The six burghers, showing signs of their recent ordeal, gaunt with starvation, haggard with their suffering made a sad contrast to the splendour of the royal party.

They knelt before the King, Eustache de St Pierre proferring the keys of the city.

He spoke for the six men.

‘Most gracious King,’ he said, ‘we are at the mercy of your absolute will and pleasure in order that we may save the rest of our people. They have suffered great distress and misery. I beg of you to take pity on us for the sake of your high nobleness.’

There was a deep silence among the spectators. There was hardly anyone there who was not moved by the sight of these men—the evidence of their suffering on their faces; the wretchedness of their appearance somehow lending them a dignity which the great King in all his finery could not match.

Edward frowned at them. He could not stop calculating what the siege of Calais had cost him. He thought of the Scottish insurrection which might so easily have brought disaster to England. And it was Calais which had drained him of his money, taken his time and caused him such anxiety as he had rarely known throughout his reign.

No, he would not forgive Calais and these six richest and most influential of its burghers should die.

‘Take them away,’ he cried, ‘and cut off their heads.’

De Manny murmured: ‘My lord, show your clemency to these men. It will be good for your cause.’

‘Be quiet, Master Walter,’ muttered the King. ‘It cannot be otherwise. Send for the headsman ... now.’

Philippa then rose from her chair and went down on her knees before the King.

‘My lord,’ she said, ‘I have crossed the sea in some peril to come to you and I have asked no favours of you. But now I ask one. For the love of our Lady’s Son and as proof of your love for me, have mercy on these six men.’

Edward looked at her intently; she began to weep silently and there was such unhappiness apparent in her attitude that he said gently: ‘Rise, Philippa. I would that you were not here this day. This town of Calais has cost me dear and I would have it known that there shall be no mercy for those who flout me.

‘My lord, if you love me,’ went on Philippa, ‘you will grant me this. It is all I ask. Give me this and I shall be content having such sign of your love for me.’

‘Do you need this sign, lady?’

She lifted her eyes to his and nodded.

He said: ‘You entreat me in such way that you make it impossible for me to refuse. I say this against my will. Take these men. I give them to you.’

A great silence fell on the crowd as Philippa kissed the King’s hand. Then she rose to her feet and going to the six brave men of Calais she ordered that the ropes be taken from their necks.

She signed to one of the guards and told him to take them to her apartments, where clothes and food should be given to them. She would like to make them a present too for she greatly admired their courage. Let them have six nobles apiece and then they should be allowed to go through the gates of Calais to their homes.

Everyone who had witnessed these scenes outside the walls and those within who were soon to hear of it, would talk of it for as long as they lived. The people of Calais would tell their children of the day the six brave burghers who had left with ropes about their necks going as they believed to certain death, came walking through the gates free men—all due to the goodness of Queen Philippa and her dreaded husband’s love for her.

Edward was not as displeased as he had appeared to be and was glad that the burghers had not been put to death. As soon as his rage had subsided he had begun to consider how he could best use his latest conquest.

It was certainly not going to be through cruelty.

Calais was worth every thing it had cost him and he was determined that it should remain in his hands. The burghers, after his clemency, inclined towards him for Philip had now shown himself to them very unfavourably when he had failed to relieve them.

He immediately ordered that food should be sent into the town and the people fed. In fact so ravenously did they fall upon the provisions he supplied that some of them died through overeating after coming to near to death by starvation. The burghers were ready to serve him now, for a King who showed mercy in conquest was a great King, it seemed to them.

Edward and Philippa rode through the town to fanfares of trumpets and the people came out to gaze on the lady whom they had come to revere.

Edward immediately set about making ready in case Philip should decide to attack the town in the hope of regaining it. He was pleased when a truce of nine months was arranged. So he garrisoned the town and confident that the people of Calais regarded him as a more reliable ruler than the French King, he sailed for England.

THE BLACK DEATH

ON their return to England Philippa gave birth once more. This time it was a boy whom they called William. Alas, it seemed an ill-fated name for the child died very soon after his birth.

Edward comforted Philippa and begged her to look to their strong and healthy children—Edward, Lionel, John and Edmund; and there were the dear girls—his beloved Isabella, Joanna, Mary and Margaret. They could not complain. It was true they had lost that other William and little Blanche, but God had blessed them in their children.

Philippa had to admit that this was true but while she delighted in her living children she could not stop mourning those whom she had lost.

Moreover there came a time when a queen must face the parting with her daughters. If Isabella had married Louis of Flanders she would have been not so very far away. But that had come to nothing and Philippa guessed that Edward was not displeased, and Isabella was only so because she thought that the manner in which Louis had decamped after he had seen her was a slur on her alluring attractions which her father had led her to believe were irresistible.

It was now Joanna’s turn. Poor Joanna. If Philippa could be said to have favourites among her children Joanna was the best loved among the girls. She could not help doting on her magnificent first-born and she shared the general delight which amounted almost to reverence in the Black Prince, but it was Joanna who had the deepest love. She had never forgotten the terrible time the child had endured in Austria. Ever since Philippa had been trying to make up to her for that.

