Bernard did know this but he thought the King’s indulgence to his daughter would not extend to marriage.

Isabella determined to prove him wrong.

She sought an opportunity to be alone with her father which was not difficult for Edward was growing fonder and fonder of her as he was becoming faintly critical of his wife. It was not that he did not love Philippa, but he did admire women with beautiful figures and Philippa’s was becoming more and more unwieldy every week.

Isabella took his arm and drew him to a window-seat because, she said, she had something very important to tell him.

He was beaming with satisfaction, loving to share confidences with her.

‘Oh my dear father,’ she said, ‘it is so wonderful to have you with me. How unhappy I was when I was in the Tower and you were in France. You wouldn’t let me come with you ...’

‘I was afraid for your safety, my dear,’ explained the King. ‘You did come with me in the end remember, and then you were frightened when the French attacked our ships, were you not?’

She shook her head. ‘You were close. I knew you would win.’

She kissed his cheeks and he smiled fondly.

‘You must have thought it is time for me to marry, my lord. And I fancy you do not urge it because you would hate to lose ine. Confess it.’

‘I confess,’ said Edward.

‘And you would be very pleased if I married someone who need not take me abroad so that we could all live happily in England.’

‘That would be my wish, of course. Ah, if only it were possible.’

‘It is, dear father, it is. And it is the only marriage I will consider. Do you think I should ever allow myself to be separated from you?’

‘It will be a great sadness to me when the day comes ... as I fear it must.’

‘It shall not come,’ she said. ‘I have decided whom I will marry. Now father, dear father of mine, the one I shall love best in the whole of my life—husband or no—I will not be parted from you. That I swear. So it will be no foreign prince for me. It will be a man of such small estate that it matters not whether he go to his own country or stay in mine.’

‘You are a dear sweet child. But alas you must grow up and marry some day.’

‘That day will be soon, my lord. I have chosen Bernard Ezi.’

Edward was too astounded to speak and Isabella rushed on : ‘I must marry him. No other will do. I know he has nothing ... but you will give him estates here ... near Windsor perhaps and I shall not lose you. That is my main concern.’

‘My sweet child, this is impossible.’

‘I have told Bernard that you will give your consent.’

‘Nay, child. It will not do.’

Isabella’s lips were firmly set. ‘Yes, dear father, it will do. It must do. It is what I want.’

‘Isabella, sweet daughter, you are young and this is passing infatuation for this young man. If you wish for a husband, I will find one worthy of you.’

‘Someone who will take me away from you.’ She stood up and stamped her foot. ‘I will not go. I will never go. I shall marry Bernard or ... die.’

‘Now this is nonsense ...’

‘Indeed it is not. Dear father, you must agree to this, you must give your consent or I shall be the most unhappy woman in your kingdom. I must marry Bernard. Oh, dearest father, as you love me, say you will grant me this ...’

He was wavering. He could never bear to disappoint her. He was a very sentimental father particularly where his daughters were concerned and the favourite of all the children was pretty Isabella.

He was thinking rapidly. The dear child is really serious. Well, consider this Bernard Ezi. What will he have? Albret! It is nothing. How could I possibly let my daughter marry a man of so little consequence? And yet I could raise him up. I could give him an earldom ... And I should have her near me ... I could make it so that they lived in England. I should see her often. Their children would be here with me ... my own grandchildren.

She had thrown her arms about him; she was almost suffocating him with her embraces.

‘You are the dearest kindest father in the world,’ she declared.

And she knew that she had won.


* * *

The whole Court was astonished to learn that the King had agreed to his daughter’s marriage with the son of a minor nobleman even though he was his father’s heir. Philippa understood perfectly. Her wayward spoilt daughter had once more succeeded in getting what she wanted from her father. Well, if Isabella and Edward were happy that was enough for Philippa.

