He turned to her and clung to her as though he were a child.
She could offer him some comfort. She was the only one in the world who could.
She made him lie on his bed and later she brought Richard to him.
The little boy looked bewildered. He was only four years old and he could not quite understand what had happened to his brother.
His mother had tried to explain. Edward had gone away. He had gone to Heaven.
‘Am I going too?’ he had wanted to know.
‘Not for years and years.’
‘If Edward goes I want to go.’
‘No, dearest, you are going to stay with me and your father. But you have to learn quickly now. It is different being without a brother.’
He was not altogether displeased. He sensed that Edward’s departure had made him more important. He noticed the change in people’s attitude towards him. He had become of some consequence in a subtle way.
His father was seated on a chair in his bedchamber and he held out his hand when Richard entered.
Richard put his hand in his father’s.
‘You are my heir now, Richard,’ said the Prince. ‘Do you know what that means?’
Richard was not quite sure. He said: ‘It is because Edward has gone to Heaven.’
The Prince was too moved to speak for a moment and so was Joan. She was thinking how young and vulnerable her little son was and of the great weight of responsibility which would be put on his shoulders. She pictured a crown on those fair curls and the thought made her apprehensive. It was because the child was Richard, her youngest. He had always seemed to her frail and delicate and thus vulnerable.
‘Yes,’ said the Prince at length. ‘That is the reason. You will have to learn quickly.’
‘Richard learns very quickly,’ said Joan. ‘His tutor says so.’
‘You are a good boy with your books but now, my son, you must be good at all things. You will have to learn to be brave and daring. You will have to excel at the joust.’
‘That is for later,’ said Joan. ‘Never fear, Richard, you are going to surprise everyone with your skill.’
‘Am I?’ asked Richard.
‘Of course you are, my darling. You have to be to your father all that Edward was.’
‘May God bless you,’ said the Prince.
‘Always,’ added his mother.
Then she took her son by the hand and led him away.
* * *
The Prince realised that Joan was right. He must not dwell on the past. He must forget the sack and massacre of Limoges; he must not brood on the fact that he had lost his elder son who had seemed to him a perfect king in the making. He must look to the future. He must plan ahead.
Richard was now the heir to the throne and very special tuition must be given to him. A boy who already at his tender age preferred to pore over books rather than be out in the fresh air practising riding and manly sports needed to be turned in the direction he must go. It was all very well when he was a second son. Book learning was not a bad thing for second sons. They might go into the church. It was always good to have a member of the family in some high office. But all that was changed. Richard was now in the direct line of succession. Providing events took their natural course Richard would one day be King of England.
Two tasks lay ahead. First to train Richard and secondly to go back to England, regain his health and beget more sons.
He sent for two men whom he trusted completely – Sir Guichard d’Angle and Sir Simon Burley.
Guichard d’Angle had the reputation of being a perfect knight. He was skilled in the arts of chivalry. He had won distinction for his military prowess. He would be a perfect tutor for young Richard.
As for Sir Simon Burley he was a man whom the Prince esteemed more than any other since death had deprived him of the friendship of Sir John Chandos. Sir Simon had fought bravely with King Edward in France and in due course had entered the service of the Black Prince. He had been present at Nájara and later he was taken prisoner near Lusignan much to the grief of the Prince who had sought an early opportunity of bringing about an exchange of prisoners when Sir Simon had been returned to his service.
Such tried and trusted servants should always be appreciated by rulers and the Prince had never been one to forget those who served him well.
Simon was an ideal choice, for besides being a great soldier he was also a man of culture, a lover of literature and music.
The Prince explained what he required of these two men.
‘Now that Richard is my heir,’ he said, ‘there must be some change in his education. He must be brought up in such a way that when the time comes he will be prepared to face his responsibilities.’
Sir Guichard said: ‘There are many years before the boy would be called upon to do that.’
‘I hope that may be so,’ said the Prince, ‘for we are going to need time. He is such a child so far and his mother has been over-lenient with him.’
‘He is a bright child, my lord. He loves his books and that never harmed anyone.’
The Prince was pleased. It was like Simon to speak up and say what he meant even though he might be disagreeing with his master.
‘I want him to be learned,’ said the Prince, ‘but outdoor exercise must not be neglected.’
‘It shall be so,’ said Sir Guichard.
‘Thank you, my lords,’ said the Prince. ‘Now we must prepare to leave for England which we shall do within the week.’
The knights bowed and retired.
* * *
It was a cold January day when the party set sail for England.
Richard was excited. Sir Simon had explained to him that now that Edward was dead he, Richard, could one day be King of England. There was his grandfather who was the King but a very old man; then there was his father; and after him came Richard himself.
