Chapter 6
Edward tightened his stomach muscles and drew a deep breath as he prepared to enter his father’s chamber.
Beyond the palace, a warm April sun danced on the river, the water a ruffled blue, reflecting the sky.
The meeting was going to be difficult and contentious.
Nicholas, his senior squire, had set out to the Pope in Avignon with Edward’s request for a dispensation and matters on that side were already in motion.
A young woman emerged from the room followed by a servant bearing several jewel caskets, enamelled boxes and two bales of embellished cloth.
They made their obeisance to Edward, and he inclined his head and waved them on their way.
Mistress Alice Perrers was the wife of Janyn Perrers, an influential city goldsmith with whom his father often conducted business, but it was irregular to see her here without her husband even if accompanied by a servant.
She was tall, with strong features and a glamour about her more alluring than beauty.
He suspected she had piqued his father’s interest, for he still had carnal appetites and Edward’s mother was incapable of satisfying them these days because of her debility.
Edward came to kneel before his sire who was drinking wine by the hearth and dutifully kissed his hand. ‘I hope I did not disturb you?’
‘Not at all. Mistress Perrers was showing me some rings I had commissioned from her husband’s workshop. He has taken to his bed with the ague, but the rings were ready for me to view.’
Edward nodded. The story had come very glibly to his father’s tongue. It was probably true, but perhaps not innocent.
‘It is good to see you, my boy. Your mother will be delighted too. You do not visit us enough.’
‘Be assured I shall go to her shortly.’
Edward rose from his obeisance and sat on a cushioned bench. His father’s white gazehound loped over to him for a fuss and he obligingly tussled its silky ears.
His father turned to examine a selection of rings in an open box lined with beeswax to secure the shanks.
Plucking out one with a topaz stone, he held it up to the April light shining through the window.
‘I take it whatever you want to discuss is not for other ears since you have arrived without a summons and left your men outside?’
Edward looked down, feeling like a castigated youth, which was not an auspicious beginning and ridiculous since he was past thirty years old.
His father lowered the ring and regarded him with new focus. ‘That serious, is it? Come, speak.’
Edward swallowed and took the bull by the horns. ‘Sire, I have asked the Countess of Kent to marry me, and she has agreed to do so pending your consent and a papal dispensation.’
Silence dropped like a curtain. His father’s expression was first blank and then astounded. ‘You have done what?’
‘I have asked Jeanette to be my wife,’ Edward repeated, adding swiftly, ‘It is a sound solution for the earldom of Kent while the heir is not of age – and Tom Holland is already my godson, as is his brother.’
His father returned the topaz ring to the box and closed the lid.
‘Pending my consent?’ he said huskily. ‘Do you truly think I would give my consent to a son of mine who goes behind my back with a woman whose disposal in marriage is my prerogative? It seems to me you have let your prick override your head!’
Edward suppressed the retort that his prick was probably under better control than his father’s. ‘I have done no such thing, sire. I have thought about it carefully and—’
‘Not carefully enough. You have disrespected me by not coming to me first. Just how far has this agreement gone?’ His father’s eyes flashed. ‘Sweet Jesu, do not tell me you have bedded her?’
Edward’s face burned with chagrin. ‘No, sire, I have not, and for my honour, I would not.’
‘Honour!’ his father spluttered. ‘You talk to me of honour!’
Edward bunched his fists. ‘We have taken vows of per verba de futuro before a priest and made a promise to wed in full with consummation once a dispensation has been obtained. That is why I am here now – to seek your approval. I admit I should have spoken to you first, and for that I apologise.’
‘An apology I do not accept.’ His father’s voice was heavy with anger. ‘Do you realise what you have done?’
‘I am old enough to know my own mind and understand the implications,’ Edward replied tautly.
‘Her reputation is sullied,’ his father snapped. ‘Her marriage to Thomas Holland caused a huge scandal for the way it was conducted, and now she has the temerity to repeat the transgression with my own son!’
‘It was none of her doing,’ Edward countered. ‘I asked her, not the other way around, and she stipulated that your consent be obtained.’ He spread his hands. ‘The Kent lands will bring great wealth to the Crown. Jeanette is loyal and experienced, and I have every faith in her.’
