The Vow on the Heron

THE EXILES OF CHÂTEAU GAILLARD

NEARLY four years had passed since the Princess Joanna had come to Scotland as the bride of David the Bruce. They had been uneasy years for Joanna. She did not greatly care for her bridegroom who had seemed such a child to her, being two years younger; only five years old when she had arrived.

The country was cold and bleak, the winds harsh, the people dour, and she bitterly missed her brother, her sister Eleanor, and her new sister-in-law Philippa.

The old King had been kind to her, but he was suffering from a terrible disease which had distorted his appearance in a dreadful way and he frightened her in spite of his kindness. She longed for her home and she used to tell her little husband about it and how much she wanted to go back there.

Robert the Bruce died and then David was King and she was Queen which made them very important.

Soon after the death of Robert they had been solemnly anointed and crowned and then they knew they were really King and Queen. David had been anxious as to what he would have to do, but he was told that he need not worry. All he had to do was what he was told and there were plenty to tell him that.

The two chief men whom they must obey were the Regents. One of these was Lord James Douglas and the other the Earl of Moray. Robert the Bruce had expressed a wish that his heart should be carried to the Holy Land because during his lifetime he had made a vow to go and fight the Infidel. With all his responsibilities it had never been possible for him to carry out his vow but he believed that if his heart was taken there, he would be absolved from his broken vow. He trusted Lord James Douglas as he trusted few men and when Douglas agreed to undertake the mission he knew he would do his best to carry it out.

Lord James Douglas had been an impressive figure in Joanna’s eyes right from the first. He was a very big man, tall, broad-shouldered with masses of very black hair which had earned him the name of Black Douglas. However when he spoke—and oddly enough with a slight lisp—he betrayed a rather quiet courteous nature and although none could be fiercer in battle in his personal relationships he was a gentle man.

Joanna had begun to love him for he showed her clearly that he was going to look after her. He understood just how she felt in leaving her family and he wanted her to know that while he was near her she would have nothing to fear from anyone.

So it was a great relief to know that he had been appointed one of the Regents of Scotland and he would be in close contact with her and the young King.

But alas there was this vow he had made and he must set out with the heart of Robert the Bruce in order to keep his promise.

When he came to say good-bye to them he showed them the casket of gold in which the heart of Robert the Bruce was carried. The children held it and marvelled at it and Black Douglas told them what a brave heart it had been.

‘The Scots will never forget what they owe to Robert the Bruce,’ he told them.

Joanna was fearful though when he left. A loneliness came over her which was almost like a premonition of evil.

‘The Earl of Moray will watch over you,’ he had comforted her. ‘All you have to do is what he tells you. And soon I shall be back.’

Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray was the cousin of Robert the Bruce. He had served with his uncle and had been closer to him than any man and he had made him Regent with Douglas to help him, on his death bed. Moray was an honourable man; there was no one Robert the Bruce could have placed greater trust in. There was a dignity about Moray and a determination to do what his uncle would expect of him, and Joanna felt as safe with Moray as she had with Douglas.

So when Douglas set out on his mission she felt that while one of those who were so important to her and David had gone, the other remained and as Douglas said he would come back soon.

Alas, there was sad news of Douglas.

Moray came to the children that he himself might tell them what had happened.

He sat down and drew them to him and as they stood beside him he placed an arm about each of them.

‘There is sad news of Black Douglas,’ he said quietly.

He felt Joanna start and went on gently : ‘I know you loved him. He looked fierce sometimes, didn’t he?’

Joanna nodded. She had heard the story of how he had almost captured her brother. She had thought him a fearful man until she met him and he himself had told her the story. ‘It was war,’ he had said. ‘War is a terrible thing, my Queen. We want to avoid it all we can.’

‘He was not really fierce,’ said Joanna. ‘When will he come home?’

Moray shook his head. ‘You are a King and a Queen,’ he reminded them, ‘and when there is bad news it is better for you to know it at once. Douglas will never come back. He is dead.’

‘Dead,’ cried David shrilly. ‘He cannot be dead!’

‘Alas, my little lord, he is. He took the heart of your father from this land as you know. He went to Alfonso the King of Castile and Leon because he knew that he was fighting a war against the Saracen King of Granada.’

‘I thought he was to go to the Holy Land,’ said Joanna.