‘It will be many years yet,’ said Simon, ‘but a king is different from other people. He has to learn how to be a king and that is not an easy thing to learn.’
‘How does a king learn to be one?’
‘He must first of all be unselfish.’
‘Is my grandfather unselfish?’
‘Your grandfather always thought first of serving his country. That is why he has been a great king.’
‘Is he not a great king now?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You said he has been a great king.’
This boy is too sharp, thought Sir Simon.
‘I should have said your grandfather is a great king.’
Richard was satisfied.
‘What shall I have to do?’ he asked.
‘What you are told.’
‘I always had to do that. So what is the difference?’
Sir Simon smiled and came to the conclusion that it was better to let matters take their course.
There lay the cog in the harbour. It was flying the flag which was his father’s. The Black Prince! When he had first heard the name Richard had thought it was something terrifying – like a nightmare, a great dog with slavering jaws trying to get into the nursery, a priest in long dark robes who was trying to catch him to punish him, something shadowy and grotesque … a strange shape that haunted him in dreams and made him cry out so that Edward had said he was a baby. And then the Black Prince turned out to be only his father, who was always kind to him although he loved Edward better. Edward had boasted of it. ‘I am the firstborn. I am the one who is going to be King.’
Perhaps Edward had boasted too much and God was displeased. Richard had gathered that God could rather easily be displeased. In any case Edward had gone to Heaven and Richard had moved up. He was the important one now.
And he was going on that big ship to sail on the sea – as soon as the waves ceased to pound the shore so. He was going to see his grandfather and live in England and be brought up to be a king.
It was an exciting prospect.
He went on board with his mother a
nd father. He noticed that they did not like him to be too far from them; he fancied they were afraid that God might send someone to snatch him away and take him to Heaven to join his brother there.
He wondered vaguely about Heaven. Perhaps he would like to go there and join Edward. Edward had always been boasting about how much cleverer he was than Richard, how he could ride better and jump and run. No, he preferred England to Heaven. He had a notion that he would be far more important in England than he would in Heaven.
It was interesting to be on board. Sir Simon was close to him and he plied him with questions. He wanted to know everything about the ship. Sir Simon always answered his questions. He liked an interest to be taken in everything.
His father and mother went below to lie down, for the sea was wild. The captain said it was going to be a rough journey.
Sir Simon looked at Richard and said: ‘Will you face the elements or would you like to go below and lie down?’
Richard was a little afraid but he felt that he was expected to say that he would remain on deck with Simon so he did so.
It was a terrifying journey. The water washed over the deck. He was wet and cold but Simon remained on deck and so Richard was with him.
‘If your stomach’s strong enough fresh air is the best thing in seas like this,’ Sir Simon told him.
His hand grasped firmly in that of Simon he watched the pounding seas and when they had left the Bay of Biscay behind them and had turned into the English Channel the wild winds abated a little.
‘Here is the coast of England, my lord.’
Richard stared at it. It was very green, he noticed, and there came to him then an overwhelming pride because this was the country his grandfather ruled and his father would rule one day … and far far ahead he himself would reign over it.
* * *
They dropped anchor in Southampton Harbour. It was very cold and there was snow on the ground. Even so a crowd of people stood on the shore watching their arrival.
Richard was now beside his mother who was supervising the men who were carrying the litter. That was for his father. The rough sea voyage had not suited him and he was too sick to walk.
He had wanted to but Joan had said he was going to do no such thing. She had made him see that it would not do for the people to see a poor sick man stagger ashore. It was far more fitting that he should be carried in his litter.
‘It is a very cold place,’ said Richard to Simon.
‘That’s because it is winter. You wait until the summer comes, and the spring will soon be here. Then the trees will be covered in buds and the birds go wild with joy. The spring is never anywhere else as it is in England.’
Richard looked up at the dark sky and the royal banners which fluttered rather dismally, damp as they were.
When his father’s litter appeared the people cheered enthusiastically and there were cries of: ‘Long live the Black Prince.’
His father waved his hand in acknowledgement of the cheers.
‘You’ll keep well now you’ve come home, my lord,’ shouted one man. ‘God bless you.’
It was clear that the people here loved his father very much.
Now he came ashore holding his mother’s hand. The people looked at him and then suddenly a loud cheer went up.
‘Long live the little Prince. Long live Richard of Bordeaux.’
His spirits were suddenly lifted. He felt a wave of ecstatic happiness pass over him.
They loved him too. He had never heard anything that thrilled him so much as the cheers of the crowd.
Suddenly he was glad that Edward was in Heaven – for he knew that if Edward had been here he would have been the one they cheered. He was glad that he had come to England. He was glad that one day he would be King of this land. He loved it from that moment because it belonged to him and one day he would be its King.
