It was Easter time and the weather had turned suddenly so cold that many of the English soldiers died because of it, collapsing and falling from their horses while riding. Nothing like it had ever been known.

It was the Monday after Easter Day when the storm broke. It came upon them suddenly; the air was full of darkness at midday and the hail rained down on the army. Then the sky was rent with such sound and fury as none of them had ever known before. Lightning streaked across the sky to be followed by utter darkness and the violent sound of the thunder.

Many of the soldiers believed that the world was coming to an end; many of the horses and men were struck by the lightning, and hailstones the size of eggs began to shower down on them.

This appeared without doubt to be a sign of divine anger and why should God visit his fury on Edward’s army? There was one answer to that and it was that God did not like the claim to the French crown and he was not going to allow the King of England’s efforts to be successful.

Edward was dismayed. Six thousand of his finest horses had been killed by lightning. One thousand of his men had suffered the same plight. The soldiers had turned to him expecting him to act.

But what could even the greatest soldier in the world do against the acts of God?

Edward saw only one way. He leaped from his horse and bare-headed with the hail beating down on him and the hideous lightning illuminating his face cried out: ‘Oh God, take away this storm. If I have incurred your wrath I will make amends. Let my army survive this day and I will make reasonable terms with the King of France. I will release him from bondage. I give my word on this.’

There was silence all about him. He lifted his eyes to the sky and it seemed that the lightning was less fierce, that the thunder was growing more distant.

The storm was passing. His vow remained, and it was not as a promise given to another King. This one he had made to God and he must keep it.

When he told his men that they were returning to England without delay there was a great shout of joy. Every man among them had had enough of war and the sign that God was not with them would have undermined any feeling they might have had for it.

Edward was fully aware of this. That was why he knew that he must abandon the fight.

Philippa received him with the utmost joy and King Jean was informed that he was to be released on payment of a smaller ransom. Edward stressed though that his sons would be requested to come to England as hostages until the sum was paid.

Jean left for France conducted there by the Black Prince and the Duke of Lancaster; and Philippa, delighted with this outcome of affairs in France, settled comfortably to enjoy having her family with her and for the moment at least out of imminent danger.


* * *

Joan of Kent had returned to Court, a widow. Her husband, Thomas Holland, had just died in Normandy where he had been on the King’s service, so there was nothing for Joan to do but return with her children to England.

Her arrival coincided with that of the Prince of Wales who had just returned from France whither he had been escorting King Jean.

The Prince appeared very pleased to see his cousin again. She was no longer young being thirty-three years old and the mother of three children but as soon as she returned to England he sent a silver beaker to remind her of him; and with it was a note welcoming his Cousin Jeanette back to England.

Joan was equally pleased to see him. She had found Thomas Holland a satisfactory husband and had been physically attracted to him but in her youth her secret ambition had been to marry the Prince of Wales.

It seemed strange to her that he had never married for she was sure some pressure to do so must have been brought on him. But Edward and Philippa had ever—contrary to royal custom—concerned themselves with the happiness of their children. And doubtless Edward had been firm in his inclination not to marry. Moreover there were other sons so the matter was not as pressing as it would otherwise have been.

Joan had no intention of remaining a widow and having married a man considered to be far beneath her socially she was now determined to pick the highest in the land. She had always been wily and if she was slightly less beautiful than she had been in her youth she made up for that by an increased astuteness.

She contrived to put herself in the Prince’s path and as he made no effort to evade her they were together often. He was two years younger than she was and to her dismay he seemed to have made up his mind that he would never marry. She was hurt and angry when he talked to her of the possibility of her doing so.

‘Oh, I shall not marry again,’ she answered and added untruthfully, ‘I have no wish to.’

‘Holland is so recently dead,’ replied the Prince. ‘You will change your mind later, I swear it.’

‘You do not know me, cousin,’ she answered.

‘Dear Jeanette, there are few I know better. We have grown up together.’

