So she and her women sat and talked and one day while they were at this pleasant pastime one of them said: ‘I heard yesterday that a terrible disease is spreading across Europe. It started in Constantinople and is quickly coming to the sea ports.’

‘There are always these stories,’ said Joanna placidly.

‘True my lady, but they did say that this is the most terrible that has ever been seen before.’

‘Strange things happen in far away places,’ said another.

‘I like this blue silk,’ said Joanna. ‘But perhaps it is not quite the right shade. What think you?’

The ladies put their heads together and concerned themselves with the selection of blue silk.


* * *

It was not long before the whole world was talking in terror of the fearful pestilence which had passed by way of Armenia into Asia Minor to Egypt and North Africa; this had started in the east and as it passed from country to country it left behind a trail of horror and death.

People talked of it in hushed whispers and prayed that it would never come their way but each day brought accounts of death creeping nearer. It had reached Greece and Italy and was still creeping on.

It seemed that once a man or woman noticed the first symptoms—a discoloured swelling beneath the armpits--he or she was doomed and only a miracle could save them. Those who were afflicted were not left long in doubt. In a matter of hours more swellings would occur and the victims would cough blood, suffer from violent thirst before they mercifully fell into a coma after which death quickly followed. The only merciful aspect in this dreaded pestilence was the speed with which victims died. It had an unpleasant aftermath for no sooner was the sufferer dead than black patches would appear on the skin and the odour which emanated from the corpse would be suffocatingly obnoxious. This in itself would pass on the infection. Animals died from it; it was highly infectious and devastatingly contagious. And as it became increasingly difficult to dispose of the bodies, the disease spread with alarming rapidity. Once it came to a village or a town that place was doomed.

The plague was talked of all over Europe, for the fact that it had reached Greece and Italy sobered many people.

Edward assured Philippa that it could not come to England. The water would save them. He was flushed with victory at this time. He had Helvoetsluys and Crécy behind him and now Calais. He could afford to sit back and contemplate his successes.

His love of display did not diminish as he grew older. He wanted more Round Table tournaments, more jousting in which he could show himself as the champion of his people.

There was nothing he loved more than to sit under the royal canopy with his Queen and their children and watch the jousting. Better still he liked to take part in it, and to show himself as the champion.

How they cheered him. His people loved him. The way had not been difficult for him. He had followed a king who had earned the revulsion of his people and his reign was not so long ago so that many of them could remember how a country suffered through an unworthy King. Even his grandfather Edward the First had never been quite so popular. This vain trait in Edward which made him long for splendid show and entertainments appealed to his people for they shared in them; and to see their King looking exactly as they believed a king should look and to have him winning great victories over the French pleased them. They were content with their Edward.

At this time, he told Philippa he was going to create an order which he would bestow on only a few knights who were worthy of it. The idea had been in his mind since the victory of Crécy when certain of his subjects had distinguished themselves by their selfless service to their country.

He believed there should be some recognition for such people and he was brooding on the matter.

Meanwhile there must be more tournaments, more Court festivities, to remind the people that all was going well with their King and country. His victories in France needed celebrating and he had been so long before Calais he should show his people how pleased he was to be home among them. He wanted to see gallant knights and beautiful ladies dancing together.

The most beautiful of all the ladies at Court was Joan, known as the Fair Maid of Kent.

She was now nineteen years of age at the height of her beauty. She was more or less betrothed to William Earl of Salisbury but was very friendly with Sir Thomas Holland and the Prince of Wales was clearly not indifferent to her. The Black Prince was two years younger than Joan but it was noted that although he seemed friendly with her he would ignore her for long periods of time and this did not please the Court’s leading beauty.

She was royal, her father having been the son of Edward the First, and although princes often had to marry into different countries to consolidate alliances, if the Black Prince had really wanted to marry his kinswoman it seemed hardly likely that Edward and Philippa—always indulgent where their children were concerned—would not have allowed the marriage to take place.

However there was no mention of it and the Black Prince, although he was clearly attracted by the beautiful Joan and often referred to her as ‘Little Jeanette’, did not show any sign of wishing to marry her. It was true he was only seventeen years of age but that was old enough to marry and rumour had it that he was not a virgin.

Joan was a clever girl as well as a beautiful one. She was greatly attracted by Thomas Holland who could offer her the least; she did not greatly care for Salisbury; and she liked the Prince of Wales. If the latter had suggested marriage she would have put aside the other two at once, for naturally she would have been delighted at the prospect of becoming the Queen of England in due course.

Everyone expected her to marry Salisbury as she had been contracted to him in her youth; but of course if the Prince of Wales wanted to marry her a dispensation could easily be acquired.

Courted as she was by the ardent Holland and Salisbury she was extremely put out by the indifferent conduct of the Prince. She was of a passionate nature and she quickly realized that she was not the sort to wait indefinitely in the hope of catching the big fish. She was a woman who would have to content herself with the lesser catch.

Thomas Holland had been with her in one of her moments of pique. He had declared his undying affection for her and embraced her in a most familiar manner to which it was quite obvious she was not averse. Indeed the dashing Thomas aroused in her emotions which for all her ambition she found it impossible to control.

