so much.’
‘Then perhaps he will keep me.’
Poor child. The hope in her eyes moved Philippa to pity. Why did this have to happen to young children? They were torn from their homes for political reasons. How could she explain to this little girl that she was going now because her father needed the help of the Duke of Austria and dared not offend him by keeping Joanna with her family any longer. How fervently she wished that there had never been this claim to the French throne! How she wished that Robert of Artois had never come to England, had never caught his symbolic heron!
But it had happened and she was forced to leave her two elder children behind and travel with Edward to Europe, taking this pathetic child who was going to be removed from her family and given to strangers.
Philippa tried to interest her in the clothes she was taking and the pallet bed which she would sleep on when she was on the ship. Joanna studied them with o
nly mild interest. She could not stop thinking of leaving Isabella and Edward and wondering what her husband would be like.
But there was the journey first and during that she would be with her parents and that was what she liked better than anything. Isabella had pouted and cried when they left and demanded to know why she should be left behind. Then their father had kissed her and said next time he would take her with him and she had to be content with that.
When they set sail and it was all so new and exciting Joanna forgot where they were going; she loved the sea and her pallet bed and in spite of her apprehension it was all very interesting.
It was a hot July day when the party landed in Antwerp. There was no royal residence where they could lodge and a Flemish merchant of the name of Sirkyn Fordul offered them shelter. He was very honoured, he said, to have them in his house and he and his wife set about entertaining them in as royal a fashion as they could.
It was an exciting adventure for the little Joanna especially when in the night she was awakened by her mother who snatched her up in her arms and ran with her out of the house. Joanna clung to her mother in terror; the smoke choked her and she could scarcely breathe until she was out in the cold night air in her mother’s arms, and her father was beside them. The house in which they were spending the night was a mass of burning timber.
Then Joanna saw hooded figures coming towards them. It was an abbot with his monks who suggested that the royal party should go with them to their convent of St Michael where they could shelter for the rest of the night.
To Joanna it seemed like a strange dream—all part of the adventure of going to a husband. Philippa was most distressed because of the disaster their coming had caused Sirkyn Fordul and his wife, for the conflagration had been started because of all the fires they had had to make to deal with cooking for so large a number. Edward comforted her and assured her that he would repay them for all the damage and then the worthy couple would have enough money to build a new house.
It was an unfortunate beginning to the adventure and Edward was worried about Philippa who had become pregnant again. Had it not been that she had insisted on accompanying Joanna to her new country he would have persuaded her to stay in England.
The next few days were spent in Antwerp where they were able to take trips along the river Scheldt and to visit the town and its many churches.
Edward was greatly concerned because he knew that he needed allies on whom he could rely and he had heard that Louis of Bavaria was wavering and might well decide to become the ally of the King of France.
‘I must see him and talk to him,’ he told Philippa. ‘I can at the same time take Joanna into Austria.’
‘I will go with you,’ said Philippa.
‘My dearest, remember your condition. I trembled for you during the fire. That sort of thing is not good for the child.’ Philippa had to agree with this.
‘You may trust me,’ he said, ‘to look after our daughter. I think it is better for her to part from one of us now and the other later. It will break the shock of losing us both together.’
Philippa agreed that this might be so; and indeed she was feeling the usual discomforts of pregnancy which were not helped by the hardships travel necessarily imposed.
An idea had occurred to her. ‘I will write to Margaret,’ she said, ‘and ask her to keep an eye on Joanna.’
It seemed an excellent idea for Philippa’s elder sister Margaret was now the wife of Louis of Bavaria.
This soothed Philippa’s maternal heart considerably. And they set out for Herenthals where they would rest a night before the parting when Edward and Joanna would go on to Bavaria and Philippa would return to Antwerp to await the birth of her child.
There was no place at Herenthals worthy of their rank and they were lodged at the house of one of the peasants. Overcome by the honour done to them Podenot de Lippe and his wife Catherine, realizing that their house would not hold so many people, decided that the only thing they could do was to serve supper in the garden.
This appeared to be an excellent idea until it was seen that the grass and the plants were ruined by the press of people for not only were there the attendants in the royal party but crowds who came in to pay their respects to them.
The crestfallen faces of Podenot and Catherine de Lippe were so reproachful that Edward immediately offered to compensate them for the damage done, so it turned out to be a very expensive supper party.
However there were other matters of greater concern to them for it was time now for Philippa to take leave of her daughter. The child clung to her mother and Philippa found it difficult to restrain her tears.
