It was a rather bleak March day when Isabella and Louis were brought face to face. The encounter took place at the monastery of Bergues and it was to be a very ceremonious occasion.
The highest ranking Flemings were in Louis’s entourage and Edward could be relied upon to see that his daughter was surrounded by even greater pomp and glitter.
Edward said that before the meeting of the young people he would like to speak with Earl Louis alone and he received him in one of the apartments of the monastery.
An impressive figure at all times, Edward on this occasion was even more magnificent than usual. He wore his robes of state and he looked a mighty king, as he endeavoured to, for it was important to overawe Louis.
Louis however was not so easily overawed. He was a young man of some spirit and he was filled with a smouldering resentment against those who had forced him into this situation. Edward knew very well what great efforts had had to be made to get Louis to agree to the marriage and he applauded the boy’s sentiments. His father had died in his arms on Crécy field and being a family man capable of sentiment, Edward understood Louis’s feelings.
He came straight to the point. ‘My lord Earl,’ he said, wanted to speak to you first before the ceremonies because I wished to tell you with my own lips that I am guiltless of your father’s death.’
‘It was at Crécy,’ murmured Louis with a hint of defiance.
‘I know it. And that was a resounding victory for my armies. And there your father died. I did not know that he was with the French army. It was only when the battle was over that I learned of his death. I understand your feelings. I have children whom I love dearly and I know that had I died on the field of Crécy they would feel against the King of France as you do against me. I am guiltless of the death of your father. You must see this. Had I known that he was there, had I come across him in need of help, although he was on the side of my enemy, I would have spared his life. You must understand this, and bear me no grudge.’
But even as Louis looked at this man of commanding appearance he could think only of his father lying back in agony. He could only see the horrible blood ... his father’s blood.
Edward laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Let us forget, my dear lord, that your father and I were on opposing sides. Come, let me be the father you have lost. I swear to you that you will never regret it.’
Louis’s eyes were glazed with emotion and the King moving towards him embraced him.
‘All is well between us, my son,’ said Edward. ‘Now, let us talk of this wedding we are going to have.’
The Flemish nobles marvelled at the power and charm the King of England displayed in winning over their stubborn lord, for they had known that although he had given in to their wishes he had done so most reluctantly.
Isabella and her prospective bridegroom stood face to face. She was magnificently attired, a glittering Princess. She smiled at him, inviting his admiration.
The daughter of my father’s murderer! he thought. How vain she is! Pretty enough, but why should I allow them to choose my bride for me?
Isabella thought: He is handsome. I like him. He must be thinking how beautiful I am and what a lucky man he is to have an alliance with England and ... me.
They talked a little. He told her of Flanders. She did not listen very intently. She was eager to tell him about England and how she and her sister travelled about on occasions, and that she had three ladies-in-waiting while her sister had only two, that she was the eldest and her father was inclined to spoil her.
Indeed, thought Louis, that at least is obvious.
The King and the Flemings looked on benignly.
‘Methinks our happy pair are pleased with each other,’ said Edward.
They were betrothed with great ceremony. The wedding itself must be a very grand affair. It would take place in two weeks time which, said the King, would give everyone time to prepare. He wanted it to be an occasion which all would remember.
Isabella left Bergues with her parents, and Louis returned to his captivity because, said some of the wily Flemish nobles, they knew their Prince to be of a stubborn nature and they being cautious men were determined that care should be maintained until that day when Isabella was truly Louis’s wife.
Louis, seeing the day of his wedding coming nearer and nearer, decided to take a chance. He had become very friendly with two of his guards and he confided to them his misgivings about his future. He believed the Flemings were wrong, he hinted, in seeking this firm alliance with England. Did Edward think he was going to seize the crown of France? True there was Crécy but how much nearer to the crown had that brought him?
Louis reckoned that ere long they would see that the King of France would drive Edward out of his country and then what would happen to those who had supported Edward?
The guards liked to argue, and so forceful was Louis that he began to bring them round to his way of thinking. There came a day when they were ready to risk anything to please him and he began to plan.
It must of course be carried out with the utmost speed for there was only a week before the wedding was to take place. He was allowed to go hawking with his guards and it might be that they had grown a little lax now that there had been a formal betrothal to Isabella.
It was a simple plan. He would ride out with his guards and his falconer should release a heron. The two hawks would be sent after them. He would gallop off in the normal way but instead of following the way of the hawk he would go to a spot where the two guards had horses ready. He would change to the fleeter steed and they would ride with all speed to the Flemish frontiers.
It should not be impossible. In fact it seemed infallible.
Out he came with his guards and falconers. The heron was released as planned; he freed his horse and shouting to them he rode on ... and on and on ...
It was even simpler than he had thought. He had completely foiled them. They had believed he was sincere when he had promised to marry Isabella. What a surprise they would get!
Across the border he rode into the province of Artois and then on to Paris.
The King of France was highly amused at the exploit. He said he longed to hear what the effect would be on Edward when he heard of the absconding bridegroom.
Isabella could not believe it.
Jilted. She, Isabella, the most desirable of brides, the beautiful Princess, her father’s darling!
The Queen had come to her to tell her the news.
‘There will be no wedding,’ she said.
Isabella listened incredulously. ‘So he ... ran away. He ran away from me ...’
‘It was not from you, my dear child,’ said Philippa. ‘It was from the marriage with England.’
‘The ... traitor,’ cried Isabella. ‘I hope he makes a disastrous marriage with his Margaret of Brabant.’
‘It is as well you did not marry him,’ replied her mother. ‘I can only rejoice that he showed himself in his true colours before the wedding.’
The King came in. He took his daughter into his arms and held her tightly against him.
‘My dearest child. This rogue ... this criminal ...’ He could not speak coherently, so great was his rage. He cared more about the insult to his daughter than the loss of an alliance which would have been useful to him.
‘He ran away from me! ‘ said Isabella blankly.
‘Not from you,’ replied Edward. ‘You must not think that.’
‘I have explained to her,’ replied Philippa. ‘It is not Isabella he does not want. It is the alliance.’
‘My dear child,’ said Edward, ‘we shall have entertainment outside Calais. We shall show everyone that we snap our fingers at this oaf.’