The Vow on the Heron

by Виктория Холт

  ‘It is so unnatural,’ she had complained to Edward, ‘to send a child so young away from her home.’

  Edward agreed but it was necessary to find allies if he were to win the crown of France.

  The crown of France! thought Philippa. That bauble! What was that compared with the heartbreak of a little girl and her mother. And even if he won it—which could she was certain only be after years of struggle, suffering, privation and endurance—what then?

  How she longed to leave the Low Countries. She thought longingly of Windsor--the forests. the river and the castle which she had grown to love. Now her child would be born in a foreign land.

  Edward was worried too. The campaign was so costly and nothing at all had been achieved so far. It was disconcerting that those whom he had taken such pains to please and at great expense were now turning towards France as the more likely side to be the victor.

  This infuriated him. Moreover he must raise more money and how could he do this in Flanders?

  He came to the conclusion that he would have to return to England. He must persuade Parliament that he needed money for his armies. He had to pay his soldiers; he had to keep them supplied with arms.

  He told Philippa this and it added to her anxieties. True, he had sent to Austria demanding the return of Joanna and she was hourly expecting news that her little daughter was on her way to her. What a happy day that would be when she could hold the child in her arms.

  The time came when Edward could delay no longer. He must have money and would have to pay a brief visit to England in order to get it. He was uneasy about leaving Philippa behind but she assured him that she would be capable of looking after herself. Moreover she had good friends in Ghent, the chief of these being Jacob von Arteveldt for whom the King had such regard.

  ‘How I wish I could come with you,’ said Philippa sadly.

  The King shared her regret but reminded her that just as his duty lay in finding money for arms and men, hers was in giving England heirs and so far she had made an excellent job of that.

  Tor your greater safety,’ said the King, ‘I am going to send you to the Abbey of St Bavon. You will be safe there and when I see you again our child will be born.’

  So Philippa retired to the Abbey of St Bavon in the town of Ghent and Edward left for England.

  Within a month of his going Philippa gave birth to a boy. He was a fine healthy child and she decided his name should be John. He quickly showed himself to be a lusty Plantagenet and he became known as John of Ghent which the English, using the Anglicized form of the name, called Gaunt.

  * * *

  As each day passed Joanna’s happiness increased. It seemed strange to her to be making the same journey as she had made before in the company of her father. Then her heart had been heavy with foreboding. Now she was light-hearted, full of joyful anticipation.

  Everything seemed so much more beautiful—the silver Rhine, the grey stone castles, the towns and villages through which she passed and where the people ran out of their homes to stare at her.

  She smiled at them, gaily, happily. Joanna loved the whole world during that journey to Ghent.

  It was eighteen months since she had seen her mother and it seemed a lifetime to the little girl.

  At length she came to the city of Ghent and Lord John was told that the King was in England and at first her heart sank; but when she heard that her mother was at St Bavon’s Abbey, her spirits revived.

  And there it was, the old grey stone Abbey and as they rode towards it she saw her mother and she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

  She leaped from her horse. There could be no ceremony. She could not endure that.

  She ran to her mother and threw herself into her arms.

  Philippa was holding her tightly, murmuring words of endearment. ‘My little one ... It has seemed so long ... I thought you would never come back to me.’

  ‘Dearest dearest lady mother ... I am here ... at last. It is like a dream.’

  Philippa stroked her daughter’s hair. She had changed. She had had so many experiences since she had left home ... and not happy ones.

  ‘My love,’ crooned Philippa, ‘there is so much to tell you, so much to show you. You have a little brother.’

  Joanna was laughing with sheer happiness.

  ‘Another brother!’

  ‘Little John. He was born here in Ghent. They call him John of Gaunt ... He can already give a good account of himself.’

  ‘And my father?’

  ‘Alas, he has had to return to England.’

  ‘Then I shall not see him.’

  ‘He will be back soon.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Joanna, ‘to have seen him too would have been to much happiness all at once.’

  ‘You have that joy to come, my dearest child.’

  So they were together; and Joanna could only think of the happy present.

  And the Queen rejoiced that she had her daughter back.

  TROUBLE AT THE TOWER

  AS soon as Edward had conferred with his Parliament and persuaded its members to grant him more funds for carrying on the fight for the crown of France he went to see his daughter Isabella in the palace of the Tower.

  It was a tearful Isabella whom he found there. She threw herself into his arms and clung to him.

  He was deeply touched. Dearly as he loved all his children, Isabella was the favourite. Edward very much enjoyed feminine society. He had been a faithful husband but that did not mean he was unaware of beautiful women and there had been times when had he been less determined he might have strayed. One of his greatest pleasures was jousting, with himself the champion of course and riding triumphantly round the field being aware of the applause and admiration of the ladies. He enjoyed wearing splendid garments to show off his outstanding good looks. This side to his character was in direct contrast to the great warrior and dedicated king, but it was nevertheless there and he was liked for this weakness which emphasized his strength in other directions.