‘Far more than I do, and the same goes for my faith in you. I thought you were a man who honoured and respected his father and understood his role as a future king, but your judgement has deserted you. This isn’t some peasant match conducted in a village.
This concerns England’s throne!’ His father’s complexion reddened with the force of his anger.
‘In the name of Saint George begone! I will send for you when I am ready, but I do not wish to speak with you further today.’
Edward inhaled to defend himself, but his father raised a hand in refusal. ‘Say no more. You would only add logs to the bonfire. I would rather you left of your own accord than have me throw you out.’
Edward rose and bowed stiffly. ‘I hope, father, you will come to see that the advantages far outweigh the pitfalls.’
‘I doubt it very much indeed.’
Edward stalked from the room before he said something that would wreck his relationship with his father for ever. Once outside he paused, breathing hard, and leaned against the wall, eyes closed. Servants and courtiers eyed him curiously.
John Chandos rose from a bench along the side of the chamber. ‘He did not take it well then, sire?’
Edward grimaced and opened his eyes. ‘That is putting it mildly. I expected him to be terse, but not quite so enraged.’
‘What will you do?’
Edward puffed out his cheeks, galled at being dismissed like a recalcitrant child.
He was a grown man, the veteran of many successful diplomatic and battle campaigns.
He had done everything his father had ever asked of a son and was being chided like an infant – not to mention insulted, as was Jeanette.
And this from a man who had been figuratively wiping his mouth as Edward entered the room.
‘I am here to visit my mother too,’ he said. ‘I shall see what she has to say.’
‘If you need my support, you have it.’ Chandos clapped Edward’s shoulder with a firm hand. ‘Your father will come round to seeing the merits of your choice.’
‘Not without more work,’ Edward said wryly.
The royal women were busy with a new consignment of Italian silks and velvets. His mother was in bed, but her colour was good today and she beckoned him to her side with pleasure.
‘Ah, it is good to see you,’ she said as they embraced and he inhaled her familiar rose-water scent. ‘Come, what do you think of this velvet?’ She indicated a swatch of violet cloth with a thick nap and silvery sheen in the light.
‘Very fine, Mama.’ He stroked the textile, plush as cat’s fur.
‘I shall have winter robes made from this, sewn with pearls and ermine.’
‘And I am having the blue lined with ermine,’ his sister Isabelle said, showing him a second bolt of cloth with a big bag of pearls beside it, which he duly admired. Edward was two years older than her, but she frequently behaved more like his aunt than a younger sibling.
Edward was delighted that his mother was well enough to be taking pleasure in her textiles and hoped her good mood and stamina would survive what he had to tell her.
She sent young Pippa de Roet to fetch drinks and wafers.
Her latest pet squirrel, an unusual white female named Snawit, curled up for a snooze on the silk coverlet, her bushy tail embracing her body like a scarf, her red collar bright as berries against her snowy fur.
Edward talked with his mother and sister about the merits and pitfalls of different suppliers of velvet and the difficulty these days of obtaining pearls in the quantity required, until Pippa returned.
‘I am here for the joy of visiting you, Mama,’ he said when he judged he had spent sufficient time greasing the wheels, ‘but I have something to tell you, and I would rather it be in private.’
‘Well, that is all very mysterious.’ His mother set down her empty cup, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. A flick of her fingers banished everyone from the room save for Isabelle, who stood firm.
‘Is it so much of a secret that you cannot let your own sister hear what you have to say?’
Edward was tempted to say it was, but he knew how strong-willed she was, and besides, she might be an ally.
‘Stay if you wish,’ he said, ‘but what I say must not go beyond this room.’
‘You insult me, brother.’ Isabelle put her nose in the air, and he smiled despite himself. Isabelle ignored his grin.
‘Well then,’ his mother said impatiently once everyone had been dismissed. ‘What is it? Do not keep us in suspense.’
Edward took her hand in his. ‘I have asked Jeanette of Kent to marry me.’