‘It matters not, my lady, whether a knight goes to Jerusalem or Spain as long as he fights for Christ against the Infidel. So there will be just as much merit in God’s eyes to fight in Spain as in Jerusalem. So to Spain went Black Douglas. He fought bravely on the plains of Andalusia but when the battle was won he pursued the fleeing Moors. He went too far and suddenly he was cut off from his friends. He carried the Bruce’s heart and knowing of course that he could not come out of this affray alive he flung the heart from him into the midst of his enemy and followed it as he had followed Robert the Bruce during his lifetime.’

‘They ... killed him,’ whispered Joanna.

Moray nodded. ‘But the Moors respected a brave man. They will send his body home to Scotland and we shall bury it here.’

Both children were crying. They would never see Black Douglas again; but Joanna who was the elder thought: He will not be there to protect us any more.

But they had the dear Earl of Moray. They were safe while they had him.

That there was some trouble afoot Joanna was aware. No one told her of course but she could sense a certain tension in the castle. She listened to the conversation of attendants and servants, for she felt it was important to know what was going on now that Black Douglas was dead and the Earl of Moray had to be away so much.

There was one name she kept hearing mentioned and that was Baliol.

‘Who is Baliol?’ she asked one of her women who was the sort who liked to gossip and who, Joanna had discovered, was more likely to impart information than some of them.

‘Baliol, my lady. You will be meaning Edward Baliol. He is the son of John Baliol, who was at one time King of Scotland. I dareswear Master Edward thinks he has a right to the crown. That would not surprise me.’

‘But David is King. He was crowned and so was I.’

‘That’s true enough, my lady, but when people think they have a claim to something they try to get it.’

‘Do you mean this Baliol will try to take the crown away from David?’

‘That would never be allowed.’

‘The Earl of Moray will stop it and so would Black Douglas have done ... if he had been here. Never mind, the Earl of Moray will never let it happen. Tell me more of this Baliol.’

But the woman had realized that she had already said too much. The Lady Joanna was too knowing. At one moment she seemed nothing but a child but the next she was asking questions to which perhaps it was better not to give her the answers.

‘I know nothing,’ said the woman pursing her lips. The old sign, thought Joanna in exasperation. They all came to that when something was becoming interesting.

Later she heard more from another source of gossip.

Baliol was stirring up trouble in England and the English King was not so hostile to him as might have been expected considering his sister was the Queen of Scotland.

It seemed there were some barons who had lost their possessions through supporting the English against the Scots and being very dissatisfied were joining up with Baliol.

It all sounded very disturbing and Joanna talked about it with David who, being two years younger than she was, listened intently and when she said she thought they might be trying to take their crowns away from them, he shook his head. They couldn’t do that because his father had been Robert the Bruce and whatever Robert the Bruce had said must be done, was done.

‘But he is dead,’ said Joanna. ‘He is dead like Black Douglas.’

The thought that she would never see that fierce dark face again made her feel ready to burst into tears. She was fearful too until she remembered the Earl of Moray.

‘It is all right,’ she said. ‘We still have the Earl of Moray. He would never allow anyone to take our crowns away from us.’

Moray came to see them soon after that and she asked him questions.

When she mentioned Baliol’s name he wanted to know who had told her this. She answered that she listened and heard people talking.

‘Well,’ said Moray, ‘there is often trouble in countries. It very often happens that when there is a crown some people want to take it from those to whom it belongs and keep it for themselves.’

‘We have it though,’ said David.

‘Yes, my King, you have it, and on your head it shall remain while I have an arm to fight to keep it there.’

‘Then it will always remain there,’ declared Joanna. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘We have lost Black Douglas but we still have you,’ said Joanna. ‘I would never be afraid while we had you.’

The Earl was touched. He kissed her hand and said he would serve his little Queen with his life.

‘Will this man Baliol come here to fight?’ asked Joanna. ‘He might well do that.’

‘He will never win,’ said David, ‘will he?’

‘We shall not let him,’ answered Moray.

My brother would not let him either,’ put in Joanna.

The Earl of Moray was silent; but Joanna did not notice. She was too absorbed in the memory which the mention of her brother’s name had brought back.

Very soon after that Moray took his leave of them.

‘I shall see you soon,’ he said. ‘Whatever you hear do not be afraid. All you have to do is what I tell you. And if I say you are to go to such and such a place you know it will be for your safety and you will do it, won’t you?’

Yes,’ said Joanna speaking for David as she so often did.

‘All will be well.’

