The Vow on the Heron

JOANNA’S BETROTHAL

NOW that he had decided on war with France, Edward knew that he was to make sure of his allies. The most important of these was Philippa’s father, William of Hainault, for Edward believed there was one on whom he could rely.

Philippa was worried about the health of her father for the letters which came regularly from her mother were disturbing. Count William was, she wrote, mightily sick of the gout and he could not leave his bed.

But his support for Edward’s claim was strong. This was a good sign for although some might say that naturally he would be on the side of his son-in-law, his wife, Philippa’s mother, was the sister of the King of France so his ties with both countries were very strong. However, he came down on the side of Edward and as, though only a small country, by reason of its hard-working people and their concentration on trading it was one of the most prosperous in Europe, it was therefore a very worthwhile ally.

Austria was important and for this reason young Joanna who had been promised to the son of the Duke of Austria could no longer delay leaving England for her new home.

When her governess, kind Lady Pembroke, had told her she was going to leave England with her parents, Joanna had been delighted for she had not then known the significance of this journey.

It was her sister Isabella who told her. Isabella was very pretty and had always been spoilt by her father. She could not understand why she should be left behind. She knew that her mother hated leaving any of them and would not do so unless it was for some special reason, but she and Edward were to stay in the palace of the Tower with Lady St Omer and Joanna was to go with her parents. What could it mean? Isabella was only six years old—just over a year older than Joanna but she was very much the big knowledgeable sister.

‘You are going to your husband,’ she said. ‘That is why you are going.’

‘I am not,’ replied Joanna. ‘I am not old enough to be married.’

‘Girls go to their husbands and grow up with them, do they not Edward?’

Edward said they did, and Joanna was plunged into misgivings.

Then her hopes were raised. Her mother would never let her go, she was sure. Yet it was strange that she was to travel with her parents and Isabella and Edward were not to go with them.

When she next saw her mother she clung to her hand and Philippa immediately guessed what was wrong. The child had been listening to gossip. She had wondered whether it would be wise to tell her what lay in store and prepare her or to wait until later. Now she had no alternative.

‘Yes, my dear child,’ she said, ‘you are going to Austria. You see you are going to have a husband and he is the son of the Duke of Austria. As your husband is Austrian it seems best that you should be brought up in their Court so that he would not be a stranger to you when you marry. I was brought up in Hainault and then I came to England and I had to learn how to be English. You will learn right at the beginning to be Austrian.’

‘I want to stay English,’ said Joanna.

‘My love, you will laugh at that in time. You will want to be just what your husband is. I wanted to be English when I married your father.’

Joanna listened but she was afraid.

‘Your new family wanted you to go over a long time ago but your father would not allow it,’ Philippa went on. He said “No, she is too young and I must keep my Joanna here with me.

‘Perhaps he will still say it,’ suggested Joanna eagerly.

‘He is going to Europe himself and so am I and you will be with us. Your father would not let you go without him. He loves you so much.’

‘Then perhaps he will keep me.’

Poor child. The hope in her eyes moved Philippa to pity. Why did this have to happen to young children? They were torn from their homes for political reasons. How could she explain to this little girl that she was going now because her father needed the help of the Duke of Austria and dared not offend him by keeping Joanna with her family any longer. How fervently she wished that there had never been this claim to the French throne! How she wished that Robert of Artois had never come to England, had never caught his symbolic heron!

But it had happened and she was forced to leave her two elder children behind and travel with Edward to Europe, taking this pathetic child who was going to be removed from her family and given to strangers.

Philippa tried to interest her in the clothes she was taking and the pallet bed which she would sleep on when she was on the ship. Joanna studied them with only mild interest. She could not stop thinking of leaving Isabella and Edward and wondering what her husband would be like.

But there was the journey first and during that she would be with her parents and that was what she liked better than anything. Isabella had pouted and cried when they left and demanded to know why she should be left behind. Then their father had kissed her and said next time he would take her with him and she had to be content with that.

When they set sail and it was all so new and exciting Joanna forgot where they were going; she loved the sea and her pallet bed and in spite of her apprehension it was all very interesting.

It was a hot July day when the party landed in Antwerp. There was no royal residence where they could lodge and a Flemish merchant of the name of Sirkyn Fordul offered them shelter. He was very honoured, he said, to have them in his house and he and his wife set about entertaining them in as royal a fashion as they could.

It was an exciting adventure for the little Joanna especially when in the night she was awakened by her mother who snatched her up in her arms and ran with her out of the house. Joanna clung to her mother in terror; the smoke choked her and she could scarcely breathe until she was out in the cold night air in her mother’s arms, and her father was beside them. The house in which they were spending the night was a mass of burning timber.

Then Joanna saw hooded figures coming towards them. It was an abbot with his monks who suggested that the royal party should go with them to their convent of St Michael where they could shelter for the rest of the night.

To Joanna it seemed like a strange dream—all part of the adventure of going to a husband. Philippa was most distressed because of the disaster their coming had caused Sirkyn Fordul and his wife, for the conflagration had been started because of all the fires they had had to make to deal with cooking for so large a number. Edward comforted her and assured her that he would repay them for all the damage and then the worthy couple would have enough money to build a new house.

It was an unfortunate beginning to the adventure and Edward was worried about Philippa who had become pregnant again. Had it not been that she had insisted on accompanying Joanna to her new country he would have persuaded her to stay in England.

The next few days were spent in Antwerp where they were able to take trips along the river Scheldt and to visit the town and its many churches.

