Joanna clung to him and he found it difficult to withdraw from her embraces. He almost felt inclined to take her back with him. That of course would be the end of friendly relations between him and the Emperor and the Duke. And he needed them.
For a few moments he wondered why he had embarked on this venture. He wished he had never made friends with Robert of Artois and allowed him such freedom that he could goad him with his heron.
That was nonsense. A King’s life must not be dedicated to his family however much he loved them. He had a crown to win and he was going to do everything in his power to get it.
So at last he left Joanna and started on the journey back to Antwerp and Philippa.
* * *
In due course Edward arrived in Antwerp where Philippa was eagerly awaiting him. She wanted to hear about his parting with Joanna and was delighted that Margaret had taken her under her wing and yet she had certain misgivings. Few could know Margaret as well as she did and she could not help being aware that during their childhood Margaret had always contrived to get the larger share of any good things which came their way and to shrug off on the others anything that did not appeal to her.
But then she had been but a child—the eldest of the girls and somewhat conscious of her superior position. She would have mellowed and settled down and she would love Joanna for her sister’s sake. Moreover Philippa had made sure that some costly gifts went Margaret’s way for she knew how Margaret loved jewels.
All would be well.
Edward was a little depressed by the journey. He was not at all sure of Louis of Bavaria. There had been something rather shifty about him and though while in his presence Edward had believed in his friendship, he was not so sure of it when he was away.
If he could count on Louis he would have the support of the German princes for naturally they would follow the Emperor. The Count of Gueldres had married his sister Eleanor so there was a close tie there and he thought he could rely on him.
But the King of France had some strong allies. Navarre, Sicily and Luxembourg were with him. The Pope however wrote to Edward chiding him for making an alliance with Emperor Louis who had been excommunicated. Edward could hardly expect support from the Pope who, installed in Avignon, was a creature of the King of France. Still, if those he believed he had acquired remained faithful to him he was well placed to make his attack on France.
He conferred a great deal with Philippa. What he needed was money and he had already pawned a great many of the jewels Philippa had brought with her from Hainault.
‘I am afraid,’ he told her, ‘we shall have to raise what we can on your best crown.’
Philippa shrugged her shoulders. If it must be, it must be and the contentment of her husband and family meant more to her than any jewels. But she deplored the prospect of war and yearned to be at home with her family. She thought constantly of Edward and Isabella and she wondered if they were being well cared for. There would always be this anxiety when she was separated from her children, and, but for the war, little Joanna need not have gone just yet.
In November her child was born. It was a great delight to her for it was a son. She decided he should be called Lionel after the lion in the arms of Brabant. It would be a compliment to the people who had been so hospitable to them.
Although he was long-limbed and beautiful and typically Plantagenet, the baby suffered from some very slight chest trouble and Philippa insisted that the doctor who had attended her and her family in Hainault should be sent for to look after the child. Philippa had great faith in him.
Her father had died and it had been a great blow to her but she had known it was inevitable; and her mother, who was alone now, for all the girls were married, had decided to retire to a convent. Therefore Philippa had no conscience about bringing the doctor to look after little Lionel.
He came and to Philippa’s joy in a very short time Lionel was a lively healthy baby—the biggest of all her babies including Edward who had been a very healthy child.
Edward had a very good friend in Jacob von Arteveldt, a most extraordinary man who because of his outstanding character and undoubted integrity had became the Governor of Flanders. He was a man of some fifty years and in his younger days had lived in fairly affluent obscurity. His father Jan had been a cloth worker who had been Sheriff of Ghent. Jacob was widely travelled, having been in the service of Charles of Valois, the brother of Philip the Handsome, and had, with him, journeyed into Italy, Greece and Sicily. Returning to Ghent he had immersed himself in family life, his weaving business and that which his wife had brought to him—a factory in which sweet beer was brewed. He himself was by no means poor; his family had been hard workers and had accumulated wealth and he lived in a fine house in the Calanderberg over which he could display his family escutcheon. He was, in fact, a man of substance.
He was a big man in both senses of the word, a reformer by nature and a fervent patriot. He saw a great deal of what was wrong in his country and he believed it stemmed from incompetent rule. Count Louis of Flanders was the tool of the French King and the French were eager that the weavers should be dependent on their wool and Jacob believed that because of French interference the weaving trade was not as flourishing as it might have been.
The alliance which had come about with England when Queen Philippa had arranged that Flemish weavers should go to England had seemed to Jacob a promise of better things; and if the Flemings could throw off the French yoke which Count Louis of Flanders had put on them through his friendship with France, he was sure there would be better times ahead.
In the streets of Ghent weavers who had no work gathered to talk together. Their families had not enough to eat; their houses were small and cramped and overcrowded. They were a hard-working people and it seemed bad luck that they who were so ready to earn a living should be unable to keep themselves and their families.