Now, as Edward pointed out, it was time that she married and although he hated to lose his daughter he was irritated by the prevarication of the Spaniards.

The delay was, the King suspected, brought about by Eleanora de Guzman, the mistress of the King of Spain. She was the most powerful woman at the Court for the King doted on her and she had already borne him three children. Her great hope was that the King’s son Pedro—whom Edward had decided should be Joanna’s husband—would either die or not have children so that one of her sons could inherit. It was for this reason that she was far from eager to see a marriage between Joanna and Pedro and it was contriving to delay matters.

But even the powerful Eleanora could not prevent indefinitely the marriage of the King’s son.

The Joanna who prepared for her journey to Spain and marriage was different from the little girl who had gone to Austria. She was at this time in her fourteenth year and had known for some time that sooner or later she should have to leave home. She had seen Isabella return from Flanders and had heard the story of Louis’s hasty departure. And here was Isabella back in London. So marriages were not to be considered definite until they actually took place. Anything could happen to prevent them right at the last moment. She considered Isabella—only a week from taking her final vows!

In the meantime she must prepare herself for Spain.

Philippa was uneasy. She could imagine the intrigues of the Spanish court with the doting King and his mistress who wanted to see her son Henry of Trastamarre on the throne. She wondered how her Joanna would fare in such an atmosphere. Her children had lived a happy life which was rare in royal circles. She herself had enjoyed such a life in Hainault but how different Edward’s childhood had been! Sometimes she wondered whether a pleasant and secure childhood helped a child to face the world.

Perhaps she had not done so badly; but then she had married the man whom she loved on sight and Edward was a remarkable man; he was a good father although inclined to spoil his daughters; he was a loving husband although at times his eyes strayed to other women. But he was anxious to be a faithful husband and she believed that he was.

But now for Joanna. She must prepare to leave for Spain and Philippa prayed every night for the child’s happiness. She had heard uneasy rumours not only of the intrigues of Eleanora de Guzman but of signs of cruelty in young Pedro. It was said that he liked inflicting pain on animals and, if he could manage it, on his fellow human beings. Was it really true? One heard so much that was false. Oh yes, she prayed constantly for Joanna.

Joanna was resigned to the fact that she would soon be sailing. Isabella was a little jealous. With envy she fingered the robe of tissue of gold with matching mantle and sur-tunic which was for Joanna’s wedding. Isabella liked all the attention and the fine clothes to be for herself.

‘How fine you will look! ‘ she cried caressing the gowns of scarlet purple and velvet, the ermines and zones adorned with beautiful jewels. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘I would rather be at home. I am glad I didn’t marry into Flanders.’

‘I would rather be home too,’ said Joanna wistfully.

‘You will be a Queen though—Queen of Castile. Think of that ‘

But the thought did not give Joanna any great joy.

‘I never thought Louis of Flanders was good enough for me,’ went on Isabella. ‘I’ll swear that I shall have a king for a husband, one day.’

Joanna turned away and took up her embroidering. It gave her great comfort. As she stitched at it she revelled in the beautiful coloured silks and thought of the happy days she had had in the heart of her family.

In January she set out on her journey. The King, the Queen and her sister Isabella accompanied her from the Palace of Westminster as far as Mortlake. There they took a last farewell and both the King and Queen were overcome with their emotion. It seemed to the Queen that Isabella could always look after herself but Joanna was more vulnerable.

The Princess continued her journey across the country to Plymouth, the port from which she was to set sail.

There followed a stay of five weeks in the town, for the wind was such as to make the sea-crossing dangerous and it was the middle of March before Joanna and her entourage left England.

Seven days later she reached Bordeaux.

It was necessary to remain there while negotiations went on between the Courts of Spain and England, for Edward was very suspicious of a Court which was under the spell of such an ambitious woman as Eleanora de Guzman. So eager was she to prevent a child being born who could oust her son that she was using every means she knew to delay the marriage. She was trying to persuade Alfonso to choose a different bride for his son. On the other hand the Queen of Castile, who was as eager to outwit her husband’s mistress as the mistress was to put her own son on the throne, was anxious to bring about the union with England. Between the two Alfonso appeared to have no will of his own.

Edward was determined that Joanna should not go into Spain until everything was signed and sealed and there was no question of a marriage between his daughter and the heir to Castile being postponed or stopped altogether.

He had had one daughter jilted. He was not going to allow this to happen to another.

It was therefore necessary for Joanna to remain in Bordeaux until the King was perfectly satisfied that her marriage would take place.

The castle was set in very pleasant surroundings; from her windows Joanna could look out to wooded hills and vineyards and after the cold months in Plymouth and the sea-crossing she was not displeased to remain awhile in this pleasant spot. She would sit with her women while she worked with her needle and as she derived great pleasure from this occupation she was not unhappy.

If the negotiations took a year she would not mind. She was not by any means looking forward to continuing her journey.