by Anne O'Brien
I felt my heart settling, my advice becoming smoother. ‘You choose your sons. They are of an age to sit with your knights.’
‘But it should be a celebration. I am in no mood for a celebration.’
‘Then create your new knights as a memorial to those who have served you well.’ At last he was listening to me. ‘There are women who would also serve you well, even if not on the battlefield. Why should a wellborn woman not be a Garter lady?’
‘My wife is already Lady of the Garter,’ Edward growled. ‘Hoping for promotion Joan?’
His tone had turned cynical. The despair had receded but he was not better inclined to my advice. With a smile I changed direction.
‘Only if it pleases you, Edward. Why not turn your mind to something that will speak your name to future generations, when wars and battles are forgotten and England blossoms into peace and prosperity?’
‘What? Do you suggest that I become a merchant and bargain for trade?’ Edward retaliated in what was almost a sneer.
Oh, I knew what would forge this miserable King’s name in gold.
‘Building,’ I said. ‘Why not spend your time and your money on building for the future? That is how you will be remembered. When men see the product of your energies they will praise you for your foresight.’
Once I had taken Edward to task for spending so flagrantly in this manner rather than recognising my own need. Now I had to use whatever came to hand to drive away the demon of melancholia. I saw a slide of light in Edward’s dull eye, and thanked the Blessed Virgin. But all was not won yet.
‘Do I need new castles?’
‘Why not? Or replenish those you have. Give your Queen and family accommodations worthy of them, hung with cloth of gold if you wish.’
The cloth of gold, the furnishings, did not yet interest him.
‘It might be good policy to build a new castle or two to keep the French from eyeing my shores.’ I saw the light begin to brighten.
‘You could always name a new castle for the Queen. She would like that.’
I was sorely tempted to say: Dismiss your mistress. She would like that even more. But not now. Not yet.
‘And where do I get the money for this venture, Madam Joan?’
‘What you don’t spend on war, you spend on peace. Do you not have the money from the King of France’s ransom? I understand the full amount has been decided and I doubt you’ve spent it all on feathers and masks.’
I watched as the emotions sped across his face. It had fired him. I had thought it impossible, but he was renewed, his mind thinking ahead once more rather than sinking in a morass of wretchedness.
‘And if the taxes are lower because of the peace,’ he agreed, ‘then my parliaments will welcome me with respectful greetings that do not cover a snarling face.’
‘What a venture for your days of peace, Edward.’ I chanced a touch on his hand, as I might in the old days, from which he did not flinch, and I took a breath, hoping that I did not go too far in gilding this particular lily. A little interpretation of the signs and portents by a clever woman would do no harm. ‘There is so much that you can do, Edward. The heavenly portents are not necessarily a sign of punishment for England, but one of God’s support in a time of difficulty. Who else would send a flaming star across the heavens, but God as a sign of his blessing on this realm? One of the armies was dressed in pure white. Do you recall? That surely was your own army. You will vanquish the black-robed foe. Perhaps it means that we will overcome the black powers of the plague itself.’
Edward stood and, taking my hand, drew me to my feet.
‘You are an astute woman, Joan.’
I thought he might say cunning. I would not wish to be seen as guileful, although many would say that I was. How useful a smile and a soft word of advice had proved, directing his thoughts into different tracks, encouraging him to look ahead and use the powers that he had been blessed with. He was renewed and I was pleased to see it.
‘If you had been born a man, I would have had you at my side as one of my counsellors.’
‘If I were a man, we would not be in this marital predicament, my lord.’
But I acknowledged the compliment with a curtsey.
At the door, I delivered a final parting gesture, because it seemed to me to be good sense. ‘The people of England would like to see you, Edward. You are their hero. Don’t shut yourself away here, when you bring them strength and hope. Did you not defeat France? Have you not given them a magnificent heir? The people love you and they love the Prince of Wales. Don’t leave them to feel bereft in your absence.’
