He was wondering if he could do something for her children also. He would of course. But he would have to think carefully of that.
‘Catherine,’ he said, ‘I never dreamed there was a woman in the whole world who could please me as you do.’
Chapter IV
THE CASTILIAN MARRIAGE
John rode out to Windsor and presented himself to the King.
The sight of his father shocked him. Edward’s character seemed to have changed completely since the death of the Queen. He now had no reason to hide his relationship with Alice Perrers and the signs of debauchery were marked on his face. The blue eyes once so bright were dull and there were deep shadows under them; the strong mouth had slackened.
By God, thought John, he looks what he has become – an old lecher.
Alice sat beside him. It is true then, thought John, she scarcely lets him out of her sight. He is quite unbalanced. He must be to allow a woman like that to share in his councils with his ministers – and all because she insists! How could a man like his father – great Edward, hero of Crécy, sink so low. And all because of this woman!
But although Edward had prided himself on being a faithful husband who deplored promiscuity at his Court there had always been a latent sensuality in him which was straining to emerge. There had been rumours about his efforts to seduce the Countess of Salisbury; it had even been said that he had cast his eyes on Joan of Kent and there was that incident of the garter to suggest it might be true. Now it seemed, that since he had become a widower he had convinced himself that there was no need to conceal this side of his nature and it had broken free of restraint. Alice Perrers no doubt had determined that it should be so.
He bowed to his father, then to Alice.
She inclined her head and smiled at him, almost triumphantly as though to say: I know you don’t think I should be here but here I am and here I stay.
On her finger was a magnificent ruby ring which he recognised as his mother’s. So it had come to that. She was now in possession of the Queen’s jewellery.
She saw his eyes on the ring and she lifted her hand to her face that he might see it better – a triumphant insolent gesture.
‘Welcome, my son,’ said the King. ‘It is a sad return for you to find dear Blanche no more.’
John was aware of Alice’s mocking glance. It was almost as though she knew of his encounter with Catherine.
‘I could not believe it when I heard,’ he said. ‘I was overcome with grief.’
‘She was a fine woman and a good wife to you. I was glad to see you so satisfactorily settled.’
‘It was a fine marriage,’ put in Alice. ‘Look what it brought my lord. It made him the richest man in the kingdom next to you … my King.’
John would have liked to order her out of his presence but the King was smiling fatuously. He patted Alice’s hand.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, ‘a good marriage. It makes it all the more sad that the plague took her. And I hear disturbing news of Edward.’
‘He suffered after Nájara,’ said John. ‘He never seemed to recover his old rude health. Joan cossets him and orders him … and he accepts it.’
‘A man needs a woman to look after him,’ put in Alice, smiling benignly at the King.
‘Alice speaks truth there,’ agreed Edward.
John felt sickened. He could scarcely believe that this was his father. If he must have the woman, let him keep her in the bedchamber. How could he have her here sitting beside him flaunting the Queen’s jewels. He was completely bemused by her. She did what she would with him.
Why? Why? She was a woman of no breeding. Fit only for the beds of serving men. And the King … Great Edward … Oh, it was unbelievable! And yet he recognised that inherent sensuality. Alice had it. Catherine had it. My God, he thought. It makes slaves of us all whoever we be.
‘Edward wants you to go out again,’ went on the King. ‘He says the King of France is bent on a conquest of Aquitaine. He has heard that the Dukes of Anjou and Berry are assembling two armies for the attack. Edward is sick. Joan does not wish him to go to war.’
‘Joan would not be able to prevent him if Aquitaine were attacked.’
‘I know it well. But I want you to go out there, John. I want you to leave as soon as you can muster an army. What can you raise?’
‘I could attempt to get together four hundred men at arms and, say, four thousand archers.’
‘Do it, John. Would to God I could go with you. Affairs in England …’
Alice looked at him and smiled provocatively.
‘You’re a minx,’ said the King.
John turned away impatiently.
‘Have I offended the Duke of Lancaster?’ asked Alice mockingly.
‘Nonsense, my dear. John is delighted with one who is so good to me.’
‘My lord,’ said John, ‘I have much with which to occupy myself if I am to raise this army in good time. I pray you give me leave to go about my business.’
‘Go, John. Go. I expect to hear good news of you.’
As he left Alice’s laughter echoed in his ears.
How could a great man become a slave of his passion? he thought. It made him none the more easy in his mind because he could understand the King’s feeling for his siren.
The Black Prince was at Cognac awaiting John’s arrival. He was coming with a big force. Four hundred men at arms and four thousand archers should give them what they needed.
The Prince was fighting off one of those debilitating attacks of dysentery which were occurring with alarming frequency. Joan had been against his coming. ‘Leave it to others,’ she had said. ‘You have done your part. You have earned a rest.’ He could not heed her though. Battle was in his blood and he could see that if he was not there these possessions in France, so vital to England, could slip away.
The King of France was naturally taking advantage of the situation and must be rejoicing in the disability of the Black Prince.
But John would come with his army and they would stand together. He felt uneasy about John. He had always known of his brother’s ambition. He had now brought with him a commission that such places of Aquitaine which gave their allegiance to the King of England should be received into favour. He, John, would be the arbiter, in the absence of the Black Prince. Was John trying to take over Aquitaine from his brother?
No, it was reasonable enough. Edward was ailing. There were times when even in camp he was too weak to rise from his bed.
He must not be suspicious of his own brother; and yet the anxieties would not be entirely dismissed.
He felt old and ill and disillusioned. His life was battle. He had been bred to it; and since his father had laid claim to the throne of France he had been dedicated to that goal. He himself would one day be King of England and King of France. He must not forget that. And he must make those thrones safe for little Edward.
Thinking of his son gave him heart. As fine a boy as he had ever seen. Joan scolded him and said he spoilt his eldest son. She was always trying to push Richard forward. Richard was a good boy, it seemed, but he was not like his elder brother. Never mind. They would have a scholar in the family. It did not matter as long as they had the kingly Edward as the firstborn.
He was depressed nevertheless. He had heard only recently of the death of Sir John Chandos. Beloved friend of his childhood who had been close to him ever since. Chandos had saved his life at Poitiers and he had been rewarded with the manor of Kirkton in Lincolnshire, but nothing could be an adequate reward for what he had done. Chandos once said that he had the reward which meant most to him – the Prince’s lifelong friendship.