Edward was greatly concerned because he knew that he needed allies on whom he could rely and he had heard that Louis of Bavaria was wavering and might well decide to become the ally of the King of France.

‘I must see him and talk to him,’ he told Philippa. ‘I can at the same time take Joanna into Austria.’

‘I will go with you,’ said Philippa.

‘My dearest, remember your condition. I trembled for you during the fire. That sort of thing is not good for the child.’ Philippa had to agree with this.

‘You may trust me,’ he said, ‘to look after our daughter. I think it is better for her to part from one of us now and the other later. It will break the shock of losing us both together.’

Philippa agreed that this might be so; and indeed she was feeling the usual discomforts of pregnancy which were not helped by the hardships travel necessarily imposed.

An idea had occurred to her. ‘I will write to Margaret,’ she said, ‘and ask her to keep an eye on Joanna.’

It seemed an excellent idea for Philippa’s elder sister Margaret was now the wife of Louis of Bavaria.

This soothed Philippa’s maternal heart considerably. And they set out for Herenthals where they would rest a night before the parting when Edward and Joanna would go on to Bavaria and Philippa would return to Antwerp to await the birth of her child.

There was no place at Herenthals worthy of their rank and they were lodged at the house of one of the peasants. Overcome by the honour done to them Podenot de Lippe and his wife Catherine, realizing that their house would not hold so many people, decided that the only thing they could do was to serve supper in the garden.

This appeared to be an excellent idea until it was seen that the grass and the plants were ruined by the press of people for not only were there the attendants in the royal party but crowds who came in to pay their respects to them.

The crestfallen faces of Podenot and Catherine de Lippe were so reproachful that Edward immediately offered to compensate them for the damage done, so it turned out to be a very expensive supper party.

However there were other matters of greater concern to them for it was time now for Philippa to take leave of her daughter. The child clung to her mother and Philippa found it difficult to restrain her tears.

‘Your father is still with you, my love,’ she said. ‘There is a long time for you two to be together. I shall think of you every day. I shall pray for you and I know that you will be happy in your new country. Your aunt Margaret will be there. She will look after you. You remember my telling you of my sister Margaret and all the fun we used to have together when we were children in Hainault.’

Joanna nodded mournfully and Edward lifted her in his arms and kissed her.

‘You will be safe with me, daughter,’ he told her tenderly. Philippa watched until the cavalcade was out of sight; then sorrowfully she returned to Antwerp.

Joanna was young enough to enjoy the journey and forget what was waiting for her at the end of it. She adored her father. He was always kind to her; he loved all his children dearly but had always been more inclined to favour his daughters and since he knew that the parting with her mother had so upset Joanna he made every effort to compensate her for the loss. So at times Joanna was quite happy. It was exciting to ride on her little horse beside this magnificent man who Was her father and to see how everyone paid great respect to him—and to her, simply because she was his daughter. They rode with sixty-six archers who made an impressive show and then there were their personal servants so they were a large company.

The scenery was beautiful. Joanna loved sailing up the Rhine while her father pointed out the castles on the banks and the rock on which the Lorelei had lured sailors to their destruction. She did not fear them because her father was by her side and she was sure he would get the better of anyone—even Lorelei.

At Bonn they landed and there were the guests of the Archbishop of Cologne who had his residence there. They had a peaceful night there and then went on staying at various places where they were entertained and feted until they came to Coblenz where the Emperor Louis himself was waiting for them. With him were the various princes of the Empire, among them the Duke of Austria, the father of the boy who was to marry Joanna.

With Louis was his wife who immediately took Joanna by the hand and said that she was going to look after her.

This was Joanna’s Aunt Margaret.

‘Your mother has written to me and asked me to take especial care of you,’ she told Joanna.

Joanna’s spirits were a little uplifted for during the past few days she had not been able to forget that soon she must say good-bye to her father. She clutched at this new hope. Her aunt was here and she was her mother’s sister—and, yes, she did look a little like Philippa. She had the same bright complexion, the same plump face; but she was not quite Philippa. Joanna was quick to detect the difference. She lacked that clear candid gaze which was so comforting. She was kind and she smiled, but Joanna felt instinctively that she was not really like her mother.

However, there was so much to see. The Emperor had ordered that two thrones be set up in the marketplace and here he and Edward sat during some very long ceremonies.

Aunt Margaret was beside Joanna during these and asked a few questions about her sister. She would write and tell her, she said, that she loved her little daughter on sight and was going to look after her until she was old enough to go to the Court of her future husband’s father. Duke Otho was kind too, though Frederic, the future bridegroom, was very young and he regarded Joanna with the same suspicion as that which she bestowed on him.

‘You will get to know each other and love each other,’ said Aunt Margaret. ‘But in the meantime you shall stay with me.’ Edward could see little of his daughter during the few days before their parting. His main purpose in coming so far had been to meet the Emperor and Duke Otho, and persuade them to support him in his claim to the French throne against Philip.

They were both cordial but inclined to be evasive, Edward thought, though he believed the marriage alliance would make sure of their friendship. He soon realized that however long he stayed he could do no more, so he prepared to leave. Before he did so he bestowed costly gifts on the Emperor and his wife and the Duke of Austria. These were intended as two-way bribes. In exchange he wanted their co-operation against France and for his daughter to be treated with the utmost kindness.

The gifts were readily accepted and assurances of friendship were exchanged so that Edward could leave feeling that the pact between them was secure and his daughter would be in good hands.

Duke Otho wanted to take the child with him to his Court but Margaret intervened. ‘She is too young as yet,’ she declared, ‘and my sister has asked me to keep her with me for a while.’