‘Yes,’ said Joanna confidently, ‘while we have you to look after us.’

Moray rode away to Musselburgh and a few weeks later a messenger arrived at Edinburgh Castle. He wished to see the King and the Queen.

They knew him for one of the Earl’s squires and the gravity of his face struck terror into Joanna’s heart.

‘You come from my lord?’ said David.

‘My lord, I have sorry news. We had come from Musselburgh to Wemyss when he was taken ill suddenly. He died that very night.’

The children were amazed. First Black Douglas and now the Earl of Moray. Their two protectors taken from them one after the other.

They were too stunned to cry. That would come later. All they could think of now was that they had lost dear Moray.

Nothing could seem the same again. There was a great deal of whispering. Joanna listened and in her bed at night she lay trembling because she feared something dreadful was going to happen.

She must learn all she could. She felt so young, so ineffectual, and David was even more so.

She was not surprised when she heard the lowered voices, when she caught the word: ‘Poison!’

‘No doubt he was poisoned,’ they said. ‘Edward Baliol would have men everywhere. So easy ... a little something in his food. Something in his wine. Nothing will be the same now that Moray is dead.’

Edward was well aware that there was going to be trouble in Scotland. He still smarted with humiliation when he remembered that campaign of his. He had been so young, so inexperienced. It would be different now, he promised himself, if the opportunity should arise.

He often thought that he would like to carry on with his grandfather’s work. He would like to be the one to subdue Scotland; instead of which, during his father’s weak reign, Robert the Bruce had been able to consolidate his successes. But Robert the Bruce was dead and a little boy was on the throne. True he had had two strong men to stand beside him—Moray and Black Douglas—but now they were both dead.

He was musing on affairs in Scotland when Henry de Beaumont asked leave to see him. Edward was alert. Beaumont was one of those barons whom the Scots had robbed of his possessions because he had sided with the English.

He received him without delay.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘Edward de Baliol is without. I have come to ask you if you will see him.’

‘Edward de Baliol’ cried the King in surprise. ‘For what purpose?’

‘That is something he would wish to tell you himself.’

‘Then I will see him.’

Baliol! A weak son of a weak father, thought Edward. What did he want? Edward could give a quick answer to that: The crown of Scotland.

Edward waited to hear his request.

‘My lord,’ said Baliol, ‘the Regents of Scotland have both died recently.’

‘They say Moray died of poison. Is it so?’

‘That, my lord, I could not say.’

Will not, you mean, thought Edward. I’ll swear it was one of your agents who administered the fatal dose.

‘And Douglas, in that foolhardy action! I should have thought he would have realized that his duty lay in his own country.’

‘My lord, he died as he thought fit. What I have come to say to you is that Scotland is in turmoil. These two men who were governing—ably some say—are no more. You will know that the King and the Queen are but children.’

‘I should since one of them is my own sister.’

Baliol flinched a little. Was it folly to ask the King of England to act against his own sister?

‘They have selected the Earl of Mar to take the place of Moray. He is a weakling. The state of the country is too weak for him to handle.’

‘And what would you have me do about it?’ asked Edward.

‘I would ask your help, my lord. My father was the King of Scotland. I am his heir. If you will help me to regain what is mine I will pay homage to you as my overlord.’

Edward was silent. That would be a step in the right direction. It would take him back to the position in which his grandfather had stood. It would mean deposing his sister; it would mean dishonouring the treaty he had made; moreover he was bound to pay the Pope twenty thousand pounds if he broke the treaty.

‘My lord,’ said Baliol, ‘the marriage of your sister and David Bruce has never been consummated. If I were King of Scotland there could be a dispensation. I would marry your sister. I would give you Berwick.’

‘Enough,’ said Edward. ‘I cannot help you. Nor can I allow you to march through England.’

‘Is that your final word?’

Edward hesitated just a second or so too long and Baliol’s hopes soared.

Edward said: ‘I shall have to put the matter before my Parliament.’

Edward was watchful. Meanwhile Baliol had collected together a fleet in England, and Edward had made no objections. In due course he sailed to Fife, landed at a place called Dupplin Moor and rather unexpectedly beat the assembled Scottish forces. During the battle the new Regent Earl of Mar was killed and there was nothing to stop Baliol marching on to Scone where he was crowned King of Scotland.

David and Joanna heard of what was happening and wondered what would become of them. Joanna was of the opinion that her brother would save them.

