by Jean Plaidy
Perhaps. She had liked him very much. He was handsome, charming and she had so enjoyed stooping to his social level. He had always been so aware of the fact that she was a Princess and he a humble nobleman.
Now everyone was talking of her. They saw her in a different light from the poor jilted princess.
Moreover she was going to remain close to her father, for whatever arrangements had been made she would have had at some time to go with her husband to his estates in Gascony.
It was a piquant situation which she enjoyed thoroughly. It was particularly gratifying when Bernard declared he was weary of the world, retired to a monastery to become a cordelier monk and gave up his inheritance to a younger brother.
POITIERS
ONE of the effects of the Black Death was to make it impossible for hostilities to continue between France and England and Edward’s dream of taking the French crown had to be postponed for a while.
Philip of France, now an old man, had remarried and his bride was Blanche of Navarre, a girl of nineteen, but a few months after the wedding Philip died and his son Jean became King.
Jean wanted to put an end to Edward’s claims which he considered absurd and when an opportunity occurred which would allow someone else to help fight his battles he seized on it.
Jean realized that England’s advantage was in her superior sea power which had grown considerably after the battle of Helvoetsluys and he believed that if he could cripple that power, ultimate victory over the English would be in sight.
Alfonso of Castile, father to that Pedro the Cruel who would have been Joanna’s husband had she not died of the plague, had himself been a victim of the terrible scourge so Pedro was now King of Castile. However Pedro had had an elder brother who had died but had left a son and this son, Charles de la Cerda, maintained that he had a prior claim to the throne of Castile. Charles appealed to Jean of France for help to gain his rights and Jean implied that if he would take action against the English and show himself to be indeed the friend of France, then Jean might consider helping him to gain the crown of Castile.
Charles therefore began gathering together his ships with the object of invading England. Edward was immediately alert to the danger. So many of his sailors had died; work in the shipyards had almost stopped, and the country desperately needed peace to become prosperous again.
He fervently hoped that the Spanish fleet would not be large, for if it were he would not be able to match it. True he had beaten the French at Helvoetsluys with far fewer ships than the enemy had had. He could doubtless do it again; but he was not bent on war. How typical of Jean of France to get others to fight his battles for him!
There was nothing to be done but set out for the coast and muster as many vessels as he could. Consequently he, with the Queen and his family, set out for Canterbury.
The Black Prince, excited as he always was at the prospect of a battle, rode with his young brother, ten-year-old John of Gaunt. The Prince was very fond of this brother and when young John asked if he might be with him during the battle the Prince rashly promised that he should. The Queen, her daughters and her ladies, were to stay in Canterbury and pray for victory.
Philippa was uneasy. She hated the thought of battle and as usual suffered greatly when her family was so engaged. She would pray fervently for victory, of course, and she well knew that as the Queen of England she must expect her husband and her elder son to go to war; but she was horrified when she heard that the Black Prince was taking little John with him. She protested. ‘He is only a child,’ she cried. ‘No, Edward, I will not have it. John must remain here in Canterbury with me.’
The Black Prince laughed aloud. ‘Why, my lady, the boy has to learn how to go into battle some day.’
‘Some day,’ said Philippa, ‘but not now when he is so young.’
Young John looked stormy. He turned to his brother and; cried: ‘But you promised. Edward you promised me ...’
Edward ruffled his brother’s hair and said: ‘Don’t fret, boy. You are coming with me. Our lady mother will see that it is necessary. You would not have him a weakling, my lady?’
‘He is ten years old ...’
John drew himself up to his full height and frowned at her. The Black Prince laughed.
‘I will tell you what we will do. We will ask our father. He will tell us whether or not you are old enough to come.’ He bent towards his brother. ‘I’ll promise you he will say you are to go. He was fighting battles himself at an early age. Besides I shall be with you. You’ll not stray from my side. Swear to it.’
‘I swear,’ said John.
The King gave the verdict that the boy was old enough and Philippa knew herself beaten.
Her task would be to remain behind, to pray for them, to fret for them and she would not know peace until they came back to her.
From Sandwich the King set sail in his best loved ship, Cog Thomas. The Black Prince sailed in another ship and with him was young John of Gaunt.
They cruised along the coast looking for the Spanish fleet.
The weather was warm and misty for it was August and as there was no sign of the enemy the King sat on deck listening to his minstrels playing to him. Men were stationed at every look-out in case the Spanish should attempt to creep up on them unawares.
The prospect of battle now, as always, stimulated the King and, dressed in a black coat and black beaver hat which set off his fairness ideally, he looked young and handsome.
Suddenly from the castle on the mast there was a shout of: ‘I spy Spaniards!’
The King was on his feet.
‘Sound the trumpets,’ he cried. ‘Call every man to his duty. The hour is come.’
