She went to him and slipped her arm through his.
‘Edward, my dearest,’ she said, ‘I have begun to rely on you. I look upon you as my protector. You wouldn’t allow any harm to come to me, would you?’
Edward flushed. ‘I would protect you with my life.’
‘Oh my darling child, what should I have done without you? Mine has not been a happy life you know. Your father and I―’
Edward frowned. He hated to be disloyal to his father. Walter Stapledon had impressed on him that the King was supreme and must always be obeyed. But at the same time he had been taught to protect the weak; and he had sensed that of late he had become very important to his mother and he knew that she spoke the truth when she said she relied on him to be beside her. When he came into a room her eyes sought his at once. An understanding always passed between them. She was saying to him, he fancied, that she felt safe now he was there.
And he replied to her that he would always be at her side if she needed him.
‘This is not easy for me to say, dear Edward. May I proceed?’
‘You must do as you wish, my lady.’
‘You will understand I hope and not think badly of me.’
‘I could never think badly of my beloved mother,’ answered the boy.
‘Then I will speak― but with reluctance. You know there is much discontent in our country.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Your grandfather, whom you so strongly resemble, knew how to keep the barons in order. England needs a strong King, Edward. You are going to be a strong King. I have heard it said that it is a pity you are not older and that the crown is on your head.’
‘But my father has many years before him yet.’
‘Dear love, it is your father of whom I must speak. That is why I hedge and prevaricate because I cannot bring myself to say it.’
The boy was suddenly firm, giving a hint of what he would be when he came to the throne. ‘You must tell me. It is not fitting that I of all people should be kept in ignorance.’
‘So thought I as I wrestled with my conscience. You shall know. Your father is not like your grandfather. Your grandfather was a good and faithful husband.’
‘My father is unfaithful to you!’
She nodded. ‘Not with women. Dear Edward, you must have heard of Gaveston. He was the love of your father’s life while he lived. Those who cared for this country’s well-being took him out to a hill and cut off his head. Then he was replaced by Hugh le Despenser. You are old enough to know what humiliation I suffered.’
‘Oh, my dear mother!’
‘I knew your sympathy would be for me. For years I endured this humiliation. I even forced myself to bear children because I thought it was my duty to provide heirs for the country. Now my life is in danger. If I go back to England, the Despensers will kill me.’
‘They would never dare!’
‘They would do it subtly, as I have tried to explain to my brother. Edward, if we return to England now, in a few months time you will have lost your mother.’
He turned to her and put his arms about her. She embraced him fiercely.
‘You will not let that happen to me, my son.’
‘I would kill any who attempted to harm you.’
‘So thought I. Cursed was I in my husband but blessed am I in my son.
Edward, I have good friends here. You know how they rally round me. Good men all. They knew what was happening in the court. They understand the power of the evil Despensers. I must stay here for as long as I can. Will you bear with me? Will you turn from your father’s pleas?’
‘I swore to obey him.’
‘Yes, dearest son, but it will not be your father whom you are obeying, it will be the evil Despensers. He is in their power. They have woven a spell over him. Trust me, dear son. Trust me― just for a little while and then I will prove to you the truth of all I have told you.’
She leaned against him and wiped her eyes. Edward was overcome with emotion. That his clever, beautiful mother should be so treated was unendurable!
‘You will stand with me, dear Edward,’ she pleaded.
‘Dear Mother,’ answered the boy, ‘I will defend you against all who come against you.’
‘All?’ she asked.
‘All,’ he replied fervently.
‘You have made me so happy,’ she told him, and when she had taken her leave of him went straight to Mortimer.
‘Edward will be with us,’ she said. ‘He will never stand against me.’
‘That is good work,’ said Mortimer. ‘Now let us be patient while we look to the future. We must find some means of raising an army. My spies from England tell me that the country grows more and more angry against the Despensers. If we could land with a reasonable force we should be welcomed.’
‘It will come,’ said Isabella firmly. ‘Meanwhile, as you say, patience.’
FOUR SISTERS OF HAINAULT
It was an uneasy situation, thought the King of France. He was gratified in a way that his brother of England was in an uncomfortable position, but from the first days of the marriage it had been clear that Edward preferred handsome young men to his beautiful wife. Isabella’s French relations had been quite angry about it at the time. They had known of the existence of Gaveston of course but had believed that once the King was married to a beautiful woman like Isabella, that side of his nature would be suppressed.
On the other hand Charles had no wish for his court to be used as the centre of rebellion. He wanted peace and such a situation could so easily erupt into war. Edward was writing more and more letters; they were coming every day.
He was quite dearly growing restive.
In the last one he had referred to Mortimer and there was a hint that Isabella and Mortimer were lovers.
We would wish you to remember, that we have at different times signified to you by letters, how improperly your sister, our wife, has conducted herself in withdrawing from us and refusing to return at our command, while she so notoriously has attached her company and consorts with our traitor and mortal enemy, the Mortimer― That could mean one thing. Isabella and Mortimer were carrying on an adulterous intrigue in his court.
