by Jean Plaidy
‘My lord ...’
The King held up his hand. ‘But we must placate the Queen. I doubt not that she was surprised when you would not give up the King of Scots to her. Take him to her. Give him into her hands and make your excuses as best you may. I believe she will accept them.’
‘My gracious lord, I would I had the chance to die for you.’
‘Ah,’ said the King, ‘who knows, some day I might even ask that. Now begone. I like well those who serve me with their hearts and if maybe there are times when they are mistaken in their acts then that is a small matter compared with good and honest loyalty.’
It was a very happy Sir John Copeland who returned to England and immediately delivered David of Scotland into the Queen’s hands with muttered excuses which she kindly deigned to accept.
* * *
Smarting with humiliation David lay in the small chamber in the Copeland house. From one aspect it was fortunate for him that he was so badly wounded, for it prevented his brooding too bitterly on his position. Copeland’s wife tended his wounds herself and he was too exhausted to protest.
Gradually they began to heal and by the time John Copeland arrived home flushed with the triumph of knighthood and new lands, it was decided that he should be taken to London. John Copeland himself made sure that the King of Scotland was securely guarded for, as he said to his wife, now that he was getting better who should say what tricks he would be up to.
The humiliation for David was bitter. Seated on a black horse, the son of Robert the Bruce was led through the city of London at the head of a procession of twenty thousand composed of the city companies in their state liveries and the people of London and those of the surrounding districts who rode with him.
He was the symbol of defeat. Now perhaps there would be peace on the Border, no more ravaging of English towns; no more threats from the unruly Scots. This was a day of rejoicing.
It was a pity the King was not there to see it. Nor was the Queen.
Edward had summoned her to join him in France and she had already gone.
Humiliation of humiliations he was taken before the council and there seated on the throne of state was the eight-yearold Prince Lionel, Duke of Clarence, to condemn him to his prison in the Tower.
His dream of riding triumphantly into London had been bitterly reversed.
JILTED
EDWARD’S reputation had been greatly enhanced after the Battle of Crécy and the Flemings having murdered Edward’s friend Jacob van Arteveldt greatly feared his wrath and when he sent ambassadors into Ghent to discover the means and cause of the murder of Arteveldt their apprehension grew and they sought about for a means of placating him. Yes, they admitted, the murder had been committed and the reason was that the people had objected to van Arteveldt’s seeking to depose the Earl of Flanders who was after all their true ruler. They knew that Edward had wished his son to become the Duke of Flanders but to attempt to enforce this was certain to mean bloodshed. Why should not the matter be amicably settled by the marriage of the new Earl of Flanders who had just succeeded to the title? They did not stress the fact that his father had been killed by the English at the Battle of Crécy. The new Earl was young, unmarried and would be an ideal bridegroom for the eldest daughter of the King of England.
This seemed to Edward an excellent idea. Much as he hated the thought of Isabella’s marrying, he must not, he knew, shelve the matter altogether. If she married into Flanders they could meet often. He was constantly in Ghent and it would not be difficult for her to come to England.
Moreover the King of France was eager that Louis of Flanders should many Margaret of Brabant which would mean an alliance favourable to France. Oh yes, Edward could see the advantages of this marriage. He wrote at once to Philippa. He was outside Calais where he would remain until that town had fallen into his hands. He told her that he was arranging a marriage for Isabella with the young Earl of Flanders. The burghers of Flanders were agreeable to the match for their prosperity depended upon England’s supplying them with wool from which they wove their goods and without this concession their trade would suffer. Always eager to stimulate business the Flemings saw the point of this. They needed English wool; therefore young Louis should marry Isabella.
‘Leave England without delay,’ wrote the King. ‘The Scots can give us no more trouble. We have their King thanks to you and the army at Neville’s Cross. I am anxious that this marriage shall be made as quickly as possible before Philip is able to bind Louis to him through Margaret of Brabant.’
When she received the letter Philippa went at once to her daughter in the palace of the Tower and there told her that she must make ready for a journey.
The Princess Joanna, who was with her sister, listened apprehensively. Poor Joanna, she dreaded being sent to a bridegroom. She would never forget her unhappy experiences in Austria and feared that one day they would be repeated. She knew that negotiations were in progress to marry her to the son of the King of Castile and she lived in terror of hearing that she must prepare to leave for Spain.
Isabella felt quite different. She was so sure of herself, so certain that she was the most fascinating creature in the world that she had no doubt of her ability to charm anyone.
‘Your father wants us to leave at once,’ the Queen said. ‘No, not you, Joanna. You will remain here with the others. Isabella is to be married to the Earl of Flanders.’
‘Only an Earl! ‘ cried Isabella, dismayed.
‘My dear child, this is a most important marriage. Your father is most anxious for it. The Flemings have a great influence, particularly now when your father has to win his French crown. He is particularly anxious for this marriage because it means you will be within easy reach of him. There. That is what he said.’
Isabella was placated. ‘I knew he would not want me to be too far away.’
