by Jean Plaidy
* * *
She did not greatly like him. Something told her that where he was trouble would follow.
She was right. Robert immediately became a member of that intimate circle about the King. He was after all royal. He hunted with the royal party and declared his intention of helping in the war against Scotland. He had a certain charm and was experienced, being a good many years older than Edward. He had many fascinating anecdotes to tell of his adventures and he became a favourite particularly with the women. He travelled with the royal cavalcade up to Scotland, but war was not his idea of enjoyment. Certainly not the war with Scotland.
He talked a great deal to Edward about Scotland. ‘Why concern yourself with this poor little country? This Baliol—why bolster him up? He is doomed to be a failure, that man. He will never hold the country together. Philip has not been a very good friend to you, has he? He has shown clearly his preference for your enemies. Look how he keeps the young King and Queen of Scotland at Château Gaillard.
‘He has certainly been no friend to me, that is clear enough,’ admitted Edward.
‘My dear friend and lord, it is a sad state of affairs when your own sister is the guest of the King of France, and in flight from you.’
‘I have offered them a refuge here. I have promised that on the death of Baliol their throne shall be restored to them.’
‘Ah, but they do not take advantage of your goodness, my lord. Why? Because the King of France tells them not to. Do you realize that this wily enemy of yours has taken those two children under his wing for the sole purpose of making trouble for you in Scotland?’
‘I know that, Robert.’
‘Scotland!’ Robert snapped his fingers. ‘What is Scotland? This is a poor little country ... and yet so much blood has been shed to get possession of it. I marvel at you, Edward. You waste your energies on Scotland when there is a far greater crown waiting for you. It is not as though you had no right to it.’
‘The crown of France!’ said Edward. ‘There are many who would say I have no right.’
‘The Valois would! Naturally. He wants it for himself. The Foundling King!’
‘He was chosen by the people to reign. I hear he is a good King.’
‘Any king would be called good who came after the last three. Mercy be that their reigns did not last long. Your beautiful mother was the daughter of Philip the Fair. Her three brothers ruled—if you can call it rule—and she is the next in line and through her, her son.’
‘You know full well the Salic Law prevails in France.’ Robert snapped his fingers. ‘I do not ask that Isabella should rule. No. But she has now a son, a son who now carries the crown of England. Why should he not, instead of wasting his skill, his men and his arms on petty little Scotland, seek a worthier crown?’
‘Ah, Robert, you almost convince me. But think of the bloodshed there would be. It would not be something which could be settled in a month or a year. I could see it going on and on ...’
‘Nothing that is worth while comes easily.’
‘It is good of you to concern yourself with my welfare.’ ‘Oh, this is but justice.’
They were in the forest and when someone came to speak to the King, Robert rode on. He had said enough for the time being. His words would have their effect and it would be a deeper one if the poison was administered in small doses. It must be allowed to seep into the mind gradually so that it was allowed to take a firm hold before the subject realized it.
It would be amusing to start a war. Philip feared it. He wanted to make his country rich, to get it sound again after the last disastrous reigns. What would he say if he had to start a war to hold on to his crown?
Robert was at his favourite trick—mischievously moulding events to his pleasure.
A war! he thought. A war between England and France. Philip was wily; Edward was young; but Edward would prove to be the better general.
He was pleased with himself. He had never done anything as big as this before.
* * *
Edward had realized from the first that his chances of turning Philip from his throne and taking it himself were not great. To carry war into a foreign country was always an undertaking and even defending French provinces had drained the energies of English kings since the Conqueror. The Scottish conflict had impoverished his grandfather and some said worn him out; and although he himself had left Baliol with a defending force in Scotland he did not expect the peace to last there. It was a pleasant idea to consider himself as rightful King of France but whether he should make an attempt to win that crown needed a great deal of examination. Robert d’Artois was constantly at his elbow pointing out the simplicity of the task; but Edward was experienced enough to know that war was only simple in the mind.
There was a great deal at home to demand his attention. Since the death of Mortimer he had made several attempts to bring his father’s murderers to justice. Berkeley had been arrested as the deed had been carried out in his castle; but he had successfully proved that he had been nowhere near the castle when it had been committed. He was in disgrace but no punishment had been inflicted on him. His crime had been to turn away from what was happening in Berkeley Castle, when he should have called attention to the way in which the King was being treated. He could scarcely be executed for that.
Sir John Maltravers had disappeared into Flanders and it seemed was doing all he could to promote trade there for England. Therefore it was best that he should not be disturbed. Sir William Ogle however had been arrested in Naples.
Edward dreaded his arrival in England when the whole terrible story would be brought to light, for Ogle, with the connivance of others and having been ordered to behave as he had by Mortimer and the Queen, was the actual one who had carried out the grisly sentence.
Ogle could not be allowed to live.
Edward’s commissioners knew his wishes, and that because there was Queen Isabella to be considered, the King did not want his mother’s misdeeds to be brought out into the open.
