Wrapped in furs to keep out the winter cold she rode with her uncle and from the villages they passed the people came out of their houses to stand in the roads and see her.
That they liked the fresh young face with the open smile was obvious, and on that journey Philippa first became aware that the people of England were ready to give her a warm welcome.
She was so young, so appealing, so ready with her smiles, and rumours about the late King’s death and the Queen and her paramour Mortimer were beginning to circulate even in the remote country districts so that people wanted a change and they were more than ready to show great affection to the innocent young King and his bride.
By the time Philippa reached the outskirts of London it was Christmas Eve. There she was met by a procession largely made up of the clergy who had come to escort her into the city.
Eagerly she looked for Edward but he was not among them. They are taking me to him, she thought.
Her uncle Sir John rode beside her and told her that he was very proud of her and happy because it was clear that she was making a good impression on the English. She said she was just being herself which made Sir John smile for he knew it was naturalness which the people were finding so appealing.
He delighted in pointing out the landmarks which he had come to know well. He showed her the Tower of London which she thought rather grim and hoped she did not have to spend too much time in the palace there. The river, though, sparkled in the frosty air and the gardens of great houses which ran down to the water’s edge were beautiful indeed. There were so many trees—ornamental and fruit-bearing. Now their stark branches made a lacy pattern against the sky and their leaflessness made it possible to see the landscape more clearly.
Her uncle pointed out the abundance of green fields and he told her of the wells of London in which were waters proved to be beneficial to health. Holy Well, Clerken Well and St Clement’s Well. And there was Smithfield where every Friday—when it was not some great feast day or holiday—the finest horses in England changed hands. There was the Great Moor on the north side of the city which washed the edge of Moor- fields and here a few weeks later in the depth of winter when the river was frozen, the young people would come out to skate.
All this he had seen; and he found the life of the capital city enjoyable indeed.
It was clear that Uncle John believed that the greatest good fortune which could have befallen his niece was her marrying into England.
In the heart of the City the Lord Mayor and his aldermen were waiting to greet her. It was a most impressive ceremony during which she was presented with a service of gold plate which Uncle John told her later was worth quite three hundred marks and was a sign of the people’s joy in her arrival.
As the next day was Christmas Day she would spend that in London. She would be conducted to the Palace of Westminster and there she would remain for the next three days.
But why, she asked herself, was Edward not there to greet her?
In the palace she was taken to those apartments which had been restored with great artistry and expense under the direction of the King’s great grandfather, Henry III. They were beautiful and had been especially prepared for her on the King’s order.
But if only he had been here himself to greet her!
Her uncle explained to her. ‘We shall shortly be travelling to York where the King is with his mother the Queen.’
‘I had thought to meet him ere this,’ said Philippa, and her uncle noticed her despondency.
‘Dear niece,’ he answered, ‘you must remember that you are married to a King. As eager as he is for your coming, he has State duties which demand his attention. He is involved at this time making a treaty with the Scots and it is for this reason that he cannot be with you. You have seen, have you not, how his people have welcomed you. Why do you think? It is because they have had orders from the King to do so.’
‘So their welcome was not because they were glad to see me but because they were ordered to appear so,’ said the logical Philippa.
‘I tell you this to show the King’s great regard for you. But one can always tell whether the people’s welcome comes from the heart—as it never could if it were shown merely because it was commanded. Nay, my dear niece, you are the most fortunate of girls. Do not look askance at your luck.’
‘I won’t,’ replied Philippa. ‘I do understand that Edward has his State duties. And I am sure the people really like me. They could not be so warm and friendly if they did not.’
There were so many people who wished to meet her and so much feasting. The three days of Christmas had passed and, leaving the Londoners to continue celebrating their King’s marriage to the pleasant little girl from Hainault, Philippa and her retinue began the journey north.
Edward’s second cousin, John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Essex, had arrived to conduct her on her journey north and by New Year’s Day they had reached Peterborough, where they rested awhile at the Abbey there.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse and their speed was considerably slackened on account of the icy roads; the winds were fierce and the quantity of baggage which travelled with them slowed them down even more, so it seemed a very long time to Philippa before she saw the towers of the Minster in the distance and knew that her journey was nearing its end.
Then she saw bearing down towards them an array of armour glistening in the pale wintry sun; pennants fluttered in the strong east wind for the cream of the nobility who were with the King in York had come out to greet her; and at their head rode the young King himself.
Philippa’s heart leaped with joy as she saw him mounted on a fine white horse. Gloriously apparelled, taller than when she had last seen him, his flaxen hair adorned by a slender golden crown, he looked more like a god than a king and she was overwhelmed by adoration for him.
He broke away from the company in his eagerness to greet her. His horse was close to hers. His blue eyes were looking earnestly into hers as he took her hand and kissed it.
‘Philippa ... little Philippa,’ he said, ‘at last you have come to me. It has seemed a long time.’
‘For me also,’ she replied. ‘I had thought to see you long ere this.’
‘Oh, you are just the same. I feared you might have changed. How long it seems since we were together in the Hainault woods. I found the waiting irksome, but it is over now. We are to be married immediately. I’ll have no delay.’
The glow of happiness which had settled on her made her beautiful but even in this moment she could not forget those days of anxiety when she had feared she might not be the chosen one.
‘I was afraid ...’ she began.
‘Afraid!’ he cried. ‘You ... of me!’
‘Afraid that one of my sisters might have been chosen by the Bishop.’
Edward smiled at that. ‘That could never have been.’ ‘Oh but it might have. Margaret is the eldest. I thought he was going to choose her.’
‘He wouldn’t have dared.’
‘But I thought he was going to. He seemed to study her. I could have died with misery because you asked him to choose.’
Edward burst out laughing. ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘the Bishop was sent to choose. It is the custom, you see. He must choose the most suitable. Kings have to follow customs, Philippa. But do you know what I said to him? “Bishop,” I said, “if you value your head you will choose Philippa. Understand this now that I, the King, command you to choose Philippa.” And of course he would dare choose no other.’
‘Oh Edward, is it really so?’
‘I swear it, my little love. I swear it on our marriage vows, on the tomb of St Thomas, on my father’s bones. It is Philippa I loved in Valenciennes and I swore then and I swear now that I will take none other as my Queen.’