The Hammer of the Scots (25 page)

But of course it was not easy to subdue such a proud people. They resented the conqueror, and there continued to be small pockets of rebellion throughout the country. All were aware though of the strength of the English King. He was as unlike his father as it was possible for one man to be from another; he swept through the castles of the land and brought builders with him in order to improve them. Where there had been stone fortresses, magnificent castles were beginning to appear. Being a man of great energy Edward allowed no slackness in those about him. No sooner had he decided that a castle should be improved than the workmen were busy obeying his orders.

Many Welshmen realised that if they would accept him as their King they could grow prosperous, but there were always the rebels. For this reason it was necessary for Edward to keep a strong force on the borders and as he was still unsure of his newly acquired territory he wished to be close at hand himself.

Rhudlan remained the headquarters and there he kept his family, spending as much time as he could with them. He was struck by the coincidences which had allowed him to keep his beloved daughter with him, although he guessed it was but a temporary respite. Still he enjoyed it. She was now nearly twenty years of age, in the prime of her beauty. Of course she should have been married long ago, but he preferred to forget that.

It was a happy family atmosphere at Rhudlan. The conquest of Wales was virtually complete. Everywhere Edward was accepted as the strong man England had lacked since the reign of Henry II, for Richard, strong as he was, had not been a good king for England and had squandered his strength elsewhere. No, Richard was a legend, not a king. Who wanted a king, however brave, however popular a hero in legend, who was so fond of his own sex that he failed to get an heir? They preferred Henry II who scattered his seeds all over the land. Better still great Edward – victorious general, strong king determined to bring justice to the land and a good family man. There had never been any scandal about extra-marital relations in which he indulged for there was none. That was rare in a man of power. He had been a faithful husband and a devoted father. He was a rare king.

The only drawback was that he could not get a healthy son. Alfonso was growing more and more weedy every day. Pale of face, feeble of body, he was not the king to follow on such a father.

But glory be! The Queen was pregnant once more.

Would it be the old familiar pattern? The easy confinement, and then … another girl.

The King loved his girls dearly and some said that he did not greatly want a boy because he was so enamoured of his eldest daughter that he would like to see her on the throne. That could not be true. Much as he loved her and admired her he would rejoice in a boy. It was only because he looked on her as a substitute that he made so much of her.

In early April of the year 1284 he was at Caernarvon Castle, a place of which he was immensely proud because he had recently completed the building of it. The structure which had been there before he had raised his impressive castle had been by comparison nothing more than a fortress. And what a spot on which to build. The castle stood on a rock projecting into the Menai Straits. On one side was the sea, on another the river Seiont. Its castellated architecture filled the King with pride. It gave an immediate impression of beauty allied with strength. It was both a delightful dwelling place and an impregnable fortress. Of all his castles in Wales this was his favourite. Turreted towers rose above the embattled parapets. There were thirteen of them and he had ordered that there should not be one exactly like another. He had said there should not be another castle like Caernarvon and there was not. The towers were pentagonal, hexagonal and octagonal.

Before the entrance tower he had had erected a statue of himself – with a sword half drawn from its scabbard in his hands. This would remind the Welsh that he was the conqueror and that all Wales was now under his rule.

As he stood at one of the windows of the state apartments he felt a great longing to be with his family. The birth of his child could not be far off. It was expected somewhere around the twentieth of the month. His family were at Rhudlan and he thought it would be nice to have them with him.

He sent a messenger to Rhudlan. Let the Queen and the rest of his family join him at Caernarvon. He had a notion that his next child should be born at the castle which he had so recently completed and which was the finest in Wales.

In a very short time they arrived. The Queen was very heavy but she assured him that the journey had been easy. She was so accustomed to child-bearing that it caused her little inconvenience. What a pleasure he derived from showing them his castle.

‘There is of course much to be done yet, but work progresses.’

How he wished he could spend more time with them but they had scarcely settled in when news came that after the family had left Rhudlan trouble had sprung up there and it was felt that the King’s presence was needed at once.

‘So it goes on,’ said Edward. ‘I am of an opinion that we shall have trouble here for years ahead unless I can find some way of placating these people.’

He said a fond farewell to his family.

And the Queen’s last words to him were: ‘This time it must be a son.’

