‘You have no right,’ shouted the King. ‘You will do as I say.’
‘You cannot break up our marriage. Ralph is my husband. Nothing you can do to him will alter that.’
‘He can remain my prisoner. You will be stripped of your possessions. You will have to learn what happens to any who disobey the King.’
‘I see I am mistaken. I thought I had a loving father. How we loved … once. When our mother was there and the girls and little Edward … How we trusted you; how secure we felt in your love. But it was tender blossoms was it not, destroyed by the first cold wind … like buds in Maytime … beautiful but delicate.’
She put her hand on her body where she could feel the child.
‘My lord … perhaps my women …’
The King was beside her. ‘What is it?’
She waved him aside. ‘It is as though the child feels the unkindness of its grandsire.’
‘You should be taken to your apartments.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Goodbye, Father; you are a hard man. I could not have believed …’
The tears welled into her eyes and suddenly she threw herself into his arms.
‘I cannot bear it,’ she said. ‘Not my dear, dear father …’
He put his lips against her hair. How beautiful she was! How fierce in her passion! He would not have had her otherwise. The wild one, his dear daughter. So proud he had always been of her.
She clung to him. She would not let him go. Not that he showed any sign of forcing her to do so.
‘Tell me I am forgiven,’ she murmured almost incoherently. ‘Then I will go away … Perhaps I may join my husband in his prison … Your grandchild will be born in captivity but at least I shall be with my husband …’
‘Have done!’ said the King gruffly.
‘Oh, Father, I believe you love me a little after all.’
‘You are my beloved child and you know it,’ he said.
She put her arms about his neck and her face was radiant.
‘Still … your beloved child?’
‘You will always be that.’
‘Oh, my dear father, how happy you have made me.’
‘My dear child, I have been so grieved that there should be this unhappiness between us.’
‘It must be no more. Dear Father, let me tell you how I love my husband. You will love him too if you will but see him. You must love someone who loves your daughter so dearly and has brought her such happiness. Father, to make me happy, will you give the order for his release?’
He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I suppose I must do this as my imperious daughter commands it.’
‘None commands the King, but in the goodness of his heart and his love for his children he could not let them continue heart-broken. I want to visit all our mother’s crosses and give thanks at them because you have forgiven me. I want to take my husband there so that we can both give thanks to her. If you will love me again I can be the happiest woman on earth.’
‘I never ceased to love you.’
It was her turn to punish him. ‘It seemed you did. Our mother must have wept in Heaven at your harshness to me and mine.’
He winced a little. He was wondering what Eleanor in Heaven was thinking of his plans to marry again, of his longings for the beautiful Blanche, the most lovely princess ever seen, they said.
He felt uneasy because his desire for Blanche seemed like infidelity to Eleanor.
‘She will rejoice now because we are good friends,’ Joanna said. ‘I am sure she is looking down on us now and weeping with joy.’
She would understand, he thought. Eleanor had always understood. Had she lived he would have remained her faithful husband until the end of his days. But she had gone and he was alone, and Blanche by all accounts was so beautiful.
He said: ‘Your husband shall be released, your lands shall be restored.’
She clung to him, kissing him, exultant in her triumph. How right she had been. Strength, sternness, Plantagenet temper – none of that could stand out against her wiles. His sentimentality had helped her of course, his family feeling. But it was her skill which had played on that.
He was so happy to see their relationship restored. He admitted that he would rather lose a castle than have an unkind word or deed from his family. He loved them all so much. They had been the crowning glory of his love for the Queen.
He was anxious about her. All this upset was not good for the baby she carried.
‘The child is happy now. You may laugh, my lord, but I can tell you it has settled down now. I believe it knows already that it has a king for a grandfather.’
‘You talk nonsense,’ he said fondly.
She wanted to remember every word that was spoken, every gesture he made. She would tell Ralph all about it when they were together again. He would realise that he had a clever wife as well as a seductive one.
She took a fond farewell of her father and everyone marvelled at the way in which he had been won over, for in a very short time Ralph de Monthermer was released and as the Court by that time was at Eltham Palace he went there to do homage to the King.
Edward received him kindly and bestowed on him the title of Earl of Gloucester and Hereford. Honour indeed. He and Joanna went then to Marlborough Castle where their child was born. It was a daughter and they called her Mary.
Chapter XI
THE KING’S BRIDE
The King had received a terrible blow. For some years he had been dreaming of Blanche. He had written to her, received answers to his letters, and had instructed his ambassadors at the Court of France to send all the news they could of the Princess Blanche.
Philip, the artful King of France, was well aware of what effect the news of his sister’s charms were having on the ageing monarch of England. It was a source of amusement. Edward was building up an image in his mind and it was to the advantage of the King of France to let him do so. The more he desired Blanche the higher price he could be asked to pay for her.
The price was indeed high. Gascony to be passed over to the French for ever.
