The Vow on the Heron Read online

The young man asked him how he liked being out of England and Edward replied that it was good to be where important events were going to happen.

  They chatted awhile of trivial matters and then Edward asked the young man what he thought about the delay in fighting. Did it seem to him that there was a certain reluctance on both sides?

  The young man was thoughtful. It did seem so. There had been so much talk of war that it was certainly strange that no battle should have taken place. He thought that it was due to lack of money. He had been present he said at the banquet when Robert of Artois had produced the roasted heron. Perhaps the King had made his vow before he was ready to fight.

  Then they talked about the claims of the King through his mother and how Philip was not really in the direct line.

  Edward found it most interesting and very much enjoyed the company of the young man.

  He asked his name.

  ‘It is John Chandos,’ he was told.

  ‘Well, John Chandos,’ he said, ‘I hope we shall ride together again.’

  John Chandos said he was at the Prince’s disposal and as the days passed the Prince saw more of John Chandos, and when he deplored the fact that he was so young and therefore would not be allowed to join in the battle, John pointed out that there were always compensations in every situation. Just imagine,’ he said, ‘if you were four or five years older they would be marrying you to Margaret of Brabant.’

  ‘And I am not at all sure that I want to marry her, John.’

  ‘That is what I mean. So be thankful that you cannot just yet.’

  The Prince laughed. And his friendship with John Chandos grew.

  Philippa noticed it and was pleased. It was good for Edward to make friends and although Sir John Chandos was not of the most noble birth, he was of good family and an honourable man who had given the King good service. One of his sisters, Elizabeth, had been maid of honour to Philippa at one time. She had liked the woman, just as she liked her brother.

  John Chandos could teach Edward a good deal.

  Philippa was deeply concerned with other matters. Edward had said that he thought he would have to go to England to raise some money.

  She sighed. Money could be spent in so many better ways than in war. She was very sorry that Edward had ever thought of laying claim to the throne of France. If he had not they might all be together in England.

  She thought constantly of her family. She worried about Joapna and Isabella. If only they could return to England whdre they belonged and settle down to live in peace.

  She had a fancy that she might be pregnant again.

  * * *

  Joanna was desperately unhappy. Because her aunt Margaret looked a little like her mother she had expected her to act like her. When her father had ridden away the little girl had burst into tears and continued to sob bitterly.

  Her aunt looked at her with some distaste and said rather sharply: ‘Now, child, you are not a baby you know. What are You making that noise for?’

  Joanna stopped crying to look at the Empress in astonishment.

  ‘I want my father,’ she said, ‘and my mother.’

  The Empress turned away impatiently. ‘Pray make the child wash her face,’ she said. ‘The sight is offensive.’

  Joanna was astounded. She had thought her aunt would understand. She had been so kind when her father was there and she had told him how generous he was to have given her such lovely jewels.

  ‘You can trust me to look after your daughter,’ she had said.

  And now she could not understand how miserable Joanna was. Surely she knew that there was never a father in the world like hers, nor a mother like her sister Philippa? And was it not reasonable to suppose that any daughter who had lost them would be miserable?

  It was a sad realization that all might not be as she thought.

  When she next saw her aunt she was composed and it was a ceremonial occasion. The Emperor and the Empress were together before a banquet and Joanna was taken to her because the Empress had wished it. She was all smiles and friendliness. ‘My dear child,’ she said, ‘all, you look well now. It was a sad parting was it not?’ Then to someone at her elbow. ‘The daughter of my sister the Queen of England, is a little sad just now, being parted from her parents, but she will be happy and well with me. Will you not, Joanna?’

  Poor Joanna was bewildered. She wondered if she had heard correctly on that other occasion.

  Sometimes she rode beside the Empress on her little pony and people smiled at her and seemed as though they were pleased to see her.

  Duke Otho was kind and she was presented to Frederic who was to be her husband. She did not greatly care for him.

  ‘Oh,’ said the Empress being kind now, ‘it will be a long long time before you are old enough to marry.’

  ‘I hope I never do,’ said Joanna.

  ‘That,’ replied the Empress coldly, ‘is a very stupid statement.’

  She was looking at Joanna with cold dislike again and Joanna felt a great impulse to cry like a baby for her mother.

  It was a little bewildering when one was not very old to leave one’s family and go away to strangers, even though it had always been stressed that princesses had to grow up more quickly than other people.

  She was thankful to Lord John de Montgomery although she could not confide in him, but he did give her the feeling that she was being looked after.

  She had a few attendants and it was comforting to talk to them but she saw that as the weeks passed they were becoming rather uneasy. There was often very little to eat—in fact not enough for the household and she heard the attendants talking together and saying that if Queen Philippa knew how her sister was treating the little Princess she would never forgive her.

  After her first show of friendship the Empress rarely came near her niece. In fact she seemed to have forgotten her existence. Joanna was deeply hurt; she had expected very different treatment from her mother’s sister.

  Lord John came to see her and he told her that it was no use pretending that she was being treated properly at the Imperial Court and he proposed writing to the King and telling him what was happening to his daughter.

