It was a tearful Isabella whom he found there. She threw herself into his arms and clung to him.
He was deeply touched. Dearly as he loved all his children, Isabella was the favourite. Edward very much enjoyed feminine society. He had been a faithful husband but that did not mean he was unaware of beautiful women and there had been times when had he been less determined he might have strayed. One of his greatest pleasures was jousting, with himself the champion of course and riding triumphantly round the field being aware of the applause and admiration of the ladies. He enjoyed wearing splendid garments to show off his outstanding good looks. This side to his character was in direct contrast to the great warrior and dedicated king, but it was nevertheless there and he was liked for this weakness which emphasized his strength in other directions.
Proud and delighted as he was to have begotten healthy sons, it was his daughters whom, in his heart, he secretly loved best.
Isabella was well aware of this and because she was self- willed, imperious and liked to have her own way she made good use of it.
she When she had shown him how delighted she was to see him e asked why it was that she alone of the family was unable to be with her mother in Flanders.
‘Dearest child,’ said Edward, ‘we are at war you know. You are safer here in London.’
‘I don’t want to be safe,’ she retorted. ‘I want to be with you all.’
‘So you shall be ... in due course.’
‘But I don’t want to wait for due course.’
‘I’ll tell you something, Isabella. Your sister Joanna is coming back from Austria. Our plans there did not work out as we expected. Soon she will be coming to join you here with Lady St Omer.’
Isabella frowned. She did not want Joanna. She wanted to share in the adventures. Life was so dull here, she pointed out. Besides, it was so long since she had seen her mother and if she were in Flanders she would see her father often would she not?
‘Oh dear dear father, I have missed you so.’
‘My love,’ replied Edward, ‘do you not think I have missed you?’
‘But exciting things happen to you. Here it is lessons and sitting over needlework. I am not like Joanna who always wants to be stitching and making embroidery.’
‘Poor little Joanna, she has had a sad time I am afraid.’
‘At least it has not been dull for her. She has travelled and almost married.’
‘But she has been very unhappy. Soon, I trust, she will be with your mother.’
‘While I stay here
Edward took Isabella’s face in his hands and kissed her. ‘It is not safe for you to travel, little daughter.’
She stamped her foot. ‘I don’t want to be safe. Besides, you promised ... You said next time you came you would take me with you. You promised. You promised.’
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘as soon as this war is over, I will take you with me to France.’
‘It can be years and years ...’
A feeling of depression came to Edward then. Years and years! He had always known that taking the French crown was not going to be an easy matter, but there were times when it seemed an insuperable task.
‘And you promised ... you promised. You said people should never break promises. You couldn’t do that, could you? You couldn’t break your promises to your own daughter ...’
‘I am thinking only of your safety.’
‘Oh, my dear lord, I am so miserable ... Please ... please ... take me with you.’
He hesitated and she was quick to see that. She twined her arms about his neck. ‘I cannot bear not to see you. I want to see them all—my mother, my brothers, and Joanna ... but most of all you, dear father. And you promised me ...’
Edward made a sudden decision.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I shall take you back with me.’
He was deeply moved to see the transfiguration. She was radiant.
He held her tightly in his arms and added: ‘Because I could not bear to be without you.’
Philippa uneasily waited in Ghent for the return of Edward; and when he did return she knew that confrontation with the French would be close at hand. Often she thought with regret of Robert of Artois and his heron. She could see that it was largely due to that man’s hatred of the King of France that he had almost forced Edward into action. Edward should have stood out against the temptor. Let him call him coward. There was not a man in England who did not know that that was the last thing Edward was. He was brave to recklessness; he would fight at the head of his armies. But secretly Philippa wished it was for a more worthy cause. She had been despised by some for her mildness; people did not realize that the very mildness had grown from her knowledge of what was best in life. Harmony was more to be desired than discord, peace than war; love could triumph over hatred at any time and how much happier were those who could take advantage of this.
If only she and Edward could return to England and waive this claim to the throne of France how much happier they would all be.
Sometimes Edward seemed to her like one of her children. She smiled at his vanities, his love of fine clothes and admiration; his delight in a tournament when he showed himself possessed of greater skill than others. Yes, like a child. Yet on the other side was the strong man, the great king, the wily general, the wise ruler.
She did not know for which she loved him more—his strength or his weakness.
And her role in life was to smooth the way for him, to care for him, to be at hand whenever he needed her most, to stand beside him, to hide from him her sometimes greater wisdom; to be always at his side when he needed her.
So now she was in Ghent, in some danger, for the knowledge that Edward had gone to England had reached the French who naturally thought this might be a good time to harry his Queen.
She was unafraid but Jacob von Arteveldt was anxious. He feared that the French might capture her and hold her captive. What a prize she would be with her young ones I
Jacob strengthened the defences about the Abbey of St Bavon and prayed for the speedy return of the King. He was particularly interested in little John whose godfather he was. The friendship between the Arteveldts and the Queen had become very firm. Philippa liked Jacob’s wife, Catherine, and in turn became godmother to her son who was christened Philip which was as near to Philippa as could be, considering the sex of the child.
There were skirmishes in the neighbourhood between the French and the English and Philippa was greatly distressed one day to learn that William de Montacute, who three years before had become Earl of Salisbury and was one of Edward’s greatest friends, had been captured and taken to Paris.
Jacob was very grave when he told Philippa the news.
‘I fear for the Earl of Salisbury,’ he said. ‘He is known to be very close to the King.’
Philippa was deeply distressed. ‘They have been friends for so long,’ she said. ‘In fact I think that William could be said to be his greatest friend. I hope that no harm comes to him.’
‘The mood of the King of France is not very benign towards the English at this time.’
‘How I wish Edward were here. He might be able to do something.’
Jacob shook his head. ‘There is little to be done, I fear. We can only hope for the best.’
There was even greater cause for concern. The French fleet was assembling to intercept Edward on his return to the Continent, and its strength would greatly exceed anything that Edward could muster.