Hastily armour was donned and by this time the Spaniards were very close. Exhilarated because he was fighting against great odds, Edward led his fleet into the attack. They rammed the Spanish and when close enough boarded their ships.
Edward was going to beat these Spaniards; he was going to drive them off the sea. He knew it. His son knew it too. They were of a kind.
The Spaniards were heaving lumps of iron on the English ships in an endeavour to sink them—and sometimes succeeding. But Edward was always to the fore shouting encouragement, teaching his men how to fight, reminding them that he was invincible.
Cog Thomas went down, but only after Edward had capured the ship which was attacking him, boarded it and taken command of it. The same thing had happened to the Black Prince who had made sure that his young brother was safe beside him.
It was a great day—a great battle. Edward was exultant. To win a battle was always exciting but when it was done against desperate odds then it was the most exhilarating adventure in the world.
Fourteen Spanish ships had been sunk while very few English had suffered the same fate and what was left of the Spanish fleet limped back to the French coast while Edward sailed triumphantly to that of England.
It was a moment of great joy for Philippa when they had all returned to her residence.
‘Praise be to God!’ she cried.
‘It was a great victory,’ Edward told her.
‘See,’ mocked the Black Prince, ‘I have brought your little John safely home to you.’
John ran to her and began telling her how the wicked Spaniards had sunk their ship and even Cog Thomas. ‘But we sank more of theirs,’ he cried excitedly.
‘And I can tell you, Madam,’ said the Black Prince, ‘your son acquitted himself well.’
Philippa could only rejoice that they had come safely back to her.
The battle was called Lespagnols sur Mer and because of the great victory Edward began to be called the King of the Seas.
He was pleased with the way things had gone. It was a great defeat for the French and they would realize it.
He said there should be feasting to celebrate it and Philippa agreed with him. She could not help wondering though what would have happened if the fight had gone against them; and the stories of how the King’s ship a
nd that of the Black Prince had been sunk almost under them made her shiver with apprehension.
None could have been more aware than Edward of the need for peace. With a depleted population and the terrible loss which the pestilence had inflicted on his country, he must have time to build up its strength. This could not be done in a few years; but it did seem as though God repented of his vengeance—for it was generally agreed that the plague had been visited on them through Divine wrath--because in the years following children were born at a great rate and many women had twins and there were far more cases of triplets than had been noticed ever before.
The people wanted peace; so, fervently, did Edward. He admitted this to his Parliament and it was agreed to send the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Duke of Lancaster to France to negotiate.
Jean of France also realized the need for peace, but he had made up his mind that he was going to quash the English claim to the French crown once and for all. So he prevaricated and declared that the matter must be laid before the Pope. During this time Edward was obliged to maintain an army for he could not be sure whether or not the French would decide to strike; and so the months passed.
Philippa had become pregnant once more and on a cold January day gave birth to a son at Woodstock. She called him Thomas and there were lavish celebrations in spite of the need to equip an army.
The rejoicing was short lived for spies came from France to tell Edward that the French King was swearing to drive the English out of France and that he was mustering a large army for this purpose.
Edward lost no time in planning his campaign. The Black Prince was to take his own army to Bordeaux and attack from there; he, Edward, accompanied by his sons, Lionel and John, would set out for Calais.
Once again Philippa must watch her loved ones go into danger. Beyond anything she wanted peace and she often wondered what her life would have been like if Robert d’Artois had not goaded Edward into claiming the French crown. That that claim should have come through the Dowager Queen Isabella whose coming to England had changed the country’s history, fitted neatly into the pattern of events. Had a different bride been chosen for Edward II the whole face of English history might have been different. But how could one say ‘If’ in this way? Was not that how life was made up?
All the same, as a woman, a wife and a mother she knew in her heart that whatever conquests were made in France they would not be worth the anguish and the suffering which would be the price paid for them.
No sooner had Edward reached Calais than the Scots decided to strike on the Border, clearly believing that with Edward and the Black Prince out of the country they had a good chance of victory.
Messengers were sent at full speed to Edward to tell him that the Scots had laid siege to Berwick.
His fury was great.
‘I swear by God,’ he said, ‘that I shall sleep in no town more than one night before I have reached the border between England and perfidious Scotland.’
He sent word to his son.
‘I leave you to conduct this campaign in France. I know that I can rely on you to succeed.’
True to his word he rested nowhere longer than was necessary.
In a short time he had relieved Berwick.
* * *
The King of France chuckled with delight when he heard that Edward had been forced to go to Scotland. He talked of his good allies the Scots for it was not the first time they had been of use to him, and any who were enemies of England were friends of his.
‘This time,’ he declared, ‘I shall crush them once and for all time.’
For the King of England Jean had always had a mingled awe, admiration and hatred. His father had spoken of him with the utmost respect. He had once said that if Edward the Third had been like his father this mad matter of the English claim to the succession would have been settled long ago and England beaten to her knees, a province of France. But fate had given England this other Edward. He was like his grandfather. There was a certain mystique about such leaders. Men followed them and gave of their best without reward, having nothing in their minds but to serve. Such men were invincible unless faced with others of their kind. Jean hoped that he was such a one; but in his secret heart he had his doubts.