* * *
John of Gaunt watched the cog sail away with an emotion which it was not easy to analyse. The death of his nephew had stunned him almost as much as it had the boy’s parents, but for a different reason.
One of the heirs to the throne had been removed at a sudden stroke. Of course there was another to step into his place – that delicate fair-haired boy who, one imagined, would have been the one to go if any.
It was an exciting prospect which lay now before him. His father was ageing fast and his pursuit of Alice Perrers could not be good for his health; his brother the Black Prince was very sick; then there was this child, Richard of Bordeaux. Lionel had a daughter who had been married to the Earl of March; there would be some who would say she came before John of Gaunt. But a girl …and Richard a child … Sometimes he thought it an exciting prospect; at others it depressed him.
In the meantime here he was in Aquitaine – his brother’s lieutenant. It might well be that his brother would never be well enough to return and his future lay here on the continent.
Often he thought of Catherine. He could send for her, perhaps. But could he? The governess of his children, the wife of one of his squires who was serving now in the army!
Life was full of promise yet it was only promise. He wanted fulfilment.
First he must arrange the funeral of his nephew. Joan had wanted it to take place after they had left partly because she had been eager to get Edward home to England and partly because she feared that to attend it would bring such overpowering grief to the Prince that it would impair his health further.
It was a ceremonial occasion but those who would have felt real grief were no longer there.
No sooner was it over than news was brought to him that Montpoint in Périgord had surrendered to the French. He must therefore set out to regain the place. This occupied him for several weeks and it was not until the end of February that he had regained the town.
When he returned to Bordeaux it was clear to him and to everyone else that his heart was not in the task which had been assigned to him. He was holding Aquitaine for Edward. He wanted to rule in his own right not through another.
His brother, Edmund of Langley, joined him at Bordeaux and there also were Constanza and Isabella, the two daughters of Pedro the Cruel.
The spring had come. The weather was warm and the two brothers rode out to hunt or merely to enjoy the countryside with the two young women.
Constanza was serious minded. Her great object was to break out of exile and regain the crown of Castile which she declared was hers by right.
‘And so it is,’ agreed John, ‘and so should it be yours. This bastard Henry should be deposed and you should be welcomed back.’
‘He will never leave unless he is forced to,’ said Constanza. ‘If only I had the money to raise an army … I think the people would be with me. Surely they would wish to see the legitimate heir on the throne.’
John pondered this. He had been playing with the idea of suggesting to his father and his brother that the Salic law be established in England. It existed in France. That was why Edward was having to fight for the crown. The crown of France came to him through his mother but because of this law he had been set aside. That was what the war was about. John was now thinking of Lionel’s daughter, Philippa, who unless the Salic law was introduced would come after Richard and before him in the claim to the English throne.
He realised that this law would be considered illogical and there was no hope of its being introduced in England when the very recognition of such a law would render null and void Edward’s claim to the throne of France.
So therefore as he saw it there was ageing Edward who could not last more than two or three years at the most; the Black Prince whose recurring sickness suggested he too might not be long for this world; then there was this four-year-old boy, Richard, rather delicate and in any case little more than a baby. Then Philippa, daughter of Lionel, married to the Earl of March who no doubt had his ambitions. These were the ones who stood in line before John of Gaunt.
It could well be that the crown would never come his way. He
had never won the popularity the Black Prince had enjoyed. He was not the great warrior that his brother had always been. He was not enamoured of war; he preferred to use the cunning moves of statecraft which were far less costly. The people were foolish; they never understood that such as he was would be so much better for the prosperity of the country than these great warriors whose aim was always to win glory in battle.
His great-grandfather had been a great king but he had wasted men and money in fighting the Scots – and what good had that brought England? His father had been obsessed by the French wars and what good was that bringing England? How much better it would have been to hold what he possessed in France – which needed continual watchfulness to be held – and to forget this wild dream of taking the crown of France. No, John of Gaunt would be a different kind of king if ever that glorious day came.
But how could it …with so many to stand between him and his ambition? The people would never accept him. They would be bemused by the sight of this pretty fair-haired boy or young Philippa – a Queen. They were ridiculously sentimental and they had never really taken to John of Gaunt. For one thing he had not been born in England. His brother Edward was Edward of Woodstock. They called him that sometimes. Edward the Black Prince. A magic name, and they would support his son however young he was. The crown of England seemed a long way from John of Gaunt.
But there was another crown which he might win.
Constanza had shown very clearly that she would be ready to marry the man who would help her win her heritage.
Constanza could make him King of Castile.
He talked the matter over with Edmund.
‘Constanza is determined to regain the crown of Castile,’ he said. ‘Methinks she looks to us, brother.’
‘I am sure she does.’
‘I have been thinking, Edmund, that I should like to be the King of Castile.’
Passage to Pontefract Page 10
