Desired (45 page)

“Gone to the siege of Calais, I believe.”

The blood drained from her face. She ran back to her chamber and slammed the heavy door. Then in a blazing passion she rent her bed-robe to ribbons and fell to the bed sobbing … devastated.

In the morning when she awoke, the first thing she saw was the torn robe. Everything flooded back to her. She had been so angered at Christian Hawksblood, she had barricaded her door against him. Then when she had donned mer mother’s clothes, as before, her attitude and her feelings for him had undergone a dramatic reversal. She analyzed what had happened. She knew she did not become Rhianna, but when she wore her mother’s clothing, she took on some of her mother’s mystical powers and knowledge. This knowledge made her see the purity of truth. She admitted her feelings for Christian and feared she would always have them, but she was betrothed to his brother, Robert, and would do her duty and try to be a faithful wife to him. Thunder of Heaven, it was fortunate Hawksblood had departed, for she knew she would have gone to his bed.

She examined her feelings about France. She wanted to go to that country and yet at the same time would have preferred more time before she wed Robert. She sighed. Now she would have that time. She wrapped the sheet about her nakedness and rang for a maid. “I’m afraid I will need something to wear. A simple tunic will be sufficient. Perhaps one of the maids will be generous enough to lend me something.”

Later in the day when Adele arrived, bringing their trunks, her problem of clothing was solved. For a moment she considered ordering Paddy to take them straight back
to Windsor, but upon reflection, decided to accept her fate. Perhaps this stay at Bedford Castle was meant to be.

Paddy left immediately and Brianna hugged Adele thankfully. “I’m so glad to see you. That devil Hawksblood spirited me here so I couldn’t go with the Court to France. Whatever did the queen say when she thought I had run off?”

“I went to her with all sorts of excuses upon my lips, but Philippa is a wise lady. She said that you probably needed a little more time to get used to the idea of marriage. Then she didn’t give it a second thought. She had Isabel to contend with and her royal brood to oversee.”

Brianna opened one of her trunks and selected warm riding clothes. “Perhaps we’ve had a fortunate escape. I am going to enjoy playing chatelaine for a while.”

Joan was almost frantic when she learned that Brianna wouldn’t be going to France with her. Brianna was more than a friend; she was confidante, sister, and mother rolled into one. Joan thought of staying behind too, but under the circumstances it was impossible. She was Lady Holland now and must go with her husband, and after all, the main reason she had become Lady Holland was so that she could go to France to be with Prince Edward.

The voyage was handled most smoothly. The Black Prince sailed on a different vessel from the king and queen, and naturally since John Holland was in his service, he and his new bride sailed on Edward’s ship. Joan saw little of Holland but much of her beloved Edward, which suited her to a T and filled her every waking moment with happiness.

When they arrived at Calais, Prince Edward took a large house just outside the city, which had a separate wing for Lord and Lady Holland. In actuality John Holland occupied the wing in solitude, while Joan and Edward had the rest of the spacious house to themselves.

Upon his return to Calais the king was furious to find that city still holding out against his siegers. He called a strategy meeting immediately. Warrick spoke up. “I have eighty ships blockading the harbor. Last week Philip sent forty-four vessels to revictual the city. We either captured or sank them all. One thing is certain: Calais ran out of
wine, meat, and corn long ago and now I believe they have run out of cats, dogs, and horses. In three days at most, our patience will be rewarded.”

Hawksblood suggested, “Why don’t I take a couple of my trusty Cornishmen and slip into the surrounding French towns to see what the mood of the people is like?”

“I’ll come with you,” Prince Edward volunteered.

Hawksblood decided Edward and Joan should have their honeymoon. “You might be recognized, Sire. You would be more effective battering the walls of the city. They cannot hold out much longer.”

Robert de Beauchamp ground his teeth in chagrin when he learned that Brianna was not among the queen’s ladies. He did not seek an answer from his bastard of a brother, nor from Prince Edward. Likely they were in league against him. Instead he approached Joan of Kent and questioned her sharply.

Joan didn’t know what to say to him. “I am as surprised as you, Robert. I thought she was on one of the other vessels. I … I am newly wed and had much to occupy me the day we departed.”

Robert cursed the little slut under his breath. He should have known he wouldn’t get a straight answer from her. Finally he approached the queen, but over the years Philippa had learned diplomacy. “I’m so sorry, Sir Robert, there simply wasn’t room to transport all the ladies, so I chose the ones who had experience in the nursery. I can understand how anxious you are to be wed, but once Calais falls and when Princess Isabel is wed to Count Louis of Flanders, we shall all return to Windsor.”

Robert had to be satisfied, so he put his energies into furthering Prince Lionel’s position, which was the same as furthering his own.

The English knew it was impossible for the people of Calais to hold out much longer. But hold out they did, well into the long winter. The king’s temper deteriorated to the point where he was incensed against these stubborn French dogs who defied him week after week defending “Goddamn Calais,” as he called it.

In the meantime, Count Louis of Flanders dragged his feet over the agreement to marry Princess Isabel. Though
her mother and father diplomatically tried to hid the truth from her, explaining that these things always took an inordinate amount of time, the princess became petulant and made her ladies’ lives miserable. Fortunately, the king’s knights and captains had little to occupy them as they waited for Calais to surrender, and the Court devised dancing and entertainments on a lavish scale to allay the boredom.

When Hawksblood returned from infiltrating the surrounding French towns, he informed the king, “Philip has tried desperately to muster more nobles and troops, but he is growing most unpopular because of the heavy taxes he has levied. He hides in Paris, which seems the only place that still supports him.”

One cold morning a few days later, the governor of Calais sent a message that he was ready to come to terms.

