Виктория Холт - The Vow on the Heron

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.

AS soon as Edward had conferred with his Parliament and persuaded its members to grant him more funds for carrying on the fight for the crown of France he went to see his daughter Isabella in the palace of the Tower.

It was a tearful Isabella whom he found there. She threw herself into his arms and clung to him.

He was deeply touched. Dearly as he loved all his children, Isabella was the favourite. Edward very much enjoyed feminine society. He had been a faithful husband but that did not mean he was unaware of beautiful women and there had been times when had he been less determined he might have strayed. One of his greatest pleasures was jousting, with himself the champion of course and riding triumphantly round the field being aware of the applause and admiration of the ladies. He enjoyed wearing splendid garments to show off his outstanding good looks. This side to his character was in direct contrast to the great warrior and dedicated king, but it was nevertheless there and he was liked for this weakness which emphasized his strength in other directions.

Proud and delighted as he was to have begotten healthy sons, it was his daughters whom, in his heart, he secretly loved best.

Isabella was well aware of this and because she was self- willed, imperious and liked to have her own way she made good use of it.

she When she had shown him how delighted she was to see him e asked why it was that she alone of the family was unable to be with her mother in Flanders.

‘Dearest child,’ said Edward, ‘we are at war you know. You are safer here in London.’

‘I don’t want to be safe,’ she retorted. ‘I want to be with you all.’

‘So you shall be ... in due course.’

‘But I don’t want to wait for due course.’

‘I’ll tell you something, Isabella. Your sister Joanna is coming back from Austria. Our plans there did not work out as we expected. Soon she will be coming to join you here with Lady St Omer.’

Isabella frowned. She did not want Joanna. She wanted to share in the adventures. Life was so dull here, she pointed out. Besides, it was so long since she had seen her mother and if she were in Flanders she would see her father often would she not?

‘Oh dear dear father, I have missed you so.’

‘My love,’ replied Edward, ‘do you not think I have missed you?’

‘But exciting things happen to you. Here it is lessons and sitting over needlework. I am not like Joanna who always wants to be stitching and making embroidery.’

‘Poor little Joanna, she has had a sad time I am afraid.’

‘At least it has not been dull for her. She has travelled and almost married.’

‘But she has been very unhappy. Soon, I trust, she will be with your mother.’

‘While I stay here

Edward took Isabella’s face in his hands and kissed her. ‘It is not safe for you to travel, little daughter.’

She stamped her foot. ‘I don’t want to be safe. Besides, you promised ... You said next time you came you would take me with you. You promised. You promised.’

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘as soon as this war is over, I will take you with me to France.’

‘It can be years and years ...’

A feeling of depression came to Edward then. Years and years! He had always known that taking the French crown was not going to be an easy matter, but there were times when it seemed an insuperable task.

‘And you promised ... you promised. You said people should never break promises. You couldn’t do that, could you? You couldn’t break your promises to your own daughter ...’

‘I am thinking only of your safety.’

‘Oh, my dear lord, I am so miserable ... Please ... please ... take me with you.’

He hesitated and she was quick to see that. She twined her arms about his neck. ‘I cannot bear not to see you. I want to see them all—my mother, my brothers, and Joanna ... but most of all you, dear father. And you promised me ...’

Edward made a sudden decision.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I shall take you back with me.’

He was deeply moved to see the transfiguration. She was radiant.

He held her tightly in his arms and added: ‘Because I could not bear to be without you.’

* * *

Philippa uneasily waited in Ghent for the return of Edward; and when he did return she knew that confrontation with the French would be close at hand. Often she thought with regret of Robert of Artois and his heron. She could see that it was largely due to that man’s hatred of the King of France that he had almost forced Edward into action. Edward should have stood out against the temptor. Let him call him coward. There was not a man in England who did not know that that was the last thing Edward was. He was brave to recklessness; he would fight at the head of his armies. But secretly Philippa wished it was for a more worthy cause. She had been despised by some for her mildness; people did not realize that the very mildness had grown from her knowledge of what was best in life. Harmony was more to be desired than discord, peace than war; love could triumph over hatred at any time and how much happier were those who could take advantage of this.

If only she and Edward could return to England and waive this claim to the throne of France how much happier they would all be.

Sometimes Edward seemed to her like one of her children. She smiled at his vanities, his love of fine clothes and admiration; his delight in a tournament when he showed himself possessed of greater skill than others. Yes, like a child. Yet on the other side was the strong man, the great king, the wily general, the wise ruler.

She did not know for which she loved him more—his strength or his weakness.

And her role in life was to smooth the way for him, to care for him, to be at hand whenever he needed her most, to stand beside him, to hide from him her sometimes greater wisdom; to be always at his side when he needed her.

So now she was in Ghent, in some danger, for the knowledge that Edward had gone to England had reached the French who naturally thought this might be a good time to harry his Queen.

She was unafraid but Jacob von Arteveldt was anxious. He feared that the French might capture her and hold her captive. What a prize she would be with her young ones I

Jacob strengthened the defences about the Abbey of St Bavon and prayed for the speedy return of the King. He was particularly interested in little John whose godfather he was. The friendship between the Arteveldts and the Queen had become very firm. Philippa liked Jacob’s wife, Catherine, and in turn became godmother to her son who was christened Philip which was as near to Philippa as could be, considering the sex of the child.

There were skirmishes in the neighbourhood between the French and the English and Philippa was greatly distressed one day to learn that William de Montacute, who three years before had become Earl of Salisbury and was one of Edward’s greatest friends, had been captured and taken to Paris.