The Hammer of the Scots

by Jean Plaidy

  The Princess Eleanor was happy. It was true that she must leave England and that was something she had dreaded doing, but now it seemed different; and her husband had promised that whenever possible they would visit England, and the King would always be welcome in Bar.

  He would return there now to make preparations for her arrival, for he wanted to make sure that she received a royal welcome and he trusted no one to arrange that but himself.

  In a few weeks she would join him.

  How excited she was making her preparations. Joanna contrived to spend a great deal of time with her. ‘For,’ said Joanna, ‘when you go away I shall see you rarely then.’

  Joanna had given birth to another daughter whom she called Margaret after her sister. So now she had three children. Child-bearing seemed to suit Joanna. Like her mother she came through the ordeals with little inconvenience to herself, and as Gilbert’s devotion did not diminish she was happy in her motherhood.

  ‘Sister,’ she said one day, ‘I do believe you are with child.’

  Eleanor blushed slightly. She had suspected it and the fact that Joanna had noticed confirmed it.

  ‘It is what I want more than anything,’ she declared.

  ‘The Duke will be pleased.’

  ‘Yes, as soon as I am sure I shall send a message to him.’

  Joanna laughed. ‘Life is good, is it not, sister? Was I not right in telling you you should marry? Poor Margaret, I doubt she will find it so blissful. It is strange is it not that her Duke allows her to stay away from him? I have heard it said that he prefers it so. Oh, we are the lucky ones, Eleanor.’

  Eleanor agreed with this.

  She was in fact pregnant, and when her husband heard this he replied that she must leave for Bar without delay. She must make the strenuous journey in the early stages before travelling should be irksome or dangerous. And it was essential that his heir should be born in the Duchy.

  A great cavalcade accompanied her to Dover, the King at the head of it.

  They took a tender farewell and the King would not leave the shore until he could no longer see the ship which was carrying his daughter away.

  In her new home she was welcomed by her husband, who was determined to give her a display to equal that which King Edward had arranged for their pleasure. He had organised a tournament and had invited from all over the Continent, knights renowned for their prowess. Among these was John, the elder Duke of Brabant, the father of Margaret’s husband, who had been known all his life as one of the most accomplished of the knights and had so distinguished himself that he had won the titles of ‘Glory of the World’ and ‘Flower of Chivalry’, which meant that when he jousted people came from every corner of the world to watch him.

  ‘My dearest,’ said the Duke, ‘you of course must present the crown to the winner of the jousts for they will all perform in your honour.’

  She was delighted. She had always been beautiful but seemed to have become more so since her marriage. There was new colour in her cheeks, a new shine to her eyes and a lustre in her hair, which she wore hanging loose about her shoulders.

  The old Duke of Brabant was overcome by her beauty and he told her that he was determined to win the crown for the honour of receiving it from her hands.

  She wished that Joanna could see her now. Would she be a little envious? Perhaps. But Joanna was in command of her life to such an extent that she rarely envied anyone. There was a niggling disquiet in the recesses of Eleanor’s mind concerning her sister. She had mentioned more than once the possibility of her husband’s dying – and without a great deal of concern – when she would have the husband of her choice.

  But she could not think of Joanna on this day. How beautiful it was. The sun was shining, lances glittered and the knights were assembled in their armour ready for the mock battle. She was seated high on her bench with her ladies beside her, under a canopy of scarlet and gold, and all eyes were on her. They marvelled at the beauty of her hair and eyes, her fresh smooth skin. She wished that her father could see her now.

  The knights were all eager to win the trophy; there was not one there who was not longing for the honour of having the crown placed on his head by those fair hands.

  Yes, she thought, I am happy as I never thought to be. Joanna was right. I needed marriage and children. This is the true life. The crown of England for which she had longed seemed of little importance – a bauble. Here she was: a happy wife, a mother-to-be, the queen of the tournament.

  The jousting began and went on throughout the day. The old Duke of Brabant had come successfully through several encounters and she hoped he would win. She wanted this to be his crowning endeavour, for he was clearly too old to joust much more.

  She watched him. His opponent was a stranger whom she did not know. But he must be a knight of some repute or he would not be here. He was a tall man and he sat his horse as though he and it were one. Her father was like that. They had the long arms and legs of the Normans, and because of this they had the advantage on horseback.

  It was the third turn. She heard the gasp in the crowd; there was a second or so of silence and then people were running onto the field where the old Duke of Brabant lay bleeding on the grass.

  His opponent was kneeling beside the old man, imploring his pardon, begging him to use the sword against him, to kill him for what he had done.

  The old Duke shook his head. ‘It was a fair fight,’ he whispered. ‘I should have known my day was done.’

  He was carried from the field into the castle of Le Bar, where he died shortly afterwards. His death cast a gloom over the celebrations and the Duke and Eleanor agreed that they must put an end to them.

  Some said it was not a good augury for the future. Now that the old Duke of Brabant was dead, Margaret’s husband was the new Duke.

