As for the King, the connection had been made, so politics had been served. He never wanted to part with any of his daughters, so Margaret would be welcome to stay at his Court for as long as was possible in the interests of propriety.
Contemplating Margaret’s marriage Eleanor could be content with her single state. It was only when Joanna came flaunting the advantages which had come to her that she was dubious.
Edward tried to draw himself out of his grief and consider the Scottish question.
He called together his ministers and reminded them that this problem was of the utmost importance to them.
One suggested that perhaps he might reduce Scotland to the same state as he had Wales.
He shook his head. ‘Not so easy, my friend. Llewellyn and Davydd rose against me. They were captured and met their just deserts. With their departure went the claimants to the throne. In Scotland see how many there are. There are the three leading contenders and if these were removed we can be sure there would be others. We should be involved in costly wars lasting years and years. You know how difficult it is to fight in these mountainous lands, and how fiercely men will do battle on what they consider to be their own territory. Nay. What I aim at is to get them to select their ruler, but that he shall reign under me.’
He would therefore continue with that journey which was broken by the death of his wife. He would call together a conference and he would let the Scots know that they owed fealty to him as their superior lord. If they acknowledged this they would then be free to select their own king from those claimants who now clamoured for the crown.
But first he must have their acknowledgement of him as their superior lord.
His grief over the loss of the Queen was somewhat alleviated by this action and as he rode northwards he gave his mind to the Scottish matter with such complete concentration that he found it was only at odd moments that he had time to remember.
He had summoned the lords of Scotland to meet him at Norham and there the proceedings commenced.
Edward was anxious to prove to the Scots that through the past years Scotland owed homage to the Kings of England.
The Scottish lords, however, rejected this, at which Edward rose and standing before them towering above them all, with his stern countenance and voice to match, he cried, ‘By St Edward I will have the due right of my kingdom and the crown of which I am the guardian or I will die in the prosecution of it.’
There was an awe-inspiring quality about the English King. It seemed to the watching Scots that he was endowed with some supernatural power. There was a magic about him which had come to him through his great ancestor the Conqueror. He was another such. Coeur de Lion had had it. Henry II had had a touch of it. It never failed to strike fear into the hearts of those who beheld it.
A few days later when the assembly was meeting, the Scots acknowledged the King’s superiority and that they were ready to do homage to him.
Edward was pleased. They might then choose which of the claimants should be their King.
The matter should be left to them.
Joanna and her husband had travelled to the latter’s estates at Wynchcombe near Tewkesbury that their child might be born there.
The Earl was eager that everything that his beautiful young wife wanted she should have and Joanna was in her element. She was certain she was going to have a son. No one could deny Joanna anything … not even God.
Petted and adored, she prepared for her lying in. It was nineteen years ago that she herself had been born in the town of Acre. Now she was producing her first child. How different it would be from her own coming into the world. As she lay waiting and feeling the preliminary alarms and discomforts, she did spare a moment to think of her mother lying in that hot and arid land pestered by flies and even more obnoxious insects, missing the comforts she would have had in her English palace.
This was different. The luxurious bed; the anxious husband; countless attendants.
It seemed that fate was determined to be kind to Joanna. Her labour was not long and there, almost before they could hope, was the child. She heard its cry and she whispered, ‘What is it?’
‘A boy, my lady. A lovely, healthy, little baby boy.’
Of course. She had known it would be. Nothing should be denied her.
Her husband came and knelt by her bed. She smiled triumphantly. It was as though he was worshipping at a shrine.
‘My dearest,’ he murmured, ‘what can I say …’
‘You are pleased?’ An unnecessary question but she wanted to hear again his expressions of gratitude; she wanted him to thank Heaven, as he had since their marriage, for his beautiful adorable unsurpassable wife.
She touched his hand lightly.
‘Let us call him Gilbert,’ she said kindly. ‘After you.’
The King must of course come to see his first grandchild. He called on his way back to Westminster from Scotland.
He picked up young Gilbert, walked round the chamber with him, marvelled at his minute perfections and was happier than he had been since Eleanor’s death.
It was while he was in Wynchcombe that a messenger came from the convent of Amesbury to tell him that his mother was very ill and she was asking to see him. It was necessary that he go to her with all speed.
This time he was determined not to be too late and when he arrived at Amesbury he went straight to his mother’s bedchamber. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. She was very ill, he saw at once, and his heart sank. It was cruel. He had lost his wife and now was going to lose his mother. True he had been expecting this, for she would never have agreed to shut herself away from the world until she was fairly convinced that her end was near. Even so such foreknowledge could not soften the blow.
‘Oh, Edward,’ she said, ‘how glad I am that you have come. I am going … at last. Do you know, it is nineteen years since I lost your dear father.’
‘I know it well,’ said Edward. ‘I have reigned as long.’
‘Oh, Edward, my son, what a good life we had together, your father and I! It rarely happens so, and you with your dear wife … Now that she has gone … oh Edward, I know full well your sorrow. She was a good woman … rarely are women so good. You were lucky in your choice, my son, as I was in mine.’
‘Mother, I beg of you …’
The King was so overcome with emotion that he feared he would break down.
She knew this. ‘Do not be afraid to show your feelings to your family, my son. Your father never was. Oh, he was a great, good man … much maligned, never appreciated by his people … They appreciate you, Edward. Yes, I think they love you … and they loved the Queen. And now you are a great king. Many say that, Edward. You are the King the country needed … after your father and your grandfather. You are strong, a little hard perhaps. But that is what they need, they say. I remember when you were born, my son. What rejoicing! Such a sturdy baby … long-legged from the first. Longshanks. Your father liked to hear them call you that. How I suffered when you were ill! So strange that you should have been a delicate boy. But we cared so much for you. How often have I nursed you myself. I would have no others near you. Edward. Edward, my son.’
He knelt by her bed and took her hand. ‘Dear Mother, you were so wonderful to us all. You made our family what it was. We were so happy and Eleanor and I tried to follow your example, and we did. Our children were always happy in their homes.’