And Isabella did seem overwhelmed with happiness. She was determined to have the grandest wedding the Court had seen for a long time. She sent for the seamstresses and embroiderers for she had a passion for such decoration. She delighted in one garment especially. A mantle of silk which was edged with ermine and embroidered in silver and gold with birds, trees and animals. There were other gorgeous garments and Isabella insisted on trying everything on and parading before her mother and those sisters and brothers who were with the Court.

She persuaded her father to come to admire her and he sat, his arms folded, looking on with benign pleasure while his daughter walked about before him calling attention to the excellence of the embroidery and fine material of her clothes. People had ceased to marvel at his fond indulgence of this daughter and to be surprised that the great King and warrior should become so involved in feminine fripperies.

He seemed quite pleased with the marriage and in fact he told Philippa that because his daughter was making such an insignificant marriage there was no need to supply her with the grand dowry which a prince or a king would have demanded.

In any case everything was worth while to see their daughter so happy.

The day for the celebrations of the nuptials was only a week away when Isabella came to her father and told him that she had decided not to marry after all.

Edward stared at her in amazement. Where was the happy bride of the last days? What had happened?

She flung herself into his arms and burst into tears. He sought to comfort her, asking for her reasons for this change of mind.

‘Dear father, I do not know. I only know that I cannot marry Bernard. I don’t want to marry anybody. I want to stay with you and be with you always. I cannot marry Bernard. Please understand.’

‘My dear child, everything is arranged. The ceremony is shortly to take place.’

‘I know, I know. But I cannot do it.’

The King was completely bewildered. But there was nothing to be done. The Princess was adamant.

The whole court was talking of the matter. Poor Bernard was heart-broken. He had been so deeply in love with the Princess and so enchanted with his great fortune in marrying the daughter of the King that to find himself deprived of love and honour when it seemed so nearly his sent him into the deepest melancholy.

Isabella kept her thoughts to herself. She was elated. She had done to Bernard what Louis had done to her. Her pride was vindicated. She was filled with a secret satisfaction and wondered whether she had intended all the time never to marry Bernard.

Perhaps. She had liked him very much. He was handsome, charming and she had so enjoyed stooping to his social level. He had always been so aware of the fact that she was a Princess and he a humble nobleman.

Now everyone was talking of her. They saw her in a different light from the poor jilted princess.

Moreover she was going to remain close to her father, for whatever arrangements had been made she would have had at some time to go with her husband to his estates in Gascony.

It was a piquant situation which she enjoyed thoroughly. It was particularly gratifying when Bernard declared he was weary of the world, retired to a monastery to become a cordelier monk and gave up his inheritance to a younger brother.

POITIERS

ONE of the effects of the Black Death was to make it impossible for hostilities to continue between France and England and Edward’s dream of taking the French crown had to be postponed for a while.

Philip of France, now an old man, had remarried and his bride was Blanche of Navarre, a girl of nineteen, but a few months after the wedding Philip died and his son Jean became King.

Jean wanted to put an end to Edward’s claims which he considered absurd and when an opportunity occurred which would allow someone else to help fight his battles he seized on it.

Jean realized that England’s advantage was in her superior sea power which had grown considerably after the battle of Helvoetsluys and he believed that if he could cripple that power, ultimate victory over the English would be in sight.

Alfonso of Castile, father to that Pedro the Cruel who would have been Joanna’s husband had she not died of the plague, had himself been a victim of the terrible scourge so Pedro was now King of Castile. However Pedro had had an elder brother who had died but had left a son and this son, Charles de la Cerda, maintained that he had a prior claim to the throne of Castile. Charles appealed to Jean of France for help to gain his rights and Jean implied that if he would take action against the English and show himself to be indeed the friend of France, then Jean might consider helping him to gain the crown of Castile.

Charles therefore began gathering together his ships with the object of invading England. Edward was immediately alert to the danger. So many of his sailors had died; work in the shipyards had almost stopped, and the country desperately needed peace to become prosperous again.