Passage to Pontefract (13 page)

‘He is strong and healthy.’

‘Edward was stronger and healthier.’

‘Nothing shall happen to Richard.’

‘How can we know what punishment God will mete out to us?’

‘We will have more sons, Edward. As many as your father has.’

‘I am a sick man.’

‘When we are in England you will grow strong again. I promise you, Edward, in England life will be good. We have suffered this terrible tragedy but it is over now. We have our little Richard. We will have more sons. Edward, look forward, my love. Put the past behind you.’

He turned to her and clung to her as though he were a child.

She could offer him some comfort. She was the only one in the world who could.

She made him lie on his bed and later she brought Richard to him.

The little boy looked bewildered. He was only four years old and he could not quite understand what had happened to his brother.

His mother had tried to explain. Edward had gone away. He had gone to Heaven.

‘Am I going too?’ he had wanted to know.

‘Not for years and years.’

‘If Edward goes I want to go.’

‘No, dearest, you are going to stay with me and your father. But you have to learn quickly now. It is different being without a brother.’

He was not altogether displeased. He sensed that Edward’s departure had made him more important. He noticed the change in people’s attitude towards him. He had become of some consequence in a subtle way.

His father was seated on a chair in his bedchamber and he held out his hand when Richard entered.

Richard put his hand in his father’s.

‘You are my heir now, Richard,’ said the Prince. ‘Do you know what that means?’

Richard was not quite sure. He said: ‘It is because Edward has gone to Heaven.’

The Prince was too moved to speak for a moment and so was Joan. She was thinking how young and vulnerable her little son was and of the great weight of responsibility which would be put on his shoulders. She pictured a crown on those fair curls and the thought made her apprehensive. It was because the child was Richard, her youngest. He had always seemed to her frail and delicate and thus vulnerable.

‘Yes,’ said the Prince at length. ‘That is the reason. You will have to learn quickly.’

‘Richard learns very quickly,’ said Joan. ‘His tutor says so.’

‘You are a good boy with your books but now, my son, you must be good at all things. You will have to learn to be brave and daring. You will have to excel at the joust.’

‘That is for later,’ said Joan. ‘Never fear, Richard, you are going to surprise everyone with your skill.’

‘Am I?’ asked Richard.

‘Of course you are, my darling. You have to be to your father all that Edward was.’

‘May God bless you,’ said the Prince.

‘Always,’ added his mother.

Then she took her son by the hand and led him away.

The Prince realised that Joan was right. He must not dwell on the past. He must forget the sack and massacre of Limoges; he must not brood on the fact that he had lost his elder son who had seemed to him a perfect king in the making. He must look to the future. He must plan ahead.

Richard was now the heir to the throne and very special tuition must be given to him. A boy who already at his tender age preferred to pore over books rather than be out in the fresh air practising riding and manly sports needed to be turned in the direction he must go. It was all very well when he was a second son. Book learning was not a bad thing for second sons. They might go into the church. It was always good to have a member of the family in some high office. But all that was changed. Richard was now in the direct line of succession. Providing events took their natural course Richard would one day be King of England.

Two tasks lay ahead. First to train Richard and secondly to go back to England, regain his health and beget more sons.

He sent for two men whom he trusted completely – Sir Guichard d’Angle and Sir Simon Burley.

Guichard d’Angle had the reputation of being a perfect knight. He was skilled in the arts of chivalry. He had won distinction for his military prowess. He would be a perfect tutor for young Richard.

As for Sir Simon Burley he was a man whom the Prince esteemed more than any other since death had deprived him of the friendship of Sir John Chandos. Sir Simon had fought bravely with King Edward in France and in due course had entered the service of the Black Prince. He had been present at Nájara and later he was taken prisoner near Lusignan much to the grief of the Prince who had sought an early opportunity of bringing about an exchange of prisoners when Sir Simon had been returned to his service.

Such tried and trusted servants should always be appreciated by rulers and the Prince had never been one to forget those who served him well.

Simon was an ideal choice, for besides being a great soldier he was also a man of culture, a lover of literature and music.

The Prince explained what he required of these two men.

‘Now that Richard is my heir,’ he said, ‘there must be some change in his education. He must be brought up in such a way that when the time comes he will be prepared to face his responsibilities.’

Sir Guichard said: ‘There are many years before the boy would be called upon to do that.’

‘I hope that may be so,’ said the Prince, ‘for we are going to need time. He is such a child so far and his mother has been over-lenient with him.’

‘He is a bright child, my lord. He loves his books and that never harmed anyone.’