So it was good news that the Scottish action had taken Edward back to England and it was only his son they had to face. It was true that the Black Prince was earning a reputation to match that of his father. It had been attached to him after Crécy, though he might so easily have been killed or taken prisoner there. What a triumph that would have been. But fate had been kind to him and he had lived to win a great victory and the English had beaten the French, and what made it so much more galling was the fact that they had done so with fewer men. It must not happen again.
Jean was always eager to know what Edward was doing. When Edward had instituted the Order of the Garter he had imitated him by forming a brotherhood called Our Lady of the Noble Star. To this he admitted five hundred knights who must take the oath never to yield to the enemy more than four acres of ground and to die in battle rather than retreat.
He believed that now was his great chance. The Black Prince was marching through the country, ravaging it as he went and finding it an easy conquest. He took up his position outside Poitiers and there awaited the arrival of the English army. There the decisive battle should take place.
Jean was certain of success. He had to face the Prince—not the legend which was Edward the Third. He had forty thousand men—a far greater number than the English could possibly put into the field. Almost the whole of the nobility of France was with him and there were twenty-six dukes and counts. His four sons marched with him; his youngest Philip was only twelve years old and he had commanded the boy not to stray from his side, for this boy was his favourite among all his children and he loved him dearly.
There was some consternation in the English camp when it was realized what a great disparity there was in the numbers of the opposing armies. Even the Prince felt an inward qualm. Not that he would show it. As he said to his close friend and constant companion, Sir John Chandos, who was now at his side : ‘Battles are often decided before they begin. The last thing that must handicap our men is fear of greater numbers.’
‘And you, my lord?’
‘The difference is great,’ said the Prince. ‘But I must show my father that I am worthy to be his son.’
‘You have done that again and again.’
‘And shall continue to do so. I shall talk to the men before battle. I shall tell them that it is the English way to win a battle when the opposing numbers exceed their own. If they had thought of defeat they cannot do so now. Regard the might of the French. It means certain victory for us. Remember Crécy, Helvoetsluys, Les Espagnols sur Mer. It is an English tradition. Face great odds ... and win.’
Chandos nodded.
‘It is good to remind them of that.’
But at the same time Sir John had seen the doubts in the Prince’s eyes.
If a truce was offered ...’ began Sir John.
If I could make it with honour, well, my friend, I should consider it. Should I not be a fool to ignore it?’
That was enough for Sir John. The Prince was uneasy about the size of the French army.
In his tent the King of France talked to young Philip. ‘What say you my boy, shall we take the Black Prince prisoner or shall we slay him on the field?’
‘Let us take him prisoner,’ cried the boy. ‘We shall have more sport that way.’
‘You are a bright fellow,’ said the King placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘It would be a real feather in our caps if we took that one to Paris with us, eh?’
‘May I ride beside you when you do, my lord?’
‘You shall be there, I promise you.’
The boy looked at his father with shining eyes; he believed him to be the greatest man that ever lived. There was no doubt in young Philip’s mind that they would ride back to Paris with the Black Prince
.
They went together into the royal tent, a glorious affair of vermilion samite as became the King of France. In the tent a table had been set up and over this had been hung the Oriflamme of France.
They feasted sumptuously while they discussed the action which should be taken.
It was different in the English camp. There was no feasting there. It was impossible to forage for food for the French surrounded them. And what were ten thousand men against forty? The Prince could not forget that the superiority in numbers meant that the French King could split his army into four and each one would be the size of the entire English force.
‘When the battle is won we shall feast,’ said the Prince. But first that which with every passing hour seemed to be more and more like a miracle must come to pass.
Meanwhile in the town of Poitiers the Cardinal Talleiran de Perigord called together certain of his clergy and declared that he was going to do everything he could to stop the battle. The town might well be laid waste if it took place and the surrounding country would be devastated. God had recently shown his displeasure by inflicting the pestilence upon them. Now God was beginning to smile on them but if this war continued the fair land of France would be laid waste and that was something it could not afford having already faced one enemy in the dreadful scourge.
There was great support for this and as a result the Cardinal came riding to the French King.
Jean received him with mixed feelings. He wanted desperately to beat the English but even equipped as he was he had his doubts of achieving this. He feared those English archers who had devasted the French army at Crécy, and, although at first he thrust aside the Cardinal’s suggestions, at length he agreed to wait and see what terms could be arranged.
The Cardinal then went to the Black Prince and talked to him.
The Prince listened and while he did so he was thinking quickly. He was outnumbered. Any student of military matters would say that the victory for the French was inevitable. As a great general he knew that if he could avert this battle with honour he must do so.