‘Your father is still with you, my love,’ she said. ‘There is a long time for you two to be together. I shall think of you every day. I shall pray for you and I know that you will be happy in your new country. Your aunt Margaret will be there. She will look after you. You remember my telling you of my sister Margaret and all the fun we used to have together when we were children in Hainault.’
Joanna nodded mournfully and Edward lifted her in his arms and kissed her.
‘You will be safe with me, daughter,’ he told her tenderly. Philippa watched until the cavalcade was out of sight; then sorrowfully she returned to Antwerp.
* * *
Joanna was young enough to enjoy the journey and forget what was waiting for her at the end of it. She adored her father. He was always kind to her; he loved all his children dearly but had always been more inclined to favour his daughters and since he knew that the parting with her mother had so upset Joanna he made every effort to compensate her for the loss. So at times Joanna was quite happy. It was exciting to ride on her little horse beside this magnificent man who Was her father and to see how everyone paid great respect to him—and to her, simply because she was his daughter. They rode with sixty-six archers who made an impressive show and then there were their personal servants so they were a large company.
The scenery was beautiful. Joanna loved sailing up the Rhine while her father pointed out the castles on the banks and the rock on which the Lorelei had lured sailors to their destruction. She did not fear them because her father was by her side and she was sure he would get the better of anyone—even Lorelei.
At Bonn they landed and there were the guests of the Archbishop of Cologne who had his residence there. They had a peaceful night there and then went on staying at various places where they were entertained and feted until they came to Coblenz where the Emperor Louis himself was waiting for them. With him were the various princes of the Empire, among them the Duke of Austria, the father of the boy who was to marry Joanna.
With Louis was his wife who immediately took Joanna by the hand and said that she was going to look after her.
This was Joanna’s Aunt Margaret.
‘Your mother has written to me and asked me to take especial care of you,’ she told Joanna.
Joanna’s spirits were a little uplifted for during the past few days she had not been able to forget that soon she must say good-bye to her father. She clutched at this new hope. Her aunt was here and she was her mother’s sister—and, yes, she did look a little like Philippa. She had the same bright complexion, the same plump face; but she was not quite Philippa. Joanna was quick to detect the difference. She lacked that clear candid gaze which was so comforting. She was kind and she smiled, but Joanna felt instinctively that she was not really like her mother.
However, there was so much to see. The Emperor had ordered that two thrones be set up in the marketplace and here he and Edward sat during some very long ceremonies.
Aunt Margaret was beside Joanna during these and asked a few questions about her sister. She would write and tell her, she said, that she loved her little daughter on sight and was going to look after her until she was old enough to go to the Court of her future husband’s father. Duke Otho was kind too, though Frederic, the future bridegroom, was very young and he regarded Joanna with the same suspicion as that which she bes
towed on him.
‘You will get to know each other and love each other,’ said Aunt Margaret. ‘But in the meantime you shall stay with me.’ Edward could see little of his daughter during the few days before their parting. His main purpose in coming so far had been to meet the Emperor and Duke Otho, and persuade them to support him in his claim to the French throne against Philip.
They were both cordial but inclined to be evasive, Edward thought, though he believed the marriage alliance would make sure of their friendship. He soon realized that however long he stayed he could do no more, so he prepared to leave. Before he did so he bestowed costly gifts on the Emperor and his wife and the Duke of Austria. These were intended as two-way bribes. In exchange he wanted their co-operation against France and for his daughter to be treated with the utmost kindness.
The gifts were readily accepted and assurances of friendship were exchanged so that Edward could leave feeling that the pact between them was secure and his daughter would be in good hands.
Duke Otho wanted to take the child with him to his Court but Margaret intervened. ‘She is too young as yet,’ she declared, ‘and my sister has asked me to keep her with me for a while.’
Duke Otho would have liked to protest. After all Joanna was going to marry his son; but he dared not offend the Emperor who would naturally be influenced by his wife. Moreover Edward was delighted with the arrangements. ‘It will be better for the child to be with her aunt,’ he said. ‘She is very young and loves her already.’
So it was arranged that Joanna should stay in Bavaria with her Aunt Margaret until such time as she could join her young husband-to-be.
It was an emotional farewell. Joanna wept and Edward had difficulty in restraining his emotions. ‘All will be well, dearest child,’ he said. ‘I and your mother will be thinking of you. No harm will come to you. Lord John de Montgomery will look after you. He will make sure that everything is well. There, my little one, you will be with your aunt and I know you already begin to love her. I shall tell your mother you are going to be happy here—otherwise she will be sad. You would not want that, I know.’
The Vow on the Heron Page 17
