Chapter 15
Throughout a sweltering autumn, the court of Aquitaine dwelt in Bordeaux.
The days of scorching sunshine saw messengers travelling at haste between Gascony and the English court.
Edward’s father sent letters commanding him to support Pedro and fiercely emphasising that the French must not be permitted to gain a foothold in Castile, although supplies were less forthcoming than written insistence.
Bordeaux continued to fill with troops. The armouries were busy from dawn to dusk hammering out spear heads, horseshoes, breast plates, whatever was required.
Supplies rolled into the city in a perpetual train of baggage carts and sumpter horses and the roads resounded with the constant rumble of transport.
Pedro’s household had transferred to Lillebonne, ten miles from Bordeaux, although his daughters spent much of their time in Jeanette’s bower.
Edward often stayed at Lillebonne to hammer out the treaty with Pedro for the rescue of Castile, and sometimes Jeanette did not see him for days on end.
One evening in late September, he arrived in Bordeaux shortly before the sunset closing of the gates and came straight to her chamber. Little Edward immediately toddled over to him with a cry of ‘Papa!’ and proudly showed him his new toy wooden horse. Laughing, Edward swung him high in his arms.
‘Papa, ride . . . me!’ his son demanded imperatively.
Edward obligingly perched him on his shoulders and canered around the chamber a couple of times before whirling him round and setting him back on the ground.
Jeanette laughed at their antics, but her joy was clouded by the thought of how long Edward was going to be away on campaign.
Refreshments arrived, and she dismissed her ladies. Edward handed his son to his nurse who took him from the room.
‘How are you faring?’ he asked as they sat down to bread, smoked sausage, cheese and grapes.
‘I am well.’ She gave him a sparkling smile. She would not tell him that her ankles had swollen in the heat and that the carrying this time was burdensome as she entered the later months.
‘And the little one?’
‘Very busy. We shall have a task to keep up with him or her, I tell you now.’ She leaned across the table to pop a grape in his mouth. ‘But enough of me. Tell me your news.’
Edward chewed and swallowed, pips and all. He picked up his cup and contemplated the wine. ‘It is all arranged. The muster will be complete soon after Christmas, and we shall set out to Castile to restore Pedro to his throne.’
Jeanette forced down the morsel of bread she had been chewing and almost choked. His reply was inevitable, but to hear him say it made her feel sick.
‘John is bringing troops and supplies from my father, and will be here by early January,’ he continued. ‘We may have to leave before he arrives, but he will follow on our heels.’
Jeanette nodded stiffly. She did not want him to go, but his need and obligation weighed more in the balance than his obligation to her and to Aquitaine; her words, no matter how impassioned, were mere feathers in the balance.
‘Pedro has sworn a holy oath on strict conditions,’ he said when she did not speak.
‘He is to mend his life, and he is to rule in honour as a Christian king. He must repay all expenses incurred by me and others who have agreed to help him, and he must do so within two years of regaining his crown. His daughters will remain here as our guests with a view to marrying English husbands of suitable rank.’
A chest full of empty promises. ‘And how long is this campaign to last?’ How long must I be alone?
Edward pursed his lips. ‘I have estimated logistics for six months,’ he said, ‘but I hope it will be less than that.’
Her dismay increased. ‘So, you will be gone for half a year.’
‘You have known from girlhood and from being at court how it is. Indeed, you have known from your marriage to Thomas.’
‘Yes, to my great cost of grief. Whatever oaths this man swears, whatever treaties you make, soft words do not hold fast in quicksand. I would not trust Pedro of Castile as far as I could throw him.’
Edward’s expression hardened. ‘Let me be the judge of Pedro and what I have to do.’
Unable to swallow another morsel, Jeanette gave her dish to the dogs to clear, and they set to with enthusiasm.
‘Tom will be coming with me,’ he continued relentlessly.
‘I am going to confer knighthood on him and others. I was his age when I was knighted, and it is time he had more responsibility. He is more than ready – he’s been kicking his heels all summer – he needs the experience.
’ He looked at her. ‘Do not worry, he will be protected, even while I give him a looser rein.’
