Виктория Холт - The Vow on the Heron

The idyllic life continued at Woodstock.

ISABELLA could not escape from the dark shadows which crowded in on her. Sometimes she thought she was going mad. She dreamed continually of her murdered husbane-that he came to life and would not Te-airs-re her, that he appeared not only in her bedroom at night when she lay beside her lover, but sometimes she thought she saw his face in a crowd, and once even at a conference table.

Mortimer laughed at her. Mortimer was strong and had little understanding of whimsical imaginings. Mortimer lived entirely for the present and if there were threats in the future he would not look at them.

Sometimes she thought of Gaveston and Hugh—both of whom had met violent deaths though neither could compare with what had happened to her husband—and how they had refused to see their fate approaching them. It had seemed clear enough to everyone else, but those two had continued to plunder the King and snap their fingers at the hatred of the people. If she were not besottedly infatuated by Mortimer, would she say he was the same?

He never wanted to talk about the possibilities of disaster. He never wanted to take heed of warning shadows. He delighted in the pact with the Scots because Robert the Bruce was to pay Edward twenty thousand pounds. The first instalment arrived and Mortimer had taken charge of it, which meant that he would spend it. He was a great spender, Mortimer. He liked to live flamboyantly, and so did she. Well, they deserved it after all that they had suffered—he a prisoner in the Tower with an uncle who had died of starvation, as he might have done if he had not been so strong; and she, what humiliation she had endured for years, thrust into the background while all the favours were showered on her husband’s men friends, bearing his children while she loathed him just because she had to give the country heirs.

Now, they were reaping their reward. Mortimer was the richest and most powerful man in the country and she and he ruled it together. Edward was such a boy and remained amenable.

She was uneasy though about Philippa.

She talked to Mortimer about it. ‘Mortimer what do you think of Philippa?’ she asked.

‘I never think of her. What is she? A simple country girl, fresh and untutored. Why should we think of Philippa as anything but a nice playmate for our boy. He likes married life evidently. Well, let them enjoy it. It will keep them occupied.’

‘That woman on the road ... She insisted, you know, and Edward wants to please her.’

‘She held us up yes. But it was of no great importance.’ ‘Only to show us that he will do a great deal to please her.’ ‘Of course he will ... for a while. He is a boy; he experiences early love. It seems very important to him. Wait till she bears him children and he discovers that there are women in the world more attractive than his plump little Hainaulter.’ ‘At the moment she could guide him.’

‘How could such an innocent guide anyone?’

‘He is changing, wanting his own way. It could be less easy to control him.’

‘Come, sweetheart, let us leave that problem until it arises.’ ‘This peace with Scotland ...’

‘I welcome it.’

Of course he did. It had brought money into his pocket. ‘The people of London are rioting.’

‘A plague on the people of London.’

‘Do not say that. It could be disastrous to the country.’ ‘I mean I care not a groat for them.’

‘They can be dangerous. They are saying the Scone stone shall not be given up and that it is a disgrace to send a baby to that barbarous land to marry the son of a leper.’

‘She will be Queen of Scotland.’

‘They do not like it. Mortimer, do you remember how they supported me? How they cheered me in the streets.’

‘They always loved you. You only have to appear and they shout their loyalty.’

‘Not any more.’

‘It is a momentary matter. They don’t like the wedding. They won’t part with the stone of Scone. They have too high an opinion of their importance, these Londoners. It will blow over.’

‘Yesterday someone shouted “Whore” as I rode by.’

‘Did you see who? He could be hanged, drawn and quartered for that.’

‘Yes, and still he did it. They are turning from me, Mortimer. They are turning from us.’

‘Much should we care.’

‘I wonder sometimes ...’

He soothed her as he always did. He snapped his fingers at danger by refusing to see it.

He was the great Mortimer; she was the Queen of England. It was true there was another Queen—but she was of no importance, no more importance than her young husband. Edward and Philippa were the figureheads. The real rulers were Isabella and Mortimer—and so it should remain.