It was unthinkable that a lady of her royalty should become his mistress so, having succumbed to him and found the experience very much to her liking, she had agreed to a secret marriage and when she came to Court to partake in the royal festivities she was in fact already married to Sir Thomas Holland.

Sir Thomas had been obliged to leave her soon after the ceremony to go to France and he was still there among those who were guarding Calais for the King.

Joan was therefore receiving the attentions of Salisbury and now and then catching the eye of the Prince of Wales who was so warm and friendly one day and the next seemed to have forgotten her existence.

The King had on several occasions asked her to sit beside him and it was becoming clear that he had great admiration for her. So had many others and she was used to admiration but she was certainly gratified to receive it from such a quarter.

The possibility of becoming Queen of England had often occurred to Joan but it would not of course be through Edward the King. She was not prepared to be a royal mistress—not that it would have got so far with Edward. She had heard rumours about the Countess of Salisbury whom she had known very well—she had at one time resided with her because it had been planned that that very beautiful and most virtuous lady should be her mother-in-law—and that affair had come to nothing. Edward, thought Joan cynically, had been unwise to choose such a virtuous woman as the Countess, but of course Catharine de Montacute was an exceptionally beautiful creature. Old though, thought Joan complacently.

And the Queen had never been handsome. She was fresh- complexioned with a pleasant expression, that was all; and now constant child-bearing had spoilt her figure and she was really far too portly.

Joan revelled in the admiration of those about her and particularly that of the King and then there was of course William the Earl of Salisbury who really believed she was still betrothed to him.

What a tangle her affairs had got into. She wondered what Salisbury would say if he knew that she and Thomas had already lived together.

Meanwhile she would snap her fingers at the future while she tried to captivate the Black Prince rather than his father. The Prince was the one who could put a crown on her head. But what about Thomas? She would arrange something when the time came. When the time came! What a strange man the Prince was. He did not seem as though he wanted to entangle himself in marriage—though as heir to the throne he must think of giving the country a future king.

Sometimes Joan felt furious with herself for having given way to Thomas. What she could lose by it! Oh, but she was clever. She would wriggle out of that if she needed to. How did one wriggle out of a marriage contract? There was such a thing as divorce and dispensation from the Pope. She was sure it could be managed. The real obstacle was the indifference of that laggardly lover the Black Prince.

Edward the King was in his element. The Round Tower which he had built at Windsor was the ideal place in which to hold his Round Table. He had had it built on an artificial mound surrounded by a deep fosse. The interior was approached by a flight of one hundred steps and there were more steps up to the battlements of the Keep. It was a most impressive sight and Edward was proud of it.

He allowed David of Scotland to join the revelry. David was his prisoner and would remain so until the enormous ransom Edward was demanding was paid. Edward had deliberately fixed it so highly because he knew that only while David was his prisoner could he be sure of peace in Scotland. However David was royal; he was his brother-in-law and a King. Edward wanted him to have all the amenities possible except complete freedom. David was at liberty to hunt and hawk in the forests but he was always surrounded by guards He seemed to have become accustomed to being an exile from his country and as he lived in comfort he did not find this irksome. He had been in France for seven years, had reigned in Scotland for five and had at this time been for nearly two years the prisoner of Edward. He saw no sign of that captivity ending for he knew the money for his release could not be raised.

He did not bemoan his fate. He did not lack luxury. He was the guest one might say of the King of England and if he were allowed to partake in such festivities as these now proceeding at the Round Tower of Windsor, he would not complain too bitterly.

He enjoyed the jousting and the feasting, the dancing and the music.

Moreover he had several mistresses. He was a deeply sensuous man and the virtuous Joanna to whom they had married him was not cast in a mould to please him. Often he chose his women from the more lowly classes. He took great pleasure in them.

At the joust he met a woman to whom he felt immediately attracted. Her name was Katherine Mortimer; she was voluptuous, beautiful and experienced.

They were together through the days and nights of the tournament.

It had been a day of brilliant jousting. The King was in an excellent mood. He gave himself up completely to the banquet and the ball. He seemed to have forgotten that there was merely a lull in the fight for the crown of France; he gave no thought to the terrible pestilence which even as he and his guests danced crept nearer and nearer.

If Philippa thought of these things she tried not to show it. Edward so much enjoyed them and as she watched him indulging in his pleasure she was tender towards him as she was towards Isabella who sat with her parents, splendid in her glittering garments, so very pleased to be with them—which was good for Philippa had feared that a proud girl like Isabella might have taken her jilting to heart.

Of course there were occasional whispers about the King’s roving eye. Philippa herself knew that he took a great delight in beautiful women. She had seen his eyes follow them and they seemed to take on a deeper blue as he did so. She knew of the Countess of Salisbury. Good Catharine de Montacute whose sound sense had brought the King back to his. Poor Catharine she was ailing, Philippa had heard; she never came to Court, nor had she since that affair which had been followed so soon by the death of her husband.