It was arranged that Ogle should die on the journey from Naples to England. Thus he would expiate his sins with the least inconvenience; and there would be no revival of the old story in which Queen Isabella stood in such an evil light.
She was living quietly now at Castle Rising and seemed to have lost all that fiery ambition and pride which had made her the woman she had been.
Let these matters be laid to rest, thought Edward. It would be better so for the peace of the realm.
Meanwhile Robert d’Artois was constantly at his elbow. Robert was lively, amusing and knew exactly how to charm Edward. He had settled at Court and often said he would go back to France once the rightful king was ruling there.
‘We are two of a kind, Edward,’ he said. ‘We both have to regain our inheritance. I know this : When you are King of France, the Artois estates will be back where they belong.’
‘You may rest assured, Robert that they will be.’
Robert talked a great deal about his wrongs but he always did so in a light and amusing way.
‘The battle of Courtrai should never have taken place,’ he said. ‘If it had not my grandfather would not have been killed and my estates would never have been taken from me. Imagine, Edward, this poor little orphan—myself—too young to defend himself. My father died soon after I was born. Oh, it was a devious business. Surely a father’s possessions should pass to his son and then from son to son throughout the genera- tions. So should t have been with Artois. But because I was but a fatherless child and the King was married to my aunt Mahaut’s daughter, they were given to Mahaut.’
‘That was most unfair,’ cried Edward.
‘Unfair! Of course it was unfair. It was said that Mahaut showed documents written by my grandfather in which he had said that she should succeed, not I.’
‘Were they forgeries ?’
‘I am sure they were, but when Mahaut died the estates went to her daughter, the wife of the King. So you see what it was all about. O
h, I have been most shamefully treated, my lord. But I am not the man to stand aside and allow people to browbeat me.’
‘Indeed you are not.’
‘Nor would you be, my brave king. You are fortunate. You came into your inheritance ... or part of it. England is yours but you will have to fight for France. And you will win it I know. Once you bestir yourself to get it.’
‘What made your grandfather leave his estates to your aunt?’
‘He did not. The documents were forgeries. There was a woman in his household who had always been a good friend to me. Her name was La Divion.’ Robert smiled reminiscently. ‘Oh yes, she had always been a good friend to me. When I put it to her that the documents had been tampered with and my aunt’s name substituted for mine she swore this was true and she produced new documents in which I was named sole heir.’
‘And what did you do about it?’
‘You can guess I would not let the matter rest. The present King had by this time ascended the throne. He was different from his predecessors. They were content to let matters drift. Not Philip. I put the case to him and his answer was to arrest La Divion. Poor woman she was ready to stick to the truth but the torture broke her in time. She told them under pressure that she had been lying and the documents in which I was preferred were forgeries. It was what they wanted her to say, you see; and the poor woman, out of her mind with pain, agreed with anything just to make them stop the torture. She was burned at the stake. But that was not enough for Philip. I was still there. I knew too much, so he wanted to be rid of me too. It was proclaimed that during the questioning of La Divion they had uncovered evidence that she—on my command—had poisoned Mahaut. I saw what was coming. That was when I disguised myself as a merchant and came to you. Oh, he is a wicked one, this King of France. He then set it about that a wax doll resembling him had been found in my castle and that in this doll red hot pins had been stuck. He said I was dabbling in witchcraft.’
‘It seems he is determined to persecute you.’
‘Not content with having taken my estates he has now made it impossible for me to live in France. It is a fact, you know, Edward, that some people hate those they have wronged. Philip of Valois is one of them. Never mind, his day will come. Wait until the armies of Edward of England are astride France. That is the day I am longing to see.’
‘Ah,’ replied Edward, ‘that could not be achieved in a day.’ ‘Perhaps in a month ...’
‘My grandfather who is reckoned to be one of the greatest warriors of all time could not subdue Scotland. My ancester Richard Coeur de Lion never reached Jerusalem, even the great Conqueror did not succeed in bringing Wales under his control. When one talks of conquest one forgets the long marches through rain and mud, snow, slush and blistering heat. One forgets the rigours of camp life. Before a campaign is undertaken it is necessary to decide what will be gained by victory and what lost by defeat.’
‘Is this the way a great commander talks? I did not think the thought of defeat ever entered his mind.’
‘He is no great commander if it does not. A leader of an army must consider everything that could befall his men and himself. He must be prepared. True he goes into battle with high hopes; at the moment of fighting he will believe he must be victorious. But in his meditations before the battle he must not be bemused by over confidence.’
‘You surprise me, Edward. I have thought of you as one of the greatest generals the world has ever known.’
‘Why should you since I have not yet proved myself to be so?’
‘You have about you an aura of greatness.’
‘Come, Robert, I am old enough now not to take flattery to heart. I have yet to prove what I am to myself and the world.’
‘Shall I tell you something? The King of Naples told me that he has consulted the stars and he has discovered that the King of France can be defeated in battle ... and by one man, the King of England.’
‘Is this so?’