  In due course Eleanor’s child was born and to her – and her husband’s – great joy, it was a boy. She insisted on calling him Edward as a compliment to her father, and when the news reached England there was great rejoicing there. The King longed to be with his daughter. That was impossible, of course, but although he missed her sadly he was glad that at last she had a husband and child and he prayed for her happiness.

  It was not long before she was once more pregnant and this time she produced a girl. She wrote to her sister Joanna telling her how happy she was and that she was going to name her daughter Joanna to remind her of the sister who had been closest to her.

  There was no doubt that happiness reigned in the Duchy of Bar-le-Duc and fortunately neither the Duke nor the Duchess knew at that time how short-lived it would prove to be.

  Joanna was now the mother of four children – Gilbert, Eleanor, Margaret and Elizabeth. They had all been born within the space of five years and the novelty of being a wife and mother had vanished.

  As with her mother, child-bearing had come easily to Joanna and taken little toll of her looks. Her vitality was as strong as ever. She was twenty-three years old and, although when she was first married it seemed interesting to have an elderly husband, she was now beginning to see him as a very old man whose devotion was so constant that it seemed cloying.

  She was becoming increasingly aware of one of Gilbert’s squires, a certain Ralph de Monthermer – good-looking, sturdy and above all young. When she compared this squire with her husband poor Gilbert seemed very old indeed and she wondered what would have happened if she had met Ralph de Monthermer before her marriage. She convinced herself that she never could have married Gilbert then and imagined what her father would have said if she had suggested Ralph as a bridegroom.

  A squire for a king’s daughter! He would have thought she was mad. Perhaps she was a little. In any case she certainly felt reckless when she looked at that young man.

  It amused her to play little games with him. To look up suddenly and catch his eyes on her and to ask him if he saw aught wrong.

  He would become embarrassed, but only slightly, for he was quite a bold young man. ‘Wron
g, my lady? Nay, right … far too right for my peace of mind.’

  A pleasant allusion to her charms which she liked.

  She would make sure that he was placed near her, but not too near. When she sang after supper it would be songs of hopeless love and she very much enjoyed the effect this had on him. When she rode out with a riding party he was invariably of it and she would pretend to be surprised to find herself beside him.

  Some would say it was a dangerous situation into which she was sinking more deeply every day, but danger was irresistible to Joanna and she became more and more interested in Ralph de Monthermer.

  Who could say how this would have ended and when it would have been brought to Gilbert’s notice if of late Gilbert had not been so easily tired that he had liked to retire early? That his last campaign had taken some toll of his health was obvious.

  Joanna played the anxious wife for a while but it was a role she soon tired of. Fortunately for Gilbert he did not live long enough to see that she was wearying of it, for one morning when his attendants went into his bedchamber to waken him they found that he had died in his sleep.

  It was not altogether a surprise for it had been obvious to the discerning that Gilbert had grown weaker every day.

  Joanna received the news calmly. She found it hard to express any deep sorrow. The marriage had been satisfactory while it had lasted but it had lasted long enough. She could not have gone on being a dutiful wife much longer so it was better for everyone that Gilbert should pass on before he discovered this.

  And there was Ralph de Monthermer.

  She sent for him and gave him her hand to kiss in greeting. He did not release it but continued to hold it and drew her towards him.

  ‘What means this, my lord?’ she asked, but he saw the sparkle in her eyes.

  ‘I think you know, my lady.’

  ‘My husband is dead,’ she answered.

  ‘I know it.’

  ‘And you think that because of this you may with impunity misuse me?’

  ‘I think, my lady, from what I read in your eyes that I may presume a little on your kindness.’

  ‘Do you forget that I am the widow of your lord and the daughter of your King, Ralph de Monthermer?’

  ‘I forget all but one thing, lady, when I am close to you.’

  ‘You should leave me now. We will talk of this later.’

  He hesitated and she half wished he would disobey her, seize her, make love to her. That would have been piquant with Gilbert not yet in his tomb. Instead of which he left, which after all was best.

  We have the rest of our lives, she thought. We can for a while pay homage to propriety.

  In his death chamber, faintly lighted by a wintry sun, for the month was December, Joanna had ordered that candles be lighted and one by one his squires went in to take their last farewell of him – a good master, a man of strong character, who more than once in his life had defied his King. Yet he was a man to be respected, for in spite of the fact that he had once fought against royalty on the side of Simon de Montfort, the King had given him his daughter.

  Joanna was watchful during those days in Monmouth Castle to which they had come that Gilbert might guard his Welsh estates, and only now and then she allowed herself to catch the eye of Ralph de Monthermer, and then hers conveyed the message: ‘Wait awhile. But not for long.’

  The family burial place of the Clares was Tewkesbury, and with great pomp Gilbert was taken to the abbey there. Joanna commanded that a statue should be made of him in his chain armour for he had above all been a great warrior; and on his tabard she had engraved the family arms and in the right hand the spear, in the left his sword.

  ‘Alas, poor Gilbert,’ she said, ‘he was a good husband to me, but he was old and it was to be expected that he would go before me.’

