Виктория Холт - The Vow on the Heron

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.

COUNT Robert of Artois, Queen Isabella’s cousin, had arrived in England. He had quarelled with the King Philip and came as a fugitive, having escaped from France disguised as a merchant.

Robert of Artois was a man born to make trouble. It had been his lot in life never to achieve what he thought was his by right; he suffered from a permanent envy and a desire to bring misfortune to those who possessed that which he would like to have.

His great animosity was directed against the King of France. He was a great grandson of Robert the first Count of Artois, who had been a younger brother of St Louis, and it was frustrating for a man of Robert’s temperament to be descended from the royal tree and yet not of the main line. He constantly reminded himself of how different everything would have been if instead of being a younger brother his great grandsire had been the elder.

Moreover Philip, the present King, was not of the direct line. Yet there he sat on the throne, elected by common consent as the nearest to Philip the Fair since his father was brother to that King. Philip’s three sons, Louis, Philip and Charles had reigned ignobly under the shadow of the Templar’s curse and now Philip son of Charles de Valois had become the King of France.

For some years Robert had had to sue for what was his by right—that was the countship of Artois which had belonged to his great grandfather.

Philip the Fair had refused to grant him these lands and had tried to fob him off with others and during the reigns of Philip’s three sons he had tried again; he had even married Philip’s sister; but it was no use. Philip had shown clearly that he was not interested in his kinsman’s claims.

When Queen Isabella had been in France he had been struck by her beauty and had become one of her ardent partisans. At the time when her brother was finding her presence at his court embarrassing, it was Robert of Artois who had hastened to warn her to get away and had helped her to reach Hainault.

The fact was that Robert could never resist being involved in any intrigue. He liked to be at the heart of it and if he could not enjoy the estates which he believed were his due, he could at least enjoy trouble.

If there was anything likely to bring that about he would seize the opportunity to be in the thick of it. He could only soothe his envy for the King of France by making the position more difficult for him to hold.