The Prince was pleased. It was like Simon to speak up and say what he meant even though he might be disagreeing with his master.

‘I want him to be learned,’ said the Prince, ‘but outdoor exercise must not be neglected.’

‘It shall be so,’ said Sir Guichard.

‘Thank you, my lords,’ said the Prince. ‘Now we must prepare to leave for England which we shall do within the week.’

The knights bowed and retired.

It was a cold January day when the party set sail for England.

Richard was excited. Sir Simon had explained to him that now that Edward was dead he, Richard, could one day be King of England. There was his grandfather who was the King but a very old man; then there was his father; and after him came Richard himself.

‘It will be many years yet,’ said Simon, ‘but a king is different from other people. He has to learn how to be a king and that is not an easy thing to learn.’

‘How does a king learn to be one?’

‘He must first of all be unselfish.’

‘Is my grandfather unselfish?’

‘Your grandfather always thought first of serving his country. That is why he has been a great king.’

‘Is he not a great king now?’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You said he has been a great king.’

This boy is too sharp, thought Sir Simon.

‘I should have said your grandfather is a great king.’

Richard was satisfied.

‘What shall I have to do?’ he asked.

‘What you are told.’

‘I always had to do that. So what is the difference?’

Sir Simon smiled and came to the conclusion that it was better to let matters take their course.

There lay the cog in the harbour. It was flying the flag which was his father’s. The Black Prince! When he had first heard the name Richard had thought it was something terrifying – like a nightmare, a great dog with slavering jaws trying to get into the nursery, a priest in long dark robes who was trying to catch him to punish him, something shadowy and grotesque … a strange shape that haunted him in dreams and made him cry out so that Edward had said he was a baby. And then the Black Prince turned out to be only his father, who was always kind to him although he loved Edward better. Edward had boasted of it. ‘
I
am the firstborn.
I
am the one who is going to be King.’

Perhaps Edward had boasted too much and God was displeased. Richard had gathered that God could rather easily be displeased. In any case Edward had gone to Heaven and Richard had moved up. He was the important one now.

And he was going on that big ship to sail on the sea – as soon as the waves ceased to pound the shore so. He was going to see his grandfather and live in England and be brought up to be a king.

It was an exciting prospect.

He went on board with his mother and father. He noticed that they did not like him to be too far from them; he fancied they were afraid that God might send someone to snatch him away and take him to Heaven to join his brother there.

He wondered vaguely about Heaven. Perhaps he would like to go there and join Edward. Edward had always been boasting about how much cleverer he was than Richard, how he could ride better and jump and run. No, he preferred England to Heaven. He had a notion that he would be far more important in England than he would in Heaven.

It was interesting to be on board. Sir Simon was close to him and he plied him with questions. He wanted to know everything about the ship. Sir Simon always answered his questions. He liked an interest to be taken in everything.

His father and mother went below to lie down, for the sea was wild. The captain said it was going to be a rough journey.

Sir Simon looked at Richard and said: ‘Will you face the elements or would you like to go below and lie down?’

Richard was a little afraid but he felt that he was expected to say that he would remain on deck with Simon so he did so.

It
was
a terrifying journey. The water washed over the deck. He was wet and cold but Simon remained on deck and so Richard was with him.

‘If your stomach’s strong enough fresh air is the best thing in seas like this,’ Sir Simon told him.

His hand grasped firmly in that of Simon he watched the pounding seas and when they had left the Bay of Biscay behind them and had turned into the English Channel the wild winds abated a little.

‘Here is the coast of England, my lord.’

Richard stared at it. It was very green, he noticed, and there came to him then an overwhelming pride because this was the country his grandfather ruled and his father would rule one day … and far far ahead he himself would reign over it.

They dropped anchor in Southampton Harbour. It was very cold and there was snow on the ground. Even so a crowd of people stood on the shore watching their arrival.

Richard was now beside his mother who was supervising the men who were carrying the litter. That was for his father. The rough sea voyage had not suited him and he was too sick to walk.

He had wanted to but Joan had said he was going to do no such thing. She had made him see that it would not do for the people to see a poor sick man stagger ashore. It was far more fitting that he should be carried in his litter.

‘It is a very cold place,’ said Richard to Simon.

‘That’s because it is winter. You wait until the summer comes, and the spring will soon be here. Then the trees will be covered in buds and the birds go wild with joy. The spring is never anywhere else as it is in England.’

Richard looked up at the dark sky and the royal banners which fluttered rather dismally, damp as they were.

When his father’s litter appeared the people cheered enthusiastically and there were cries of: ‘Long live the Black Prince.’