Then they began to hear of a man named Jacob van Arteveldt who believed he could find a solution to their difficulties. The whole of the town was talking of him; everywhere his name was mentioned. He was well known in the town; a man who had always treated his workers well; a patriot who loved his country.
‘Let us hear what he says,’ cried the people.
The outcome was that Jacob agreed to speak to them and if they would assemble in the grounds of the monastery of Biloke he would be there to address them.
The grounds of the monastery were crowded with eager citizens, and there Jacob spoke to them with great eloquence and what seemed to them sound good sense.
He begged them not to forget the might and glory of Flanders. Who should dictate to them? They knew full well that the King of France was trying to prevent their trading with England. What had they to fear from France? All the communes of Brabant would stand beside them, as would those of Hainault, Holland and Zealand. So it was folly to be intimidated by the French.
‘What I want to see and what I know will make our trade flourish is freedom to pursue fair commercial intercourse between Flanders and England, and at the same time assure neutrality if this threatened war between England and France should break out.’
The people cheered him. There was something solid about this man with a great girth and eloquent words. He was known as an honest trader. He was a good citizen. He was the sort of man they wanted to manage their affairs.
It was not long before all the representatives of the various communes had joined with Jacob von Arteveldt in Ghent and together they visited Louis the Count of Flanders, who seeing their determination, immediately agreed to support them, and a treaty was signed at Anvers to which Jacob had invited the English ambassadors. They agreed on three main articles. First that they should be able to buy wools and any other merchandise from England. Secondly traders from Flanders visiting England should be free in their persons and their goods and thirdly they should not meddle in any way by assistance in men and arms in the wars between Edward of England and Philip of Valois.
Philip was of c
ourse very disturbed by all this and he sent a message to the Count of Flanders to tell him that this dangerous man von Arteveldt must be removed, or, he added ominously, it would be the end of the Count of Flanders. However the Count’s attempts to get Jacob assassinated came to nothing. The people were determined that their saviour should live and when the Count summoned Jacob to his hotel he was accompanied by so many of the citizens that Count Louis saw he could not easily dispose of him. All he could do was try to explain to Jacob that if he would persuade the people to love the King of France much good would come to him, whereas if he failed to do this he might be in a precarious position.
Jacob was not the man to be impressed by bribes or threats. He replied that he wished to do what was best for the people of Flanders and for no one else. It was they who had elected him for this task and he intended to carry it out.
It was impossible for Count Louis to harm Jacob for the people were with him to a man.
They must arm themselves against attack, Jacob told them. There should be trained bands throughout the towns. They were not arming for war but to preserve their rights. This was armed neutrality.
This hostility between France and Flanders was naturally to Edward’s advantage and he realized that he must do all in his power to increase trade between the two countries. That was what they wanted and what was good for them both.
Philippa had understood this so clearly when she had brought the weavers to England; then there had been established between the two countries a great friendship which was now standing him in good stead.
‘Ah,’ said Philippa, ‘if it were not for the state of war, how prosperous all our countries would be.’
She was sad as she reflected on Edward’s absorption in this battle for a crown.
She had always thought how much better it would be to have a prosperous England than an England at war; and even if there was success for Edward and he won the crown of France he would only gain a country devastated by war.
But what could a woman do? Nobody would listen to her and they would dismiss her beliefs as woman’s thinking. Yet if they had stopped to think they would have to admit she was wiser than they were.
* * *
When Prince Edward and his sister Isabella had been left in England they had both been disappointed. It was unfair, Isabella said, that Joanna should go with them. ‘She is younger than I,’ grumbled Isabella. ‘Why should she go and I remain behind?’
Edward pointed out that Joanna had gone for a reason. She was to be left at her future husband’s court. Poor Joanna had not been very happy about that.
Isabella certainly had no wish to leave her parents. Her father made too much fuss of her and secretly she delighted in the fact that she was his favourite.
Edward looked at her with tolerance. He himself was growing very tall and handsome. He was only ten years old but his attendants said that he looked all of sixteen and they had seen many women glance his way with approving and hopeful looks in their eyes.
Edward was unaware of them. He was interested in horses and he was very skilful in sword play. It was said that he would be a commander like his father and great grandfather and the King and the country should be very proud to have such a promising heir to the throne.
The Prince already was aware of his responsibilities. He was now Earl of Chester and Duke of Cornwall and since his father had left for France he had been appointed Guardian of the Kingdom. He was naturally too young for this to be anything but a title but it did mean that he was forced to attend meetings and although all he had to do was sit and listen, people turned to him with great respect and he must appear to give his consent to certain measures which really meant doing what he was told.
It was however good preparation for what would one day come to him. Nor were his studies neglected. Dr Walter Burley of Merton College, Oxford was his tutor and no easy taskmaster. A prince had great responsibilities, he was told, and he must not shirk them.
