by Jean Plaidy
It was an adventure riding through the night with the kindly Sir Malcolm, though David hated to leave his castle and—even more—the possibility of leaving Scotland itself. He was the King and they were trying to make him not a King. It was all the fault of Joanna’s brother. He was sullen and would not speak to her. She did not care for that but she was deeply hurt that Edward should have marched against Scotland while she was its Queen.
‘There need not have been a marriage,’ said David. ‘It was supposed to be to make Edward our friend.’
‘He is really our friend,’ Joanna tried to explain. But alas she could find no argument to back up that statement.
They settled in at Dumbarton and David forgot his animosity towards her because it was all rather exciting. Messengers were constantly arriving at the castle and they used to sit at the window and watch the ships dancing on the water. There were always men to load them with goods so that, said David, we could step into them and be gone in an hour.
‘We should have to wait for the tide,’ retorted Joanna.
‘Of course we should wait for the tide.’
‘Then it might be more than an hour.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’d like to go on that ship.’
Joanna considered. Yes, she thought she might like it too.
, And then one day they did so. Sir Malcolm came to them and said: ‘Make ready. We are sailing with the tide.’
‘Where are we going?’ cried David.
‘To France, my King.’
Hastily they prepared. They were glad they had been told weeks ago to make ready. They would be less likely to forget something important.
Soon they were going on board. And then ... away to France.
* * *
It was a difficult crossing but the young people were too excited by the prospect before them to notice the rigours of the sea. David felt it was wrong to be excited for he was leaving his kingdom; he would be a king in exile and his knowledge of history told him that that was not a very good thing to be. Joanna was depressed by the thought that she was running away from the approaching armies of her own brother.
Still, the tedium of life in Edinburgh was no more and it was becoming very adventurous.
When they arrived at Boulogne a messenger was sent to the King of France to tell him of their arrival and in a very short time he sent a company of Knights to bid them welcome and to bring them to the Court of France.
The friendly concern of the King of France was a great comfort to the Scots and they lost no time in accepting his hospitality.
Philip the Sixth had already proved himself to be a mighty monarch and the contrast between him and his three predecessors, the sons of Philip the Fourth, was marked and the change had put fresh hope into the hearts of his subjects, particularly now that they believed that the Templar’s curse was worked out. It had been directed at the Capet line; and with the death of Charles the Fourth the Valois had taken their place as the ruling house.
True the King’s father had been the brother of Philip the Fourth but this was a new branch on the royal tree and the curse was finished.
It had been clear from the first that Philip was a strong man. He immediately set about pulling France out of the morass into which three weak kings had led her. Already he had subdued the Flemings and had commanded the young King of England to do homage to him. It was true he felt a certain uneasiness because of young Edward’s claim to the throne of France, ridiculous though it might be, but all the same Philip believed they must be prepared for trouble. Through Edward’s marriage with Philippa of Hainault he had made sure of the friendship of the Low Countries. Philip had heard that the English Queen had notions of improving the trade of England.
‘What is she?’ Philip said. ‘A tradesman’s daughter!’
‘The Lowlanders are traders by profession,’ was the mocking answer.
Still Edward must be watched. He was popular in his own country and since he had rid himself of Mortimer and taken the reins into his own hands, there had been improvements. He had heard that Philippa was importing weavers to England and that they were becoming prosperous in this little community.
Yes, Edward must be watched.
It was good that he should be kept occupied in Scotland, for while he was using his energies there he could not turn to France. The last thing Philip wanted was to have war, the object of which would be to prove whether he or Edward had a right to the throne of France. Preposterous as the suggestion was it would mean a long and disastrous war and, if Edward really were growing more and more like his grandfather, he could be a formidable enemy.
He would therefore make much of this little Scottish King. Puppet he might be, but he could be tutored and who knew some good might come of it.
Philip himself rode out to meet the cavalcade as it made its way into Paris.
He embraced Joanna and complimented her on her beauty. He treated David as though he were a great King. So both the children were enchanted by the King of France.
There was to be a feast in their honour, he told them and one should sit on either side of him. There was food such as they had never tasted before, music and elegant dancing. The French Court, it seemed to both of them, was a sort of heaven, and the King the most charming man in the world.
Their apartments were luxurious—very different from those sparsely furnished rooms in Scotland, and even grander than many in England.
There was nothing, it seemed, that the King of France would not do for their comfort.
‘You poor children,’ he said embracing them, ‘how glad I am that you came to me for comfort.’
‘Will you help me to regain my kingdom?’ asked David who every now and then remembered he was a king.
‘With all my heart,’ replied Philip. ‘Of course I know that you are a proud king. You will accept my help and my advice but you will want to do something for me in exchange. I can see you were about to say this.’
‘It is true,’ said David.
‘Then just promise me this. You will never make peace with England without first obtaining my consent for you to do so. There. That is not much to ask is it? And I make the request because I can see your pride demands that you give something in return.’