  ‘I suggest, my lady Princess,’ he said, ‘that you write to your mother.’

  Joanna’s eyes were round with terror. ‘What if the letters fell into their hands ?’

  She imagined terrible things happening to her, things of which she heard whispers in corners. How traitors were cast into dungeons to live with the rats, how they died ...

  Lord John realized then how deeply the child had suffered and a great anger arose in him against the selfish Empress and he thought how different she was from her sister.

  He said: ‘Never fear, they shall not fall into their hands, and if they did, no harm could befall the daughter of King Edward of England.’

  ‘They can give her very little to eat and be unkind to her,’ retorted Joanna with logic.

  That was true. Lord John agreed, but if she would write of what had happened to her he would see that the letters fell into no other hands but those of her mother.

  To write letters in secret gave a new excitement to life_ and hope too. If her mother knew she would never let her stay in this horrible place.

  In due course the letters had the desired effect.

  The King of England now wished his daughter to be put into the care of her future father-in-law, Duke Otho of Austria.

  The Empress shrugged her shoulders. She had forgotten about the child in any case. The costly gifts which the King had bestowed on her were also forgotten.

  ‘Let the child go,’ she said.

  Life was a little more comfortable for Joanna after that although she was very homesick and longed to be with her mother. Bickering with Isabella now seemed like perfect bliss and she did long to see her brother Edward. She wanted to be lifted up in her father’s arms and put her cheek against his; she wanted to run into her mother’s arms and be held tightly.

  Would she ne
ver see them again? Lucky Isabella, who although older was still at home!

  Duke Otho was a kindly man. He thought his new little daughter charming. He seemed very old to Joanna but perhaps that was because he was ill.

  Here of course she saw Frederic almost every day. He was not nearly as handsome as her brother Edward but that would be asking too much. He was an arrogant little boy and he told her that husbands were always the masters and their wives had to obey them.

  ‘Nobody obeys such little boys,’ replied Joanna, which made Frederic angry.

  He was growing up fast. His servants said so. He was going to be seven foot tall and then he would show her.

  Joanna’s consolation was that it would be a long time before he was old enough to marry. In the meantime she had to share lessons with him and speak all the time in their hateful tongue.

  Frederic’s Uncle Albrecht was frequently at the ducal court. Joanna did not like him at all. He lacked Duke Otho’s kindliness and she fancied he looked at her with a certain amused dislike which was very unpleasant. Everyone was very deferential to him, and he used to come to the schoolroom and sit there listening with that supercilious smile on his lips whenever Joanna spoke.

  At first she had been relieved to be rid of her Aunt Margaret, now Uncle Albrecht and Frederic made her wonder whether the change had been such a great improvement.

  Albrecht had a loud booming voice and an air of being always right. Once Joanna heard him say to his brother: ‘This could be a mistake.’ And she instinctively knew that he was referring to her betrothal to Frederic. ‘The English won’t have a chance against the French,’ he went on.

  Duke Otho murmured something inaudibly but Joanna guessed that he was defending the proposed marriage and his alliance with her father.

  A few days later Duke Otho was very ill. There was a hushed atmosphere throughout the palace.

  ‘They say the Duke is dying,’ said one of her attendants. ‘Then,’ said another, ‘Frederic will be the Duke.’

  ‘Yes, but we know who will be the real ruler. Duke Albrecht.’

  ‘There will be some changes.’

  ‘I have heard it said that he is hand in glove with the King of France.’

  The King of France! thought Joanna. Her father’s enemy! But it was because her father wanted Austria to be his friend that she was to marry Frederic.

  It was a sad day when Duke Otho died. Joanna had been fond of him and it was yet another tragedy to lose him; and as the days passed she realized that more and more the attitude towards her was changing.

  Frederic told her that her father had no right to the throne of France. He must have heard that somewhere for he would never have thought of it himself.

  ‘It is my father’s,’ cried Joanna, equally ignorant of the facts, but sure that her father was right. She would defend him even if it were dangerous to do so.

  ‘Your father will be driven out of France,’ cried Frederic. ‘Who says so?’

  ‘My Uncle Albrecht.’

  She knew it of course. Duke Albrecht had always disliked her. Now his dislike was more than ever apparent.

  Lord John came to her and when she heard what he had to tell her she was almost delirious with joy.

  ‘I have written to your father,’ he said, ‘to tell him of the death of Duke Otho and that the sympathies of Duke Albrecht, the Regent, are with the French. I have now heard from him that we are to leave at once and join the Queen in Flanders.’

  Joanna was speechless with joy.

  It was over then, this nightmare. She was going home. She wanted to run through the palace telling everyone.

  She would start preparations immediately but Lord John warned that she must wait a little until Duke Albrecht himself spoke to her of her departure.

  She saw him that very day. He was with Frederic as he often was. It was said he was teaching Frederic how to govern.

  ‘Why, here is our little bride,’ he said. ‘She looks radiant today, does she not, Frederic?’