Duke Otho would have liked to protest. After all Joanna was going to marry his son; but he dared not offend the Emperor who would naturally be influenced by his wife. Moreover Edward was delighted with the arrangements. ‘It will be better for the child to be with her aunt,’ he said. ‘She is very young and loves her already.’

So it was arranged that Joanna should stay in Bavaria with her Aunt Margaret until such time as she could join her young husband-to-be.

It was an emotional farewell. Joanna wept and Edward had difficulty in restraining his emotions. ‘All will be well, dearest child,’ he said. ‘I and your mother will be thinking of you. No harm will come to you. Lord John de Montgomery will look after you. He will make sure that everything is well. There, my little one, you will be with your aunt and I know you already begin to love her. I shall tell your mother you are going to be happy here—otherwise she will be sad. You would not want that, I know.’

Joanna clung to him and he found it difficult to withdraw from her embraces. He almost felt inclined to take her back with him. That of course would be the end of friendly relations between him and the Emperor and the Duke. And he needed them.

For a few moments he wondered why he had embarked on this venture. He wished he had never made friends with Robert of Artois and allowed him such freedom that he could goad him with his heron.

That was nonsense. A King’s life must not be dedicated to his family however much he loved them. He had a crown to win and he was going to do everything in his power to get it.

So at last he left Joanna and started on the journey back to Antwerp and Philippa.

In due course Edward arrived in Antwerp where Philippa was eagerly awaiting him. She wanted to hear about his parting with Joanna and was delighted that Margaret had taken her under her wing and yet she had certain misgivings. Few could know Margaret as well as she did and she could not help being aware that during their childhood Margaret had always contrived to get the larger share of any good things which came their way and to shrug off on the others anything that did not appeal to her.

But then she had been but a child—the eldest of the girls and somewhat conscious of her superior position. She would have mellowed and settled down and she would love Joanna for her sister’s sake. Moreover Philippa had made sure that some costly gifts went Margaret’s way for she knew how Margaret loved jewels.

All would be well.

Edward was a little depressed by the journey. He was not at all sure of Louis of Bavaria. There had been something rather shifty about him and though while in his presence Edward had believed in his friendship, he was not so sure of it when he was away.

If he could count on Louis he would have the support of the German princes for naturally they would follow the Emperor. The Count of Gueldres had married his sister Eleanor so there was a close tie there and he thought he could rely on him.

But the King of France had some strong allies. Navarre, Sicily and Luxembourg were with him. The Pope however wrote to Edward chiding him for making an alliance with Emperor Louis who had been excommunicated. Edward could hardly expect support from the Pope who, installed in Avignon, was a creature of the King of France. Still, if those he believed he had acquired remained faithful to him he was well placed to make his attack on France.

He conferred a great deal with Philippa. What he needed was money and he had already pawned a great many of the jewels Philippa had brought with her from Hainault.

‘I am afraid,’ he told her, ‘we shall have to raise what we can on your best crown.’

Philippa shrugged her shoulders. If it must be, it must be and the contentment of her husband and family meant more to her than any jewels. But she deplored the prospect of war and yearned to be at home with her family. She thought constantly of Edward and Isabella and she wondered if they were being well cared for. There would always be this anxiety when she was separated from her children, and, but for the war, little Joanna need not have gone just yet.

In November her child was born. It was a great delight to her for it was a son. She decided he should be called Lionel after the lion in the arms of Brabant. It would be a compliment to the people who had been so hospitable to them.

Although he was long-limbed and beautiful and typically Plantagenet, the baby suffered from some very slight chest trouble and Philippa insisted that the doctor who had attended her and her family in Hainault should be sent for to look after the child. Philippa had great faith in him.

Her father had died and it had been a great blow to her but she had known it was inevitable; and her mother, who was alone now, for all the girls were married, had decided to retire to a convent. Therefore Philippa had no conscience about bringing the doctor to look after little Lionel.

He came and to Philippa’s joy in a very short time Lionel was a lively healthy baby—the biggest of all her babies including Edward who had been a very healthy child.

Edward had a very good friend in Jacob von Arteveldt, a most extraordinary man who because of his outstanding character and undoubted integrity had became the Governor of Flanders. He was a man of some fifty years and in his younger days had lived in fairly affluent obscurity. His father Jan had been a cloth worker who had been Sheriff of Ghent. Jacob was widely travelled, having been in the service of Charles of Valois, the brother of Philip the Handsome, and had, with him, journeyed into Italy, Greece and Sicily. Returning to Ghent he had immersed himself in family life, his weaving business and that which his wife had brought to him—a factory in which sweet beer was brewed. He himself was by no means poor; his family had been hard workers and had accumulated wealth and he lived in a fine house in the Calanderberg over which he could display his family escutcheon. He was, in fact, a man of substance.

He was a big man in both senses of the word, a reformer by nature and a fervent patriot. He saw a great deal of what was wrong in his country and he believed it stemmed from incompetent rule. Count Louis of Flanders was the tool of the French King and the French were eager that the weavers should be dependent on their wool and Jacob believed that because of French interference the weaving trade was not as flourishing as it might have been.

The alliance which had come about with England when Queen Philippa had arranged that Flemish weavers should go to England had seemed to Jacob a promise of better things; and if the Flemings could throw off the French yoke which Count Louis of Flanders had put on them through his friendship with France, he was sure there would be better times ahead.

In the streets of Ghent weavers who had no work gathered to talk together. Their families had not enough to eat; their houses were small and cramped and overcrowded. They were a hard-working people and it seemed bad luck that they who were so ready to earn a living should be unable to keep themselves and their families.

