‘We are in private, Edward,’ said the King.

The Prince raised his eyebrows and looked at Alice.

‘Alice is always with me. She understands what it is all about, do you not, Alice my love?’

‘I understand because it concerns you, my King,’ replied Alice smiling at him.

He is becoming senile, thought the Prince. What is going to happen? The French triumphant; myself sick; John, clever as he is, not a man to lead victorious armies, the King losing his wits and robbed of his strength by a harpy whose only thought is to feather her nest while the old man lives; my son Edward dead and a frail child all I have left! Oh God, what is happening to England? But a few years ago this great country was one of the most powerful in the world, ruled over by an able man. How in a few short years could God bring us so low!

I must regain my health. I must hold the Kingdom together before it is completely lost.

‘Then if we must discuss these matters vital to our country’s survival thus, I will send for John, for he should partake in our discussions.’

‘Yes, do send for John,’ said the King.

‘I hope he is enjoying his marriage,’ put in Alice rather maliciously. ‘Our King of Castile should be rather pleased with himself. There are rumours …’

The Prince gave an abrupt bow to the King and walked out of the chamber. If his father forgot the required etiquette so would he. He would not stand and listen to that low-born creature discuss his brother.

He rode to London and made his way to the Savoy Palace where he knew he would find John.

John was surprised to see him and declared that he was delighted that his health had obviously improved.

‘It is useless to attempt to talk to the King with that woman beside him,’ said the Prince impatiently. ‘I would not have believed this possible if I had not seen it with my own eyes.’

‘She seems to do what she will with him.’

‘The country will be ruined if this goes on. That marriage of yours was not very clever.’

‘I begin to see it now.’

‘What do you suppose the French will do? Make an alliance with Henry of Trastamare obviously. That is clear. You have no chance of winning Castile.’

‘I can see it will be a difficult task.’

‘And you will not achieve it by staying here in England.’

John’s heart sank. He had been foolish. There was no need to have married Constanza. He had allowed himself to believe that there would have been a quick conquest. He might have known that Henry of Trastamare would not be so easily disposed of; and clearly the French would take advantage of the situation. More fighting. More leaving Catherine.

He had been seduced by the glitter of a crown.

The Prince went on: ‘If I but had my strength again! I should never have left Aquitaine. If I had stayed …’

He paused in frustration.

‘What is done is done,’ said John. ‘Let us go on from there.’

‘That makes sense,’ replied the Prince. ‘We must make plans to send out a fleet to Rochelle without delay.’

The Prince’s health seemed to improve as he busied himself with the urgent work of preparing a fleet to sail to France.

He did not intend to go with it. Joan was determined to stop him and with his health in such a precarious state he had to agree that he might be a liability rather than of use.

The Earl of Pembroke should lead the fleet and they would set out as soon as weather permitted for Rochelle. In the meantime the Prince would gather together more men and arms ready to support the landing when it had taken place.

Pembroke set out in June. A few weeks later the disastrous news reached England that the fleet had been intercepted by the Spaniards, and scarcely a ship had been able to limp back to England. So many lives lost, so much treasure squandered!

The Black Prince was in despair. He went to the King and cried: ‘God has deserted us and I am not surprised.’

The King did rouse himself a little, and took his mind from the new jewels he was having made for Alice to think of the implication of this defeat.

‘Would you lose everything we possess in France while you dally with your leman?’ shouted the Prince. ‘I tell you this, my lord, if you persist in your indifference to your crown there will soon be nothing to give your mistress.’

‘You should remember that you speak to your King,’ retorted the King.

‘I remember I speak to my father who was once a great King,’ answered the Black Prince.

The King was shaken. It was true. He thought briefly of the glorious days. This son of his, of whom he had always been so proud and still was, was right of course. There must be a return to the old days of greatness. They were losing France and the Prince was hinting that if they continued thus they could lose England.

He roused himself. Alice’s jewels would have to wait. He would explain to her. She would not want him to lose his crown. He must tell her to try not to anger the Black Prince. She must be reminded that he would be the next King of England.

‘You are right, Edward,’ said the King. ‘We must act promptly. We must muster another fleet. We have to reach Rochelle.’

The Prince clasped his father’s hand.

‘If you can be as you once were, my lord,’ he said, ‘and if I can but keep my health, none will dare come against us.’

A few days later news came that the French had overrun Poitou and Saintogne.

The Black Prince had renewed his energies. He was urging on his father and brothers the need for immediate action. The King himself was aware of the danger and it seemed as though he was returning to his old vigour. Even Alice Perrers could not divert him from the purpose in hand.

But as the preparations went on the Black Prince’s health began to fail again. Joan urged him to take to his bed but he would not listen to her.

‘No, Joan,’ he insisted, ‘this matter is of the utmost urgency. The crown of England itself is in jeopardy. I have to hold it … for Richard.’

Joan knew that it was useless to protest. Frantic with anxiety she watched her husband leave.

‘I shall soon be back again.’

He did come back, sooner than she had expected. The weather was so bad that it was impossible for the ships to land on French soil; and while they were attempting to, the town of Rochelle surrendered. That of Thouars waited in vain for relief but when it failed to come the city gates were thrown open and French invaders moved in.

It was a disastrous defeat. The fleet returned to England having achieved nothing.

The Black Prince was in no state to continue making war. John had been right. He should never have attempted to go. His presence had made no difference because the fleet had been unable to land. All that had happened was that the fever had returned and after every bout he was a little weaker.

Gloom settled over the Court and the country. Alice only could arouse the King from his lethargy. He seemed to be telling himself that he must lose all that he had fought so hard to gain, that God did not favour his claim and had sent Alice to divert him from war and spend his energies in other directions. The Black Prince raged and fumed but he could only do it from a sick bed.

John of Gaunt realised that efforts would have to be made to hold the French possessions and that it would be his lot to try to save them.

Constanza had become pregnant and was pleased about this. She was aware that he had a mistress in the household and that she was the governess to his children by Blanche of Lancaster, but was not really grieved by the discovery, although some of her women thought she should be and should dismiss the brazen red-haired creature. Constanza shrugged her shoulders. She had not married John of Gaunt for love. He had seemed to her the means of winning back for her the throne to which she believed she had a right, and she still did not give up hope of doing so. If he would fight for her crown – and he would if the opportunity arose because it would be his crown too – she would be satisfied.

They had made a show of living together; this child she was to bear was proof of that. She did not object to his having a mistress and Catherine Swynford was a very different kind of woman from Alice Perrers. Catherine had been well brought up in a convent; she had some education; she never attempted to exploit her position. No, Constanza did not greatly object to Catherine Swynford.

It was good to have children, thought John, and he was glad that Constanza was pregnant. His marriage could have been far more inconvenient, and there was always the chance of winning the crown of Castile.

Now of course he would have to return to France as the Black Prince could not go. Nor could the King. So the task would fall to John. He would have to cross those turbulent waters which had proved so recently to be on the side of the enemy. He would have to hold what was left, but for whom … for the King, for the Black Prince, for young Richard?

He did not want to leave England. He hated leaving Catherine for the more they were together, the greater was his need of her.

Then news came to him that among those who had been wounded in the force which had been left to stand against the French was Hugh Swynford. He would tell her the news when she came to his bedchamber. She came to him openly now, for it was impossible to keep their relationship a secret. However much they had tried there were certain to be some who noticed it; and it seemed to them both that it was better to be an open fact than a clandestine one to be whispered about and giggled over in corners.