The Hammer of the Scots (18 page)

‘It is strange,’ said the Princess, ‘that I have never seen my own sister.’

‘She will come home soon for we will have to contract a marriage for her. There are already negotiations going on with the King of the Romans. His eldest son is Hartman who will himself be King of the Romans one day. I like to see my daughters queens.’

‘I wonder what Joanna is like.’

‘Spoilt a little, I imagine. Her grandmother was inclined to pamper her as a baby and no doubt she continued.’

‘Then,’ said the Princess with a severity which amused the King, ‘it is time she came home.’

‘Oh? So you do not think your parents spoil their children?’

She took his arm and pressed against his side. ‘Dear Father, your children are treated as children should be treated. Everything you do is … perfect.’

‘What an opinion for a child to have of her father!’

‘When you spoke to me so solemnly I was afraid you were going to talk to me about
my
marriage. I could not bear to leave you, dear Father, and my mother and even my grandmother too.’

‘It will be some time yet,’ he murmured soothingly.

Why? she wondered. She had been betrothed to the Infant of Aragon for many years. His grandfather, the King of Aragon, had recently died and his son Pedro had become King. So Pedro’s son, Alfonso, the Princess’s betrothed, was direct heir to the Aragonese throne. In the circumstances there should be no delay in getting her married. Panic seized her. Could it be that this change in her father’s attitude towards her meant that she was to go away from home?

She cried out: ‘I could not bear to leave you all.’

‘I promise it will be a long time yet.’ He took her hand and held it firmly as though implying he would not let her go. ‘I wanted to talk to you about your new household. That is a much more pleasant subject.’

‘It
will
be a long time, will it not, my dear lord?’

‘Rest assured, my love, it shall be as long as I can make it.’

‘But you can do everything you want. If you said I should
never
go away, then I never should.’

‘I can see you are a dutiful daughter who has the right ideas about her father.’

‘My father is the King,’ she said proudly.

He was overwhelmed by his love for her. If I had another boy, he thought, I should never love him as I do this daughter of mine.

‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘a chamberlain, eh, a keeper of the hall, a groom of the bedchamber?’

‘A cook,’ she went on, laughing, her fears dispersed, for if he were giving her a household as he was suggesting he could not be thinking of letting her leave the country. ‘A salterer – yes I must have a salterer.’

‘Indeed you must! What royal household would be complete without one? What a grand household you will have!’

‘Grand enough for a king,’ she said. ‘But then I
am
the King’s daughter … his eldest daughter. Poor Alfie could be jealous … if he were of a nature to be. But he will just be pleased for me.’

‘Alfonso is a good boy,’ said the King, frowning.

And there was an understanding between them. If Alfonso should die as his brothers had and there was no other boy then she, the Princess Eleanor, would be in a very important position. She would be the heir to the throne.

They continued their walk and discussed the household she would have.

They were both deeply aware of the significance of that.

The Princess Joanna had sensed that something was wrong. Her grandmother’s eyes were red-rimmed which indicated that she had been weeping. An unheard-of thing. There had been several occasions when she had snatched up young Joanna and had held her tightly against her in a manner which had been most uncomfortable and had aroused indignant protests from the child.

‘Oh my darling!’ had been her grandmother’s response.

It was very strange. Precocious seven-year-old Joanna had been born with a fiery and imperious nature and it had quickly become apparent to her that she was a very important person at the Court of Castile. Her grandmother doted on her, which gave her a sense of her own importance, and since the Dowager Queen was constantly thanking Heaven for little Joanna it could not be anything but exhilarating to consider oneself as a gift from Heaven for whom everyone had to be grateful.

The little gift from Heavan knew herself to be beautiful to look on, that her mental powers were something to be marvelled at, that she only had to show a desire for something and it was hers – providing of course it would not be harmful to her, a concession which, when she grew older, she was ready to grant.

So when she saw that her grandmother was decidedly upset she guessed it was something that concerned her.

It was no use asking the Bishop. Suerus, Bishop of Calixien, was her tutor and like her grandmother he adored her. Indeed Joanna could not believe that she was anything but completely adorable. ‘Filiola’ was his pet name for her. It meant little daughter. ‘Which I am not,’ she pointed out to him. ‘My father is the King of England and my mother the Queen. One day I shall be with them.’ She liked to say that because when she did they cast down their eyes and murmured a prayer to God which she knew meant they were asking Him not to take their darling away from them. Suerus had replied, ‘It is true that you are the daughter of the King and Queen of England but to me you are as a daughter … a very dear child.’

The only one who did not show such adulation was her governess, the Lady Edeline, whom her parents had left with her when they went on their way to England. Joanna knew that Edeline loved her just as much as the others but her love showed itself differently. Edeline could scold and criticise and even punish. Joanna could not quite understand why it was, but in spite of all this Edeline was really the one she loved the best.

