The Vow on the Heron

ISABELLA AND DE COUCY

BEFORE the birth of the Black Prince’s son, a tragedy had struck the family and it was one from which Philippa never recovered.

Now that her sons were moving away from her which was inevitable she was more and more in the company of her daughters. Isabella was like a queen in her own right and gave herself more airs than ever Philippa had. Philippa knew that the King was largely responsible for the behaviour of this overbearing daughter but the older he grew the more dotingly fond he became.

Margaret was married and was the Countess of Pembroke but she was too young to live with her husband and remained in her mother’s care.

Mary was older and wished to marry the Duke of Brittany to whom shehad long been betrothed. Edward had however delayed the marriage becauseof the uncertainty of the bridegroom’s position; but now, as the young people were eager for the match, he decided that it should take place.

So now both her daughters were married. The only one who was not was Isabella and she was twelve years older than Mary. Isabella it seemed would remain unmarried but she and Philippa had never been as close as the others; and Philippa knew that she must resign herself to parting with her daughters in due course.

She did not realize how soon and how tragically.

She had noticed for some weeks that Margaret seemed lethargic. She slept a great deal even during the day and seemed unable to rouse herself.

One morning Philippa’s women came to her in some distress and said that Margaret’s attendants were dismayed as they could not arouse her. Philippa, who had known for some time that there was something wrong with her daughter, went uneasily to her apartments where she found Margaret lying on her bed looking very tired.

‘What is it, my dearest?’ asked Philippa. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

‘Only tired, my lady. Very tired.’

‘Come, let me help you dress.’

Philippa tried to lift her daughter but Margaret fell back on to her pillows.

‘I beg you, dear Mother, let me stay as I am. I cannot get up. I am so very tired.’

In dismay Philippa sent for the doctors. They did not know what ailed Margaret but as the day passed she sank into a deep sleep.

‘Let her rest,’ said the doctors. ‘Then she may recover from her exhaustion.’

But Margaret did not recover. Quietly she slipped away from life.

Philippa was stunned. She had thought her daughter had been merely tired. It was not possible that she could be dead.

But she was. It was some disease which had never before been heard of; and it seemed it was fatal.

Philippa wept and shut herself away. If Margaret had been ailing she could have been prepared. But she had been so happy. She had loved her young husband dearly and he her. Poor boy. He was heart-broken; he came to Philippa and sobbed at her feet. She did her best to comfort him but it was useless.

It seemed as though the hand of God was against her for a few weeks after Margaret’s death Mary was struck with the same disease.

This time they were prepared for it and when the drowsiness attacked a second daughter Philippa and Edward had every physician of standing to come to their daughter.

It was no use. No one had any idea what the mysterious illness was and there was nothing to be done but watch the young girl’s strength slowly ebb away.

In a few weeks Mary was dead.

Philippa, completely stricken, seemed to have lost interest in life.

There was deep mourning throughout the Court and the two young husbands vowed they would never marry again.

Philippa tried to assuage her misery by having a fine tomb erected in the monastery of Abingdon and there the bodies of her two daughters were laid side by side.

Isabella was now the only living daughter. She was treated with the greatest respect and indulgence but she began to feel that she was missing a great deal in life. It was her own wish that she had remained unmarried for she had as shamelessly jilted Bernard Ezi as Louis of Flanders had jilted her.

She could congratulate herself on her escape from Louis but she had decided that perhaps she should marry after all.

When the King of France had returned to his country escorted by Edward, Isabella had been a member of the party and among the company was the Lord de Coucy who distinguished himself by his extraordinary good looks and success in the jousts; he could sing and dance most elegantly and Isabella thought he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. He was seven years younger than she was but that did not prevent an attachment springing up between them.

It was for this reason that Isabella decided that she would abandon her vow to remain unmarried and take Ingelram, Lord de Coucy as her husband.

The fact that he was merely a French nobleman did not deter her. She knew that he hesitated to suggest marriage because she was the daughter of the King of England but she quickly let him know that if she decided to marry the King would never let anything stand in the way of her happiness.

De Coucy was a little sceptical of this which only made Isabella all the more determined to marry him.

When she broached the subject with her father he was taken aback. ‘My dearest Isabella,’ he cried, ‘I thought you were reconciled to the single state.’

‘So was I, my lord. But now I have met Ingelram. Is he not the most handsome man you ever saw?’

‘I have seen others who appeal to me more.’

‘No one has the grace of Ingelram. In any case, I love him, Father, and I want to marry him. I know you want to see me happy and you will not prevent my being so.’ She slipped her arm through his. ‘I shall not be far away. I should see you often. Dearest Father, I cannot miss all that other women have. I want children. I want to marry now, before it is too late.’

As she had known Edward would not hold out against her for long. He did say: ‘I trust there will be no hasty cancellation of this if I allow you to go ahead.’

‘Nay, I swear it. I want to marry Ingelram. I long for the day.’

‘So be it,’ said the King.

So the marriage took place and the thirty-three year old bride really did seem in love with her twenty-seven year old bridegroom.

In due course the pair left for the Château de Coucy where Isabella lived in a state almost as royal as that which she had enjoyed in her father’s Court.

Isabella was more deeply in love with her young husband than ever and to their delight in less than a year after the marriage she gave birth to a daughter. She called her Mary after her dead sister and said they must take the child to England for the King would never rest until he had had a glimpse of his granddaughter.

When they arrived in England Edward was overjoyed and delighted that his beloved Isabella was happy in her marriage. He admitted that he was glad that she had a husband although it had taken her from him.

‘You will always be very dear to me, Father,’ she told him. ‘Nothing else I had could change that.’

Revelling in their company, arranging elaborate feasts and jousts for their entertainment, Edward was happy. She noticed that he was showing his age, though not as much as her mother was.

Poor Philippa scarcely left her chair now. It must be a great hardship for her not to be able to accompany the King on his journeys.

Edward said to his daughter one day : ‘I have a plan for keeping you here. I am going to make your husband an English peer.’

Isabella laughed aloud with triumph.

‘I see,’ she said. ‘You will give him estates and in honour bound he will have to stay in England to look after them.’

it would mean, admitted Edward, that he would have to spend a great deal of time in this country.

‘It seems an excellent plan,’ said Isabella demurely.

Thus the Lord de Coucy became the Earl of Bedford, and Edward bestowed on him the Order of the Garter.

They had an ample income and estates in England but on the King’s request they resided mainly at the Court.

‘This is a happy outcome,’ said Edward to Philippa. ‘Our daughter has acquired a husband but we have not lost our daughter.’