Then they began to hear of a man named Jacob van Arteveldt who believed he could find a solution to their difficulties. The whole of the town was talking of him; everywhere his name was mentioned. He was well known in the town; a man who had always treated his workers well; a patriot who loved his country.

‘Let us hear what he says,’ cried the people.

The outcome was that Jacob agreed to speak to them and if they would assemble in the grounds of the monastery of Biloke he would be there to address them.

The grounds of the monastery were crowded with eager citizens, and there Jacob spoke to them with great eloquence and what seemed to them sound good sense.

He begged them not to forget the might and glory of Flanders. Who should dictate to them? They knew full well that the King of France was trying to prevent their trading with England. What had they to fear from France? All the communes of Brabant would stand beside them, as would those of Hainault, Holland and Zealand. So it was folly to be intimidated by the French.

‘What I want to see and what I know will make our trade flourish is freedom to pursue fair commercial intercourse between Flanders and England, and at the same time assure neutrality if this threatened war between England and France should break out.’

The people cheered him. There was something solid about this man with a great girth and eloquent words. He was known as an honest trader. He was a good citizen. He was the sort of man they wanted to manage their affairs.

It was not long before all the representatives of the various communes had joined with Jacob von Arteveldt in Ghent and together they visited Louis the Count of Flanders, who seeing their determination, immediately agreed to support them, and a treaty was signed at Anvers to which Jacob had invited the English ambassadors. They agreed on three main articles. First that they should be able to buy wools and any other merchandise from England. Secondly traders from Flanders visiting England should be free in their persons and their goods and thirdly they should not meddle in any way by assistance in men and arms in the wars between Edward of England and Philip of Valois.

Philip was of course very disturbed by all this and he sent a message to the Count of Flanders to tell him that this dangerous man von Arteveldt must be removed, or, he added ominously, it would be the end of the Count of Flanders. However the Count’s attempts to get Jacob assassinated came to nothing. The people were determined that their saviour should live and when the Count summoned Jacob to his hotel he was accompanied by so many of the citizens that Count Louis saw he could not easily dispose of him. All he could do was try to explain to Jacob that if he would persuade the people to love the King of France much good would come to him, whereas if he failed to do this he might be in a precarious position.

Jacob was not the man to be impressed by bribes or threats. He replied that he wished to do what was best for the people of Flanders and for no one else. It was they who had elected him for this task and he intended to carry it out.

It was impossible for Count Louis to harm Jacob for the people were with him to a man.

They must arm themselves against attack, Jacob told them. There should be trained bands throughout the towns. They were not arming for war but to preserve their rights. This was armed neutrality.

This hostility between France and Flanders was naturally to Edward’s advantage and he realized that he must do all in his power to increase trade between the two countries. That was what they wanted and what was good for them both.

Philippa had understood this so clearly when she had brought the weavers to England; then there had been established between the two countries a great friendship which was now standing him in good stead.

‘Ah,’ said Philippa, ‘if it were not for the state of war, how prosperous all our countries would be.’

She was sad as she reflected on Edward’s absorption in this battle for a crown.

She had always thought how much better it would be to have a prosperous England than an England at war; and even if there was success for Edward and he won the crown of France he would only gain a country devastated by war.

But what could a woman do? Nobody would listen to her and they would dismiss her beliefs as woman’s thinking. Yet if they had stopped to think they would have to admit she was wiser than they were.

When Prince Edward and his sister Isabella had been left in England they had both been disappointed. It was unfair, Isabella said, that Joanna should go with them. ‘She is younger than I,’ grumbled Isabella. ‘Why should she go and I remain behind?’

Edward pointed out that Joanna had gone for a reason. She was to be left at her future husband’s court. Poor Joanna had not been very happy about that.

Isabella certainly had no wish to leave her parents. Her father made too much fuss of her and secretly she delighted in the fact that she was his favourite.

Edward looked at her with tolerance. He himself was growing very tall and handsome. He was only ten years old but his attendants said that he looked all of sixteen and they had seen many women glance his way with approving and hopeful looks in their eyes.

Edward was unaware of them. He was interested in horses and he was very skilful in sword play. It was said that he would be a commander like his father and great grandfather and the King and the country should be very proud to have such a promising heir to the throne.

The Prince already was aware of his responsibilities. He was now Earl of Chester and Duke of Cornwall and since his father had left for France he had been appointed Guardian of the Kingdom. He was naturally too young for this to be anything but a title but it did mean that he was forced to attend meetings and although all he had to do was sit and listen, people turned to him with great respect and he must appear to give his consent to certain measures which really meant doing what he was told.

It was however good preparation for what would one day come to him. Nor were his studies neglected. Dr Walter Burley of Merton College, Oxford was his tutor and no easy taskmaster. A prince had great responsibilities, he was told, and he must not shirk them.

Not that he had ever shirked his duty. He had a great desire to excel. He had heard whispers of his grandfather’s infamous life and unfortunate end and it was his duty to make sure that he did not inherit the weakness that had appeared in that sad King.

There seemed little likelihood of that.

He was in the palace of the Tower when Dr Burley sent for him to give him some news.

‘My lord,’ said the Doctor, ‘I have had instructions from the King regarding you, and you must now prepare yourself for a journey.’

‘I am going to join my father?’ asked the Prince eagerly. The Doctor nodded.

‘When?’

‘As soon as your journey can be arranged.’

‘That means at once. For rest assured I shall not delay.’

‘You should know that the King is anxious to celebrate your betrothal.’

‘I am to have a wife?’

