He was in a quandary. He was very anxious for Philippa’s leave and at the same time he knew that it would be folly to leave Berwick. Philippa was wise; she was well protected. The siege of Berwick would soon be at an end. It was Scottish strategy to draw him away just when he was on the brink of victory.
Uncontrolled rage seized him. Philippa in danger and he unable to go to her! A curse on the Scots. That ungovernable Plantagenet temper had never been so strong in him. He had to wreak revenge on someone.
The Governor of Berwick! By God, he had his two boys. The hostages!
He summoned his guard.
‘Slay those boys,’ he said.
The guard stared at him in dismay. He could not believe he had heard correctly for the two hostages had been treated rather as pets in the camp. They had played games with the soldiers and the King had spoken kindly to them often. They were all fond of them. They were two innocent boys.
‘Go, you fool,’ shouted Edward. ‘You heard me. Do you dare refuse to carry out my order?’
‘My lord ... I cannot believe I heard right.’
‘You heard me say, “Slay the boys.” Kill the hostages. I have had a trick played on me and no one plays tricks on Edward of England. Cut off their heads and bring them to me so that I can see that the deed is done. Go. Or do you want the same sentence meted out to you?’
The guard went.
In less than ten minutes he returned with the two young heads and as Edward stared at them his anger passed and terrible remorse came to him. He wondered if he would ever forget that blood-stained innocence.
It had to be, he told himself. It had to be. There is no room for softness.
Now, to Berwick. He would storm the place. There should be no more waiting.
He was a soldier. He knew that now. He would vie with his grandfather for battle honours. There was nothing soft about him. He was going to win.
Berwick fell into his hands with astonishing ease. And as soon as he had set his garrison in it he turned to Bamborough, the vehement fighting mood still on him.
He slew the Earl of Douglas who had led the troops to Bamborough, and routed his troops with ease; then he went into the castle.
Philippa was waiting for him, calm, certain that he would come to rescue her.
They embraced with fervour.
‘I knew there was nothing to fear,’ she said. ‘I knew you would come.’
‘Berwick is mine,’ he said. ‘I have won what I came out to win. I will take you in to Berwick tomorrow and you will ride through the streets in triumph with me.’
‘Oh Edward. I am proud of you.’
He had to tell her himself about the boys for he did not want her to hear of it from anyone else. He tried to explain to her, to excuse himself. ‘It was a trick to draw me from Berwick and by God, Philippa, I almost fell into it. I almost did what they wanted me to. Then I saw that I must stay at Berwick.’
‘Of course you had to stay at Berwick. Of course you did right.’
‘A madness came over me. To think I must stay while you were in danger.’
‘The castle is a great stronghold. I was in no danger. I could have hung out for weeks.’
‘Yes, I know. But in my fury I ordered the hostages to be slain.’
‘The hostages ... The ...’ He saw the shudder run through her. ‘The little boys ...’ she went on.
‘It was because you were in danger. A great fury seized me. It was like a frenzy ...’
She tried to hide the horror in her eyes. She thought of the boys’ mother. Poor poor bereaved woman to lose both her sons.
‘Philippa, it was because of you ... you ... in danger.’
She understood. Philippa would always understand. She said quickly: ‘It was an ill fortune of war.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘an ill fortune of war.’
He was going to forget it. It was necessary. No one was going to think he could be trifled with.
He had won Berwick. His feet were now set on a certain path. He was emerging gradually as the man he would be and in these last weeks he had taken a step forward.
Men were going to tremble at the mention of his name as they had at that of his grandfather.
There would be two Great Edwards for men to marvel at.
The object achieved there was no longer any need to be parted from their children. Berwick was in English hands where Baliol had promised it should be. That was enough for the time. It would show the Scots that when the King of England had a purpose he achieved it. Another Edward had arisen to hammer them into submission.
Philippa was delighted to be returning to her babies. She had not mentioned the death of the hostages again and Edward had convinced himself that a soldier must harden himself to brutality when it was necessary and when men died by the hundred and thousand in battle life was not so very precious.
When they arrived at the castle of Clarendon they were amazed to find that the place seemed almost empty. They surprised one or two serving men lolling about and Philippa immediately noticed that there was something unkempt about the place. A terrible fear seized her; she feared for the safety of her children.
Edward thundered: ‘Where are the guards? Where are the attendants?’
But Philippa was already running to the nursery.
Three-year-old Edward was seated on the floor, rolling pewter platters around and chuckling with glee as he caught them. One-year-old Isabella was crawling after him. Both the children were unwashed, their garments stained and torn.
The Queen ran to them and picked up Isabella who screamed in protest but Edward recognizing his mother ran to her and clutched at her skirts, smiling his delight.
She knelt down and put her arms about them, assuring herself that in spite of their neglected condition they were well.
They had been fed. There was evidence of that on their clothing but how could they be in such a condition? Where were the governesses, the attendants?
In a short time Edward had summoned to the hall all the attendants and servants who were in the castle and in a stern voice demanded to know what this meant.
There was a deep silence; all were afraid to speak until Edward thundered that it would be well for them to give him some explanation of their conduct before his temper was such that all would pay with their heads for what they had done.
It was one of the minor servants who spoke, feeling himself no doubt without blame as his only duty was to obey those who were set over him.
‘We were told, my lord, that we could not have what we needed because there was not enough money to pay for it.’
‘It was true,’ said another. ‘We could not provide what food was necessary for the household. So it was taken from the neighbourhood and the people got very angry.’
‘You mean you stole from the villages round here to feed yourself ... and my children! ‘
‘Well, my lord, there was not enough money to pay for what was wanted.’
‘This is a sorry state of affairs. And does that account for the neglected state I find my children in?’
There was silence.
‘By God,’ cried Edward, ‘some of you will be sorry you flouted my wishes.’
Philippa said: ‘The children are well. It seems they have been fed. They have been left to themselves and have not been washed and tended—that is all. My lord, all I wish is to be with them, to look after them. If you dismiss these people it is punishment enough that they will have nowhere to go and no employment. We can bring others in to take their place.’
Edward, who had felt that rising anger beginning to stir in him, was haunted suddenly by the sight of two headless children. He must govern this temper or his life would be strewn with regrets for violent actions taken impulsively.