Edward was growing more and more determined and, doubtless on the advice of the Despensers, had informed the Pope of the most unsatisfactory state of affairs. The result of this was that the Pope had written to Charles— he would never have dared to write to Charles’s father so, but the monarchy had grown debilitated since Jacques de Molai had been burned to death and uttered the Curse— declaring that excommunication would be considered if he kept his sister at his court where it was rumoured she was living in adultery with Roger de Mortimer.
This frightened Charles. Excommunication allied to the curse would be the end of him.
He would write to Isabella. He knew her wiles too well to try to convey what he must do verbally.
Accordingly Isabella received a note from her brother in which he commanded her to leave his kingdom without delay or he would be forced to make her go.
She was filled with rage when she read her brother’s command. That he should behave so to her and not even see her, shocked her deeply.
‘I do not believe he will force me out,’ she said to Mortimer. ‘He would never have the courage. He is getting weaker every day. I have a feeling my brother will not last very long.’
‘The Pope is threatening him with excommunication.’
‘Let him threaten. We will delay a while yet.’
During the following evening Isabella received a visitor. It was her cousin Robert d’Artois. He came in great haste and wished to speak to her urgently and privately.
No sooner were they alone than he said: ‘I come to warn you, fair lady.
There is a plot to take you and the young Prince prisoner and to send you back to England without delay.’
‘You mean my brother―’
Robert nodded. ‘I could not resist my desire to come and tell you, though i
t would cost me my life doubtless if the King knew I had done this. He has said that the only way to avoid trouble is to force you to leave. You are therefore to be put in restraint and sent back to England.’
‘When?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow. You have little time.’
‘Oh Robert, how can I thank you for this?’
‘You know I would serve you with my life.’
She put her arms about him and for a moment he held her in a passionate embrace.
‘Dearest cousin,’ he said, ‘you know full well what you mean to me, and have for some time.’
‘You have always shown yourself a friend―’
‘A friend― a mild way of describing my feelings! I know Mortimer has your heart and you his. But my feelings for you are so deep, and so tender that I will say to you, Fly― Fly with him now. Tomorrow may be too late. Make for one of the independent states. There you may well find refuge until you can gather together the army you need.’
‘Oh, my cousin, how can I thank you?’
‘It is I who thank you for allowing me to serve you.’
Such devotion was stimulating.
She went at once to Mortimer. They must not hesitate, she said.
They would go during the night, replied Mortimer. She, he and young Edward, with as many of their friends as they could muster. The rest could follow.
That night they crept quietly to the stables and fled from the Court of France, making their way towards the province of Hainault.
They had not ridden far from Paris when they were joined by the rest of their company who had been warned of her flight and had come to join her. All agreed that it would be safest for them to get as quickly out of France as possible and it was with great relief that they crossed the border into Hainault.
Weary with the day’s riding and feeling now that they could afford to rest awhile, they came to the town of Ostrevant and stopped at a house which proved to belong to a knight named Sir Eustace d’Ambreticourt. When he realized that the lady was the Queen of England he was overcome with the honour of meeting her and he and his family insisted that she rest in their house with the few of her followers whom they could accommodate and lodging should be bund for the rest within the town.
Isabella was delighted with such hospitality. How different, she said to Mortimer, from the way in which we were treated in France!
‘Ah, my love,’ laughed Mortimer, ‘we were well received by your brother until we stayed too long. But I agree the welcome of this simple knight warms my heart.’
Sir Eustace said that he must inform the Count of Hainault that he had such august visitors for he was sure that the Count would wish to greet the guests.
The Count’s response was to send his brother to meet the party and offer them the hospitality of his castle. It was thus that Isabella first met Sir John Hainault.
Sir John was young, romantic, idealistic and eager to prove himself a chivalrous knight, and here was a lady in distress. And what a beautiful one!
Isabella quickly summed up his nature and decided to appear feminine and pathetic. She played her part well and he was overcome with the desire to serve her.
‘It is so good of you to come to me thus and offer such kindness,’ she told him. ‘I have been treated harshly of late where I would expect to have received love and understanding.’
‘My lady,’ cried Sir John, ‘rest assured that you will know nothing but warmth and affection in this land.’
Isabella allowed the tears to show becomingly in her beautiful eyes. Sir John saw them and was most distressed.
‘Lady,’ he declared, ‘you see before you a knight who swears he will do everything in his power to aid you. He will not hesitate to the in your service.
Though everyone else should forsake you I will be there.’
This was fulsome devotion on such a brief acquaintance but Isabella knew that Sir John in his youthful exuberance meant what he said. It was gratifying and she felt better than she had since she had discovered her brother really meant to turn her out of his court.