  Proud and delighted as he was to have begotten healthy sons, it was his daughters whom, in his heart, he secretly loved best.

  Isabella was well aware of this and because she was self- willed, imperious and liked to have her own way she made good use of it.

  she When she had shown him how delighted she was to see him e asked why it was that she alone of the family was unable to be with her mother in Flanders.

  ‘Dearest child,’ said Edward, ‘we are at war you know. You are safer here in London.’

  ‘I don’t want to be safe,’ she retorted. ‘I want to be with you all.’

  ‘So you shall be ... in due course.’

  ‘But I don’t want to wait for due course.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something, Isabella. Your sister Joanna is coming back from Austria. Our plans there did not work out as we expected. Soon she will be coming to join you here with Lady St Omer.’

  Isabella frowned. She did not want Joanna. She wanted to share in the adventures. Life was so dull here, she pointed out. Besides, it was so long since she had seen her mother and if she were in Flanders she would see her father often would she not?

  ‘Oh dear dear father, I have missed you so.’

  ‘My love,’ replied Edward, ‘do you not think I have missed you?’

  ‘But exciting things happen to you. Here it is lessons and sitting over needlework. I am not like Joanna who always wants to be stitching and making embroidery.’

  ‘Poor little Joanna, she has had a sad time I am afraid.’

  ‘At least it has not been dull for her. She has travelled and almost married.’

  ‘But she has been very unhappy. Soon, I trust, she will be with your mother.’

  ‘While I stay here

  Edward took Isabella’s face in his hands and kissed her. ‘It is not safe for you to travel, little daughter.’

  She stamped her foot. ‘I don’t want to be safe. Besides, you promised ... You said next time you came you w
ould take me with you. You promised. You promised.’

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘as soon as this war is over, I will take you with me to France.’

  ‘It can be years and years ...’

  A feeling of depression came to Edward then. Years and years! He had always known that taking the French crown was not going to be an easy matter, but there were times when it seemed an insuperable task.

  ‘And you promised ... you promised. You said people should never break promises. You couldn’t do that, could you? You couldn’t break your promises to your own daughter ...’

  ‘I am thinking only of your safety.’

  ‘Oh, my dear lord, I am so miserable ... Please ... please ... take me with you.’

  He hesitated and she was quick to see that. She twined her arms about his neck. ‘I cannot bear not to see you. I want to see them all—my mother, my brothers, and Joanna ... but most of all you, dear father. And you promised me ...’

  Edward made a sudden decision.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I shall take you back with me.’

  He was deeply moved to see the transfiguration. She was radiant.

  He held her tightly in his arms and added: ‘Because I could not bear to be without you.’

  * * *

  Philippa uneasily waited in Ghent for the return of Edward; and when he did return she knew that confrontation with the French would be close at hand. Often she thought with regret of Robert of Artois and his heron. She could see that it was largely due to that man’s hatred of the King of France that he had almost forced Edward into action. Edward should have stood out against the temptor. Let him call him coward. There was not a man in England who did not know that that was the last thing Edward was. He was brave to recklessness; he would fight at the head of his armies. But secretly Philippa wished it was for a more worthy cause. She had been despised by some for her mildness; people did not realize that the very mildness had grown from her knowledge of what was best in life. Harmony was more to be desired than discord, peace than war; love could triumph over hatred at any time and how much happier were those who could take advantage of this.

  If only she and Edward could return to England and waive this claim to the throne of France how much happier they would all be.

  Sometimes Edward seemed to her like one of her children. She smiled at his vanities, his love of fine clothes and admiration; his delight in a tournament when he showed himself possessed of greater skill than others. Yes, like a child. Yet on the other side was the strong man, the great king, the wily general, the wise ruler.

  She did not know for which she loved him more—his strength or his weakness.

  And her role in life was to smooth the way for him, to care for him, to be at hand whenever he needed her most, to stand beside him, to hide from him her sometimes greater wisdom; to be always at his side when he needed her.

  So now she was in Ghent, in some danger, for the knowledge that Edward had gone to England had reached the French who naturally thought this might be a good time to harry his Queen.

  She was unafraid but Jacob von Arteveldt was anxious. He feared that the French might capture her and hold her captive. What a prize she would be with her young ones I

  Jacob strengthened the defences about the Abbey of St Bavon and prayed for the speedy return of the King. He was particularly interested in little John whose godfather he was. The friendship between the Arteveldts and the Queen had become very firm. Philippa liked Jacob’s wife, Catherine, and in turn became godmother to her son who was christened Philip which was as near to Philippa as could be, considering the sex of the child.

  There were skirmishes in the neighbourhood between the French and the English and Philippa was greatly distressed one day to learn that William de Montacute, who three years before had become Earl of Salisbury and was one of Edward’s greatest friends, had been captured and taken to Paris.