‘The marriage is necessary to the King’s plans. He is eager to strengthen his alliances on the Continent and is arranging a marriage between you and Margaret, the daughter of the Duke of Brabant.’

Edward was taken aback. He had wanted to go into battle, not matrimony.

‘Am I to be married at once?’

‘No, no. But the King needs these alliances.’

The Prince was thoughtful. Well, it was what happened to members of royal families. Their spouses were chosen for them and they must needs accept them. He wondered what this Margaret was like. At least when he married he would not have to leave his home and family as poor little Joanna had.

‘The marriage would not be consummated immediately,’ said the doctor.

The Prince understood. There would be some ceremony and he would go on just as before. He could shrug the thought of marriage aside.

‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that my father does not finish the war before I arrive.’

‘I doubt you will be allowed to join in battles, my lord.’

‘Do you think the war will be over before I am old enough to join in?’

The Doctor did not answer. He believed that this war would go on and on for many years. The King of France against the King of England and the battle fought on French soil l It was slow in starting, so perhaps both sides were realizing what a difficult task faced them. Philip’s was the easier. He was defending his homeland.

The Doctor in his sagacity thought that it was a pity Edward had ever embarked on such an undertaking. He lacked the means; he was in constant need of money; moreover there would certainly be trouble on the Scottish border if ever he became too involved on the Continent.

But the Doctor’s talents lay not in war; it was his mission to educate the young heir to the throne. And he was not displeased with his job. Edward was showing signs of becoming a credit to him.

Edward left him and immediately began his preparations. Isabella had heard the news and she came into his apartments. It was typical of Isabella that she came unannounced, always presuming that everyone would be delighted to see her. Now her eyes were blazing, her cheeks scarlet.

‘They say you are going to France,’ she cried.

‘It’s true,’ said Edward. ‘I shall leave perhaps tomorrow.’ ‘And I am to stay here.’

‘That is what I have heard.’

She stamped her foot. ‘It’s not fair. Why should I be left behind? Edward, take me with you.’

She flung herself at him and clung to him, but he coolly set her aside. ‘How can I take you? There were no orders that you should come.’

‘Our father promised ... he promised. He said when he left that he would take me one day.’

‘That day has not yet come.’

‘Oh, it is cruel. I hate it here.’

‘You know very well you do not hate it. Lady St Omer is very kind to you and takes good care of you.’

‘I want to go to France,’ sobbed Isabella.

The Prince turned away impatiently. He had no time to dally with his spoilt sister.

He left the next day watched by a sullen-eyed Isabella, but he was too excited at the prospect to think much about her. The crossing was good and it was a thrilling moment when he stepped ashore. He deplored his youth; he longed to be old enough to prove himself as a soldier. But it was a good sign that his father had sent for him.

He was as delighted to see his mother again as she was to see him. She embraced him and was almost overcome by her emotion. Philippa rarely gave way to her feelings but on this occasion at the sight of this handsome first-born she was so deeply moved.

How he had grown! He was quite a man. He was so like his father with his light-coloured hair, his high cheek bones, his aquiline nose which was just a little blunted at the tip—so like his father’s—and those all-seeing blue eyes. He was a son any mother could be proud of. He was all that a future King should be.

She was glad she had called him Edward.

‘You grow more and more like your father,’ she told him.

The King was delighted too. Such a son was enough to warm any father’s heart. Little Lionel too was becoming stronger every day and growing fast. His nurses said that they had never seen a baby grow as Lionel did ... even Edward had not been so big.

If only he could have been as happy with the progress of the war as he was with his family, Edward would have been a very contented man.

Young Edward was very anxious to hear about the progress of the war and his father saw that he was wondering why it had not yet been won and the Kinc, of England was not also the King of France.

‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘you have much to learn. Wars are not easily won. When I was your age I thought the same. I became King too young and I went to Scotland where I learned a bitter lesson. Wars swallow up money. Soldiers have to be paid, arms have to be found, friendship has to be bought.’

I did not think friendship would be true friendship if it depended on gifts,’ said the Prince.

‘I see the good Doctor teaches you wisdom. I have to buy allies, Edward. I call them friends but as you so rightly point out they are not truly my friends and they could be my enemies if someone came along with a better proposition. Now, Edward, you are here in Brabant to be seen by the Duke. He will decide then whether you are a fitting bridegroom for his daughter.’

‘Is the Duke one of these friends who have to be bought?’ ‘I need his help, Edward. This is a mighty task.’

‘Do you need the French crown so badly, Father?’ ‘I need not to be deprived of my rights.’

The Prince saw the point of that.

‘We will take it. I long to fight beside you.’

‘One day, my son. One day.’

The Prince was not very sure that he liked being inspected as a future bridegroom. He did not see Margaret. That would come later. So much depended on the war. If Edward had had a few successes every prince in the neighbourhood would be eager to be his friend. What he needed was success. But first of all he must have money.

Money, money, money! It was the crying need. So much to be spent, so many bribes to be given, so much lavish entertaining.

The Prince wondered if this was the way to win a war.

He found himself riding side by side with a very handsome man some ten years his senior. There was something honest about him and the Prince at this time, brooding on what his father had said about bribing for friendship, was deeply concerned with honesty.

The young man asked him how he liked being out of England and Edward replied that it was good to be where important events were going to happen.

They chatted awhile of trivial matters and then Edward asked the young man what he thought about the delay in fighting. Did it seem to him that there was a certain reluctance on both sides?