How can I do it? Edward asked himself. Gascony! It was of the utmost strategic importance to him. The French King was well aware of this – and of Edward’s passionate desire – and it seemed to him that he might succeed in getting the besotted King to agree.
Edward’s nights were haunted by Gascony. It was as though Gascony lay beside him with the desirable Blanche.
How could he give up the province? Yet how could he live without Blanche? He had been a widower too long. It was more than seven years since Eleanor had died. She would understand that was a long time for a king who, though ageing, was still too young in body and mind to be without a wife.
At last he could wait no longer and made his decision. Yes, Philip should have Gascony and he would have Blanche. His brother Edmund was negotiating for him at the Court of France and keeping him well informed of what was happening there.
That Edmund was uneasy was obvious. He did not trust that wily monarch who because of his handsome looks was known as Philip le Bel.
In due course Edward received word from his brother that Gascony had been handed over to the French and a marriage contract was on the way, but alas it was not to be the contract Edward had anticipated. The fact was, wrote Edmund, that the Princess Blanche had been contracted to marry the Duke of Austria, the eldest son of the Emperor. Blanche, however, had a younger sister Marguerite, and the King of France proposed to substitute her name for that of Blanche in the marriage contract.
The King was overcome with rage and grief. For all the years he had dreamed of Blanche and now he was to have her sister! Marguerite was much younger than Blanche, but a handsome girl, wrote Edmund. It was a difficult situation. The French already had Gascony and it would mean hard fighting to get it back. And Blanche was already betrothed so there seemed no alternative – if the King really wanted a wife – but to take Marguerite.
Edward cursed the King of France. He lik
ened himself to Jacob who had served seven years for Rachel and had been deceived by the girl’s father and given his eldest daughter Leah. The difference being that he was offered the younger daughter.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He must either accept Marguerite or go without a wife until he entered into more lengthy negotiations.
In the meantime he had family worries. Joanna was in favour again and he had accepted her husband, but he was deeply concerned about his elder daughter Eleanor whose husband, the Duke of Bar-le-Duc, was still the prisoner of the French. Poor Eleanor was desolate, but it was impossible for the King to do anything. He worried a great deal about her and was arranging a trip to Ghent where he hoped she would be able to join him. To be reunited with her would give him great joy, he wrote to her, and in her reply she said that nothing short of reunion with her husband could give her greater pleasure.
There were many matters to concern Edward. There were differences with France besides minor outbreaks in Wales. These he had expected for he could not hope that that proud people would quietly accept English domination. Events in Scotland were working towards a climax and John Baliol was proving a very unsatisfactory ruler. And there were family matters. The behaviour of Joanna had given him many sleepless nights; he worried continually about Eleanor and there was young Elizabeth’s marriage to think of now. Margaret was not very happy with her libertine of a husband; how different it would have been if they had all gone into convents like Mary. Yet he worried about Mary too because it sometimes occurred to him that she had been shut away from life before she had had an opportunity of deciding whether she wanted to be. Young Edward needed watching too. He was nearly fourteen, and although clever enough would not devote himself to his books, and had a habit of gathering about him, and showing too much friendship to, the least desirable companions.
And now there was the young Elizabeth – two years older than Edward and betrothed to John of Holland. John had been in England some time and was therefore not a stranger to Elizabeth. He was a mild boy and he would be a gentle husband, but Elizabeth had often told her father how much she hated the thought of leaving England.
Of course he should have been as other kings. He should have ordered his children to obey him, and if they rebelled enforced obedience. But he loved them so tenderly, and to have been harsh with them would have meant as great an unhappiness for him as for them. The fact was that he had been brought up in an atmosphere of family devotion – no one could have had more devoted parents than he had – and he had accepted it as a way of life. There were times when it was rewarding. He and Eleanor had been so happy with their children; but there was the other side of the coin. Love and indulgence often meant anxiety.
It certainly did with him. If he had been a less fond father would he be worrying about his children now?
The Earl of Holland had been killed recently and John, Elizabeth’s betrothed, was his heir. There had been a certain mystery about the death of John’s father, Florence, Earl of Holland. Edward had been watchful of him since the death of the Maid of Norway, for the Earl of Holland was one of the descendants of the Scottish Princess Ada, a daughter of one of the brothers of William the Lion: and Florence had been disappointed when John Baliol was chosen as the King of Scotland. From that time he had shown himself to be more a friend of France than of England. He had even gone so far as to promise France his help against the English if Philip paid him well for it, which of course would have meant the end of the proposed alliance with Elizabeth.
Edward could snap his fingers at that for Florence’s son John, who had been sent to England to be brought up there, was still in the country. John, when informed of the position, told Edward that he considered himself bound to Elizabeth, and as he had received nothing but good at the hands of his future father-in-law, he would stand with Edward against his own father.
Florence had had a number of mistresses and had thereby acquired numerous illegitimate children, so he had a ready reply.
‘Since my legitimate son sees fit to flout me I will disinherit him. I have worthy bastard sons and can put one of them in his place.’