‘I willingly agree,’ said David eagerly.
‘Now I shall give you an income while you are with me so that you can live in the state which is due to you.’
‘My lord, your kindness overwhelms me,’ cried David.
Nay. You are young and brave and I like not to see my friends exploited on account of their youth. This beautiful lady ...’ he turned to Joanna ... ‘should be happy and gay and that is what I intend she shall be during her stay in France.’
It was impossible not to be grateful for so much so graciously given.
The King suggested that they should have a private establishment during their stay in France, and he offered them Château Gaillard, that fortress built on a high rock, which was symbolic to both England and France. It had been built by Richard Coeur de Lion and it had been the pride of his heart. King John, in his folly had lost it to the French; and since then it had had a sad history and become more a prison than a royal castle.
They would bring gaiety into Château Gaillard, said Philip; and it amused him that he should offer that castle which had been built by an English King to these two young exiles from Scotland.
Philip himself conducted them to their residence and there he said he would allow them to entertain him and his knights in their home.
This delighted David in particular. It was not that the King of France did not enchant Joanna. The trouble was that all the time she kept thinking that he was an enemy of Edward. But Edward had deserted her. Her own brother had made war on her country. It was foolish, as David said, to think of him any more with affection.
The benign King of France was never anything but kind to them. They gave a lavish banquet for him all provided for by him and prepared by his servants; but he kept calli
ng it the hospitality of the King and Queen of Scotland.
He told them about French wines and made them try them.
‘Who knows,’ he said, ‘one day we might raise an army in France and win back Scotland for you. What would you do if we did? I know. You would want to pay feudal homage to France for your kingdom, would you not?’
‘I should be so grateful,’ said David, guilelessly.
‘Then you will do it. Is that a promise?’
‘It is a promise.’
‘Then I am going to say that you hold Scotland as fief of France. That means you are under my protection. I think that is a very happy state of affairs, do you not agree?’
David feeling very happy and sleepy nodded.
The King raised his goblet. ‘My friends,’ he said addressing the whole community. ‘My friend the King of Scotland has made me very happy this night. He has just declared that Scotland is a fief of France. Let us drink to this, my friends.’
There was much drinking and chatter.
The King of France kissed first David and then Joanna. ‘There,’ he said, ‘we have sealed our pact in this goodly company.’
* * *
Somewhat reluctantly Philippa agreed to stay at Barnborough Castle while Edward went on to Berwick.
It would be necessary to lay siege to the castle for naturally it would not be easily given up. There could be heavy fighting and the Queen might be in danger.
‘If you are there that is where I would wish to be,’ she told him.
‘I know, my love, but I should be thinking of your safety and not the battle.’
When it was put to her like that she could not refuse, so she settled in at Bamborough to await his return.
The ancient fortress had been erected long before the coming of the Conqueror and its position on a rock which was almost perpendicular and looking straight out to sea made it an invaluable stronghold.
Here Philippa must settle down to await the King’s return. He sent her messages frequently so that she might know how the campaign was progressing. He was after all only about twenty miles away. He did not anticipate that the siege would be a long one, and he had had unexpected good fortune which he hastened to impart to the Queen. Some of his men had found two young boys riding in the forest and had brought them to him. On questioning them he had discovered that they were the sons of the Governor of Berwick Castle.
‘You see, my dear, what a good weapon Fate has placed in my hands. I hold these two boys hostage. I do not think the Governor will want to hold out too long when he hears that I have his sons.’
While she recognized the lucky fate which had given Edward this advantage, Philippa could not help thinking of the poor parents of those boys and what they must be suffering at this time. She was sure that they would never allow any harm to come to them, and if it shortened the siege she supposed it was all to the good and would bring Edward back to her all the more quickly.
It was soon after that, looking from the turret window on the land side, she saw a band of men approaching. As she watched she saw more and more. Then she recognized the Scottish pennants and knew that the enemy was marching on Bamborough Castle.
She hurriedly summoned the guard. Everything must be securely locked. The guards must take their places for the defence. The enemy were about to lay siege to Bamborough.
‘We must get a message through to the King somehow,’ she said.
There were several volunteers, and she decided that more than one should go in case there should be difficulty in getting to the army outside Berwick.
When Edward heard that Philippa was being besieged in Bamborough his first impulse was to fly to her aid, but even before he could make preparations for departure he realized that this was exactly what the Scots wished. They wanted to draw him off Berwick, to let in reinforcements, to make the taking of the town impossible. The object of this campaign had been to take Berwick and if he failed to achieve it another failure would be marked up to him.
He was in a quandary. He was very anxious for Philippa’s leave and at the same time he knew that it would be folly to leave Berwick. Philippa was wise; she was well protected. The siege of Berwick would soon be at an end. It was Scottish strategy to draw him away just when he was on the brink of victory.