* * *

Every night Joanna cried herself to sleep. It was no use their telling her that she was going to be happy in Scotland. She knew she was not. She was going to have a hideous little bridegroom, two years younger than herself, David the Bruce, who was five years old.

She knew that many princesses were betrothed at her age and sometimes they had to go to the homes of their bridegrooms to be brought up in his way of life, but that did not help at all. Eleanor was older than she was and she did not have to go away. And now Philippa had come and she loved Philippa. Philippa was her new sister but what was the use of having a new sister if you were not going to be with her?

She heard the servants talking about how the new Queen had saved a girl from hanging, and how the King had indulged her although the Queen Mother and the Earl of March had not been very pleased and had wanted to continue their journey without delay.

Perhaps if she asked Philippa to save her from going to Scotland she could speak with Edward and as Edward could deny Philippa nothing—so the gossips said—then perhaps she would be saved.

It was her only hope. She would ask Philippa.

Philippa listened gravely. Yes, it was true Edward had allowed her to save the girl, but this was not a state matter. The marriage with Scotland was, and it might be that there could be no way of stopping it. But Philippa would speak to Edward.

She did. He was sorry but there was nothing he could do. It was a state matter and it was in the treaty.

But when a child is so young surely she could be married by proxy and stay in her own home until she is of an age to leave?’

Edward could only say that it was in the treaty.

He himself was disturbed for he was fond of the little girl and her sister and his brother John. But he was so young himself and after his adventures in Scotland he felt loath to act on some matter of which he was not quite sure. He felt that he had looked rather foolish, marching north with an army and chasing the elusive Scots who had obviously been playing a game with him.

He had to be careful in future.

He hated to disappoint Philippa so he said he would go into the matter and see what could be done.

This meant talking to his mother.

Isabella was pleased that he should have consulted her instead of attempting to act on his own. She pretended to consider the matter but she was determined that Joanna must go to Scotland. It had been agreed upon and if the treaty broke down the Scots might demand the return of the money which Mortimer had already taken.

‘We are dealing with barbaric -people, my sweet son,’ she said. ‘You saw what they were like when you went up to chastise them. What a dance they led you.’

He flushed a little. He was very young. It was good to bring home to him in a subtle way how inexperienced he was.

‘We could not say what would happen if we did not keep to the treaty. War might break out again.’

‘The people are against this marriage, my lady.’

‘The people sway with the wind. They know not what is best for them.’

‘The Queen is worried about Joanna. She is but a baby ... and to be sent away ...’

Isabella stiffened imperceptibly. The Queen? My lady Philippa would have to learn that she had not come here to govern the land.

‘Dear Philippa,’ said Isabella, ‘she is so soft-hearted. I saw lips curl with amusement when she allowed that woman to get the better of her.’

You mean the woman with the daughter whom Philippa saved from the hangman’s rope? I think the people loved her the more for that.’

‘Criminals will, my son. They will say we can commit our crimes and be caught. Never mind. We’ll make a plea to the Queen.’

‘This was but a young girl ...’

‘Of course she is young, our dear Philippa. She will grow up. She will learn quickly I think. She is a charming girl. I am so happy for you Edward.’

Edward smiled. He loved to hear praise of Philippa.

‘Dear Edward,’ went on his mother, ‘you know my thoughts are all for you. Everything I do is what I think is best for you. But you have always known that.’

Her beautiful eyes were moist with tears; he kissed her cheek.

She clung to him. ‘It has not been easy for me, Edward,’ she went on. ‘Sometimes I look back over my life and wonder how I have come through it all. I was so petted in my young days at the Court of France and then when I came to England ...’ she shivered. ‘And when I think of all I had to do ... well, it was worth while because it brought me you. If I can see you secure on the throne, grown into the great King I know you will be ... in time ... I shall die happy.’

‘Dear lady, you are not going to die yet ... not for a long long time.’

‘I pray it will be a long time ... for I will refuse to die until you have become such a King as your grandfather was.’