‘I see,’ she said, although clearly, she didn’t. Isabelle’s eyes were huge. ‘And what answer did you receive?’
‘Jeanette has agreed providing you and my father agree, and with a papal dispensation to clear the way. I take full responsibility. I want to protect her and keep her safe, and there are many advantages to the match.’ He looked imploringly at his mother.
‘Could you see your way to giving me your blessing on our union?’
Gently but firmly, she withdrew her hand from his. ‘It is a little late to be asking for that, is it not? What does your father say?’
Edward grimaced. ‘He was displeased, but he will come round when he has had time to think on the matter.’
‘I warrant he was more than displeased!’ Isabelle declared. ‘I bet he was furious!’ The sparkle in her eyes caused him to throw her an irritated scowl.
His mother gave him a narrow look. ‘So, you have come to me to seek a way around him?’
‘No, Mama, I merely came to give you the good tidings because I thought you would understand a matter of the heart. I have loved Jeanette for a long time while knowing she only had eyes for her husband.’
‘Do not play that particular game with me,’ his mother warned, easing her spine against her pillows.
‘I am not playing games. I have never been more sincere in my life. Jeanette and I have been married per verba de futuro – but without consummation.’
His mother stared at him in dismay. ‘Edward, what were you thinking? That is rash indeed!’ She shook her head.
‘I am not without sympathy, but your father’s word is final.
We are all subject to his will beyond our personal wishes.
I think you have been foolish and thoughtless.
You are a future king; your marriage is a matter of state.
I realise it is advantageous to have a consort with whom you have equality of heart and mind, but I cannot approve this match, or the way you have gone about it. ’
‘I know I was wrong not to discuss it with you and my father first – but never has anything felt so right and solid. There are many good reasons why it would benefit the state.’
‘Hmph,’ she said darkly, and gestured for him to drink his wine and eat some wafers. ‘And how does Jeanette feel about this proposal?’
Edward chewed and swallowed. She was asking some difficult questions he wasn’t keen to face. ‘I do not know, mother, but she agreed despite her grief, and that gives me hope. The Kent estates will be a great asset to us, and so will she. I am asking you to at least speak to my father on my behalf?’
Philippa gave an exasperated sigh, but her expression softened.
‘What a broil you have concocted for yourself, and from the heart not the head. I shall speak to your father, but do not pin your hopes on my success – he is fickle these days. I am not convinced I should even be doing so, but my own heart is moved by your plea – as I know full well you have wagered on.’ She fondly patted his cheek, but with rebuke in the gesture too.
‘Thank you, Mama.’ Gratefully relieved, Edward kissed her cheek.
When he left, Isabelle saw him to the door and gave him a swift hug.
‘I knew you would understand,’ he said. ‘At least I have one ally.’
‘Yes, but I also understand why our father is so angry. You should have approached him first, not gone your own way like a half-broken warhorse.’
‘Because I knew he would probably not agree unless his hand was forced,’ he answered with exasperation.
‘Knowing him, he would have chosen a husband for Jeanette there and then to suit himself without any other consideration. He always disapproved of her match with Thomas Holland because he had other plans for her.’
‘And now you have exacerbated the situation by repeating it,’ Isabelle declared, ‘and worse because you are the heir to the throne!’
‘Well, you refused to wed the lord he chose for you,’ Edward pointed out.
Isabelle tossed her head. ‘That was different, and I am not the future king!’
‘And as a future king, I will choose my own bride,’ Edward said. ‘And if that means defying my father, then so be it.’
Isabelle sighed. ‘Whatever happens, I will support you – and I still love you even if you are trying to beat down walls with your head.’ She mitigated her admonition with another hug. ‘I don’t know what John will say. I cannot see him taking your part somehow.’
Edward looked wry. John, their younger brother, was a stickler for protocol.
He knew without a doubt he would side with their father.
His nearest brother in age, Lionel, was generally less hidebound and was also fond of Jeanette, but he was in Ireland, so would bring little assistance to his cause.
‘It matters not,’ he replied with a determined shrug.
‘Done is done, and I am committed – heart and soul.’