The Hammer of the Scots

by Виктория Холт

  ‘If it were not for this prophecy of Merlin’s I might agree with you. He must not win … even a skirmish. His little victories will be sung into big ones. You know the Welsh and their songs. Verses not deeds make their heroes. It may be that this prophecy of Merlin’s was made by a poet and sung of until people believed it for truth. Nay, I must teach Llewellyn a lesson. I shall not be long away. I must drive this man back to his mountains. It is the only way.’

  The King made his preparations to leave and before he went the Queen was able to tell him that she was once more pregnant.

  The Demoiselle was white with misery. It was hard for her to keep believing in Merlin’s prophecy when she lived close to the power of the great English King.

  * * *

  Edward marched up to Wales and they waited for news. The Queen grew large with child.

  ‘This time,’ she said, ‘it must be a boy. What wonderful news that would be to send to the King.’

  The Demoiselle sat with the Princess Eleanor and they worked on their tapestry together.

  ‘You are sad,’ said the Princess, ‘because my father is going to kill your lover.’

  ‘What if my lover killed your father?’ replied the Demoiselle.

  ‘No one could kill my father. He is the King.’

  ‘Llewellyn has been promised the crown by Merlin.’

  ‘He lived long ago. He does not count now,’ said the Princess, placidly stitching. ‘Do you like this blue silk?’

  ‘I do,’ said the Demoiselle.

  ‘Tell me about Llewellyn,’ said Eleanor. ‘Is he beautiful?’

  ‘He is the most beautiful man in the world.’

  ‘That is my father. So you lie.’

  ‘He is beautiful for me as your father is for you.’

  ‘But you said the most beautiful.’ Eleanor cried out. She had pricked her finger. ‘Do you think my mother will have a boy?’ she asked.

  ‘That is in God’s hands.

  ‘And God is not very kind, is He? He took my two brothers and my aunts Margaret and Beatrice. My grandmother is very cross with Him.’ She shivered. Obviously she was sorry for anyone with whom her grandmother was cross. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Demoiselle, if you promise to tell no one.’

  The Demoiselle looked eager. She was always hoping to learn something about Llewellyn and she knew that news about him was kept from her.

  ‘I will tell no one.’

  ‘I was glad Margaret was a girl. I hope this one will be a girl.’

  ‘But why? Don’t you know how much they want a boy?’

  The Princess nodded gravely. ‘I heard them talking about Alfonso. They were saying he was like John and Henry. Then one of them said: “It may well be that the King would make Princess Eleanor” – that is myself – “heir to the throne.” You see, Demoiselle, if there were no boys and Alfie went the way of … the others … I should be the one. I, the Princess. Princesses can become queens you know. Real queens – not like my mother and grandmother who just married kings, but The Queen.’

  The Demoiselle looked shocked. ‘You should not say such things,’ she said. ‘They are not … becoming.’

  ‘I know. That is why they are secret. You don’t have to be … becoming … in secret.’

  The Demoiselle studied the ambitious little girl who kept her ears and eyes open. She supposed there was a possibility of her realising her ambition.

  Poor child, she had yet to learn the trials of wearing a crown.

  As the months passed and the Queen’s confinement drew near there was little news from Wales.

  Then less than a year after the birth of little Margaret, another child was born to the Queen.

  There was general despondency. Another girl! They called her Berengaria because of a fancy the Queen had, and when a short while afterwards the child grew more and more sickly it was said that it was an unlucky name to have given a child. It recalled the sad queen of Richard Coeur de Lion. He had never loved her; he had neglected her; and she had been an unhappy woman, a barren woman. Poor soul, said the Queen Mother, she rarely had an opportunity to be anything else for everyone knew of the King’s preference for fighting crusades and for handsome people of his own sex. A man to sing of rather than to live with.

  Berengaria. It was a doomed name.

  The Queen was sad, eagerly awaiting news from the Welsh border, but not more eagerly than the Demoiselle.