Sir John went on: ‘Lady, you can rely on me. I will help you back to England with your son when you wish to go. When I have stated your case to my brother, he will give you men and arms, I am sure. He will want to help you― even as I do. I will risk my life in adventure for your sake. I promise you, you will have no need to fear either the King of France or the King of England.’
The Queen rose from her chair and so overcome with delight was she that she would have cast herself on her knees at the feet of Sir John, but with a horrified gesture he prevented her from doing so.
‘God forbid that you should kneel to me, Madam. Be of good cheer. My promise to you stands firm. My brother will listen to you. He has expressed admiration for you many times. I will take you to him and present you to his Countess and their children.’
The Queen wiped her eyes. ‘You are kinder to me than I dreamed any could be. You have shown me goodness of heart and courtesy. I promise you, this I shall never forget. My son and I will be eternally grateful to you and we shall ask you to help us govern England as it should be governed.’
They talked awhile and it was clear that the young man was completely overwhelmed by the charm and beauty of the Queen and meant what he said when he declared again and again that he would the in her cause.
He was eager to take her to his brother and she said a grateful farewell to Sir Eustace d’Ambreticourt, telling him that when she returned to England she wanted him to come there and bring his family and she would see that they were entertained right royally.
She then rode out with Sir John who took her to the court of his brother Count William of Holland and Hainault. There with his wife the Countess Jeanne who was the daughter of Charles of Valois, a son of Philip III of France and therefore related to Isabella, he received the company very warmly and took great pleasure in presenting Isabella to his four young daughters, Margaret, Philippa, Joanna and Isabel. They were rosy-cheeked, merry, typically Flemish girls, homely, skilled in domestic arts and charmingly innocent.
When Isabella proudly presented Edward the girls dropped curtsies to him and Isabella was immediately struck by the lack of formality in the family.
Edward was approaching fifteen years old— an outstandingly handsome boy, already tall for his age, long-legged, fair-haired and blue-eyed.
The girls, the eldest of whom was about his own age and the youngest not so much younger for they had quickly followed each other in getting born, were clearly intrigued by such a handsome boy and Edward was amused by them and their efforts to please him.
The Countess was eager to show that they could entertain their guests at Hainault as lavishly as they could in France which she remembered as a girl and a great many feasts, banquets and general entertainments were given.
Meanwhile Edward was left a great deal with the four girls. They rode together, played games, introduced each other to the customs of their countries and it was an enjoyable time for them all. Edward felt he had been lifted out of the fearful doubts which beset him. He knew that his mother was working against his father. He loved her dearly but he was uneasy; and to rest awhile in the rather simple but honest court of Hainault, where the Count and Countess were devoted to each other and their four merry daughters had no conception of family conflict, was for him a wonderful respite.
Of the four girls Edward selected Philippa as his favourite but he was too polite to show his preference. However when they rode out into the forest together he did contrive to get Philippa to himself.
‘Let us lose the others,’ he said.
Philippa’s habitually rosy cheeks were a shade deeper. ‘Do you think we can?’ she asked.
‘If you would wish it,’ answered Edward. ‘Would you?’
‘Oh yes,’ she cried, too honest to say anything but the truth.
‘Follow me,’ he told her.
He heard her high-pitched laugh as he spurred his horse. She obeyed and ver
y soon they had galloped away and had come to a clearing in the forest. He pulled up and they were silent for a moment, smiling at each other.
‘Are you glad we came here?’ asked Edward.
‘Oh yes. It was so dull before you did. Do you find it dull here, Edward?’
‘Not when I am with you.’
She blushed charmingly and smiled at him shyly. ‘Do you really mean that?
But you must, must you not, since you say it? You mean the others as well, I suppose. Margaret is much cleverer than I and Joanna and Isabel prettier.’
‘That is quite untrue,’ he answered.
She looked astonished and he realized that she had really meant it, and was finding it hard to accept the fact that he really preferred her to her sisters.
‘What strikes me most about you,’ he told her, ‘is your honesty. Do you never say what you do not mean?’
‘What would be the point of that?’ she asked. ‘Speech is to express what we feel.’
‘I like you, Philippa,’ he said. ‘You are different from other people. I begin to fear that I live in a world of deceit.’
He was frowning. He could not tell innocent Philippa that he believed Mortimer was his mother’s lover and that his father had treated her badly because he would surround himself with favourites whom he loved better than he loved her.
‘What do you mean, Edward?’ asked Philippa, but he shook his head.
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It is too beautiful a morning to talk of such things.
Tell me about your childhood here. It was a happy one, I know. Your father and mother love you and each other dearly.’
‘But of course. We are all one family.’
He felt an impulse to lean forward and kiss her which he did.
She drew back blushing a little.
‘I like you so much,’ he explained.
‘I like you too, Edward.’
‘As a girl,’ he went on, ‘you will have to leave your home and marry one day.’
Her brow clouded. ‘I know my parents think of it sometimes. I heard my father say to my mother that she wanted to keep us all children forever.’
The Follies of the King Page 28