It was as if he had grown taller, reclaiming all the glory that he had laid aside.
‘I will take your advice, Madam Joan.’ Until the quick frown. ‘Why has no one else sought to give me any before?’
‘Perhaps because they do not dare, because they do not wish to gain your enmity. Your opinion of me is low, Edward. It will not get any lower for my advice.’
And, at last, Edward laughed, a rusty sound as if it had been little used of late.
I opened the door, then paused, looking back to see him standing amidst the detritus of peacock feathers. ‘The Queen is frail today. She would like to see you.’ And then, because I could not resist, and felt no pity for him. ‘It would raise her spirits even more, Edward, if you would banish Alice Perrers to the most distant castle that you possess.’
I closed the door on his astonished face with a sharp snap. What had possessed me to say that? And yet I did not regret it. It needed saying and I would risk the consequences.
I did not keep my promise to Philippa. How could I? I could not ignore a grievous situation that brought such hurt to her. She might accept it with all graciousness; I could not, when I discovered the royal harlot walking towards me along the upper gallery, clearly treading her immoral path towards the King’s chambers. After my recent depressing exchange with Edward I was in a mood to be combative rather than charitable.
‘Mistress Perrers.’
Quite deliberately, I stepped in front of her to make her halt.
‘My lady,’ she replied. Her curtsey and downcast eyes were the essence of demure womanhood. All skin-deep, I presumed, now that I knew the truth. I wasted no soft words on her.
‘Your position here brings distress to the Queen.’
‘But it brings comfort to the King. The Queen and I understand each other very well, my lady.’
‘You would place yourself on a level with the Queen of England?’
‘Not so. But better a royal mistress who serves the Queen with all humility than one who would laud her victory over her husband. I know my place. My discretion is renowned, my lady.’ Her eyes lifted slowly to my face. ‘While yours, if I may advise, is not.’
It was a reply worthy of any one of my own. Her dark eyes offered an indubitable challenge. Was that what disturbed me in this woman? That she too had the courage to make her own path in life, despite those who would condemn and vilify? My heart raced with the thought that we were not much different in what we had done, flouting convention and gainsaying courtly behaviour.
I made the only reply that was possible.
‘One step, Mistress Perrers, only one step of your pretty but ambitious feet that brings the Queen to tears, and I will see your dismissal.’
Mistress Perrers’ smile lit her face, making her unremarkable features quite lovely.
‘Unless you have the ear of the King, my lady, I doubt you will achieve it. Edward’s ear is mine and mine alone. I understand you have no success in winning his liking for your unfortunate marriage to the Prince.’
Her accuracy touched a nerve. ‘You are remarkably indecorous.’
‘I have need to be. As do you, my lady. Do we not both enjoy power for its own sake?’ She must have read my reaction to this unexpected reply from a mere damsel. Her words were as finely drawn as her beautifully ached brows. ‘I expect you will deny it, but there is much that is similar between us. Ro
yal whores are not the only court women to spark the fire of gossip.’
‘I see no similarity. And you are impertinent.’
‘I am also in a hurry, my lady, if you will allow me to pass. The King has need of me.’ And no need of you. The implication was clear as day as she stepped round me. For a moment I thought she would say more, but she did not, continuing on her path to the King’s door. There she stopped, looking over her shoulder.
‘I know that you will use every means to ensure my dismissal, my lady. You will not succeed now, but one day you will, for is not all power finite? One day I will lose the security of Edward’s desire for me, or death will cut the final thread. But until then, my position is sacrosanct.’ Once more she smiled. ‘It may be that you could find some value in that, if you were prepared to step beyond your prejudices against a woman of no birth.’
The door closed softly at her back. The battle lines were drawn.
What had she implied? I considered that she might have the temerity to offer to put my case before Edward, to win his support for me, in the aftermath of a tumble on the royal bed. She had not, which was wise. What a worthy adversary she was proving to be, but I would win this battle. One day I would see the dismissal of Mistress Alice Perrers. I would accept no similarity between us, and yet, if I admitted to honesty, I discovered, to my irritation, that I enjoyed the cut and thrust of battle with this undoubtedly intelligent woman.
