Виктория Холт - The Hammer of the Scots

‘Help me up,’ he said. The groom did so.

He sat there for a second and then rode forward.

‘Ready!’ he cried. ‘What are you waiting for?’

The Scottish cavalry turned and fled; the archers followed them, but the infantry stood firm. Edward was invincible; seated firmly in the saddle he gave no sign that his broken ribs were causing him to be in agony as he shouted his orders and his men could always see him in the forefront of the battle.

None could stand against him. The Scots were fierce in their patriotism; they believed Wallace could lead them to victory. But this was mighty Edward whose name had filled them with dread even as Wallace’s had with pride.

He was there in person – the great King before whom Baliol had bowed, and young Bruce had not raised his hand. Only Wallace had stood against him. But even Wallace was no match for Edward Plantagenet.

It was bitter defeat for the Scots. Twenty thousand of them perished while few English lives were lost in exchange.

They had felt Edward’s might and they remembered it from the past. He had conquered Wales and vowed to do the same to Scotland. Even Wallace was no match for him.

The bedraggled Scots fled back to their mountain stronghold and Edward rode on to Stirling.

The Scots had taken the precaution of laying the land waste, but the English decided to rest there for a while. It was necessary for the King to recover from his injury.

He first saw to the defences of the castle and gave orders for his men to spy out what was happening in the land, attack where necessary and bring back what booty could be found.

Meanwhile he must retire to his bed, his physician in attendance. The neglected broken ribs must heal as quickly as was possible.

Fifteen days passed before he could sit a horse and the incident had aged him considerably, but his splendid vitality which was mental rather than physical was again with him. It was as though he defied fate to harm him while he had work to do.

He had subdued the land below the Forth; and he had no doubt that Wallace was re-forming his armies in the north; but Edward knew that if he advanced the problem of supplies would be acute, and he had no intention of making that error which a lesser general might have been tempted to do.

He marched through Clydesdale to Ayr, his intention being to go into Galloway, but again the spectre of the lack of equipment and food rose before him. He could not be sure that he could be successful. Moreover some of the lords were getting restive, the Earls of Hereford and Norfolk among them. Their men and horses were becoming exhausted; they needed a rest after such a campaign, they said; but the King suspected they were disappointed because they had received no Scottish land or castles as payment for their fidelity to their King. Edward would remember that; but at the same time disgruntled earls could be as much a hazard as lack of supplies. He must satisfy himself that he had crushed Wallace’s rebellion, and that it must be some time before the Scots could get together an army for their losses had been great.

He garrisoned the towns below the Forth and sent a deputation to certain Scottish lords ordering them to meet him. Wallace was not among them. They parleyed together and Edward promised them a temporary truce until Whitsuntide. This they eagerly accepted, needing the time to reorganise. Edward needed time too.

He returned to London.

The Queen was pregnant again. This was promising. Like her predecessor she was fruitful.

Joanna, the Countess of Gloucester, and her husband, Ralph de Monthermer, were at Court and the King’s daughter and his young wife had something in common, for Joanna also was expecting a child.

There could not have been two women less alike than the gentle young Queen and flamboyant Joanna.

But the King had thought it would be good for them to be together at such a time, and of course even Joanna could not disobey a summons from the King. Besides, Ralph wanted to be at Court. He was delighted because he had found favour with the King who had quite forgiven the pair their secret marriage and had bestowed the great favour on Ralph of allowing him to hunt in the royal forests and take away as much game as he chose. This was the greatest of favours for Edward was as devoted to the hunt as so many of his ancestors had been.

Ralph was very pleased with life. Great honours had come his way as husband of the Princess; the King liked him; and Joanna was as obsessed by him at this time as she had been when she had married him.

He was of course one of the handsomest men at Court, and Joanna had never for one moment regretted her hasty marriage. She disliked bearing children and was a little disgruntled at this time because she was expecting one in October and she said it was too soon after Mary.

It was irritating to have one’s activities restricted and be expected to sit and talk of babies with the young Queen whom Joanna secretly thought very dull.

As for Marguerite she could talk of little else but the coming baby and the one she already had.

She hoped it would be a boy. She believed the King wanted boys so much, but of course he was so kind he would never show his disappointment if it were a girl.

‘Of course he will not be disappointed if it is a girl,’ said Joanna. ‘My father loves his girls … better than he does his sons. He adored my sister Eleanor and he has been very lenient to me. On the other hand he is continually displeased with Edward.’

‘Edward I know gives him great cause for sorrow. Joanna, what do you think of Piers Gaveston?’

Joanna smiled secretly. ‘Very clever,’ she said.

Her sister Elizabeth was also at Court. She had lost her husband almost two years ago and had, after a suitable interval, come home to England. There had been rumours that the Earl of Holland had been poisoned; he had had so many enemies and as he had died of a dysentery – as so many people did – this could have been a possibility.

However, like all of Edward’s daughters she had never wanted to leave England and was delighted to be back. She had confided to Joanna that when she married again it would be in England. ‘You did,’ she said. ‘I shall do the same.’

‘You may need a certain amount of cunning,’ replied Joanna.

‘Then I shall come to you to help me.’

Joanna laughed aloud and said her wits were at her sister’s disposal.

Then they talked of their sister Margaret who had been less fortunate than they. From all accounts Margaret had a good deal to endure from Duke John of Brabant.

‘He fills his palaces with his bastards,’ said Joanna. ‘I’d not endure that.’

‘It is easy to say you would not when you don’t have to.’

‘Margaret was always too meek. If I were her I should ask our father to use his influence on her husband and make him stop his philanderings.’

‘Do you think he would?’

‘At least he would have to philander in secret which could be undignified for a ruler. But Margaret has the bastards there and treats them with honour.’

‘She always had a gentle loving nature. And now she has a son, I daresay she is happy enough.’

‘It would not be enough for me. But our sister Margaret is like the Queen. She needs little to satisfy her. She has her young Thomas whom she believes to be the most perfect child ever born, and now there will be this new one. It would not surprise me if young Thomas went the way of our brothers John and Henry. He has a delicate look about him.’

‘Oh, do you think so?’

‘Undoubtedly, and I don’t like his French nurse.’

‘She seemed pleasant enough.’

‘I think that a prince of the royal house should have an English nurse. We do not want French customs here.’