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.
No doubt she had deemed it wise—and indeed so it had proved.
And now there was the willowy enchanting girl—Joan of Kent. Romantic because of her father’s cruel murder and royal too, and the most beautiful girl at Court. It was small wonder that Edward should take pleasure in looking at her, for she was indeed an enchanting sight and would have been as outstanding in this assembly among the magnificently attired ladies if she had been clad as a goose girl.
Edward was dancing with her and suddenly there was consternation for lying on the floor at the feet of Joan of Kent was her garter.
There was a sudden titter throughout the hall. Joan flushed slightly. Joan was not the most modest of ladies and the assumption could not be dismissed that she had deliberately dropped the garter. Could it really be an invitation to the King?
Philippa thought: How foolish! As if she would do it that way if it were.
Edward had picked up the garter. He held it in his hands almost caressingly then he looked round the room and caught the expressions on the faces of many who were watching.
For a few seconds there was silence. Then the King attached the Garter to his own knee and in a loud ringing voice he said: ‘Evil be to him who evil thinks.’
He took Joan’s hand and the dance continued. When it was over he addressed the company and said:
‘You have seen the garter and I shall now do honour to it. The garter is an old symbol of honour in the chivalry of our land. My great ancestor, Richard Coeur de Lion, ordered the bravest of his knights to wear it at the storming of Acre. Those knights excelled in valour and bravery and they became known as the Knights of the Blue Thong. It is a story which is handed down in the annals of chivalry. Now I shall name my new order the Order of the Garter and because it is an intimate article of apparel and I have seen such looks upon your faces which please me not, there shall be a motto writ on the garter and this shall be “Honi soit qui mal y pense.” This honour shall be the highest in English knighthood and there shall be no more than twenty-five knights of the Garter expecting members of my family and illustrious foreigners.’