December 1294. Lille, County of Flanders.
They had landed in Flanders months before as the winds had dragged their fleet away from the Bay of Biscay, although his father had taken advantage of their misfortune and began searching for an alliance with the Count. The man, a Flemish lord by the name of Guy of Dampierre, was some years older than Édouard’s father, but he always deferred to the King of England when it came to their shared rival, the King of France.
Édouard sat in a chair as his father and his generals discussed the war plans. The Count had wanted to marry Édouard to one of his daughters in return for an alliance, but Édouard knew that his father would never break the bond he had with Margaret, mostly since she was already a queen in her own right. So, instead, they had agreed to betroth Henry, Édouard’s little brother, to one of the Count’s kinswoman, an infant of the name Joanna, who was the granddaughter of his eldest son. She would be Countess of Kent one day, and the King of England had promised to endow his second son with more lands in the continent when he came of age.
No one asked him for his opinion during the many, hours-long war councils, but Édouard liked that. He found that he enjoyed listening and he could mark his questions to himself, to ask his father later when they had their supper, just the two of them. He understood now that it was important to mind your supply lanes and to move your army slowly enough to keep up with your supplies, but not so slowly that an enemy will be able to discover your location before you’ve conquered any major cities.
It was fascinating to learn and understand of his father’s plans. The King intended to set sail again with half of his army and land in Gascony, while the other half would stay in Flanders under the command of John St John to take the north back and liberate Flanders from the tyrannical King Philip. Édouard would go with his father and be installed as Duke of Aquitaine before they retook it as well as Gascony.
“We will wait until February before we travel by sea,” he heard his father say. The weather at the end of time made the English channel too nefarious to take ships. The brother of Empress Matilda had died in November due to a shipwreck and everyone knew it was due to the weather. Édouard thought his father feared the same happening to them, which was why his little brother and stepmother remained in England. To inherit the throne and lead the country without them. “I expect my brother to meet me in Bordeaux.”
Édouard missed his uncle. He had not seen him since shortly after baby Constance was born, because Uncle Edmund spent most of his time in France, at the court of his stepson-in-law. Although his sons, and Édouard’s cousins, were born in their father’s English lands and lived there, even if the Prince didn’t see them frequently. Thomas was sixteen already, while Henry was thirteen, some years older than Édouard.
“Perhaps we should send a rider to Aragon, my lord,” said William de Grandison. “To treat with King Alfonso and convince him to join our side.”
His father nodded. “Alfonso has much to thank me for,” he said. “Because of me, he has a son and has reconciled with the Pope over the matter of Sicily and his younger brother.” He looked at William. “I’ll send your brother, Otto. He has the charisma for this task. You may go and write a letter to tell him.” William nodded and left with a bow. Otto de Grandison was in Wales at Caernarfon Castle, where Édouard was born, so it would take some weeks for him to arrive in Aragon.
His father had many people to trust. His cousin, whom he’d left as regent. Otto de Grandison and his brother. John St John. Even Queen Yolande, as he gave her the custody of Édouard’s younger siblings until his return, or in the case of his death. Édouard could only hope to have so many friends like his father when he became king.
He would become King of Scots as soon as he wed Margaret, and consummated the marriage, so he imagined his most trusted companions would be Scots. At least, the first ones.
A knock echoed around the room and all eyes turned to the door. It opened a moment later to reveal a young servant wearing the livery of the Count of Flanders.
“What is it?” his father asked and Édouard adjusted himself in his chair, trying to see better.
“A woman has asked for a meeting with you, Your Grace,” the man said and the King of England frowned.
“Who?” Édouard frowned as well.
It was strange to think that a woman wanted to speak with his father, not here in Flanders. Since the Queen hadn’t come, or any other major noblewomen, few female servants had been brought to Flanders and most were to care for Édouard’s clothes, but he didn’t think they ever would feel the need to speak to his father about his garments. Even if they accidentally tore a stitch.
There were women at the Flemish court, but they were the relatives of the Count and their household. Which meant they would go to their mistresses or to the Count himself if they needed anything. It didn’t make sense.
And the servant knew it too, for the way he seemed confused even as he spoke, “It’s the Dowager Queen of Navarre, Your Grace. She says it is most urgent.”
“What?” his father snapped, a rare show of emotion in him. “Send her in.” Édouard looked at the King in confusion, as he knew the Dowager Queen of Navarre was his uncle’s wife and his uncle was supposed to meet them in Bordeaux.
The servant stepped out to fetch his aunt and Édouard straightened up, trying to see better as the portly woman in widow’s clothes entered the room. She was clutching a wooden rosary on her hand and her face was ashen with grief.
“Blanche,” his father exclaimed, “What has happened? Where is Edmund?”
“He killed him!” said the Dowager Duchess in a hysterical tone. “He killed my Edmund!”
“What?” King Edward looked at one of his men. “Give her some wine, Richard. Let her calm herself.”
But Blanche waved Richard off. “I don’t need wine,” she said. “I need revenge.”
“Revenge on whom?” the King asked. “Who killed Edmund?”
“That damned son-in-law of mine,” Queen Blanche answered, sitting in a chair offered by a general. “I trusted him with my only daughter and he betrayed me. He poisoned Edmund!”
“Why do you say that, Your Grace?” Richard asked.
“We had a final dinner with King Philip, at his insistence,” Blanche said. “He insulted Edmund and we left. Not even a week later and my husband was dead! He must have poisoned the food. You must believe me!”
Édouard watched his father’s face, the way his entire expression changed at the words he heard.
“Where is my brother buried?” he asked in a clipped voice.
“At the Priory of Saint-Arnoul,” Blanche said. “I gave him as much respect as he deserved and paid for the tombstone by selling my jewels.” Her lower lip trembled. “Oh, my poor lord.”
“I’ll help you return to England to be with your son, my sister,” Édouard heard his father say in a low tone. “And in the meantime, I will avenge my little brother. Philip of France wanted to hurt me and destabilise my family, but I won’t allow it.” It seemed to Édouard that his father was almost crying, but he was sure it was only a trick of the light. “Edmund deserves better than that.”