‘He will come marching into Scotland,’ she said, ‘and Baliol will run for his life, you will see.’

What did happen was that Baliol sent a messenger to them. ‘My lord,’ said the messenger, ‘the King of Scotland offers you a proposition.’

‘How can that be?’ asked David haughtily. ‘Iam the King of Scotland.’

‘It would seem no longer so, my lord,’ was the answer. ‘King Edward de Baliol sends his greetings to you and wishes you to know that if you will renounce your right to the crown he will offer you a safe conduct out of Scotland or allow you to remain in any part you wish.’

‘This is generous of him,’ said David with sarcasm. ‘Tell Edward de Baliol that we deplore his insolence and the Queen and I will remain where we wish in our own dominion.’

The messenger departed and Joanna urged her young husband to write without delay to her brother. She was certain that he would come marching up to Scotland to help them.

Baliol’s letter to the King of England arrived first. He reminded him that he was willing to marry Joanna, to increase her dower and if she declined to marry him he would pay her ten thousand pounds for her portion should she marry elsewhere. All he asked was that she resign her right to the throne of Scotland which came through David the Bruce.

Edward was wavering. In the meantime he had received the urgent call for help from his young brother-in-law.

He would not help him. His excuse was that some of his nobles had been deprived of their inheritance by the Scottish Kings and he could not therefore take sides against them.

Baliol’s triumph was short lived. Many Scots loyal to the young King rose against him and attacked him with such fervour and success that the erstwhile King was obliged to abandon his recent conquest and fly to England.

Edward allowed him to do this and even received him with certain friendliness at his Court. When the news of this reached Scotland the anger of the Scots was intense, and to show their indignation many of them resumed old tactics and crossed the Border with the object of harassing the English, burning down villages and making off with the cattle.

Edward was not altogether displeased. This gave him the opportunity he really wanted, for the thought of setting Baliol on the Scottish throne as his puppet appealed to him. He would not fail as his father had done. There would be no Bannockburn for him. All the same there was the treaty; there was the Pope to think of; and there was the fact that his own sister was married to David the Bruce.

But this was the opportunity to win back what had been his grandfather’s and to carry on with those plans to subdue Scotland for ever which had been the main object of Edward the First’s life.

He had to go carefully though. He was in a delicate position. First he demanded the return of Berwick and that Scotland should render feudal homage to him.

Young David was bewildered; so was Joanna. She had believed that as soon as he heard she was in distress Edward would come to her. He had been so fond of her. He had kissed her so tenderly on parting and had told her that she must always remember that she was his sister and they were friends for ever. Did he mean that she must help him if he needed her but if she needed him that was another matter?

David, primed by his ministers, was given a speech to learn. Joanna listened to him as he practised it. It was depressing that her brother Edward was seen in the light of an enemy.

‘Neither my father nor any of his ancestors acknowledged submission to England, nor will I consent to it ...’ David’s voice droned on. ‘If any other prince should do us wrong, you should defend us, from the love you bear your sister and our Queen.’

Joanna could not bear to listen. Edward! she thought. Oh Edward, how can you do this to us! She wished that she could go to him, see him, explain to him. If only she could talk to Philippa.

The Scots had broken their treaty, declared Edward. They had raided Border towns and they had refused to give up Berwick which Baliol had promised him. If he did not act they would soon be marching further south into England. He was justified in what he was about to do.

He wanted to vindicate himself. He wanted to wipe out for ever the depressing memory of his first campaign against the Scots.

While he was preparing his armies for the march north Philippa declared that she could not let him go alone. Edward was delighted. His grandmother had accompanied his grandfather on his campaigns and he was growing more and more eager to be like him.

‘There are the children,’ said Philippa uneasily.

‘Ah,’ replied Edward. ‘You will have to choose between us.’

It was the saddest choice Philippa had had to make during her married life. There was one characteristic she had observed about Edward. He was a faithful husband, she was sure, but she had seen his eyes follow attractive women and she had noticed that he liked to lead them in the dance, to linger at their sides. There were great temptations of that nature in the life of a King.

Edward loved her deeply. He gave evidence of that. But at the same time she would be a very foolish wife indeed if she allowed temptation to come his way while she herself was far away from him.

Edward was so vital, so virile. He was so handsome. All women must admire him; and in addition to his extreme masculinity and his outstanding good looks he had about him that aura of royalty which so many women found irresistible.

Philippa came to the conclusion that she would place her children in good care and follow her husband into battle.

