He flushed at her praise. ‘It is good to see you, my lady mother,’ he replied, very much the courtier, before turning to greet his sisters and youngest brother. He was uneasy at first, a bit embarrassed, not so much at the age gap but at the distance between them of children living in the household and a young adult in the world.
John de Warenne arrived, and Joanna embraced him too. ‘Thank you,’ she said, indicating Iohan.
‘He’s a good lad,’ John replied with a smile. ‘He works hard and is swift to learn; I have only good to report of him.’ Iohan’s ears reddened, and John chuckled. ‘Well, to report to his mother anyway.’
‘I have things to tell both of you,’ she said, ‘but I need to speak to William first.’
John raised his brows and gave her a quick assessment from crown to toe, but the loose cut of her gown gave nothing away. ‘Well, William and Edward will be here very soon, before dark I expect. Come,’ he said to Iohan, ‘we have baggage and armour to stow.’
William stared at Joanna. ‘With child?’ he said.
She nodded at him. ‘He or she will be born in high summer. Our time together in the autumn has proved fruitful. As our eldest son becomes a man, we have a new life to nurture, God willing.’ She stroked his face. ‘But you must take care of yourself because this child will need its father.’
‘I have every intention of keeping my hide intact,’ he answered with determination. ‘You are safe at Windsor with Leonora, and it will be well defended by loyal men – not the kind who may be bought for a handful of silver.’
She pressed her hands over her skirts, exposing the early swell of her womb. ‘I do not fear for myself,’ she said. ‘I know I am safe here, and by the time the child is born let us hope we shall be at peace again.’
That night the men gathered in the hall to discuss tactics and plans. The fighting talk and bullishness increased as the wine barrels emptied, and men made expansive toasts filled with bravado but holding a steely core of serious intent to bring Simon de Montfort to battle and finish him, especially from Edward, who was adamant.
Henry unfurled his new war banner and raised it beside his chair – a great dragon with rubies for eyes, a snarling open mouth, and claws fashioned from shards of polished jet. Twists of red and gold paint decorated the banner pole, and William could almost detect a visceral glint in Henry’s eyes. The King was no warrior and had long eschewed the training to arms he had received as a youth, but with the fire upon him he could inhabit a dramatic role with conviction. He also had some courageous, stalwart men at his back. De Montfort might be a talented and experienced commander, but the lord Edward was coming into his own and he and John de Warenne were skilled and battle-hardened men, well able to stand hard against anyone. This was do or die, for the dragon banner meant all-out war and death to the enemy. As the cheers resounded around the hall, William punched his cup into the air and roared with the rest of the men within the firelight and under the dragon.
39
Windsor Castle, May 1264
Joanna put her hand on her belly as the baby kicked vigorously. He or she had been active all night and had kept her awake until the dawn had gilded the eastern skyline. Probably another one like its father that needed to be constantly busy, although she acknowledged that the baby’s restlessness might be caused by her own worries.
Since leaving Windsor in February, the King’s forces had secured Oxford and successfully taken Northampton. Prisoners from that particular skirmish had been sent to Windsor, into Leonora’s custody. De Montfort had besieged Rochester, but John de Warenne, who had taken the position of constable there, had resisted him until relieved by royalist forces. But sooner or later it would come to a pitched battle. Joanna tried her best to conceal her fear for William and Iohan. Leonora was focused and calm, certain that Henry and Edward would carry the day, and Joanna tried to follow her conviction. Their numbers were greater and de Montfort at a disadvantage.
Joanna was sitting in a sun-splashed corner of the Queen’s chamber, teaching a group of girls different stitches. Agnes was playing the harp, her fingers delicate on the strings. Already an accomplished embroideress at thirteen, she needed no extra tuition today. Her sister Margaret had talent too, and a way of blending colours that showed a pleasing artistic eye. Joanna was thoroughly proud of her daughters. Their brother Will was more of a scapegrace, always into mischief. He had boundless energy from dawn to dusk, and even when asleep he kicked and tossed, rather like this child in her womb. Just now he was at weapons practice with the other castle boys and they had a moment’s peace.
Leonora was busy dictating letters and dealing with administration matters but had paused to listen to the rills of the harp, a smile on her lips.
The morning duties were interrupted by the arrival of a steward leading an unsteady, travel-stained soldier. The smell of hard-ridden man and horse was immediate and pungent. Joanna gasped as she recognised Luke de Sandal, one of John de Warenne’s men, who had helped move the cartloads of wool when she had gone into exile. Flushed and red-faced in the late spring warmth, he knelt to Leonora and bowed his head.
‘Madam, I bring grave news,’ he said. ‘There has been a battle close to Lewes Castle and our forces have been destroyed and scattered.’
Leonora became very still, her face an expressionless mask. She drew a deep breath and ordered him to rise. ‘And my husband and father-in-law? What of our men?’ She held her voice firm and steady, although she had turned as pale as alabaster.
‘Madam, the King, the Earl of Cornwall and the lord Edward have all been taken prisoner by the Earl of Leicester – but they are alive and unharmed, thanks be to God.’
Leonora gave a very small but perceptible sigh of relief.
Joanna’s heart kicked in her chest. William would have been fighting in the thick of the fray. Perhaps the child’s constant churning in her womb last night had been a premonition. And what of Iohan? She turned frightened eyes to the messenger.
‘What of the King’s brother? What of my lord?’
‘Madam, I believe he managed to escape with the Earl of Surrey and the Earl’s brother, the justiciar. Your son too. They are bound for the coast and will go directly to Queen Alienor and seek to regroup.’
‘Then God grant them swift horses and a safe passage,’ Leonora said, still remaining calm and collected.
Joanna’s knees buckled, and for an instant the world darkened. She heard Agnes cry out in consternation and strove to rally for the sake of her daughters. Leonora’s ladies helped her to sit down and one of them rushed to bring feathers to burn under her nose. Joanna waved them away and, summoning her will, straightened up. ‘That is not necessary,’ she snapped. ‘My womb has not gone wandering around my body, it is here and full of child. It was the relief of hearing that my husband and son are not dead, and the grief that my liege lord the King and his brother and son have been taken.’
The women retreated, but one of them brought her a cup of wine, from which Joanna took a swallow for form’s sake. Leonora commanded the messenger be given a drink and bade him wait while she summoned the knights and commander of the garrison so that he could repeat the story to them.
Joanna tried to concentrate through her worry. She prayed desperately that Iohan and William had managed to cross the sea. How could it have come to this when they had far greater numbers than de Montfort and had been so confident of bringing him down? Instead the opposite had happened, and therefore it must be God’s will.
Listening to the messenger, she gleaned that the defeat had largely been caused by a tactical error made by Edward. Part of de Montfort’s army had consisted of levies from London, among them the very people who had hurled abuse at the Queen from London Bridge. Edward had attacked them ferociously with the cream of his knights, William and John among them. Determined to teach them a lesson and hammer them into the ground, Edward had become carried away, and when the Londoners had broken and fled from the onslaught he had given chase and taken his eye off the bigger objective. He had encountered some senior London officials hiding among the baggage carts and the ensuing fight and plundering had further diminished his grip on the business in hand. By the time he returned to the main battle, the opposition had gained control and trapped the King in the Priory of St Anne’s. Henry’s brother Richard had fled the field and taken refuge in a nearby windmill, and it was all over. Edward had joined his father to protect him, and those who could had fled for the coast.