The young man was thoughtful. It did seem so. There had been so much talk of war that it was certainly strange that no battle should have taken place. He thought that it was due to lack of money. He had been present he said at the banquet when Robert of Artois had produced the roasted heron. Perhaps the King had made his vow before he was ready to fight.

Then they talked about the claims of the King through his mother and how Philip was not really in the direct line.

Edward found it most interesting and very much enjoyed the company of the young man.

He asked his name.

‘It is John Chandos,’ he was told.

‘Well, John Chandos,’ he said, ‘I hope we shall ride together again.’

John Chandos said he was at the Prince’s disposal and as the days passed the Prince saw more of John Chandos, and when he deplored the fact that he was so young and therefore would not be allowed to join in the battle, John pointed out that there were always compensations in every situation. Just imagine,’ he said, ‘if you were four or five years older they would be marrying you to Margaret of Brabant.’

‘And I am not at all sure that I want to marry her, John.’

‘That is what I mean. So be thankful that you cannot just yet.’

The Prince laughed. And his friendship with John Chandos grew.

Philippa noticed it and was pleased. It was good for Edward to make friends and although Sir John Chandos was not of the most noble birth, he was of good family and an honourable man who had given the King good service. One of his sisters, Elizabeth, had been maid of honour to Philippa at one time. She had liked the woman, just as she liked her brother.

John Chandos could teach Edward a good deal.

Philippa was deeply concerned with other matters. Edward had said that he thought he would have to go to England to raise some money.

She sighed. Money could be spent in so many better ways than in war. She was very sorry that Edward had ever thought of laying claim to the throne of France. If he had not they might all be together in England.

She thought constantly of her family. She worried about Joapna and Isabella. If only they could return to England whdre they belonged and settle down to live in peace.

She had a fancy that she might be pregnant again.

Joanna was desperately unhappy. Because her aunt Margaret looked a little like her mother she had expected her to act like her. When her father had ridden away the little girl had burst into tears and continued to sob bitterly.

Her aunt looked at her with some distaste and said rather sharply: ‘Now, child, you are not a baby you know. What are You making that noise for?’

Joanna stopped crying to look at the Empress in astonishment.

‘I want my father,’ she said, ‘and my mother.’

The Empress turned away impatiently. ‘Pray make the child wash her face,’ she said. ‘The sight is offensive.’

Joanna was astounded. She had thought her aunt would understand. She had been so kind when her father was there and she had told him how generous he was to have given her such lovely jewels.

‘You can trust me to look after your daughter,’ she had said.

And now she could not understand how miserable Joanna was. Surely she knew that there was never a father in the world like hers, nor a mother like her sister Philippa? And was it not reasonable to suppose that any daughter who had lost them would be miserable?

It was a sad realization that all might not be as she thought.

When she next saw her aunt she was composed and it was a ceremonial occasion. The Emperor and the Empress were together before a banquet and Joanna was taken to her because the Empress had wished it. She was all smiles and friendliness. ‘My dear child,’ she said, ‘all, you look well now. It was a sad parting was it not?’ Then to someone at her elbow. ‘The daughter of my sister the Queen of England, is a little sad just now, being parted from her parents, but she will be happy and well with me. Will you not, Joanna?’

Poor Joanna was bewildered. She wondered if she had heard correctly on that other occasion.

Sometimes she rode beside the Empress on her little pony and people smiled at her and seemed as though they were pleased to see her.

Duke Otho was kind and she was presented to Frederic who was to be her husband. She did not greatly care for him.

‘Oh,’ said the Empress being kind now, ‘it will be a long long time before you are old enough to marry.’

‘I hope I never do,’ said Joanna.

‘That,’ replied the Empress coldly, ‘is a very stupid statement.’

She was looking at Joanna with cold dislike again and Joanna felt a great impulse to cry like a baby for her mother.

It was a little bewildering when one was not very old to leave one’s family and go away to strangers, even though it had always been stressed that princesses had to grow up more quickly than other people.

She was thankful to Lord John de Montgomery although she could not confide in him, but he did give her the feeling that she was being looked after.

She had a few attendants and it was comforting to talk to them but she saw that as the weeks passed they were becoming rather uneasy. There was often very little to eat—in fact not enough for the household and she heard the attendants talking together and saying that if Queen Philippa knew how her sister was treating the little Princess she would never forgive her.

After her first show of friendship the Empress rarely came near her niece. In fact she seemed to have forgotten her existence. Joanna was deeply hurt; she had expected very different treatment from her mother’s sister.

Lord John came to see her and he told her that it was no use pretending that she was being treated properly at the Imperial Court and he proposed writing to the King and telling him what was happening to his daughter.

‘I suggest, my lady Princess,’ he said, ‘that you write to your mother.’

Joanna’s eyes were round with terror. ‘What if the letters fell into their hands ?’

She imagined terrible things happening to her, things of which she heard whispers in corners. How traitors were cast into dungeons to live with the rats, how they died ...

Lord John realized then how deeply the child had suffered and a great anger arose in him against the selfish Empress and he thought how different she was from her sister.

He said: ‘Never fear, they shall not fall into their hands, and if they did, no harm could befall the daughter of King Edward of England.’

‘They can give her very little to eat and be unkind to her,’ retorted Joanna with logic.

That was true. Lord John agreed, but if she would write of what had happened to her he would see that the letters fell into no other hands but those of her mother.

To write letters in secret gave a new excitement to life_ and hope too. If her mother knew she would never let her stay in this horrible place.

In due course the letters had the desired effect.

The King of England now wished his daughter to be put into the care of her future father-in-law, Duke Otho of Austria.