‘Send me news of him to Rhudlan as soon as he comes,’ was his answer.

At Rhudlan he went into conference with his generals. There was trouble in the mountains. Certain chieftains were raising their banners and trying to rally men to the cause of a free Wales.

‘They should be taken to London and shown the rotting heads of those who attempted to defy me,’ was the King’s grim rejoinder.

‘They are talking about a prince who should be appointed. They want a Welshman. They want someone who does not even speak the English language.’

‘It is not what they want but what I want which will come to pass. They forget they are a conquered nation.’

‘There are some men, my lord, who will never admit to defeat. The Welsh are of this kind.’

‘We shall see,’ said Edward.

He was a little melancholy. He wanted to return south. He was finding that too many problems beset him and they came from all sides. He wanted to be at Windsor or Westminster. That was the centre of his government. How could he know what was happening there while he was concerned with the Welsh matter?

‘By God,’ he cried, ‘these are a defeated people. They shall do as I say or feel my wrath.’

And while he was musing upon this a messenger arrived from Caernarvon.

The Queen had given birth to a boy. A healthy boy.

He stared at the messenger. He could not at first believe it. Then he cried out in joy.

‘Is this indeed true then?’

‘My lord, it is so. The Queen is overjoyed.’

‘As I am. As I am. And a healthy boy you say.’

‘They say they have never seen a healthier. If his lungs are any indication, my lord, he gives good evidence of strength.’

‘Blessings be on you. You shall be rewarded for bringing this news. A grant of land and this day a knighthood is yours.’

‘May the lord preserve you and the baby Prince, my lord.’

The man was grovelling on his knees but Edward had stepped past him.

He would keep his promise to the man and then … all speed for Caernarvon.

It was true. The Queen lay in her chamber which she had made beautiful and comfortable after her fashion by hanging up her Spanish tapestries. Beside her was the wooden cradle which hung on rings attached to two upright posts.

‘My love,’ he cried and knelt by the bed kissing her hands.

She smiled at him triumphantly. ‘The child,’ she said.

And there he was, lying there, only a few days old but with a look of health on him – so different from the other boys who had all been puny from birth.

‘Let us call him Edward,’ said the Queen.

‘Edward he shall be.’

‘I shall pray that he will grow up to be exactly like his father.’

The Princesses greeted their father with their usual devotion, but the Princess Eleanor was subdued. She did not want to speak to anyone, not even Joanna. Eleanor was now twenty years old, Joanna herself was twelve. There would be no more delay, Eleanor thought. How could there be? The child in the cradle had ousted her from her position. Alfonso could not live long. Everyone was saying that. And just as her ambition was about to be realised this boy had to be born.

Joanna was a little mischievous. ‘I wonder why God sent the Sicilian Vespers?’ she said. ‘It all seems of no moment, does it not? You might as well be in Aragon as here in England.’

Eleanor could not speak. She could not shut herself away so she must try to compose herself, so that her father might not see how bitterly disappointed she was.

She could not shut out the memory of Joanna’s mocking comment. Whatever was God thinking of?

It was unwise to share one’s secret thoughts with anyone – even one’s sister.

Edward received the Welsh chieftains who had come to Caernarvon to pay homage to him.

He received them with respect and after they had made admission of their fealty to him they asked leave to speak to him. This he readily gave.

‘My lord,’ said their leader, ‘there will be no peace in this land until we have a prince of our own – a prince who is beyond reproach, one who can speak neither French nor English.’

Edward was silent. If he could speak neither French nor English that meant that he must be Welsh.

‘A prince,’ he repeated, ‘who has never offended you, a prince who has never fought against you on the side of the English, you mean.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘A prince who can speak no English nor French. I see what you mean. I think I can agree to this. And if I do will you promise me peace in Wales?’

‘My lord, we promise it.’

‘No more rising. No more rebelling. You will accept the prince I shall appoint and make him your Prince of Wales.’

‘We should do that, my lord.’

‘Wait here awhile. I shall not be long.’

The chieftains looked at each other in astonishment. It was victory beyond their expectations. The King was agreeing to their request. A Welsh Prince for Wales!

The King returned. They stared at him in astonishment for in his arms he carried a baby.