We were spending the morning inspecting the site of the new building, a castle at Queensborough on the Isle of Sheppey, accompanying Edward at his invitation to give an appreciative audience to his new scheme, product of my prompting. It was a bright, windy day, the cool air from the west sufficient to raise the spirits if they were downcast. Philippa appeared more content than of late, even though Alice was present. Isabella and de Coucy were in decorative attendance while I was hot in my all-enveloping robes that might just suggest a burgeoning body. Ned’s hand was beneath my arm, as I had instructed him.
‘Why?’ He took his attention from the stonework that would eventually develop into two huge towers overlooking the gates that gave access to a passage that would act as a barbican, trapping any invaders. As he cast an eye over me, I knew what he saw. His gaze, appreciative of the luxury of heavy velvet, sharpened at the voluminous cote-hardie and cloak I had chosen to wear. ‘Are you perhaps carrying my heir?’
My smile became brighter at his quick wit. ‘No. But it won’t come amiss if you are solicitous of my health.’
His brows rose a little, before his eyes were warmed by a sly smile unworthy in a future King, but perfectly worthy of me.
‘What a duplicitous mind you have, Jeanette.’
‘It will help if you look delighted with me.’
‘I am always delighted with you.’
He patted my hand, asked if I wished to sit, then departed to find me a cup of ale. The Queen, standing beside me, surveyed the scene before us, where Edward was busy with plans and builders.
‘You are a source of never-ending amusement, Joan. If I was a suspicious woman I would think you involved in subterfuge. And if that is a pregnancy, I wager it will be the longest in history.’
Philippa was engaged with the scene before her, encouraged by a morbid interest in the effigy that would grace her tomb. Merely smiling, as if holding a secret close to my heart, I set myself to amuse, sipping occasionally at the ale. She might doubt my veracity but I knew that, in her gratitude, she would not betray me.
A wind of change had blown though the chambers and antechambers of the royal palaces, a veritable storm that swept and renewed. Did the King take my advice? It has to be said that he did. The vacant seats, unoccupied when the Garter Knights assembled, were filled with the most royal of blood. Lionel, John and Edmund, royal sons, took their places, clad in their blue robes. But the King had an eye for the occasion, as a memorial. Lavish lengths of scarlet and black were ordered so that the jousts, festive in themselves, were also deeply respectful, the living knights in red pitted in skill against the mourners of the dead in black. Garter emblems and brooches were handed out, furs lavishly bestowed. Edward commemorated his dead with superb aplomb rather than retiring to sigh and bewail. The people who flocked to enjoy the spectacle appreciated seeing their King and cheered when ale and food were dispensed with a liberal hand.
Yes, he had taken my advice. In the days that followed, Edward made himself evident whenever he could, spending much time on this new town and castle at Sheppey which he had called in honour of the Queen. He met with parliament whose members were pleased. He went out and about, making use of royal occasions to remind England who was their King. The marriage of the royal daughter Mary to John de Montfort, who claimed the duchy of Brittany, a marriage that Thomas and I had considered for our own daughter Joan, was one to raise hearts cast down by so much death. Edward almost smiled on Isabella and her French lover.
He almost smiled on me.
There was nothing the King could do about the plague which continued to rage unchecked, but I had done all I could. I practised great forbearance when he did not address himself to my own predicament. Now Edward came to join us, waving aside the builders, to take up a position foursquare in front of Ned who was unrolling one of the charts showing a detailed fine-drawn plan of Edward’s building.
‘You give me no choice, sir.’