The Empress shrugged her shoulders. She had forgotten about the child in any case. The costly gifts which the King had bestowed on her were also forgotten.

‘Let the child go,’ she said.

Life was a little more comfortable for Joanna after that although she was very homesick and longed to be with her mother. Bickering with Isabella now seemed like perfect bliss and she did long to see her brother Edward. She wanted to be lifted up in her father’s arms and put her cheek against his; she wanted to run into her mother’s arms and be held tightly.

Would she never see them again? Lucky Isabella, who although older was still at home!

Duke Otho was a kindly man. He thought his new little daughter charming. He seemed very old to Joanna but perhaps that was because he was ill.

Here of course she saw Frederic almost every day. He was not nearly as handsome as her brother Edward but that would be asking too much. He was an arrogant little boy and he told her that husbands were always the masters and their wives had to obey them.

‘Nobody obeys such little boys,’ replied Joanna, which made Frederic angry.

He was growing up fast. His servants said so. He was going to be seven foot tall and then he would show her.

Joanna’s consolation was that it would be a long time before he was old enough to marry. In the meantime she had to share lessons with him and speak all the time in their hateful tongue.

Frederic’s Uncle Albrecht was frequently at the ducal court. Joanna did not like him at all. He lacked Duke Otho’s kindliness and she fancied he looked at her with a certain amused dislike which was very unpleasant. Everyone was very deferential to him, and he used to come to the schoolroom and sit there listening with that supercilious smile on his lips whenever Joanna spoke.

At first she had been relieved to be rid of her Aunt Margaret, now Uncle Albrecht and Frederic made her wonder whether the change had been such a great improvement.

Albrecht had a loud booming voice and an air of being always right. Once Joanna heard him say to his brother: ‘This could be a mistake.’ And she instinctively knew that he was referring to her betrothal to Frederic. ‘The English won’t have a chance against the French,’ he went on.

Duke Otho murmured something inaudibly but Joanna guessed that he was defending the proposed marriage and his alliance with her father.

A few days later Duke Otho was very ill. There was a hushed atmosphere throughout the palace.

‘They say the Duke is dying,’ said one of her attendants. ‘Then,’ said another, ‘Frederic will be the Duke.’

‘Yes, but we know who will be the real ruler. Duke Albrecht.’

‘There will be some changes.’

‘I have heard it said that he is hand in glove with the King of France.’

The King of France! thought Joanna. Her father’s enemy! But it was because her father wanted Austria to be his friend that she was to marry Frederic.

It was a sad day when Duke Otho died. Joanna had been fond of him and it was yet another tragedy to lose him; and as the days passed she realized that more and more the attitude towards her was changing.

Frederic told her that her father had no right to the throne of France. He must have heard that somewhere for he would never have thought of it himself.

‘It is my father’s,’ cried Joanna, equally ignorant of the facts, but sure that her father was right. She would defend him even if it were dangerous to do so.

‘Your father will be driven out of France,’ cried Frederic. ‘Who says so?’

‘My Uncle Albrecht.’

She knew it of course. Duke Albrecht had always disliked her. Now his dislike was more than ever apparent.

Lord John came to her and when she heard what he had to tell her she was almost delirious with joy.

‘I have written to your father,’ he said, ‘to tell him of the death of Duke Otho and that the sympathies of Duke Albrecht, the Regent, are with the French. I have now heard from him that we are to leave at once and join the Queen in Flanders.’

Joanna was speechless with joy.

It was over then, this nightmare. She was going home. She wanted to run through the palace telling everyone.

She would start preparations immediately but Lord John warned that she must wait a little until Duke Albrecht himself spoke to her of her departure.

She saw him that very day. He was with Frederic as he often was. It was said he was teaching Frederic how to govern.

‘Why, here is our little bride,’ he said. ‘She looks radiant today, does she not, Frederic?’

Frederic said nothing. Oaf, thought Joanna. How happy I shall be when I do not have to see him again.

‘Tell us why you are so happy, little lady.’

‘You will know that my father has sent for me,’ she replied.

‘And the prospect of leaving us makes you happy?’

No need to placate them now. No need for anything but the truth. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does.’

‘Is that not a little ungracious?’

‘It is the truth,’ she answered.

‘Shall I tell you another truth, my Princess? You are here with us and here you will stay until we say you may go. Let us appeal to the Duke. Is that not so, Frederic?’

Frederic smiled his silly smile.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She cannot go until we say so.’

Cold terror seized Joanna. All the brightness had drained from her face. She turned and ran from the room.

‘Duke Albrecht will never dare to flout your father,’ said her attendants, but she could see that Lord John was not so sure.

There was no attempt now to hide the fact that Austria was going to be on the side of the French in the coming struggle and all the rich gifts and the proposed marriage might never have been given and arranged.

Frederic, who was very much under the influence of his uncle, told her that the French King was the greatest in the world and he would soon make the English King wish he had never thought of trying to take what did not belong to him.

Joanna refused to argue with him. She was sick at heart wondering what would happen to her now.

Looking into her sad little face Lord John tried to comfort her.

‘You know your father is a man who always gets what he wants.’

She did know that.

‘Well now he wants you to leave Austria and go to your mother. He has asked for your return and since you have not left he has sent another letter which I have taken to the Duke. In this he demands your return.’

She had great faith in her father. But still Duke Albrecht would not let her go.

‘Is he going to make me marry Frederic then?’ she wanted to know.

She talked of it with her attendants.

They were silent and she knew that meant they believed he might.

‘Why? Why when they hate me?’

She had to grow up. She had to learn that sometimes princesses were married to princes whom they hated and who hated them because of some political reason.