So of course it was Edeline to whom she must now go to discover the truth.

Edeline was mending the lace on a gown of Joanna’s, which had been carelessly torn in play. Edeline had scolded her about that.

Joanna ran to her and threw herself against her governess’s knee.

‘Careful, child,’ said Edeline. ‘You have made me prick my finger.’

‘Oh poor, poor Edeline. It is really bleeding. There, I will kiss it and make it better.’

‘So you think you have some special power to do that, do you?’ said Edeline. Joanna smiled. Edeline always thought she must be taken down a little. It was all for her own good. But she had liked having her finger kissed to be made better.

‘Everybody has special powers when they kiss to make better. But never mind that now. Why is my grandmother sad?’

‘Has she told you she is sad?’

‘She has crying eyes.’

‘Perhaps you should ask her.’

‘I want to ask you, Edeline. You will tell me the truth. Am I … going away?’

Edeline was silent.

‘I am then! I am!’ cried Joanna.

‘It had to come some time, did it not?’ said Edeline. ‘Your mother left you with your grandmother when you were a baby.’

Joanna frowned into her governess’s face. ‘They should never have left me.’

‘They didn’t want to. Your mother was very, very sad. But your poor grandmother pleaded so and at last your father said you might stay for … a while.’

‘And that time is up now? That’s it, is it?’

‘You are going to England.’

For the first time Joanna was afraid. She threw herself at Edeline. ‘I shall leave Grandmother … my uncle the King … all the people here I know …’ She raised her eyes to Edeline’s face fearfully and dared not to ask the question which rose to her lips. Edeline answered it. ‘I shall come with you.’

Joanna sighed deeply. It was clear that she had found great comfort.

‘When shall we go?’

‘It will not be long.’

‘Oh my poor, poor grandmother!’

The Dowager Queen of Castile could have echoed those words. What would she do without the child on whom she doted? Life had been unfair to Joanna of Castile. She had never been loved as she had longed to be. Henry III had once asked for her hand and then when she had believed herself to be on the verge of marriage he had discarded her for Eleanor of Provence. It had been humiliating beyond endurance. Her mother had been similarly treated in a way and by an English king. Richard whom they called Coeur de Lion had been
her
betrothed and as a young girl she had been sent to England. But she had at least been beloved by Henry II who had seduced her when she was a child in the schoolroom and kept her as his mistress so that it was only natural that Richard should reject her. Then she had been married late to the Earl of Ponthieu who had been Queen Joanna’s father and they had produced but the one girl child. This child – rejected by the King of England – had at length been married to the King of Castile, but when he was old and she was almost past child-bearing, so she had had only one daughter – her dear gentle Eleanor who was now the wife of Edward of England. It had been a humiliating life and when her daughter had married and gone out of it she had yearned for someone to replace her.

Then had come Edward and Eleanor on their way home from the crusade with their dear little baby, who had been born in Acre, and when she had seen the child – named after herself, which seemed to make her more especially hers – she had implored them to leave the child with her. Rather to her surprise and to her intense delight they had done so. Of course they had stressed the point that one day little Joanna would have to come home, but she had refused to think of that day. Now it had come.

They had made a match for her. A match, thought the Dowager Queen indignantly. A match for a baby!

And they were going to take her darling away from her. She could not bear it.

There was no one she could discuss it with except the Lady Edeline. Her half-brother the King had his own affairs and that of a child being returned to her parents seemed a very small one to him.

Lady Edeline came to her and told her that the Princess Joanna had guessed that she was going to England.

The Queen opened her eyes very wide and stared at Edeline. ‘But how … could she know?’

‘She noticed your melancholy and thought it had something to do with herself and from that she guessed.’

‘Is she not a very clever child, Edeline? Fancy! So she knew.’

‘She is bright and sees herself as the centre of life. Everything that happens she believes must concern her. That was how she came to her conclusion.’

‘How can they take her away!’

‘She is their daughter, my lady.’

‘And this match … a child.’

‘It is the custom.’

‘Do you think they will send her to Germany?’

‘I should think that is probably the intention. Her future husband’s family will wish her to be brought up in their ways.’

The Queen clenched her fists together angrily. ‘It is a cruel thing to be a royal princess, Edeline.’

‘Perhaps so, my lady, but there are advantages.’

The Queen raised her eyes and studied Edeline. Calm, honest, precise, she would never flatter, always say what she wished. The Queen said fervently: ‘I thank God that you will be with our child.’

‘I thank Him too,’ said Edeline.

It was a long journey from the Court of Castile to that of England, but the Princess Joanna was excited at its prospect.