She had successfully made him realize his youth, his dependence upon her. He accepted her word that the Scottish marriage must go through.

He told Philippa that he saw clearly that there was nothing he could do about it, and Philippa accepted his word.


* * *

Through the sultry July days the procession travelled north to Berwick. At its head rode Queen Isabella, beside the most wretched little girl in the kingdom.

Joanna often thought of running away and she might have attempted it if the Earl of March had not ridden beside her and she had not been so afraid of him. In fact she did not know whom she feared most—her mother or the Earl.

Her mother had spoken sharply to her. She must not be a baby. She must accept her fate. She was not the first Princess who had to leave her home. The Scots would make much of her. Didn’t she understand that she would leave her home as a Princess and in Scotland become a Queen.

She would lie in her bed at the various castles in which they stayed during the journey and talk to her sister Eleanor. She was glad Eleanor had come. Eleanor tried to pretend that it was going to be wonderful in Scotland and marriage was exciting. Look how pleased Edward and Philippa were with theirs!

Sometimes Joanna was comforted by her sister; but there were occasions when Eleanor could think of nothing comforting to say and was only too aware that before long she herself might be in a similar plight.

It was sad that Edward and Philippa had not accompanied them. They had talked a great deal about the marriage and Edward longed to stop it. Once more he raged against his youth and inexperience. In his heart he felt the marriage was wrong, and yet he did not feel confident enough to stop it. If he had had a resounding success in Scotland he would have behaved differently.

It was not that he lacked strength of purpose; what he missed was experience; and if he could have convinced himself that there was a right thing to do, he would have done it.

Queen Isabella was hurt that he did not accompany them. She had tried to tempt him by arranging a mock battle and had had special spears made for him elaborately painted with his royal arms; she had others less glorious made for other combatants. It was the sort of entertainment Edward would have enjoyed taking part in and would have excelled at. But he was not tempted. In fact Isabella had misunderstood her son. The last thing he wanted was to be treated like a boy who is bribed with a special treat.

He did not like the idea of the marriage. He did not want to go to the North again where he considered he had recently been humiliated. He was uncertain and unhappy about Scottish matters. So he was going to stay in the soothing company of his beloved Queen.

Meanwhile the royal party arrived at Berwick and the ceremony of betrothal took place with a sad little bride weighed down with the magnificence of her jewelled garments and a little bridegroom who was even younger and seemed to be wondering what all the fuss was about.

It was a splendid ceremony but none was more magnificent than Roger de Mortimer who had brought one hundred and eighty knights to attend him and they in their turn were served by their squires; and all were elaborately and splendidly attired.

Days of feasting followed. There were pageants and tournaments and all these the little bride attended with wondering looks. She was less afraid now when she saw that her bridegroom was only a weak little boy who seemed very young to her because she had the advantage of being two years his senior.

In due course it was time for her to take her leave of the English party. Her mother embraced her and gave her some rich jewels which Joanna did not care very much about. Nor did she feel sad to say good-bye to her mother. She had always been afraid of her.

Isabella with Mortimer and the splendid cavalcade rode south while Joanna, who had been given into the hands of the Scottish nobles and their ladies, was taken to Edinburgh. There she was brought to the King of Scotland—an old old man who, though he was so feeble and could scarcely move, had brilliant eyes which smiled at her and a kindly look.

He was Robert the Bruce, her new father-in-law, and he gave orders that she was to be treated with the utmost care and it was to be remembered that she was very young and in a strange land.

There was something odd about him. He was dying, she knew, of a terrible disease, but he did not inspire her with fear as her own mother and Roger de Mortimer did.

She was bitterly homesick. She wanted the nursery at Windsor. She wanted Johanette Jermyn and dear Isabella de Valance; she wanted her sister Eleanor and her brother John. And most of all she wanted Edward and Philippa.

She had to be brave though. She had to remember that this happened to most princesses. That was what they were born for. They had to make peace and stop wars.

She was not surprised when she heard herself referred to as Joanna Make-Peace.


* * *

Events in France had brought dazzling new prospects to the English crown. The history of France over the last few years had been overshadowed by the Curse of the Templars. Philip the Fair, father of Queen Isabella, had made the error of the century when, in order to take their wealth, he had destroyed the Knights Templars. The final act in that dismal tragedy was the burning to death of Jacques de Molai in the Ile de la Cite. As the flames licked his limbs de Molai had uttered the curse—no good should come to the King and his heirs and God would be revenged on them for this evil deed. This had been uttered in the presence of the thousands who had come to witness the end of the Grand Master. It was taken very seriously and, when within a year both the Pope (who had been deeply involved) and the King had died, it was accepted as certain that the curse would work. And so it seemed it had. Philip had three sons and one daughter Isabella, wife to Edward the Second. All three sons became Kings of France—Louis the Tenth le Hutin, the Quarrelsome, Philip the Fifth known as The Long because of his unusual height and Charles the Fourth, the Fair because of his good looks. They all reigned for short periods and none of them had left a male heir. This was generally believed to be due to the curse.

Charles the Fourth had just died and people were looking to Philip of Valois, son of Charles, younger brother of Philip the Fair, as the heir to the throne.

But, reasoned Edward’s advisers, Philip had had a daughter—Isabella—and Isabella had a son Edward, King of England.

The Salic Law prevailed in France and that meant that a woman could not inherit the throne. Perhaps not, but what if that woman had a son? Why should he not have a right to the crown?

The matter was discussed in Parliament and the prospect of enriching the country and themselves was an agreeable one. Edward glowed with anticipation. He had failed to win Scotland but what a great prize France would be. And he could convince himself that he had a claim through his mother.

The French rather naturally had different ideas and elected Philip of Valois as their King.

There were hotheads in England who would have liked to raise an army and march into France. Edward himself longed to gain glory there. If he could win the crown of France he would have done something which even his illustrious grandfather had failed to do.

Isabella and Mortimer were against the enterprise.

‘It is not as though victory—even if there should be victory—could be achieved in a few weeks,’ said Mortimer. ‘There would be a war. Do you think the French would accept Edward? They would put up a strong fight to keep an English King off the throne of France. It would go on for years. The country would be impoverished. We should be impoverished.’ Isabella agreed with him.

She talked gently to her son. ‘The time is not yet ripe,’ she said. ‘You must grow up a little. You are not experienced in warfare as the Scottish exploit showed.’

‘If the Scots had come out to fight ...’ began Edward hotly.

But his mother smiled lovingly at him. ‘Those were the tactics of war, my dear son. They are something every commander has to be prepared for.’

She could bring Edward back to depend on her by reminding him of his youth and inexperience. ‘The Scottish adventure has been a useful exercise,’ she told Mortimer. ‘A reference to it and he is prepared to take any advice.’

So the matter of the claim to the French crown was set aside. But only, Edward promised himself, temporarily. The time would come when he would make a bid for the crown of France.


* * *

Soon after his coronation Philip the Sixth called together his numerous vassals that, as a new King of France, he might accept their homage. Among these was Edward who must swear fealty for his French fiefs.

On receiving the command Edward called his Parliament together to decide what, in the somewhat delicate matter of his claim to the French crown, should be done.

After a great deal of discussion it was decided that he must go but that in doing his homage he should in no way renounce his claim to the throne. He must travel in great splendour so that the French might be aware of his riches, but the tricky moment would be when he came face to face with Philip in the ceremony.

Edward took a fond farewell of Philippa. It was the first time they had been separated since their marriage and he promised to be back as soon as he possibly could.

The King travelled through France to Amiens where he was greeted with great warmth to hide the suspicions the French must feel towards one who had declared he had a claim to the throne of France.