She heard someone whisper ‘as a sort of hostage, do you mean?’ and the answer, ‘Well, yes, it could amount to that.’ And she knew they were talking about her.

The weeks passed, tension was rising. Every day there was some mention of the coming conflict between her father and the King of France and she knew that she was among her country’s enemies.

Her father would come to rescue her, she promised herself, and she used to lie in her bed thinking of that wonderful day when she would see her parents again.

And one day, Lord John came to her in some excitement.

‘I have just taken a letter to Duke Albrecht from the King your father. I do not think the Duke will dare refuse to let you go when he receives it.’

‘He does not care for my father. He thinks the King of France will defeat him.’

‘He is afraid of your father as all his enemies must be. I do not think he will dare hold any longer.’

Lord John was right.

Duke Albrecht did not come to her nor did he send for her.

One of his equerries came and told her to make ready. She was to leave Austria within the next few days to make the long journey up the Danube to Munich, through Coblen to the Castle of Ghent where she would join her mother.

On a glorious April day she rode forth. Never was there anyone in the world, she was sure, as happy as the Princess Joanna on that bright April day.

This was an anxious time for Philippa. She was heavily pregnant and in a strange country. She was very worried about Joanna. Being well aware that her sister was not the most unselfish of women, she had thought at first that her affection for her sister and her compassion for a very young girl far from home would have induced her finer feelings. She had been presented with costly gifts in the hope that these would remind her that she owed her sister something, but Margaret had hardened she was sure now and the selfish little traits of her childhood had magnified. Philippa had been horrified by Lord John’s account of the neglect poor Joanna had had to suffer and she had long wanted to prevent the marriage and bring Joanna back.

‘It is so unnatural,’ she had complained to Edward, ‘to send a child so young away from her home.’

Edward agreed but it was necessary to find allies if he were to win the crown of France.

The crown of France! thought Philippa. That bauble! What was that compared with the heartbreak of a little girl and her mother. And even if he won it—which could she was certain only be after years of struggle, suffering, privation and endurance—what then?

How she longed to leave the Low Countries. She thought longingly of Windsor--the forests. the river and the castle which she had grown to love. Now her child would be born in a foreign land.

Edward was worried too. The campaign was so costly and nothing at all had been achieved so far. It was disconcerting that those whom he had taken such pains to please and at great expense were now turning towards France as the more likely side to be the victor.

This infuriated him. Moreover he must raise more money and how could he do this in Flanders?

He came to the conclusion that he would have to return to England. He must persuade Parliament that he needed money for his armies. He had to pay his soldiers; he had to keep them supplied with arms.

He told Philippa this and it added to her anxieties. True, he had sent to Austria demanding the return of Joanna and she was hourly expecting news that her little daughter was on her way to her. What a happy day that would be when she could hold the child in her arms.

The time came when Edward could delay no longer. He must have money and would have to pay a brief visit to England in order to get it. He was uneasy about leaving Philippa behind but she assured him that she would be capable of looking after herself. Moreover she had good friends in Ghent, the chief of these being Jacob von Arteveldt for whom the King had such regard.

‘How I wish I could come with you,’ said Philippa sadly.

The King shared her regret but reminded her that just as his duty lay in finding money for arms and men, hers was in giving England heirs and so far she had made an excellent job of that.

Tor your greater safety,’ said the King, ‘I am going to send you to the Abbey of St Bavon. You will be safe there and when I see you again our child will be born.’

So Philippa retired to the Abbey of St Bavon in the town of Ghent and Edward left for England.

Within a month of his going Philippa gave birth to a boy. He was a fine healthy child and she decided his name should be John. He quickly showed himself to be a lusty Plantagenet and he became known as John of Ghent which the English, using the Anglicized form of the name, called Gaunt.

As each day passed Joanna’s happiness increased. It seemed strange to her to be making the same journey as she had made before in the company of her father. Then her heart had been heavy with foreboding. Now she was light-hearted, full of joyful anticipation.

Everything seemed so much more beautiful—the silver Rhine, the grey stone castles, the towns and villages through which she passed and where the people ran out of their homes to stare at her.

She smiled at them, gaily, happily. Joanna loved the whole world during that journey to Ghent.

It was eighteen months since she had seen her mother and it seemed a lifetime to the little girl.

At length she came to the city of Ghent and Lord John was told that the King was in England and at first her heart sank; but when she heard that her mother was at St Bavon’s Abbey, her spirits revived.

And there it was, the old grey stone Abbey and as they rode towards it she saw her mother and she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

She leaped from her horse. There could be no ceremony. She could not endure that.

She ran to her mother and threw herself into her arms.

Philippa was holding her tightly, murmuring words of endearment. ‘My little one ... It has seemed so long ... I thought you would never come back to me.’

‘Dearest dearest lady mother ... I am here ... at last. It is like a dream.’

Philippa stroked her daughter’s hair. She had changed. She had had so many experiences since she had left home ... and not happy ones.

‘My love,’ crooned Philippa, ‘there is so much to tell you, so much to show you. You have a little brother.’

Joanna was laughing with sheer happiness.

‘Another brother!’

‘Little John. He was born here in Ghent. They call him John of Gaunt ... He can already give a good account of himself.’

‘And my father?’

‘Alas, he has had to return to England.’

‘Then I shall not see him.’

‘He will be back soon.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Joanna, ‘to have seen him too would have been to much happiness all at once.’

‘You have that joy to come, my dearest child.’

So they were together; and Joanna could only think of the happy present.

And the Queen rejoiced that she had her daughter back.