She chose guardians whom she thought could be trusted and sent the children to the palace of Clarendon; and she set out for Scotland with Edward.

When they arrived in Knaresborough there occurred another of those incidents in which Philippa was able to show her kindly nature, and once more she saved someone from the gallows. This was a woman known as Agnes who had stolen a surcoat and three shillings. When she was being taken to the gallows the Queen was riding nearby with the King and the woman’s young daughter threw herself at the Queen’s horse and might have been run down if Philippa had not pulled up sharply.

The sight of a child in distress could always move the Queen deeply, and when she heard that the condemned woman was pregnant Philippa implored the King to give her a reprieve at least until her child was born.

Edward gallantly acceded to her request and there were cheers for the Queen. But that night as they lay in Knaresborough Philippa was deeply concerned as to what would become of the motherless child when after it was born the hangman claimed his victim.

‘She must live to care for her child, Edward. And it seemed to me a terrible thing that a surcoat and three shillings should be considered worth a life.’

‘This does seem so,’ said Edward thoughtfully. ‘But we cannot allow thieves to flourish. In the days of my great ancestor, William the Conqueror, no traveller need fear taking to the roads. The penalty for stealing was not death but the loss of ears, hands, feet, eyes ... Which ever was judged applicable. Under the weak reign of Stephen when this penalty was abolished the roads swarmed with thieves—and worse. Travellers were kidnapped and taken to the castles of robber barons to be robbed and tortured and to make cruel sport for the guests of these wicked men. It is easy to say the price of a surcoat is death but it is not merely one surcoat we are considering.’

Philippa was silent. ‘I know this well,’ she replied at length. But I shall grieve for that child. I believe that the woman stole to feed her living child. Edward, you often wish to give me some jewel to show how you love me. I would rather have this woman’s life than any jewel.’

So Edward said the woman should be pardoned; and the people crowded round the Queen when she rode out and blessed her with tears in their eyes and she was called Good Queen Philippa.

The King of England was on the march. Robert the Bruce was dead and King Edward looked and acted like his grandfather. There was no Scottish army worthy of the name. It had never been easy to discipline Scotsmen. They needed a William Wallace or a Robert the Bruce, and they had neither. Moray was dead. So was Black Douglas. They were without those leaders who could have led them to victory.

Sir Malcolm Fleming came to Edinburgh. He knew what Edward planned. He would set up Baliol as a puppet King and take David and Joanna back to England. There they would live comfortably—but as prisoners. It must not be. David must remain King of Scotland and if he ever fell into Edward’s hands who could say what the English King would inveigle him into promising.

Sir Malcolm’s plan was that he should convey the young King and Queen to Dumbarton, which was reckoned to be the strongest castle in the country, and he was its governor. There he would keep the royal pair; and if it were necessary for them to leave the country he could have a ship waiting for them and they could leave for France, when danger came too near.

This seemed a good plan and the children set out with Sir Malcolm.

So to Dumbarton, that grim fortress set on a point of land formed by the Clyde and the Leven from where it would be possible to take ship easily if the need arose.

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 calling 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 path. 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.

It was one of the minor servants who spoke, feeling himself no doubt without blame as his only duty was to obey those who were set over him.

‘We were told, my lord, that we could not have what we needed because there was not enough money to pay for it.’

‘It was true,’ said another. ‘We could not provide what food was necessary for the household. So it was taken from the neighbourhood and the people got very angry.’

‘You mean you stole from the villages round here to feed yourself ... and my children! ‘

‘Well, my lord, there was not enough money to pay for what was wanted.’

‘This is a sorry state of affairs. And does that account for the neglected state I find my children in?’

There was silence.

‘By God,’ cried Edward, ‘some of you will be sorry you flouted my wishes.’

Philippa said: ‘The children are well. It seems they have been fed. They have been left to themselves and have not been washed and tended—that is all. My lord, all I wish is to be with them, to look after them. If you dismiss these people it is punishment enough that they will have nowhere to go and no employment. We can bring others in to take their place.’

Edward, who had felt that rising anger beginning to stir in him, was haunted suddenly by the sight of two headless children. He must govern this temper or his life would be strewn with regrets for violent actions taken impulsively.

Philippa was right. No harm had been done to the children. They had not been starved or ill-treated. They were happy enough.

He turned to Philippa.