‘So now we shall make sure that you are properly provided for. I must see the seamstresses without delay.’
Isabella was elated.
She was fourteen, old enough for marriage, and had supposed that a bridegroom would soon be found for her. She had expected a grander one it was true but it would be pleasant to be not too far from her father and she was sure that this Earl of Flanders must be overcome with delight at the prospect of marriage with the eldest daughter of the King of England.
So, in a state of great excitement she made her preparation. Inordinately vain of her appearance she revelled in the beautiful garments which were made for her, for she had inherited her father’s love of finery, and she could scarcely wait for the journey to begin. With her she was taking a company of ladies of the Court, many of whom had husbands or sons serving in the King’s army, so it was a time of happy reunion for them.
Edward welcomed them ashore and when he saw his daughter he was overcome with pride and emotion.
There would be great rejoicing in the camps throughout the temporary town Edward had built outside the walls of Calais, and if it seemed strange to rejoice and celebrate a betrothal at that spot when so near, within the walls of the city, the people were starving and were waiting anxiously for rescue, Isabella did not think of it.
She was the beloved daughter of the great King of England and her bridegroom elect would fall in love with her as soon as he set eyes on her. She was absolutely sure of that.
* * *
She might have been disturbed if she could have known the circumstances in which that bridegroom now found himself.
Having been brought up at the French Court, young Louis was in outlook a Frenchman, and Philip realizing his importance as a pawn in the marriage market had always shown friendship towards him. Louis had enjoyed the elegance of the French Court which seemed to him so much more attractive than that of Flanders, and he thought like a Frenchman, dressed like a Frenchman and acted like one. The French King had sung the praises of Margaret of Brabant. Louis had met her and prompted by the wily Philip had found her a girl to his liking.
He would ma
rry her, he promised himself; and indeed he had thought he would.
Then had come the battle of Crécy. Louis would never forget that day for he had ridden out with the French army beside his father at whose side he had been when the English arrow had pierced the Earl’s heart and it was in his son’s arms that Louis the elder had died. He would never forget the agony on that once proud face; he would continue to hear the groans from those distorted lips; he tried not to think of the blood his father’s blood.
‘Oh God,’ he had cried, ‘how I hate the English.’
He would always remember that it was an English archer who had robbed him of his father.
He was astounded when the representatives from the main towns of Flanders visited him and told him that they were in favour of a marriage with Isabella, daughter of the King of England.
‘Marry the daughter of my father’s murderer!’ he cried aghast. ‘You must be mad to suggest it. I never will.’
‘My lord,’ explained the burghers, ‘a union with England will be good for Flanders. We need English wool if we are to keep our weavers working. The marriage is necessary to the prosperity of the country.’
‘I have already agreed to marry Margaret of Brabant.’
‘That is what the French want, but my lord, the English are more necessary to our country than are the French. This marriage with Isabella is important. She is a lively girl of considerable beauty. You will not be disappointed.’
Louis’s eyes blazed with anger. ‘I will not be forced into a marriage which is distasteful to me,’ he said.
‘My lord, my lord,’ they cried, ‘how can it be distasteful when you have not set eyes on the girl? She has a charm and beauty unsurpassable, so we have heard.’
‘From her father doubtless. That murderer who comes here and tries to snatch the crown of France from its rightful owner ‘
The burghers were dismayed. The feared trouble ahead. Louis must see reason.
‘My lord,’ said the leading burgher sternly, ‘you should watch your words. If you arouse Edward’s wrath this could be disaster for Flanders. You have become too much the Frenchman and it would be well for you to remember that that is not the country to which you owe allegiance.’
‘I will hear no more of this,’ said the young Earl haughtily. But the burghers had surrounded him almost menacingly. ‘What means this?’ cried Louis.
‘It means, my lord, that you are not free to leave this castle.’ ‘What! You would make a prisoner of me!’
‘Not a prisoner, my lord. You will be free to hunt and hawk. But there will be guards with you as we do not want you flying back to your friend, the King of France—who is no friend to your country. We Flemings must look to the English. We shall keep you here with us until you see reason and agree to a betrothal with Isabella of England.’
The Earl was furious with rage but he could see that he was in the hands of his subjects and he must bide his time. He must listen to their wearying diatribes. In the meantime he could enjoy his favourite sports.
But marry the daughter of his father’s murderer, never!
Resentfully he submitted to the kind of luxurious captivity he was offered. But though he might enjoy the comforts to which he had been accustomed he was constantly aware of the irksome presence of guards. He realized that these had been selected with the greatest care. There was not one among them who could be seduced into plotting against those who held him. Every one of the men set to watch over him believed fervently in the need for alliance with England.
A few months passed in this way and then Louis capitulated.
He sent for the chief members of the Council and told them that he had changed his mind. He would agree to a marriage with Isabella.
He was congratulated on his sound good sense. He would find the Princess a delightful creature. Everyone sang her praises. She was the most beautiful Princess in the world. He would never regret having shown such good sense.