Uncontrolled rage seized him. Philippa in danger and he unable to go to her! A curse on the Scots. That ungovernable Plantagenet temper had never been so strong in him. He had to wreak revenge on someone.
The Governor of Berwick! By God, he had his two boys. The hostages!
He summoned his guard.
‘Slay those boys,’ he said.
The guard stared at him in dismay. He could not believe he had heard correctly for the two hostages had been treated rather as pets in the camp. They had played games with the soldiers and the King had spoken kindly to them often. They were all fond of them. They were two innocent boys.
‘Go, you fool,’ shouted Edward. ‘You heard me. Do you dare refuse to carry out my order?’
‘My lord ... I cannot believe I heard right.’
‘You heard me say, “Slay the boys.” Kill the hostages. I have had a trick played on me and no one plays tricks on Edward of England. Cut off their heads and bring them to me so that I can see that the deed is done. Go. Or do you want the same sentence meted out to you?’
The guard went.
In less than ten minutes he returned with the two young heads and as Edward stared at them his anger passed and terrible remorse came to him. He wondered if he would ever forget that blood-stained innocence.
It had to be, he told himself. It had to be. There is no room for softness.
Now, to Berwick. He would storm the place. There should be no more waiting.
He was a soldier. He knew that now. He would vie with his grandfather for battle honours. There was nothing soft about him. He was going to win.
Berwick fell into his hands with astonishing ease. And as soon as he had set his garrison in it he turned to Bamborough, the vehement fighting mood still on him.
He slew the Earl of Douglas who had led the troops to Bamborough, and routed his troops with ease; then he went into the castle.
Philippa was waiting for him, calm, certain that he would come to rescue her.
They embraced with fervour.
‘I knew there was nothing to fear,’ she said. ‘I knew you would come.’
‘Berwick is mine,’ he said. ‘I have won what I came out to win. I will take you in to Berwick tomorrow and you will ride through the streets in triumph with me.’
‘Oh Edward. I am proud of you.’
He had to tell her himself about the boys for he did not want her to hear of it from anyone else. He tried to explain to her, to excuse himself. ‘It was a trick to draw me from Berwick and by God, Philippa, I almost fell into it. I almost did what they wanted me to. Then I saw that I must stay at Berwick.’
‘Of course you had to stay at Berwick. Of course you did right.’
‘A madness came over me. To think I must stay while you were in danger.’
‘The castle is a great stronghold. I was in no danger. I could have hung out for weeks.’
‘Yes, I know. But in my fury I ordered the hostages to be slain.’
‘The hostages ... The ...’ He saw the shudder run through her. ‘The little boys ...’ she went on.
‘It was because you were in danger. A great fury seized me. It was like a frenzy ...’
She tried to hide the horror in her eyes. She thought of the boys’ mother. Poor poor bereaved woman to lose both her sons.
‘Philippa, it was because of you ... you ... in danger.’
She understood. Philippa would always understand. She said quickly: ‘It was an ill fortune of war.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘an ill fortune of war.’
He was going to forget it. It was necessary. No one was going to think he could be trifled with.
He had won Berwick. His feet were now set on a certain pat
h. He was emerging gradually as the man he would be and in these last weeks he had taken a step forward.
Men were going to tremble at the mention of his name as they had at that of his grandfather.
There would be two Great Edwards for men to marvel at.
* * *
The object achieved there was no longer any need to be parted from their children. Berwick was in English hands where Baliol had promised it should be. That was enough for the time. It would show the Scots that when the King of England had a purpose he achieved it. Another Edward had arisen to hammer them into submission.
Philippa was delighted to be returning to her babies. She had not mentioned the death of the hostages again and Edward had convinced himself that a soldier must harden himself to brutality when it was necessary and when men died by the hundred and thousand in battle life was not so very precious.
When they arrived at the castle of Clarendon they were amazed to find that the place seemed almost empty. They surprised one or two serving men lolling about and Philippa immediately noticed that there was something unkempt about the place. A terrible fear seized her; she feared for the safety of her children.
Edward thundered: ‘Where are the guards? Where are the attendants?’
But Philippa was already running to the nursery.
Three-year-old Edward was seated on the floor, rolling pewter platters around and chuckling with glee as he caught them. One-year-old Isabella was crawling after him. Both the children were unwashed, their garments stained and torn.
The Queen ran to them and picked up Isabella who screamed in protest but Edward recognizing his mother ran to her and clutched at her skirts, smiling his delight.
She knelt down and put her arms about them, assuring herself that in spite of their neglected condition they were well.
They had been fed. There was evidence of that on their clothing but how could they be in such a condition? Where were the governesses, the attendants?
In a short time Edward had summoned to the hall all the attendants and servants who were in the castle and in a stern voice demanded to know what this meant.
There was a deep silence; all were afraid to speak until Edward thundered that it would be well for them to give him some explanation of their conduct before his temper was such that all would pay with their heads for what they had done.
