Again and again sources of disaffection would be traced to him; and there came a time when the King decided he would have no more of it.

There would never be peace in a realm while Artois was there to make trouble so the King called together a court of peers to examine the case against Robert of Artois with the result that he was banished and his property confiscated.

Robert was not the kind of man to go meekly. He lingered. He sought further means of making trouble until the King was so exasperated that he sent guards to arrest him. If Robert would not live peaceably in freedom, he would have to be put somewhere where he could do nothing to disrupt the country.

It was then that Robert, having warning of his intended arrest, disguised himself as a merchant and took flight.

Where should he go? Where but to England. But for him Edward might never have had his throne, so he believed.

He presented himself at Court in most dramatic fashion. Edward was dining at the time in the great hall of Westminster with a large company of people. The Queen was seated beside him and as was the custom the people were allowed to walk in and watch the King at his meal.

There was a sudden commotion among the crowd and a merchant stepped forward. As he had come very close to the table the guards moved in to restrain him.

Edward, his knife in his hand, had been in the act of conveying a tasty morsel of lamprey to his mouth.

‘What means this?’ he demanded.

The merchant came forward. ‘Allow me a word with the King,’ he said.

The guards stood hesitantly awaiting the King’s orders. All eyes were on the merchant.

‘My dear dear cousin,’ he said. ‘I have come from afar to seek hospitality at your Court. I know you will not deny it.’ Edward stared in astonishment. ‘It is. It can’t be. But yes ... Robert ... Robert of Artois ‘

‘Your own cousin ... your loyal friend. It warms my heart to see you in the midst of your devoted subjects.’

Edward rose, embraced Robert and made him sit beside him and eat of the food, which Robert did with great heartiness while he talked a great deal about the wickedness of the King of France.

He was so different from Robert’s dear cousin of England.

The just requests which he, Robert, had made had been denied him. He never wanted to return to France while Philip of Valois sat on the throne. He would go back though when that unworthy monarch was ousted from that position.

This was a reckless manner in which to talk in public but Robert had been born reckless.

‘This Foundling I ‘ went on Robert. ‘That is what they call him in France. He had no idea that he would ever come to the throne ... nor would he but for a course of mishaps. First the father and then the sons ... one by one. It was clear was it not that they were a cursed line? And who is Valois? The son of a King’s brother. Methinks there are others who come before him.’

There were sly looks at Edward who was flushed a little—either with this suggestion or with the excitement of the reunion.

Philippa studied this flamboyant man who looked as though he had seen a great deal of the world and was dissatisfied with it.


* * *

She did not greatly like him. Something told her that where he was trouble would follow.

She was right. Robert immediately became a member of that intimate circle about the King. He was after all royal. He hunted with the royal party and declared his intention of helping in the war against Scotland. He had a certain charm and was experienced, being a good many years older than Edward. He had many fascinating anecdotes to tell of his adventures and he became a favourite particularly with the women. He travelled with the royal cavalcade up to Scotland, but war was not his idea of enjoyment. Certainly not the war with Scotland.

He talked a great deal to Edward about Scotland. ‘Why concern yourself with this poor little country? This Baliol—why bolster him up? He is doomed to be a failure, that man. He will never hold the country together. Philip has not been a very good friend to you, has he? He has shown clearly his preference for your enemies. Look how he keeps the young King and Queen of Scotland at Château Gaillard.

‘He has certainly been no friend to me, that is clear enough,’ admitted Edward.

‘My dear friend and lord, it is a sad state of affairs when your own sister is the guest of the King of France, and in flight from you.’

‘I have offered them a refuge here. I have promised that on the death of Baliol their throne shall be restored to them.’

‘Ah, but they do not take advantage of your goodness, my lord. Why? Because the King of France tells them not to. Do you realize that this wily enemy of yours has taken those two children under his wing for the sole purpose of making trouble for you in Scotland?’

‘I know that, Robert.’

‘Scotland!’ Robert snapped his fingers. ‘What is Scotland? This is a poor little country ... and yet so much blood has been shed to get possession of it. I marvel at you, Edward. You waste your energies on Scotland when there is a far greater crown waiting for you. It is not as though you had no right to it.’

‘The crown of France!’ said Edward. ‘There are many who would say I have no right.’

‘The Valois would! Naturally. He wants it for himself. The Foundling King!’

‘He was chosen by the people to reign. I hear he is a good King.’

‘Any king would be called good who came after the last three. Mercy be that their reigns did not last long. Your beautiful mother was the daughter of Philip the Fair. Her three brothers ruled—if you can call it rule—and she is the next in line and through her, her son.’

‘You know full well the Salic Law prevails in France.’ Robert snapped his fingers. ‘I do not ask that Isabella should rule. No. But she has now a son, a son who now carries the crown of England. Why should he not, instead of wasting his skill, his men and his arms on petty little Scotland, seek a worthier crown?’

‘Ah, Robert, you almost convince me. But think of the bloodshed there would be. It would not be something which could be settled in a month or a year. I could see it going on and on ...’

‘Nothing that is worth while comes easily.’

‘It is good of you to concern yourself with my welfare.’ ‘Oh, this is but justice.’

They were in the forest and when someone came to speak to the King, Robert rode on. He had said enough for the time being. His words would have their effect and it would be a deeper one if the poison was administered in small doses. It must be allowed to seep into the mind gradually so that it was allowed to take a firm hold before the subject realized it.

It would be amusing to start a war. Philip feared it. He wanted to make his country rich, to get it sound again after the last disastrous reigns. What would he say if he had to start a war to hold on to his crown?

Robert was at his favourite trick—mischievously moulding events to his pleasure.

A war! he thought. A war between England and France. Philip was wily; Edward was young; but Edward would prove to be the better general.

He was pleased with himself. He had never done anything as big as this before.


* * *

Edward had realized from the first that his chances of turning Philip from his throne and taking it himself were not great. To carry war into a foreign country was always an undertaking and even defending French provinces had drained the energies of English kings since the Conqueror. The Scottish conflict had impoverished his grandfather and some said worn him out; and although he himself had left Baliol with a defending force in Scotland he did not expect the peace to last there. It was a pleasant idea to consider himself as rightful King of France but whether he should make an attempt to win that crown needed a great deal of examination. Robert d’Artois was constantly at his elbow pointing out the simplicity of the task; but Edward was experienced enough to know that war was only simple in the mind.

There was a great deal at home to demand his attention. Since the death of Mortimer he had made several attempts to bring his father’s murderers to justice. Berkeley had been arrested as the deed had been carried out in his castle; but he had successfully proved that he had been nowhere near the castle when it had been committed. He was in disgrace but no punishment had been inflicted on him. His crime had been to turn away from what was happening in Berkeley Castle, when he should have called attention to the way in which the King was being treated. He could scarcely be executed for that.

Sir John Maltravers had disappeared into Flanders and it seemed was doing all he could to promote trade there for England. Therefore it was best that he should not be disturbed. Sir William Ogle however had been arrested in Naples.

Edward dreaded his arrival in England when the whole terrible story would be brought to light, for Ogle, with the connivance of others and having been ordered to behave as he had by Mortimer and the Queen, was the actual one who had carried out the grisly sentence.

Ogle could not be allowed to live.

Edward’s commissioners knew his wishes, and that because there was Queen Isabella to be considered, the King did not want his mother’s misdeeds to be brought out into the open.

It was arranged that Ogle should die on the journey from Naples to England. Thus he would expiate his sins with the least inconvenience; and there would be no revival of the old story in which Queen Isabella stood in such an evil light.