Messengers were sent to Edward and it was at this stage that he told Philippa to bring his daughter to Calais.
It was a rather bleak March day when Isabella and Louis were brought face to face. The encounter took place at the monastery of Bergues and it was to be a very ceremonious occasion.
The highest ranking Flemings were in Louis’s entourage and Edward could be relied upon to see that his daughter was surrounded by even greater pomp and glitter.
Edward said that before the meeting of the young people he would like to speak with Earl Louis alone and he received him in one of the apartments of the monastery.
An impressive figure at all times, Edward on this occasion was even more magnificent than usual. He wore his robes of state and he looked a mighty king, as he endeavoured to, for it was important to overawe Louis.
Louis however was not so easily overawed. He was a young man of some spirit and he was filled with a smouldering resentment against those who had forced him into this situation. Edward knew very well what great efforts had had to be made to get Louis to agree to the marriage and he applauded the boy’s sentiments. His father had died in his arms on Crécy field and being a family man capable of sentiment, Edward understood Louis’s feelings.
He came straight to the point. ‘My lord Earl,’ he said, wanted to speak to you first before the ceremonies because I wished to tell you with my own lips that I am guiltless of your father’s death.’
‘It was at Crécy,’ murmured Louis with a hint of defiance.
‘I know it. And that was a resounding victory for my armies. And there your father died. I did not know that he was with the French army. It was only when the battle was over that I learned of his death. I understand your feelings. I have children whom I love dearly and I know that had I died on the field of Crécy they would feel against the King of France as you do against me. I am guiltless of the death of your father. You must see this. Had I known that he was there, had I come across him in need of help, although he was on the side of my enemy, I would have spared his life. You must understand this, and bear me no grudge.’
But even as Louis looked at this man of commanding appearance he could think only of his father lying back in agony. He could only see the horrible blood ... his father’s blood.
Edward laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Let us forget, my dear lord, that your father and I were on opposing sides. Come, let me be the father you have lost. I swear to you that you will never regret it.’
Louis’s eyes were glazed with emotion and the King moving towards him embraced him.
‘All is well between us, my son,’ said Edward. ‘Now, let us talk of this wedding we are going to have.’
The Flemish nobles marvelled at the power and charm the King of England displayed in winning over their stubborn lord, for they had known that although he had given in to their wishes he had done so most reluctantly.
* * *
Isabella and her prospective bridegroom stood face to face. She was magnificently attired, a glittering Princess. She smiled at him, inviting his admiration.
The daughter of my father’s murderer! he thought. How vain she is! Pretty enough, but why should I allow them to choose my bride for me?
Isabella thought: He is handsome. I like him. He must be thinking how beautiful I am and what a lucky man he is to have an alliance with England and ... me.
They talked a little. He told her of Flanders. She did not listen very intently. She was eager to tell him about England and how she and her sister travelled about on occasions, and that she had three ladies-in-waiting while her sister had only two, that she was the eldest and her father was inclined to spoil her.
Indeed, thought Louis, that at least is obvious.
The King and the Flemings looked on benignly.
‘Methinks our happy pair are pleased with each other,’ said Edward.
They were betrothed with great ceremony. The wedding itself must be a very grand affair. It would take place in two weeks time which, said the King, would give everyone time to prepare. He
wanted it to be an occasion which all would remember.
Isabella left Bergues with her parents, and Louis returned to his captivity because, said some of the wily Flemish nobles, they knew their Prince to be of a stubborn nature and they being cautious men were determined that care should be maintained until that day when Isabella was truly Louis’s wife.
Louis, seeing the day of his wedding coming nearer and nearer, decided to take a chance. He had become very friendly with two of his guards and he confided to them his misgivings about his future. He believed the Flemings were wrong, he hinted, in seeking this firm alliance with England. Did Edward think he was going to seize the crown of France? True there was Crécy but how much nearer to the crown had that brought him?
Louis reckoned that ere long they would see that the King of France would drive Edward out of his country and then what would happen to those who had supported Edward?
The guards liked to argue, and so forceful was Louis that he began to bring them round to his way of thinking. There came a day when they were ready to risk anything to please him and he began to plan.
It must of course be carried out with the utmost speed for there was only a week before the wedding was to take place. He was allowed to go hawking with his guards and it might be that they had grown a little lax now that there had been a formal betrothal to Isabella.
It was a simple plan. He would ride out with his guards and his falconer should release a heron. The two hawks would be sent after them. He would gallop off in the normal way but instead of following the way of the hawk he would go to a spot where the two guards had horses ready. He would change to the fleeter steed and they would ride with all speed to the Flemish frontiers.
It should not be impossible. In fact it seemed infallible.
Out he came with his guards and falconers. The heron was released as planned; he freed his horse and shouting to them he rode on ... and on and on ...
It was even simpler than he had thought. He had completely foiled them. They had believed he was sincere when he had promised to marry Isabella. What a surprise they would get!