‘I have expressed no opinion on the building. But I can if you wish,’ Ned replied, a little chillier than usual, a little more formal, but looking perplexed. ‘It is your decision to make, sir. It would seem to be an excellent site for a castle to protect our shores and I have to admire the design with the encircling walls without towers…’
‘Not the castle,’ Edward interrupted. ‘This… this situation between the two of you. I have consulted my men of law and the Archbishop.’ There was no softness beneath the frowning visage. ‘They tell me there is a way out of this whole tangle of matrimonial threads, without causing too much of an upheaval or drawing too much attention. We will petition Innocent VI for a papal dispensation.’
Which you could have done weeks ago, if you had been willing to take advice.
I beamed at Edward.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ I said, glancing at Ned who preserved a stoical exterior as, taking a document from the breast of his tunic, Edward thrust it towards his son.
‘We have to be clever here. This is our proposition. Your marriage, inadvisable as it was, was not in contempt of church law, or disregarding of the displeasure of His Holiness for two people too closely related for comfort, but with the intention of subsequently obtaining the necessary authorisation.’ Edward’s own displeasure was still more than evident. ‘Two young people, unable to wait, charged by lust, carried away in the heat of the moment. We will rest on papal compassion for your youth and foolishness – though both of you are hardly immature striplings – to free you from threat of excommunication, and issue a dispensation so that you might have a valid public betrothal and wedding. That should put an end to all subterfuge.’ He looked from Ned to me, expecting some reaction. ‘We will send a royal herald…’
I nudged Ned.
‘There is no need,’ he said. ‘We already have it in hand, sir.’
Edward cocked his head. I left the explanation to Ned.
‘We could wait no longer. My esquire Nicholas Bond has been sent to Avignon to obtain the licence for our marriage.’
A cloud hovered on the horizon as if to threaten the sun.
‘Indeed, my lord,’ I said quickly, ‘we could not wait.’
‘So you pre-empted my decision.’
‘I have applied with all legal arguments,’ Ned said, ‘as heir to the throne.’
‘I am sure that you have. And enough gold coin to sink one of my ships on the journey over there.’ Edward grunted with a slide of his eye towards me and my robes. ‘So be it. No time for bewailing the spilling of milk. If my cousin does indeed carry a child, the sooner this is put right the better. I’ll sen
d my own legal men after your squire since I doubt his voice will be enough. It’s complicated. Confraternity of course because you are related in the third degree through your common great grandfather Edward the First. But then there is compaternity too, since you stood godfather to the two Holland boys.’
It was as if he were holding a royal audience, Edward informing us of matters which we knew full well without the legal explanation. Edward’s heart was not in it but he would support our claim. But would the Pope see fit to absolve our sin, or would I once again be suspended between a shadowy and a legal marriage?
‘This is no position for you to be in, if you were to be carrying a child.’ His gaze wafted over me, holding as much suspicion as Philippa’s had. Edward had never been obtuse. ‘I am outmanoeuvred by my own son and you, madam. I recommend abstention until we have settled this and untied all the knots. You will see the sense in it. There must be no breath of illegitimacy over my grandson. I trust you will make my son a good wife, a loyal wife.’
He snatched back one of the rolls that contained the plan for his new castle, walking a few steps away, before having second thoughts, swinging back towards us.
‘We need no more gossip over this than already exists.’ There was the faintest brush of colour along his cheekbones, as if Edward was aware of his own misconduct. ‘I have considered this. One thing we must be absolutely certain of. Your marriage to Holland is over, without argument, through his demise, but there is the annulment of your second marriage to Salisbury, since he is still very much alive. I want no suggestion that you might still be wed to Salisbury. When you carry the heir to the English throne, it was be a legitimate birth. It is necessary that all be made clear within the law.’
I curtsied low. It was very necessary. ‘We are both aware of how much we owe to your forbearance,’ I said, eyes lowered as a good wife should. ‘There will be no child until we are wed in the full light of day.’
Edward grimaced, a twist of his mouth, so often seen when Ned was faced with unsurmountable obstacles. ‘Better you than me, Ned, taking her as your wife.’
