Then she would dream that they were doing to Mortimer what had been done to Edward.
At these times they said: ‘The madness is upon her.’
It would pass and she would remember then where she was and why she was there. And how her son Edward the King had sent her there, making her his prisoner.
‘He wants me out of the way,’ she said. ‘I have become an encumbrance to him ... a reminder.’
Then she would be sunk in melancholy and she told them that her longing for Mortimer was more than she could endure.
She wept a great deal.
‘It should have been so different,’ she said. ‘If I could but see my son ...’
But Edward did not come near her. He was trying to find the murderers of his father. They had all escaped overseas but that did not mean they would not be found and brought back to justice. Then the questioning would start. She shuddered.
‘Let be, let be,’ she said. ‘It is past and done with.’
That, she remembered, was what Mortimer had always said. And now he—the brave, the strong, the virile—the one being she had truly loved in the whole of her life—was past and done wi th.
The months went by. She did not see her son, nor his Queen and her child.
‘One day,’ she said, ‘he will come. He will never desert his mother completely.’
There were days when she was well but her attendants never knew when the frenzy would come upon her or the madness return.
Sometimes they heard ghostly footsteps in the night.
‘It is Queen Isabella wandering through the castle,’ they said. ‘Her madness is coming upon her again.’
THE MARRIAGE OF ELEANOR
EDWARD was in a quandary. He had discovered the names of the men he suspected of murdering his father. William Ogle, he believed, had actually done the deed. When Edward considered that he felt sick with horror and his temper which he had inherited from his ancestors was ready to break out into fury, which it certainly would if he ever laid hands on Ogle. Nothing would be too bad for that man to suffer. ‘And by God, he shall suffer,’ vowed Edward.
There were others concerned. Sir John de Maltravers was one, Sir Thomas Gurney another. They had fled to the Continent the day after the murder, which was surely an admission of their guilt.
They shall be found, Edward promised himself, and when they are my father shall be avenged.
But these guilty men had disappeared. Mortimer had paid the price for his sins and Queen Isabella was living in Castle Rising from which she could not emerge without his consent. He had heard that her melancholy was so great that she was subject to fits of madness.
A just retribution, he thought. But she is my mother and it is not for me to add to her miseries. Her sins have created for her a hell on earth and it is for her to inhabit it.
Meanwhile there were domestic problems. He wanted his sister Eleanor to take up residence with Philippa.
Among all the evil things that had happened the brightness in his life came from his Queen and his child.
Little Edward was progressing well and proving himself to be the most beautiful and intelligent boy that ever lived. Philippa was a happy wife and mother and whenever the King felt in need of comfort he went to her. He found her delighting in a letter from the Court of Hainault. She had always been devoted to her family and there was a constant exchange of letters between the two Courts, so Philippa was kept informed of the family’s health, excitement and sorrows.
‘She writes so vividly,’ said Philippa. ‘When I read my mother’s letters it is like being at home.’
This time she was more than usually excited. ‘Such good news, Edward. My mother wants to visit us.’
‘That will be wonderful for you.’
‘Of course I tell her how happy I am, how wonderful you are to me and how ideally suited we are.’
‘I’ll warrant you also write of your son’s perfections.’ ‘She will naturally want to hear of Edward.’
‘What has the young rogue been doing of late ?’
‘Screaming now and then to attract my attention. Continuing to scream if the nurse picks him up because he wants his mother.’
‘I don’t blame him,’ said Edward fondly.
‘He knows exactly what is going on.’
‘I am sure he knows all about the trouble with the Scots and the French and all our other affairs.’
Philippa noticed the sadness which crept into his voice, and she guessed he was thinking of his mother.
She said quickly: ‘All declare there is something really wonderful about little Edward. He grows more like you every day.’
‘Then it would appear that he is well on the way to becoming a paragon of all the virtues ... in his mother’s eyes at least. Now tell me more of these suggested visits.’
‘She wants to see for herself.’
‘Then we must make grand preparations for her.’
‘Oh Edward, how good you are to me!’
He smiled a little grimly. The festivities would be paid for out of the money she had brought into the country. The exchequer was low. When was it not? They were an extravagant family, these Plantagenets. Some spent on themselves and their families like Henry the Third, some on their favourites like Edward. Some on wars like his grandfather. He himself was not averse to a certain extravagance in dress. In fact he liked it very much. A king, after all, must appear in royal splendour to please his subjects and to impress his enemies—otherwise people would begin to wonder whether he was indeed a king.
‘We must make a really rich show for her. Your father will not travel with her, I suppose?’
‘He could not leave Hainault. Isabella will stay with him. She is the only one of us who is unmarried.’
‘I doubt she will remain so for long.’
‘It must be lonely for her ... with us all gone away. First me to you and then Margaret to Emperor Louis of Bavaria and then Jeanne to the Court of Juliers. It must be so different now.’
‘Speaking of families reminds me. I want my sister Eleanor to come to you.’
‘To come to me? To stay, you mean?’
‘Yes, I want her to join your household. You see, Philippa, what has happened to our mother has been a shock to us all. I do not know how Eleanor feels, for I would not ask her. You are good and kind and sweet and I want you to take her under your care. I want you to comfort her.’
Philippa’s eyes were gentle.
‘My dear Edward, you can rely on me to do everything I can to make her happy.’
Edward regarded her with emotion.
Did ever a man have so perfect a wife?
It was a great comfort to the Princess Eleanor to join the household of her sister-in-law. Philippa welcomed her warmly and the friendly homely atmosphere which the Queen had brought to her Court was just what Eleanor needed at this time.
There had been so many shocks in her life. She had quickly learned that her parents were at war with each other. She had heard whispers which she did not understand about the Despensers. She remembered seeing a swinging body on a rope and she and Joanna had huddled together afraid to look out of their window and yet unable to stop themselves although they knew that their dreams would be haunted by that sight for a long time to come. Then her father had disappeared and her mother had come from France with the Earl of March; afterwards her father had died and then, most frightening of all, Joanna had been taken away from her and married to the Prince of Scotland. She had never really recovered from that shock for she and Joanna had always been together until then. They had shared the same household. The Lady Isabella de Valence had been their guardian and Johanette Jermyn their governess, while John de Tresk had looked after their wardrobe. They had been a happy household and then gradually she had noticed an apprehension descend upon them. In those early days she had never thought of life without Joanna, and then suddenly her sister was whisked away. Poor sad little Joanna, who had been so frightened and clung to her at night and declared she would never never go. But the day had come and they had all travelled up to Scotland—except Edward. He would not come and people said it was because he did not like Joanna’s being sent away.