Not that he had ever shirked his duty. He had a great desire to excel. He had heard whispers of his grandfather’s infamous life and unfortunate end and it was his duty to make sure that he did not inherit the weakness that had appeared in that sad King.
There seemed little likelihood of that.
He was in the palace of the Tower when Dr Burley sent for him to give him some news.
‘My lord,’ said the Doctor, ‘I have had instructions from the King regarding you, and you must now prepare yourself for a journey.’
‘I am going to join my father?’ asked the Prince eagerly. The Doctor nodded.
‘When?’
‘As soon as your journey can be arranged.’
‘That means at once. For rest assured I shall not delay.’
‘You should know that the King is anxious to celebrate your betrothal.’
‘I am to have a wife?’
‘The marriage is necessary to the King’s plans. He is eager to strengthen his alliances on the Continent and is arranging a marriage between you and Margaret, the daughter of the Duke of Brabant.’
Edward was taken aback. He had wanted to go into battle, not matrimony.
‘Am I to be married at once?’
‘No, no. But the King needs these alliances.’
The Prince was thoughtful. Well, it was what happened to members of royal families. Their spouses were chosen for them and they must needs accept them. He wondered what this Margaret was like. At least when he married he would not have to leave his home and family as poor little Joanna had.
‘The marriage would not be consummated immediately,’ said the doctor.
The Prince understood. There would be some ceremony and he would go on just as before. He could shrug the thought of marriage aside.
‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that my father does not finish the war before I arrive.’
‘I doubt you will be allowed to join in battles, my lord.’
‘Do you think the war will be over before I am old enough to join in?’
The Doctor did not answer. He believed that this war would go on and on for many years. The King of France against the King of England and the battle fought on French soil l It was slow in starting, so perhaps both sides were realizing what a difficult task faced them. Philip’s was the easier. He was defending his homeland.
The Doctor in his sagacity thought that it was a pity Edward had ever embarked on such an undertaking. He lacked the means; he was in constant need of money; moreover there would certainly be trouble on the Scottish border if ever he became too involved on the Continent.
But the Doctor’s talents lay not in war; it was his mission to educate the young heir to the throne. And he was not displeased with his job. Edward was showing signs of becoming a credit to him.
Edward left him and immediately began his preparations. Isabella had heard the news and she came into his apartments. It was typical of Isabella that she came unannounced, always presuming that everyone would be delighted to see her. Now her eyes were blazing, her cheeks scarlet.
‘They say you are going to France,’ she cried.
‘It’s true,’ said Edward. ‘I shall leave perhaps tomorrow.’ ‘And I am to stay here.’
‘That is what I have heard.’
She stamped her foot. ‘It’s not fair. Why should I be left behind? Edward, take me with you.’
She flung herself at him and clung to him, but he coolly set her aside. ‘How can I take you? There were no orders that you should come.’
‘Our father promised ... he promised. He said when he left that he would take me one day.’
‘That day has not yet come.’
‘Oh, it is cruel. I hate it here.’
‘You know very well you do not hate it. Lady St Omer is very kind to you and takes good care of you.’
‘I want to go to France,’ sobbed Isabella.
The Prince turned away impatiently. He had no time to dally with his spoilt sister.
He left the next day watched by a sullen-eyed
Isabella, but he was too excited at the prospect to think much about her. The crossing was good and it was a thrilling moment when he stepped ashore. He deplored his youth; he longed to be old enough to prove himself as a soldier. But it was a good sign that his father had sent for him.
He was as delighted to see his mother again as she was to see him. She embraced him and was almost overcome by her emotion. Philippa rarely gave way to her feelings but on this occasion at the sight of this handsome first-born she was so deeply moved.
How he had grown! He was quite a man. He was so like his father with his light-coloured hair, his high cheek bones, his aquiline nose which was just a little blunted at the tip—so like his father’s—and those all-seeing blue eyes. He was a son any mother could be proud of. He was all that a future King should be.
She was glad she had called him Edward.
‘You grow more and more like your father,’ she told him.
The King was delighted too. Such a son was enough to warm any father’s heart. Little Lionel too was becoming stronger every day and growing fast. His nurses said that they had never seen a baby grow as Lionel did ... even Edward had not been so big.
If only he could have been as happy with the progress of the war as he was with his family, Edward would have been a very contented man.
Young Edward was very anxious to hear about the progress of the war and his father saw that he was wondering why it had not yet been won and the Kinc, of England was not also the King of France.
‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘you have much to learn. Wars are not easily won. When I was your age I thought the same. I became King too young and I went to Scotland where I learned a bitter lesson. Wars swallow up money. Soldiers have to be paid, arms have to be found, friendship has to be bought.’
I did not think friendship would be true friendship if it depended on gifts,’ said the Prince.
The Vow on the Heron Page 18