‘My dear Edward, I swear it. It is written in the stars that if you—and you alone—led your troops against the King of France you could not fail to be victorious. Philip has heard this. He trembles, Edward. He trembles lest you march against him. I promise you this: if you went into battle this time next year the crown of France would be yours.’
Edward listened intently and Artois believed he was making some impression.
Edward was thoughtful. It was very pleasant to hear Artois tell him that he was a warrior destined for greatness.
He talked the matter over with Philippa. She was uneasy. Now that the Flemish weavers were settling in, Norfolk trade was increasing. There was nothing like a war to impoverish a country. Philippa believed in peace. Moreover she wanted to keep her family with her. She would never forget her horror on returning to her children and finding that they had been neglected. She would like the family to remain together. She hated leaving the children and on the other hand it was not always possible to take them with her on her travels. Then would come the terrible decision. Should she go with Edward or remain with the children?
‘Philip is not like the sons of Philip the Fair,’ she pointed out. The reports of him are that he is wily and shrewd. He will not lightly surrender his kingdom.’
‘There will be a war, there is no doubt of that.’
‘There have been so many wars between England and France.’
‘Which is one reason why there should be a final one to settle the matter. If I had the crown of France then England and France would be as one country and the wars would cease.’
‘But there would be a long war before you were victorious, Edward.’
‘Artois thinks I should achieve victory in a few months.’ ‘Artois is obsessed by his hatred of the King of France. There might be others who do not dismiss him so easily.’
‘Tis true. And Philip I am sure would be a fierce adversary. But there has been a prophecy, Artois tells me. The King of Naples has consulted the stars and they tell him that if I go against the King of France in person the crown of France will be mine.’
‘Countries have to be won even if prophecies are to be fulfilled, Edward. I beg of you give great thought to this matter.’
‘My dear Philippa, you may rest assured that I will do that.’
She seemed a little more satisfied; and the more Edward thought of the project the more he wanted to shelve the matter. If he decided to act against France he would have to be sure of his allies. He reckoned he could count on his father-in-law, William of Hainault, and Philippa’s uncle John had always been a good friend.
Young Joanna, though scarcely more than a baby, was promised to the son of the Duke of Austria. That might ensure Austria’s help.
* * *
Edward went on turning over these matters in his mind and nothing definite was arranged. Artois was becoming desperately impatient.
Am I going to stay here in exile all my life? Artois asked himself. Will Edward never make a move to gain the crown of France?
How he longed to see Philip brought low. He hated Philip as he had never hated anyone in his life and he was a man of violent passions. Philip of Valois to be King of France! The Foundling King who was on the throne because of a series of accidents! It was unfair. It should be stopped. And to think that Philip had upheld those who had robbed him of his estates and had made it clear that while he was on the throne they should never be restored to him.
Throughout Artois’ life he had always had some project which he pursued with passionate intensity. He would never allow himself calm reflection. He enjoyed working himself up into a passion of hatred or love. He had to indulge these violent emotions; he had to live adventurously.
Out of his hatred of Philip of France had grown the idea of toppling him from his throne; and here was a ready-made solution. Through his mother Edward might by some be said to have a claim to the French crown. Others might say it was a flimsy one since it came through his mother, and the Salic Law prevented women coming to the throne. Edward was
her son, a man ... but still his inheritance came through a woman. The claim would not be regarded very seriously in France. But of course those who passionately wanted it to be so, could convince themselves that it was a good one.
Yet Edward would not move. Edward was cautious. Edward himself perhaps did not believe in his claim. It might be that he was considering what an undertaking it would be to go to France and fight the French, the object being to displace Philip from the throne.
Edward had had an uneasy beginning as a warrior in Scotland. He was not going to act rashly again. He could have been said to have set aside that first humiliation by later success but there was nothing spectacular in his military exploits so far.
Again and again Robert had pointed out the differences in France and Scotland. The Scots were a wild people; they had their mountains to help them. It was difficult to keep the Border fortified. How different it would be in France. He imagined the crown being set on his head, the French people acclaiming him.
Would they? wondered Edward. Why should they? Because they hated Philip, the oppressor, the usurper, the Foundling King.
But they had put him on the throne and by all accounts France had been more stable under his rule.
How exasperating Edward was! Artois was getting very impatient and when he was impatient he was reckless.
He rode out alone in a fever of impatience and as he came through the forest he saw a stream and wading in the water looking for food was a slate grey bird with a thin black crest which curled down the long neck. Its pointed yellow beak was like a dagger poised ready to spear some unsuspecting creature. A heron!
Robert watched it quietly for some time. He must be still he knew for it was one of the most timorous of birds. A coward bird he had heard it called. Then an idea came to him.
He freed his hawk and very soon he held the heron in his hands.
Laughing to himself he returned to the castle.
* * *
The King and Queen were in the dining-hall. Artois was late. The King was on the point of asking for him when Robert entered. Behind him walked two women carrying a dish and in this dish was the heron which he had ordered to be roasted.