  Jacob was very grave when he told Philippa the news.

  ‘I fear for the Earl of Salisbury,’ he said. ‘He is known to be very close to the King.’

  Philippa was deeply distressed. ‘They have been friends for so long,’ she said. ‘In fact I think that William could be said to be his greatest friend. I hope that no harm comes to him.’

  ‘The mood of the King of France is not very benign towards the English at this time.’

  ‘How I wish Edward were here. He might be able to do something.’

  Jacob shook his head. ‘There is little to be done, I fear. We can only hope for the best.’

  There was even greater cause for concern. The French fleet was assembling to intercept Edward on his return to the Continent, and its strength would greatly exceed anything that Edward could muster.

  * * *

  Rumours of the assembling of the French fleet reached Edward and he was dismayed—not for himself, for he welcomed the opportunity of meeting the enemy—but on account of his daughter.

  He should never have been so weak as to promise to take her with him. When he was away from her he realized that he spoilt Isabella. Philippa was aware of it and tried to curb his generosity towards their eldest daughter, but he had never been able to withstand her wiles. He smiled, thinking of her soft delicate skin, her pretty hair, those clear eyes that could cloud so quickly with passion when she was in a rage. Naughty Isabella! But he would not have her other than she was.

  And now what? He could not break his promise to her. That was out of the question. Why, he thought indulgently, she would never forgive me

  He gave orders that three hundred of the bravest men at arms and five hundred archers should be assigned to protect the little Princess and a train of countesses, ladies, knights’ wives and other demoiselles were chosen to travel with her that she should do so in the utmost comfort.

  So they set sail and as they came near to the Helvoetsluys the King, from the deck of his ship, had his first glimpse of the great fleet of French ships which were assembled to intercept him.

  His own fleet was small but it was either a matter of going on or turning back which was unthinkable.

  ‘I have long wished to meet them,’ he cried, ‘and now by the help of God and St George, I will fight them. They have done me so much mischief that I will be revenged on them.’

  It was true that he welcomed the conflict; his only fear was for his daughter. He sent word to those who guarded her to do so with their lives, for if aught happened to her they would have to answer to him.

  There was exultation among the French when they saw the English because of their greater numbers and they believed it would be an easy task to overcome those paltry two hundred English ships.

  Edward was never better than when at a disadvantage and he had learned a great deal since the days of his first campaign in Scotland. He was now showing those signs of generalship which had distinguished his grandfather; and he never ceased to think of him when he went into battle. He had read of his campaigns; he had inherited his spirit and though the old King had been dead before he had been born he felt that he knew him well.

  The fight had begun. Isabella, in her cabin surrounded by her ladies, listened to the tumult and wondered whether she would ever see her family again. She did think fleetingly that _she should not have coerced her father into taking her for she knew that while he should be thinking only of the enemy he would be concerned for her.

  ‘But,’ she said confidently, ‘he will win. My father will always win. He will fight even harder because I am here. So it is a good thing after all.’

  Isabella had learned that it was pleasant to believe that what she did was for the best. She was not one to suffer great remorse.

  All through the long hot day the battle raged. The noise was deafening; the ship rocked and there were times when it seemed as though it would sink. But as the day wore on the heat grew less intense and so did the battle.

  Isabella was not surprised when she was told that the English had sunk countless French vessels, that the rest were in flight,
and the result was victory for her father.

  Such triumphs gave especial gratification to the winning side because they had successfully come through when it had seemed almost impossible that they could.

  Edward ordered special thanksgiving services on each ship and he said they must cruise along the coast for a while to make sure that the French fleet did not have an opportunity to rally and fight again. Battles had been lost more than once when the victorious had retired from the scene of conflict too soon.

  He came to Isabella and asked her how she had fared.

  ‘Such a lot of noise,’ she said, ‘and the ship rocked back and forth.’

  ‘So you thought you were going to sink, did you?’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t let that happen.’

  Now Philippa would have pointed out to the child that only God was omnipotent and what had been achieved had been done with His help. Edward was different; he could not help basking in his daughter’s admiration and he did not want God to have a share in it.

  ‘I’ll warrant you wished you were back in the Tower.’

  ‘How could I when you are here! I want to be in all the battles you win, dear father.’

  ‘I could not risk that,’ he told her.

  And she smiled contentedly, knowing how precious she was to him and that, even if he refused her something in the first place, she would always get it in the end.

  * * *

  After a pilgrimage to Ardenberg to give thanks to the Virgin there for this great victory, Edward and his train set out for Ghent.

  With what joy was Philippa reunited with her husband and her eldest daughter. Isabella was beside herself with delight.

  She looked with mild interest on the new brother John; even two-year-old Lionel was a stranger to her. Her brother Edward seemed a great deal older than when he had left England and Joanna had undoubtedly changed. She was quiet and there was a certain sadness about her which was doubtless due to the unpleasant time she had had in Austria.