  But the Princess Eleanor had a light in her eyes which showed she was not altogether displeased by the turn of events.

  * * *

  Gloom settled over Windsor. The King was on the Welsh border with his forces but it was not easy to gain the victory he sought. It was the Welsh mountains which defeated him time after time.

  The Demoiselle was like a grey ghost in the palace. She longed for news yet dreaded it. She prayed for Llewellyn; she did not care whether Merlin’s prophecy came true or not. It was not a King of England she wanted; she could have been completely happy with a Prince of Wales … and peace.

  The Queen Mother was so hostile to her that she wondered why she did not force her to leave Windsor. But the gentle Queen would be firm about that. It was after all the King’s wish that although she was a prisoner she should not be treated as one. Sometimes she would dream of how different her life would have been if the ship which was taking her to Wales had not been intercepted by the English. She and Llewellyn together with perhaps a little son or daughter. She would not have minded which. Oh how different it would have been from this weary waiting, this never-ending anxiety. Every time a messenger came to the castle she was in terror of what news he would bring. So was the Queen. She feared for Edward as the Demoiselle feared for Llewellyn.

  The Queen had discovered how Almeric was faring in Corfe Castle and had assured the Demoiselle that he was being well treated. ‘In spite of everything,’ said the Queen, ‘the King does not forget that you are cousins.’

  Edward was just, and the Demoiselle did not think he would be unduly cruel unless he found it expedient to be so. He was not like her grandfather King John who had taken pleasure in inflicting pain.

  It was circumstances rather than individuals that had decided on her cruel fate.

  The Queen Mother had received the Provençal physician William who assured her that her ailments were only those of encroaching age and that as she was usually healthy, there were many years left to her. That made good hearing and she rejoiced that Edward had sent for him. William was to stay in England – those were the King’s commands – and he must be given certain privileges which the Queen Mother would decide on.

  That was very satisfactory. If Edward could only settle that tiresome business in Wales and they could send the Demoiselle to Corfe to join her brother, and Edward could come home and get his wife with a child who would prove a boy, and if little Alfonso would show a little more vitality, all would be as well as it could be without the late King.

  * * *

  Meanwhile Edward had begun the Welsh invasion and was at Chester when one of his men-at-arms came to tell him that a messenger from the Welsh was asking to see him.

  ‘I will see this man,’ said Edward.

  The man hesitated. He was obviously thinking of another occasion when Edward had received a messenger in his tent in the Holy Land.

  Edward acknowledged the man’s concern and gave him a friendly nod. ‘Bring him in,’ he said.

  He stood before the King, a tall proud figure.

  Edward knew him at once; he had been a prominent member of the Welsh party at a meeting when a truce had been made between the English and the Welsh.

  ‘Davydd ab Gruffydd,’ he said. ‘What brings you to me?’

  ‘I have come to offer my services to you.’

  The King narrowed his eyes. He did not like traitors and that Llewellyn’s brother should come to him thus aroused his suspicions. He knew that there was conflict between the brothers. He knew that the elder brother Owain had with Davydd fought against Llewellyn
and it was because Llewellyn had been victorious that he was looked upon as the ruler of the principality. It was one matter for Welshmen to fight against Welshmen but to fight on the side of the English against the Welsh was quite another.

  Of course there was a long record of treachery among these people. All the more reason, thought Edward, not to trust him. Still, if he was well watched he could be an asset. It would be good for those who believed in Merlin’s prophecy to know that even Llewellyn’s brother was fighting with the English against him.

  Edward said, ‘I accept your offer.’

  ‘I will show you how to conquer my false brother. I know his weaknesses.’

  ‘I know them too,’ said Edward. ‘Well, Davydd ab Gruffyd, you shall be my ally. If you work with me, then I shall reward you. If you play the traitor to me I will make it so that you wish you had never been born rather than have to face what I shall inflict on you.’