That was the trouble, she thought. He saw her as his cousin, the companion of nursery days. He was such a strange man. It was true that no one could understand what he really felt.

Still she was going to show him. He was not indifferent to women and clearly he liked her company. She was handsome enough still to be known as the Fair Maid of Kent. If she had grown a little plump it was becomingly so. She had always been the most beautiful woman at Court and refused to believe that she had moved in the slightest degree from that position.

Matters came to a head when Sir Bernard de Brocas, a very worthy and wealthy knight of Gascony, asked the King’s permission to marry her.

The King talked over the matter with the Prince because he knew of the friendliness between his son and Joan.

‘A good match,’ said the King. ‘Sir Bernard has served me well and I should like to reward him. The marriage would be a great one for him. She will bring him the family estates and I shall feel that I have rewarded him for his good service.’

The Prince nodded. As the only surviving member of her family the Kent title and estates had come to her. She was indeed a great heiress.

‘Of course,’ said the Prince, ‘she is a widow and will doubtless wish to have her say.’

‘We may trust Joan for that,’ replied Edward. ‘But it shall be known that I am agreeable to the match and it is only for her to agree to it. Perhaps, my son, you would speak to her and tell her my wishes.’

The Prince said he would do so and at the earliest opportunity sought out Joan.

He asked if he might speak to her in private.

Her heart was beginning to beat so wildly that she wondered if he would be aware of her excitement. Was this the moment? Had he at last made up his mind?

‘You are a widow, Jeanette,’ he said, ‘rich and by no means old. My father thinks you should marry again.’

She dared not look at him but she said quietly : ‘And you, Cousin. What think you?’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I think you should.’

She closed her eyes. Her dream was coming true. He was going to suggest marriage. Princess of Wales, Queen in the not too far future.

‘As a matter of fact there has been an offer for you.’ ‘An ... offer I ‘

‘Sir Bernard de Brocas loves you dearly. He has spoken to the King.’

She stared at him blankly, angrily.

‘And the King,’ she said shortly, ‘what says he?’

‘He says that he would wish to reward Sir Bernard and this would be a way of doing so.’

‘So ... I am to be a ... reward! ‘

‘You are an excellent match, Cousin.’

‘My family’s estates, yes. A good reward for a faithful servant.’

‘And you are very beautiful, Cousin.’

‘I had not thought you had noticed.’

‘You know full well how much I admire you.’

‘You have never deemed it fitting to tell me so.’

‘Why should I tell you what you know already?’

‘The answer is that I should have liked to hear it.’

‘Well then, ‘tis so, Cousin. I repeat you are a beautiful woman and a rich one. But I do not believe it is your estates alone that he considers. What is your answer?’

‘What would you have me do?’ she asked almost plaintively.

‘I would have you consider the offer.’

‘Then let me tell you this,’ she said. ‘I shall never marry again.’

He was surprised. ‘You do not mean that,’ he protested. ‘You are too young ... too beautiful to remain unmarried. I know that you have had many suitors.’

‘None that I would take,’ she said. ‘I hope the King does not plan to force me into this.’

‘Indeed he would not. He would only advise you.’

She turned to him and lifting her beautiful eyes to his cried: ‘You advise me.’

He took her hand and held it fast. ‘Sir Bernard de Brocas is a very worthy knight,’ he said.

‘Stop it! ‘ she cried. ‘Don’t say it. I will not listen.’ Then she sat on a stool and covered her face with her hands.

He stared down at her in amazement; then he knelt down beside her and drew her hands away from her face. Her eyes were feverish with excitement.

‘Dearest Jeanette, what is wrong with you? You must know that de Brocas is one of the most chivalrous knights in my father’s service.’

‘I will never marry him ... as long as I live. I cannot because ...’

‘You are in love with someone else!’ cried the Prince.

She did not deny it. She cried out: ‘You tell me Bernard de Brocas is a chivalrous knight. I am in love with the most chivalrous knight in the world. How can you ask me to take something less.’