Edward was shocked at such a suggestion and he wrote earnestly to Florence pointing out the folly of his behaviour. The threat had not pleased some of his subjects either and they began to plot against him. Florence had many enemies, among them one of his ministers, Gherard de Valsen, who had his own very special reason for hating him, because Florence had wished to marry off one of his mistresses and had chosen Valsen as her husband. This questionable honour was indignantly refused by Valsen, first because he was about to marry the woman of his choice and secondly because even if he were not, he had no wish to take one of Florence’s cast-offs. Florence was furious and determined to revenge himself on Valsen. A few months after the latter’s marriage, Florence set a band of ruffians to kidnap Valsen’s wife and carry her off to one of his castles. There he was waiting for her. He raped her and sent her back to Valsen, saying that Valsen was wrong, he had married one of the Earl Florence’s mistresses.
This was his death warrant, for Valsen now placed himself at the head of his enemies and determined on revenge. The plan was to kidnap Florence and this was immediately put into action, and when Valsen had Florence in his power he taunted him with what would be done to him and declared that his revenge would be bitter. Before this threat could be carried out, some of Florence’s friends tried to rescue him. The attempt was foiled and in desperation Valsen persuaded his fellow conspirators that Florence must die. He was brutally murdered and his body mutilated.
Young John was declared Earl of Holland.
The general opinion was that Edward had been involved in the conspiracy with Valsen. This he denied and invited the Dutch nobles to come to England and discuss the marriage of their Earl with his daughter. They came and the marriage was agreed on. It should, said Edward, take place without delay.
The King summoned the Bishop of London to Ipswich where the marriage was to take place.
Prince Edward came to Ipswich with a magnificent train and his sister Margaret was also present. She was still in England having constantly put obstacles in the way of joining her husband in Brabant, and the King, knowing the character of her husband, had not attempted to persuade her.
This was an important occasion for the town of Ipswich and the people came out in thousands to cluster round the church and see the royal bride and her groom.
There was a great entertainment and the King had summoned the finest minstrels, tabourers, clowns and lute players from all over the country. There was dancing and feasting, with mummers to entertain the company and wine even for the people in the streets.
When the festivities were over it was intended that Elizabeth should leave for Holland, and preparations were made for her departure.
But Elizabeth did not want to go. She refused to leave her chamber and the King, hearing of this, stormed in and demanded to know what was wrong with her.
She threw herself at him and put her arms about his neck.
‘My dear lord, I cannot leave you.’
‘Now, now,’ said the King, ‘you are no longer a child. You have a husband and your place is with him.’
‘Dear Father, you will be going to Ghent very soon. I want to wait and go with you. Please, Father, let me stay a little longer with you.’
‘My dear child,’ replied the King, ‘everything is arranged. Those who are going with you are ready to leave. You cannot decide at this time that you will not go.’
‘I cannot bear to leave you.’
‘Your love gratifies me,’ said the King, ‘but you must go, my child. Mayhap we shall meet in Ghent. There. How is that?’
She stood back from him. She looked very beautiful with her long fair hair flowing from the coronet which crowned it.
‘I shall not go,’ she said firmly.
‘You are to go,’ he replied.
‘I cannot. I will not.’
‘How dare you d
isobey me?’ cried the King.
‘Dear Father, I do not wish to disobey you. But how can I leave my home? If our mother were here …’
It was too much. There were so many burdens on his shoulders. He was suddenly furiously angry. His daughters defied him all the time. He had been too lenient with them. They thought because they were pretty and he and Eleanor had always made much of them, they could do what they liked with him. In an access of anger he snatched the coronet from her head and threw it into the fire.
She cried out in dismay. It was her most valuable piece of jewellery.
‘My lord,’ she cried and dashed to the fire.
He held her back. ‘You will see,’ he said, ‘that you owe everything you have to me. All I ask in return is obedience. Oh, God, who would have daughters!’
Elizabeth burst into tears. ‘You do not love us any more. You do not love me. You have thrown my coronet into the flames. Oh Father, you cannot love me.’
Then the thought of the valuable jewels which the coronet contained was too much for her. She rushed to the fire and retrieved the coronet. It was blackened and two of the stones were lost.
She dropped it for it was very hot and it fell to the floor between them. The King kicked it aside and was about to stalk out of the room when she caught his arm.
‘Father, it is because I cannot bear to leave you.’
He felt himself softening. ‘Have you burned your fingers?’ he asked.
‘A little perhaps.’
‘Foolish child.’
‘It was my finest jewellery,’ she said and she began to laugh.
He could never resist their laughter. Eleanor had once said that few things made her as happy as to hear their children laugh, and he had agreed with her.
‘Oh, dear Father, you are smiling. I think you are no longer displeased with me. If you are not I am so happy … and if I can stay with you a little longer … just a little longer until you go to Ghent …’
The Hammer of the Scots Page 26