‘I will leave you to deal with the household,’ he said. ‘I will summon those villagers and hear their version of this sorry tale. They must be reimbursed for what they have lost. And let me warn you all that if it is brought to my ears that you have behaved in this disgraceful way again, you will know no mercy from me and what you have done at this time shall be considered against you.’

Edward learned from the neighbourhood that five hundred pounds was owing. This he ordered should be paid at once.

Philippa had been deeply shocked by the sight of the children but in a short time she herself had washed them and put them into fresh garments. Edward chattered away to her and she was relieved that he had no idea that he had been so neglected.

Philippa was thoughtful. She had made up her mind that she would have to be very careful about leaving them again.

She would never have a moment’s peace if she did. Yet on the Other hand she did not want to leave Edward.

She prayed for peace that would allow Edward to remain at Court with her; but she knew that the time would come when the difficult choice would have to be made.

To her great joy she discovered that she was once again pregnant. The King was delighted. Their two children brought him great joy and she noticed that although Edward was his pride, it was Isabella on whom he doted.

Isabella was a very pretty child, wilful and more demanding than Edward but that seemed to amuse the King. He liked her to sit on his knee and talk to him in her baby way; she clearly enjoyed being made much of and always ran to her father as soon as he appeared.

Philippa rejoiced to see Edward with the children so it was a great happiness to know that there would soon be another.

With Berwick in English hands, there could be a respite from the Scottish wars and Christmas was a jolly occasion and they spent it at Wallingford. Philippa at this time was heavily pregnant, the baby being due in February.

The Court was in London at the time of the birth and the baby was born in the palace of the Tower. Perhaps it was for this reason that Philippa decided to call her Joanna in memory of that other Joanna her aunt, who had been born in the Tower and was now living in France with her husband, David the Bruce, under the protection of Philip the Sixth.

However Joanna was a welcome addition to the family and Edward was more than ever delighted with a loving and fruitful wife.

He was however beset with problems. Trade had suffered considerably from the Scottish war. Foreign ships avoided coming to England for fear of being taken and robbed of their cargoes. Edward had quickly seen that if he was going to have a contented country it must be a peaceful one. Trade was what the country needed. He issued letters of safe conduct to all merchants and gradually the ships were coming back into English ports. The weavers who had come to England on Philippa’s suggestion were settling in Norfolk, although they faced some hostility from the local people who found them too hard-working for their liking. But they were a quiet people and so industrious that in spite of certain opposition they flourished. Moreover they had the blessing of the King and Queen and the natives were afraid to be too openly hostile.

Baliol was now back on the throne of Scotland with Edward’s support. He had agreed that Edward should have the whole of the South of Scotland below the Forth and by accepting him as his liege lord for the North he was allowed to reign over that part. It was not to be expected that Scotsmen would consider this a very happy state of affairs. Baliol was weak and needed continually bolstering up which meant that for Edward during the months that followed there must be continual journeys back and forth to the North. After her experiences at Clarendon Philippa would not leave her children, so she and the children, even baby Joanna, were constantly on the move. There was one occasion however when she could not have them with her and after much soul-searching she decided that she would leave them at Peterborough Abbey where she knew they would be safe.

The Abbot, Adam de Botheby, was taken aback. The Abbey was no place for young children, he pointed out. Yet the Queen pleaded with him. She told him of her experiences at Clarendon and she also mentioned Edward’s need of her. So eloquently did she plead that, after consulting his monks the Abbot agreed to take the children.

They could not expect great comfort, he said. They would be disciplined and expected to follow the rules of the Abbey.

At least Philippa knew they would be cared for by these good men. She was amazed however when she returned to find that they had completely changed the life of the Abbey. She found young Edward seated on the shoulders of the Reverend Abbot and Isabella had one of the monks on all fours while she rode him as a horse. Joanna was rocked to sleep by one of the cellarers and would have none other to do this task, expressing loud disapproval if any other tried.

The children were reluctant to leave Peterborough and the Queen discovered that if they had been neglected at Clarendon, they had been utterly spoiled by the monks.

‘I must keep them with me,’ she told Edward. ‘I must.’

It was not long before another child was born. It was a boy this time whom the Queen wanted to name William, to which the King immediately agreed. His was a sad little life. He lacked the vigorous health of his brother and sisters and after a few months he died.

The Queen’s grief was great and long after the little boy was buried in York Minster she continued to mourn him. Edward consoled her. They had three healthy ones. They must be thankful for them—and there would be more.