‘You are taking my son and yourself to war, and you tell me not to worry?’ she said with angry exasperation. ‘When John arrives from England he will have Johan in his entourage, so then it will be both my boys.’
‘Yes, and you will endure,’ he answered firmly. ‘You are a soldier’s wife and a princess. You will be a queen in due course. I do not need to tell you any of this, for you know it already. Your sons will be great lords of the realm; that is their destiny.’
‘Yes, I do know it,’ she replied bitterly, ‘but it makes it no less difficult to part from you, knowing that when all of you leave my care, I might never see you again. And whatever you say, you cannot promise you will return.’
‘That is the way it is. I leave it in the hands of God, but I pray He will be merciful. We do not know what the future holds, but shutting the door will not make it go away.’
He took her in his arms, drew her to the bed and lay down with her, to hold and comfort her, the baby in her womb curved between them, but she was not comforted.
She was going to miss this most of all – the strength and warmth and safety.
In holding her now, he was adding focus to the fact that she would not have him for six long months, and perhaps for ever. The same for her precious sons.
Eventually, she drew away and sat up. The weight of emotion had moved off like a circling thunderstorm, leaving her hollowed out and ungrounded.
Edward stroked her cheek. ‘My brave, beautiful Jeanette. You are my heart’s delight and my helpmate. I trust in your strength and your courage. Will you not trust in mine?’
‘I know you must do this,’ she said. ‘I do not want you to go but I cannot stop you, and even if I had the means, how could I use it, and still hold your trust and be your truest love?’ She gave a small, desolate shrug. ‘Do what you must, and I shall do what I must.’
Edward pulled her in tight again and kissed her, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance. She drew them in like a soothing tisane, but knew their effect would soon fade and she would miss him even more for having this sweetness now.
Winter encroached, and the winds turned chill.
Edward continued his preparations to leave.
He was often absent among the soldiers at the growing muster, and as Christmas feast approached, Jeanette prepared to retire to her confinement chamber with her women to await the baby’s birth.
She was constantly tired for the child always seemed to be wakeful when she wanted to sleep and would churn and kick in her womb, but with increasingly less room to move was like someone trying to toss and turn in bed while entangled in the sheets.
This would be her sixth confinement, and she was past forty years old.
Her body and her muscles no longer responded with elasticity to the demands being made on them and she felt anew for Queen Philippa, who had borne thirteen children – more than twice her own number.
Small wonder that the Queen’s body was worn out.
As the time drew closer to Edward’s departure, Jeanette dug into her reserves and continued to present a smile to the world and worry and cry in private. Not even the closest of her ladies saw her tears.
Tom visited her chamber for an afternoon, and she gave him a gold ring set with a clear green emerald.
‘This belonged to your father,’ she said.
‘I am sure you saw him wear it on many occasions. I want you to have it, and to wear it once your stepfather has conferred knighthood upon you, for you will be adjudged a man and it is time it came into your possession.’ She put it in a small velvet bag she had stitched while resting – a labour of love, for sewing was not her favourite pastime.
‘Take it with my blessing, and honour your father’s name. ’
He gazed at the little pouch and she saw his throat work before he raised his eyes to hers. ‘I swear I shall,’ he said, and dropped to his knees like a vassal before a lord. ‘I shall strive to be worthy of him and of you, mother – always.’
She embraced him tenderly, drawing in his scent.
Her boy for the last moments of that boyhood, and everything in a state of change.
‘Write to me when you are able,’ she said.
‘And write to your wife also, for when you return, you shall have new responsibilities there. It is not enough to prove yourself on the battlefield, as your father would tell you if he was here. Keep that in mind when you wear that ring.’
‘Yes, mother, I will,’ he said, his tawny eyes bright. She could see he was full of fire at the notion of going to war but striving to be mature.
‘Go then, with my blessing and prayers,’ she said, ‘but make sure to visit me before you leave.’
On the twelfth day of the Christmas feast, as Edward was on the cusp of setting out for Castile, Jeanette’s labour pains began, and he delayed his departure to await the baby’s birth.