  ‘My lord, I will serve you faithfully, until such time as you see fit to reward me.’

  Davydd was smiling triumphantly. This would show Llewellyn that brother though he might be he was ready to go to the enemy rather than submit to a minor role in Welsh affairs.

  When Llewellyn heard that his brother had gone to the English he was very melancholy. It seemed that he was being persecuted from all sides. He believed that had his Demoiselle been brought safely to him it would have been a sign that Heaven was on his side, and all his followers would have seen it as such. Superstitious as they were they had already begun to doubt Merlin’s prophecy and he knew how dangerous that was. He had appealed to the Pope to take the English to task for capturing and imprisoning his bride, but the Pope was not likely to support an unimportant prince against the growing might of the King of England. He had had his success in those skirmishes but they were not serious war and now great Edward himself had come to march against him. With the King was his brother, Edmund of Lancaster, returning from France with his new bride Blanche, daughter of Robert of Artois, De Lacy, Roger Mortimer, the Earl of Hereford and all the flower of Edward’s army. Clearly he had come up this time to conquer.

  Llewellyn knew that his real ally was the mountainous country, and but for that he would be a beaten man.

  He wondered if she were thinking of him now, if she often remembered that day when they had been betrothed and had believed that before long they would marry. If he failed now, what would become of her? Would they find a new husband for her? After all she was the King’s cousin. Dear Demoiselle, so gentle, so beautiful. He knew that she would be thinking of him, praying for him. It must come to pass that they marry. There must be truth in Merlin’s prophecy.

  Even then news was brought to him of a debacle in South Wales where Edmund of Lancaster was advancing and there was nothing left for Llewellyn to do but protect what was left to him.

  The ships from the Cinque Ports were now in the Menai Straits; Anglesey was cut off from Snowdon. It would be a simple matter to starve out the Welsh. That this was Edward’s intention became clear for instead of advancing and thereby running the risk of losing some of his men in battle, he set about consolidating his position and strengthening those castles he had captured. With fury Llewellyn learned that he was not only working on the fortifications but beautifying them, as though he already owned them.

  Those were dreary months. There was Llewellyn with those of his followers who were faithful and continued to believe in Merlin’s prophecies, knowing full well that they would have to give up in time because the King’s intentions were to starve them until they surrendered.

  Llewellyn spoke to his men.

  ‘Rest assured the prophecy will come true. Llewellyn shall reign over all England and then he will not forget his faithful friends. But it may well be that the time has not yet come. We must perforce suffer long and fight for this great prize.’

  To fight was well enough. To starve was different.

  There came a message from Edward. He would have Llewellyn know that he wished him no ill. All he wanted from him was his loyalty. He must indeed do homage for the lands of Wales, and he would be left to rule over them in peace as long as he did nothing to offend the laws of the King of England. Edward was ready to come to some agreement with Llewellyn. He would restore his bride to him, for he had no wish to hold her against her will and that of Llewellyn. All Llewellyn had to do was swear allegiance to the King of England and accept him as his sovereign lord.

  It was a great deal to ask, but there was so much to be gained.

  The outcome was that they met at Conway – that great fortress on which Edward had already set his men to work.

  Edward was strong, stern, but not without a certain benignity. He had no wish to continue in a war which Llewellyn knew full well he had already lost. Nor did he wish to be unduly harsh. Because of this he had sent for the Demoiselle to come to Worcester and there if Llewellyn agreed to his terms they should all meet to sign the treaty after which the marriage would be solemnised.

  From despair Llewellyn was raised to hope. All he had to do was submit to Edward, declare himself his vassal, pay certain monies, give certain concessions and his Demoiselle would be his.

  ‘I will send to you’, wrote Edward, ‘your brother Davydd who had the good sense you lacked when he joined me. He will lay my terms before you and when all is settled we will proceed to Worcester for the signing and there your marriage shall take place.’

