Joanna listened with dismay. It was not, then, the will of God that had ruined them but the distraction and carelessness of men. Edward’s impetuous nature had gone unchecked by others who should have been cooler and wiser, her own husband among them. The only ray of comfort was that William and Iohan had managed to escape into exile – again. All the promises, all the talk, had come to naught.
Leonora rose to her feet. ‘It is in our hands,’ she said, staring round fiercely. ‘We must help the King and the lord Edward in any way we can. We must be here for their return, and they will return – I do not doubt it.’ She looked at Joanna to include her in the conversation. ‘Perhaps we shall have to yield Windsor in the future, but they shall pay a price and they will want the hostages from Northampton intact. We have to be the lords of this fortress as well as its chatelaines.’ Leonora swept a wide gesture with one smooth young hand. ‘The lord Edward entrusted his authority to me, and I shall carry out his wishes, with the advice of all. We must craft the best of what we have, and that means making it into something greater in the eyes of others. We have to be united and strong, and we must be each other’s support. This is merely a setback. We are safe here and no one will dare to harm us.’
Joanna was not so sure about that, remembering how those Londoners had pelted Edward’s mother from the city’s bridge, but Leonora had such determination and conviction in her eyes that she tried to believe her.
Sitting on a barrel, William listened to the thrum of the waves under the ship’s keel. The stars were white sparks in the deep sky and a steady breeze bore the remnants of Edward’s army towards the French coast. He put his head in his hands, feeling sick, mortified and full of self-disgust. In becoming carried away by Edward’s zeal he had made one of the gravest errors in his life. He had been like the tail of the comet as they chased the Londoners and seized the baggage carts. The sheer joy of the chase and the kill. The satisfaction. But that loss of wider awareness had allowed de Montfort to take the day. He did not know if Edward and Henry were safe, or even if they were alive. And Joanna and his children, stranded at Windsor. The thought lay in his belly like hot tar. He was to blame if any of them died. He had failed everyone, most of all himself. He hadn’t felt as bad as this since the tourney at Newbury when he was a youngster, but this time the stakes were disastrous and no one could tell him all would be well.
John de Warenne gripped his shoulder. ‘We are alive,’ he said. ‘We have escaped with our horses and our arms intact.’
William shook his head. ‘We abandoned Edward and Henry.’
‘It would not have done any good to have stayed and been captured ourselves. It is what it is.’
‘We should never have chased off the battlefield with such reckless abandon.’
‘True, but we must own our mistake and not let it clog our thinking now.’
William palmed his face. ‘We have to go back and put it right.’ He punched his clenched fist on his thigh. ‘We had de Montfort for the taking and we let it run through our hands like water – and I was most to blame.’
John shook his head. ‘All of us were, but we have to move on. You taught me that.’
‘I did?’ William looked at him in surprise.
John produced a wine flask. ‘Yes. Whatever happens, it is not the end while you still have breath in your body. No matter what, you pick yourself up and you learn from your mistakes – you do not let them drag you down.’
William put the flask to his lips. The wine was sour, but he could still taste the grape as it stung the back of his throat. John’s reminder brought him back to himself, and created a breathing space to process the utter shock and horror of their defeat. The knowledge that while he was alive there was always a next time, and he would not make the same mistake again. He was not looking forward to reporting to the Queen, but he would do it.
‘You are a good friend,’ he said to John. ‘And my brother.’ He stood up and gave him a hug, feeling the dull ache of bruises and strained muscles after the fierceness of battle and the bitter hard riding. ‘I stood in danger of self-pity, but you have rallied my wits.’
He returned the flask to John and went to speak to Iohan, who was slumped on the bench near the prow, head bent. The youth was holding a pendant from a leather breastband enamelled in the de Valence colours, and turning the piece over and over in his fingers. He had not been involved in the fighting – his task had been guarding William and John’s baggage – but he had still been a witness to battle and massacre and been engaged on the periphery when they had had to run. There had been some skirmishing at their own lines as they loaded the sumpter horses and one man had taken a deep sword cut and had died on the race to Pevensey. They had laid his body in a nearby church, but there had been no time for the proper observations due to him.
William crouched to the youth’s level. ‘You have done well. You kept up with us on a difficult ride and you never complained. I am proud of you – prouder than I am of myself.’
Iohan lifted his head and gave him a look so much like Joanna’s that William almost flinched. ‘What is going to happen now?’
‘We are going to the Queen, and we are going to regroup and return with an army to finish what we did not accomplish this time.’
‘Will … will my mother and sisters and brother be all right?’
‘Yes, of course they will,’ William said steadily. ‘Windsor is a powerful fortress and the lord Edward’s wife is accomplished. You know how strong and formidable your mother is. There is nothing she cannot do.’
Iohan’s nod was subdued, but after a moment he gave his father a rueful man-to-man smile. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know.’
William pulled Iohan towards him and kissed his brow, and swallowed the knot in his throat.
Two days later, William knelt at Queen Alienor’s feet and told her all that he knew. Emotion welled up inside him – that hot tar feeling of shame and sorrow, molten and fierce. A few hours ago another ship had arrived from England with news that Henry, Edward and Richard of Cornwall had been taken prisoner but were unharmed.
‘Madam, there was nothing we could do. The lord Edward instructed us to come to you and regroup. With your permission I will go to Bordeaux and recruit troops. And I shall do so on Joanna’s lands in Ireland too. I will not rest until my brother and my nephew are free. I remain loyal to the very marrow of my bones.’
Alienor regarded him with her lips primly set. Fine spider lines had begun to form where she had so often pursed them. ‘This is a grave setback, but as you say, we must now rally for the next attempt and there is no point in recrimination here. In truth, my lord, we have had our differences and they have created chasms between us, but whatever I have laid at your feet in the past, I have never doubted your loyalty to my husband and to my son – and I hope we can build bridges across those chasms.’
‘Yes, madam, it is my dearest wish and purpose.’
She paused to compose herself, and William admired her tenacity and the steel in her spine. ‘Madam, I have never been your enemy,’ he said quietly. ‘We shared true family friendship when I first married Joanna. Whatever has happened in the past, I ask you the grace to put it behind you, as I shall put it behind me and close the door. We still have allies in England and we shall free the lord Edward and the King – I swear it, madam, on my life. The Earl of Leicester stands condemned for what he has done.’
Alienor looked at him fiercely. ‘Simon de Montfort will die for this – and you will make sure of it.’ Her glance flashed around the gathering with narrow, hard intent. ‘All of you. That is your sacred trust.’
*