There was sad news from Scotland where Edward’s brother the Earl of Cornwall, known as John of Eltham after the place of his birth, had gone to help subdue the Scots who had risen against the Baliol-Edward regime. There was nothing unusual in this, because trouble was continually breaking out and it was to deal with this in his brother’s name that John had marched to Perth. He had been there some months when fighting had broken out and during it he had been killed.

Edward was overcome by grief. John had always been a good brother to him. He was only twenty years old and had never married, although alliances for him had been proposed. It was terrible to think, said Edward, that he had died without really living. It was different for children like William who never knew what life was; but John had lived for twenty years and then suddenly death had taken him.

The loss of his brother set Edward thinking about his childhood when they had been in the nursery together. They had not often seen their parents then and when they had Isabella had seemed to them like a goddess. They had never seen anyone as beautiful. It was true she had ignored John but she had always made much of Edward and looking back Edward realized that he had always taken her attention as his right. Poor John. He hoped he had not minded too much; but their sisters had shared that neglect too. Poor Eleanor and poorer Joanna. He wondered how Eleanor was faring with her elderly husband. How splendidly equipped with material goods she had been when she had gone off, but that would not make for happiness. She had a little son now, Raynald after his father; he guessed that Eleanor would make a good mother. But poor young Joanna, what was life like for her in the Château Gaillard with her young husband who was not very prepossessing or charming.

How lucky he was with his Philippa.

Being depressed by trouble in the family, he had thought a great deal lately about his mother, and decided he would go to Castle Rising and see her.

There was no doubt of her pleasure when he arrived.

She embraced him and wept a little and he noticed with relief that she was more serene than he had seen her ever before.

‘Ah,’ she said, ‘you are indeed a King now.’

‘I have grown older—and perhaps more quickly than most.’ ‘It was necessary. You were such a boy when the crown was placed on your head.’

‘Tell me, my lady, are you content here at Castle Rising?’ She was silent for a while and he wished he had not asked that question for it had set her looking back into the past. ‘There is peace here,’ she said.

‘Peace ... ah peace! Is that not what we all long for?’

never wanted it when I was young. It is only when you are old and wise that you realize its virtues. You, my dear son, would not like to be shut away here in Castle Rising. I see very few people but I have good servants. I ride a little. I go out with my falcon now and then. I hunt the deer. I read a great deal and I pray, Edward. I pray for the remission of my sins.’

‘You are ... better than you were?’

‘You mean do I still have my fits of madness? Now and then, Edward, now and then, but I fancy they are less frequent nowadays and of shorter duration. I see visions in my dreams but not in my waking moments. Sometimes I lie remembering all the evil deeds of my life.’

‘An unhealthy occupation which would do none of us much good, I fear.’

‘Some of mine will need a great deal of prayer for forgiveness. And now your brother is dead. I think about him, Edward. I was never a good mother to him.’

‘He thought of you as a goddess. He said not long ago that he had never seem a woman whose beauty compared with yours.’

She shook her head. ‘I scarcely looked at him. I wanted children for the power they would give me. Oh, I am a wicked woman, Edward. John’s death has brought that home to me.’

‘You must not brood on it, my lady.’

‘At least it has brought you to see me.’

‘I should have come before.’

‘You have been lenient with me, though you killed Mortimer ...’ Her voice broke at the mention of that name. ‘I must not think of him,’ she said quietly, ‘or I shall have bad dreams. Edward, I want to come to see you sometime. You ... and the children and your good Philippa.’

He went to her and kissed her brow.

‘You shall come to us, Mother. Philippa would wish it. You should see young Edward.’

‘He is like you when you were his age. I am glad you called him Edward.’

Questions came into her mind. She wanted to ask him if his father’s murderers had ever been discovered. But she dared not. She did not want him remembering what part she had played in the most horrible murder in history.

She knew that the long exile could be over if she wished. She could go to Court. People would forget.

They talked of John for a while and it was clear that she mourned this son though she had never loved him in life. His death had brought home to her another of her failings. She had been a bad mother to her children ... all except Edward and she had led him to depose his father.

Edward took an affectionate farewell of her.

Life could change now if she wished. He had come to see her; he was telling her that whatever she had done she was his mother and he had loved and admired her until he discovered her true nature.

He could forgive her.

Her spirits were lifted. But she would have one of her attendants sleep in her room this night. She was afraid that the ghosts would come.

Edward had revived memories.