  Receive Davydd, the traitor brother! How could he! Yet he understood Edward’s motive. Edward wanted peace … peace between the brothers as well as between England and Wales. Llewellyn had no alternative but to receive Davydd and he did so.

  The two brothers regarded each other with reserve.

  It was Davydd who spoke first. ‘I regret nothing that I have done,’ he said. ‘I went over to the King because I knew you were fighting a losing battle, and by working with Edward fewer of our castles would be ruined, less of our land desecrated. I have proved that I was right because you now are ready to come to terms with him.’

  ‘Perhaps those terms would not have been necessary if we had all stood together,’ said Llewellyn.

  ‘Perhaps we should have stood together if the land had been fairly divided. We brothers wanted some, Llewellyn, and there was not enough to go round.’

  ‘Can we trust Edward?’

  ‘He is a man who prides himself on honouring his word. He can be trusted better than most kings. Already he has fulfilled his promise to me. I have a wife now, you know, Llewellyn.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘A rich wife provided by Edward. The daughter of the Earl of Derby is now my wife. She has brought me much joy … and riches. You fret for the Demoiselle. Make your terms and marry. A man is meant to get sons, not to spend his days in a damp and draughty tent.’

  ‘You are a satisfied man, Davydd.’

  ‘For the time,’ said Davydd.

  Of course he was right, thought Llewellyn. A man was a fool who did not know when he was beaten. There was a time to stop fighting, to make peace so that he could live to fight another day.

  And meanwhile the Demoiselle was beckoning him.

  * * *

  And there she was at Worcester. The King had sent for her and he gazed in delight as she came towards him. She had grown up since he had last seen her, become a graceful, gracious woman. Love shone from her eyes which were appealing, a little apprehensive, as though she feared she might not please him. He wanted to reassure her. It was not for her to falter. Did he please her? He was some ten years older than she was and a soldier led a hard life. Perhaps it left its mark.

  He took her hand. He said: ‘My Demoiselle … my beautiful Demoiselle.’

  ‘Llewellyn.’ She spoke his name softly.

  It was enough.

  The King with the Queen beside him looked on benignly. Happily married themselves, they understood and showed their sympathy. There were tears in the Queen’s eyes; she was a good kind woman.

  ‘There need b
e no delay in the ceremony,’ said the King briskly. ‘Once all the terms are agreed to.’

  All the terms. Edward was a man to drive a hard bargain. But he could be trusted. He had promised the Demoiselle and she was there.

  Llewellyn had surrendered all his prisoners to the King of England and they included his eldest brother Owain whom he had held in captivity for more than ten years; he had given up his claims to South Wales and agreed to pay a fine of fifty thousand pounds. Anglesey was restored to him but he must pay a rent for it and if he died without heirs it was to be returned to the King. The barons of Wales would pay homage to Edward instead of to Llewellyn.

  Yes, it was a hard bargain that Edward drove. Llewellyn’s territory was reduced to that around Snowdon one might say, and the King had freed Owain and rewarded him with lands and done the same for Davydd plus a rich wife. He was showing them how he rewarded those who worked against his enemies.

  It was a sorry state of affairs, but Llewellyn was in love. And what mattered most was that he had his Demoiselle.

  Chapter IV

  THE RETURN OF JOANNA

  The reunion of Edward and his Queen resulted in two more pregnancies.

  There was a certain anxiety during that bleak March at Windsor as the Queen’s time drew near. It was two years since the sad little Berengaria had made her brief appearance, and there was a general feeling that although the Queen was clearly fruitful her children were inclined to be weaklings.

  Alfonso’s health had not really improved. He was now five years old, approaching the danger period. There were days, however, when he seemed to grow stronger and in the summer he would often appear to be quite a healthy little boy. But during the winter he deteriorated and they had just come through one. Hence this anxiety.

  ‘This one must be a boy,’ said the Queen Mother somewhat peremptorily as though she were ordering the Queen – or perhaps God – to behave with a little more consideration for them all this time.