  And she smiled to herself. She had always said that if a woman married once for state reasons – which as a princess perhaps duty demanded that she should – the second time she married, her husband should be of her own choosing.

  It was imperative that she make sure that she should lose nothing by her husband’s death. His estates were vast for he had been one of the richest barons in England and when her father was in St Edmundsbury she took the journey there to be with him.

  Edward was delighted to see her.

  He embraced her warmly and looked eagerly at her, expecting, she supposed, to see the grief of a sorrowing widow.

  She could not pretend to such an extent and when he sought to soothe her she replied, ‘My dear lord, Gilbert was a good husband to me. I married him because it was your command. But he was so much older than I and as the years passed the older he seemed to grow.’

  The King was a little disconcerted, but he was pleased to see that she was not as unhappy as he had expected her to be.

  ‘I have my children to think to,’ she said. ‘I want to be sure that Gilbert’s estates come to me. I know that you would not allow them to be withheld from me.’

  ‘There is a certain amount owing to the exchequer, I am told,’ said the King. ‘I believe it to be ten thousand marks.’

  ‘That cannot be so, dear Father.’

  ‘Yes, my dear child, it is so. The ten thousand marks cover debts which he incurred as a fine and which was never paid.’ The King pressed her hand. ‘The rest of the estate shall be made over to you. I know it to be considerable.’

  She was pleased; but she wanted to see how far her father would indulge her. He had come determined to make much of her. He greatly missed his eldest daughter, the Princess Eleanor, and he was now turning to the daughter who remained in England.

  ‘Dear Father,’ she said, ‘could you not forget the ten thousand marks? I would have to raise them and that would not be easy. Please, Father, for my sake and that of my children …’

  She had slipped her arm through his and laid her face against his. She was very attractive – not as beautiful as Eleanor, nor as gentle as Margaret, nor as good as Mary, nor as dependent as Elizabeth … but there had always been something very appealing about Joanna.

  Moreover he had something on his mind and that was marriage. He had mourned his Queen and had genuinely suffered through her loss, but several years had passed and many of his ministers had suggested that he should marry again. He was not young by any means. He was closer to sixty than fifty; but he was unusually full of vigour and he felt an excitement at the prospect of female company. Except in his extreme youth he had never been a man to sport outside the marriage bed. He could hardly begin now. He did not want to cast a slur on Eleanor’s memory, but it seemed only right and natural for a king to take a second wife.

  He had heard eulogistic reports about the Princess of France. Her name was Blanche and she was the daughter of King Philip known as le Hardi. Philip was dead and Blanche was under the guardianship of her brother, the new King Philip le Bel. Before the idea of marriage had occurred to him he had heard Blanche praised for her beauty and sprightliness.

  It had occurred to him recently that he must therefore marry and the most suitable bride for him was beautiful Blanche. Negotiations were going on at this time.

  While Joanna was pleading with him he was wondering how he was going to break the news to his daughters that he was hoping to marry. They had all loved their mother so devotedly and he had declared many times after her death that he would never put another in her place. Times changed and kings had their duties to perform. No, he was too honest for that. He had never seen Blanche, but from the rumours he had heard he was already in love with her and he had discovered that love at fifty-six could be as strong as it was at twenty. Perhaps more so, because at that age a man who still retained his vigour also had the knowledge that there was not much time.

  He would need the support of his daughters. He wanted them to understand. Therefore he would not wish there to be any rift between them.

  ‘My dear child,’ he said. ‘I would not wish to displease you for the sake of ten thousand marks.’
r />   It had been easier than she had thought. She was exultant.

  This tempted her to take her schemes a little further.

  ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘there is another matter.’

  He said: ‘I am listening, daughter.’

  ‘There is a squire who has served Gilbert well. I believe he should be rewarded. During Gilbert’s illness he was always at his side … a very faithful man, caring not what he did for his master’s comforts.’

  ‘What would you have for him?’

  ‘He is but a humble squire.’

  ‘Of what family?’

  ‘A most humble one, my lord, but in manners he is a true knight. Would you, out of love for me, grant him the boon of knighthood?’

  ‘I will do this out of my love for you,’ said the King.

  She kissed his hand.

  ‘Dear Father, how good you have always been to us. The only reward I can offer you is my unswerving love.’

  ‘It would always be mine, would it not?’ said the King.

  ‘Always,’ she answered.

  Joanna said goodbye to her father and with her retinue returned to Gloucester. She was well pleased. She was free and she had proved to herself that whatever she did she would be forgiven.

  She sent for Ralph de Monthermer.

  ‘Why, my lord,’ she said, ‘you have grown in stature, have you not. A knight, no less!’

  ‘For which I have to thank my gracious lady.’

  ‘The King has always been a good father to us. I have a notion that he would deny me nothing.’

  She was smiling secretly.

  She held out a hand to him. Willingly he grasped it.

  ‘My lady,’ he began.

  ‘I have decided that we might marry,’ she said.

  He caught his breath in amazement.

  ‘Yes,’ she went on. ‘I will be frank. There is that about you which pleases me. Do I please you?’

  She laughed aloud at his expression.