T
he message from Sir John de Vienne incensed King Edward. “Calais is mine for the taking! How dare he try to make terms! This harbor town has been a haven for pirates for years. Holding out against me has cost arms, money, men, and time. I’ll put the place to the sword for his goddamn insolence!”

Warrick knew it was the most strategic French town they would take. He tried to keep the king from destroying it. “A lesser man would have given up long ago and earned your scorn, Sire. Set aside your wrath while we study what will best serve our cause.” Warrick looked at his son Hawksblood, who immediately read his thoughts.

Hawksblood said to his friend, Prince Edward, “A little mercy can go a long way in making a king popular.”

Edward spoke up. “Make the leaders pay and spare the townspeople. Make the six leading citizens come bareheaded, barefooted with ropes about their necks to turn the city keys over to you. Then hang them on the walls for all to see.”

Warrick and Hawksblood looked at each other with alarm, but for the moment held their peace.

Later Edward and Joan had Christian dine with them. Hawksblood did not hesitate to discuss the matter of clemency in front of Joan because he knew she would be his ally. “They will send their most highly respected burghers. They will not be young men and they will be weak from the enforced famine. If the king butchers them, they will become martyrs.”

“He cannot back down now. How would he save face?” Edward demanded.

“Oh, please, Edward. If Queen Philippa begged him to spare them, how could he refuse her? She is large with child, and he is always extremely chivalrous.”

“You don’t know my father’s temper, sweeting. But because I can refuse you naught, I will speak to my mother about this.”

Christian said, “Good! I know clemency will gain him more than revenge. No one knows how to use pageantry to better advantage. I believe you and your father should ride through the streets with a fanfare of trumpets as you take in food.”

The next morning Prince Edward had a private meeting with his mother and father. It took a deal of courage to face down that blazing Plantagenet temper, but once he had convinced his father to be lenient, the king’s flamboyant nature took over and he plotted a spectacle that would be remembered down through history.

The king, surrounded by his captains and best soldiers, and the queen with all her ladies in attendance, had the six leaders brought before them. Up on the wall the king’s headsman stood holding his great ax. The six burghers were thin and stooped and had difficulty walking. The wealthiest, John Daire, went on his knees and the others followed suit. “We bring you the keys and put ourselves at your mercy to save the rest of the people who have suffered so hardly.”

The king’s handsome face was angry. He held up his hand to signal his headsman. “Upon you I will work my will. The rest I will receive to my mercy.”

At this point in the pageant, Queen Philippa went down upon her knees before King Edward and begged him to
show mercy. The citizens of Calais gasped, then held their collective breath to see if this king would be swayed. He took a long time to make up his mind, then lifted his hand to signal the headsman. Then he suddenly changed his mind and gave the burghers’ fate into his queen’s hands.

A great cheer arose from the gathered crowd for the brave queen and the compassionate king. Though they expected Edward to garrison the town, the people of Calais thought him more reliable than the French king.

John Daire, who had the biggest house in the city, offered it to the queen for as long as she remained in Calais. Philippa took over the house immediately.

Now that Calais had surrendered to the English, Count Louis of Flanders was persuaded to do likewise, albeit reluctantly. His council and the representatives from the main towns told him plainly their economy depended upon an English alliance. They needed wool from England to keep their weavers working.

“Where is this Bruges?” Princess Isabel demanded of her mother.

“It is about fifty or sixty miles up the coast from here. It is close to my beloved Ghent where your brother John was born.”

“But why can’t Louis come here to Calais?” demanded Isabel.

Philippa, with the patience of a devoted mother, explained, “The betrothal must take place in Flanders since that is Count Louis’ country. Also, the monastery at Bruges is ancient and upon sanctified ground. A betrothal encompasses a religious ceremony as well as the signing of a civil contract.”

The king spoke up. “I’ve decided we will sail up the coast. Your mother cannot ride sixty miles in the dead of winter in her condition. I think you and your ladies will be a lot more comfortable aboard the cog
Thomas
. I think these, too, will add to your comfort.” The king signaled to an aide, who carried in some large boxes.

Isabel tore off the lid of the box marked with her name and lifted out a costly sable cloak with a warm hood. Queen Philippa received one in a lighter shade of sable. “Dearest,
you shouldn’t spend so much money on me. You need it to continue your campaign against France.”

“Hush, Philippa. A king should be able to give his queen furs to keep her warm. Isabel harbors no such frugal notions.”

“No indeed, Father,” replied Isabel, already preening in hers. “But don’t you think a blue fox edging about my face would be more flattering?”

“Your beauty needs nothing to enhance it, child,” he said, ever gallant.

Aboard ship, however, on their way to Bruges, when Isabel saw Lady Joan Holland wrapped in blue fox with ermine tails, she wanted to scratch out Joan’s eyes.

Prince Edward could not hover about his beloved on the voyage, but her comfort, safety, and welfare were of paramount importance to him. Because Holland had to stay behind to garrison Calais, Prince Edward ordered Holland to surround Joan with trustworthy servants who acted more or less as bodyguards for the ethereal young woman. She was precious to Edward, appealing to his chivalrous nature, and he always treated her with loving tenderness.

Robert de Beauchamp, on guard duty in Calais, made it his business to patrol with John Holland. Though De Beauchamp’s laughing good-natured looks belied it, Holland recognized that the young blond giant was riddled with ambition. After all, he was tarred with the same brush.

“You don’t accompany Lady Holland to Bruges I see, but I am sure the Black Prince will take good care of her.”

Holland bristled. Deep down he coveted Joan almost as much as he coveted wealth and position, but it was his private běte noire and he wanted it kept that way. “They are royal cousins and friends since childhood,” Holland replied mildly.