  Frederic said nothing. Oaf, thought Joanna. How happy I shall be when I do not have to see him again.

  ‘Tell us why you are so happy, little lady.’

  ‘You will know that my father has sent for me,’ she replied.

  ‘And the prospect of leaving us makes you happy?’

  No need to placate them now. No need for anything but the truth. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does.’

  ‘Is that not a little ungracious?’

  ‘It is the truth,’ she answered.

  ‘Shall I tell you another truth, my Princess? You are here with us and here you will stay until we say you may go. Let us appeal to the Duke. Is that not so, Frederic?’

  Frederic smiled his silly smile.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She cannot go until we say so.’

  Cold terror seized Joanna. All the brightness had drained from her face. She turned and ran from the room.

  * * *

  ‘Duke Albrecht will never dare to flout your father,’ said her attendants, but she could see that Lord John was not so sure.

  There was no attempt now to hide the fact that Austria was going to be on the side of the French in the coming struggle and all the rich gifts and the proposed marriage might never have been given and arranged.

  Frederic, who was very much under the influence of his uncle, told her that the French King was the greatest in the world and he would soon make the English King wish he had never thought of trying to take what did not belong to him.

  Joanna refused to argue with him. She was sick at heart wondering what would happen to her now.

  Looking into her sad little face Lord John tried to comfort her.

  ‘You know your father is a man who always gets what he wants.’

  She did know that.

  ‘Well now he wants you to leave Austria and go to your mother. He has asked for your return and since you have not left he has sent another letter which I have taken to the Duke. In this he demands your return.’

  She had great faith in her father. But still Duke Albrecht would not let her go.

  ‘Is he going to make me marry Frederic then?’ she wanted to know.

  She talked of it with her attendants.

  They were silent and she knew that meant they believed he might.

  ‘Why? Why when they hate me?’

  She had to grow up. She had to learn that sometimes princesses were married to princes whom they hated and who hated them because of some political reason.

  She heard someone whisper ‘as a sort of hostage, do you mean?’ and the answer, ‘Well, yes, it could amount to that.’ And she knew they were talking about her.

  The weeks passed, tension was rising. Every day there was some mention of the coming conflict between her father and the King of France and she knew that she was among her country’s enemies.

  Her father would come to rescue her, she promised herself, and she used to lie in her bed thinking of that wonderful day when she would see her parents again.

  And one day, Lord John came to her in some excitement.

  ‘I have just taken a letter to Duke Albrecht from the King your father. I do not think the Duke will dare refuse to let you go when he receives it.’

  ‘He does not care for my father. He thinks the King of France will defeat him.’

  ‘He is afraid of your father as all his enemies must be. I do not think he will dare hold any longer.’

  Lord John was right.

  Duke Albrecht did not come to her nor did he send for her.

  One of his equerries came and told her to make ready. She was to leave Austria within the next few days to make the long journey up the Danube to Munich, through Coblen to the Castle of Ghent where she would join her mother.

  On a glorious April day she rode forth. Never was there anyone in the world, she was sure, as happy as the Princess Joanna on that bright April day.

  * * *

  This was an anxious time for Philippa. She was heavily pregnant and in a stra
nge country. She was very worried about Joanna. Being well aware that her sister was not the most unselfish of women, she had thought at first that her affection for her sister and her compassion for a very young girl far from home would have induced her finer feelings. She had been presented with costly gifts in the hope that these would remind her that she owed her sister something, but Margaret had hardened she was sure now and the selfish little traits of her childhood had magnified. Philippa had been horrified by Lord John’s account of the neglect poor Joanna had had to suffer and she had long wanted to prevent the marriage and bring Joanna back.

  ‘It is so unnatural,’ she had complained to Edward, ‘to send a child so young away from her home.’

  Edward agreed but it was necessary to find allies if he were to win the crown of France.

  The crown of France! thought Philippa. That bauble! What was that compared with the heartbreak of a little girl and her mother. And even if he won it—which could she was certain only be after years of struggle, suffering, privation and endurance—what then?

  How she longed to leave the Low Countries. She thought longingly of Windsor--the forests. the river and the castle which she had grown to love. Now her child would be born in a foreign land.

  Edward was worried too. The campaign was so costly and nothing at all had been achieved so far. It was disconcerting that those whom he had taken such pains to please and at great expense were now turning towards France as the more likely side to be the victor.

  This infuriated him. Moreover he must raise more money and how could he do this in Flanders?

  He came to the conclusion that he would have to return to England. He must persuade Parliament that he needed money for his armies. He had to pay his soldiers; he had to keep them supplied with arms.

  He told Philippa this and it added to her anxieties. True, he had sent to Austria demanding the return of Joanna and she was hourly expecting news that her little daughter was on her way to her. What a happy day that would be when she could hold the child in her arms.

  The time came when Edward could delay no longer. He must have money and would have to pay a brief visit to England in order to get it. He was uneasy about leaving Philippa behind but she assured him that she would be capable of looking after herself. Moreover she had good friends in Ghent, the chief of these being Jacob von Arteveldt for whom the King had such regard.