My mother sent a declaration to all the important towns, in which she stated that, owing to the King’s unfortunate seclusion, the government of the country was, for the time being, at Chartres, and with her was her good cousin, the Duke of Burgundy, to help and advise her when necessary, until the recovery of her good lord, the King.

So my mother was free and, with Burgundy beside her, had regained her power.

The Armagnacs kept control of the King and the Dauphin; and the conflict in my country was stronger than ever.

In the meantime Henry had returned to France and was laying siege to Rouen.

A few men from the besieged city escaped and came to Paris. They had a terrible story to tell. The people had been determined to hold out until help came to them. Poor deluded men and women! What help could they expect? Nevertheless, they had fortified their ramparts; they had forced all those who could not bear arms or were too feeble to withstand the siege to leave the city; they had hoarded food and had prepared themselves in every way.

Twelve hundred helpless men and women were sent out of the town; and the miseries they endured are too distressing to brood on. I was especially sorry for the pregnant women who had nowhere to go. They gave birth unattended outside the walls of the city. Death stared them in the face, and their greatest fear was that their newly born infants would go unbaptized. Friends from within sent down baskets that the newborn children should be brought up to be baptized, and when this was done, they were lowered down to their helpless mothers and left to die.

How cruel was war! I should hate those men who came over to our country and caused so much misery—and all for a crown!

The people inside the city’s walls suffered too. They were forced to eat cats, dogs, rats, anything that came to hand. And the winter was approaching.

They were very brave, those people of Rouen. If those in high places had shown the same dedication to their country, we should not have been in the sorry plight we were.

When the fall of the city was imminent, the men of Rouen decided to fight to the end rather than give in. They planned to stand together and fight outside the city walls after having set fire to it. They were courageous and Henry admired courage. He declared he would spare the lives of all citizens—with one or two exceptions—if they would surrender peacefully; and so a compromise was reached.

Henry said later that one of the proudest moments of his life was when he entered Rouen—that city beloved of his ancestor Richard Cæur de Lion and which King John had lost with the English possessions in France.

Our resistance was coming to an end. These disasters could not continue. The English were marching through Normandy, and everywhere cities and castles were falling into their hands.

We were ready to make terms.

My mother returned to Paris. She behaved as though there had never been a rift between her and my father, who had now lapsed into a state of melancholy. Everyone around him was watchful lest he should slip into violent madness.

Dr. Harsley had left Court, deciding that his own health demanded that he should live a quiet life in the country. So my father was taken back to the Hôtel de St.-Paul, to Odette, whose company, I was sure, was more beneficial to him than any doctors would have been.

My mother had commanded that, as I was now of some importance and had my part to play in bringing peace terms to a satisfactory conclusion, I should be under her care.

I was given an apartment and several attendants. What a delight it was to find my old friend Guillemote among them.

We greeted each other rapturously. She had changed a little. She was slightly more plump, but there was still the same rosy face—the face, I always thought, of a good woman and one on whom I could always rely.

“I have thought of you often, my lady,” she said, “and wondered how you were getting on.”

“The convent was more comfortable than …”

She nodded.

“But I missed you. So did Michelle and Marie.”

“Michelle is a grand lady now. I wonder if it has changed her.”

“I suppose we all change. I must have changed a good deal.”

“You’ve grown up…which was to be expected. And the boys …” She turned away to hide her emotion.

“I know. Both Jean and Louis …”

“And little Charles?” she went on quickly. “Such an important man now. The Dauphin, no less. I trust all will be well with him.”

“Guillemote,” I said, “we are together again. Let us stay so.”

She lifted her shoulders. “If it is in our power, my lady.”

“I shall do my best. I shall not let you go away.”

“They say you are going to make a grand marriage…across the sea.”

“I shall be important then, Guillemote. I shall be the one who says whom I shall have about me.”

She smiled rather sadly. “I shall never forget the day they took you away. There was such sadness. Nothing was the same. I wept until I had no tears left. All my little ones gone, especially you, Madame Katherine.”

“Well, Guillemote, don’t be sad now. We are together again.”

“Mademoiselle de Champdivers was good to me. She is a good woman. I think she arranged that I should come here to be with you.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know she is good. I am thankful that my father has her to look after him.”

I felt considerably comforted to have Guillemote so near.

The King of England was now ready to talk peace; and my mother was making arrangements into which she entered with the utmost enthusiasm. She was sure that I would be instrumental in softening the peace terms.

“This betrothed of yours strikes a hard bargain,” she said with a coy laugh. “Now, child, we must make you so desirable that he will decide…for your sake…to modify the terms. You are handsome enough. Yes…just a little like me. And amazingly like your sister Isabelle for whom he once had a great desire. He will see her again in you…and therein lies our hope.”

My emotions were in a turmoil. I was about to take the most important step in my life and it might well be that soon I should be married to a man whom so far I had never seen. But I had a vivid picture of him in my mind. I saw him as Isabelle had seen him; and again as quite a different person: the wise, shrewd conqueror. Was it possible for a man to change as drastically as he was said to have done? It seemed hardly likely. But surely this rash and frivolous youth of Isabelle’s version could never have conquered France.

Earlier I had been terrified of union with him; now I had to admit to a certain excitement. I wanted desperately to see him, and my fear of what might follow was swallowed up in my excitement.

“Your complexion is good,” my mother said. “You have a lovely soft skin and your eyes are very fine. They are like mine. Your mouth and teeth are good. But your nose, my dear. That comes from your father. The Valois nose. A pity! But it is not too marked in you. You must smile. You look so solemn. You must look interested. I shall expect you to charm him. He is a soldier…no doubt a little rough…and English manners have never had the grace of the French. Never mind, you will act with grace and charm…and if you do that, he will be enchanted. Now, try this.”

It was a gown shaped to my figure, coming up high to the throat. It was discreetly adorned with jewels and there was a strip of ermine down the front. On my head was an arched crown, from which a veil flowed down to my shoulders.

My mother clapped her hands. “That is good,” she said. “Oh, daughter, I have hopes of you.”

I felt a little thrill of pleasure and for once did not recoil when she kissed me.

The meeting was to take place in Pontoise, and a splendidly decorated barge was made ready to take us there.

My father, who, under Odette’s ministrations, had recovered a little, was to accompany us.

“It is necessary that he is there,” said my mother. “As long as he remains quiet, all will be well.”

Close to the river, pavilions had been set up and there were elegant tents made of green velvet decorated with cloth of gold.

As we sailed down the river, I could not stop myself from watching my poor father. I thought, he should not be with us. How did he feel…he who had lived so much of his life in a clouded world…to be sailing down the river to meet the conqueror of his country? His father, the Wise Charles, had left him a prosperous land, a proud kingdom…and under him, it had come to this. He had to look to his daughter to charm the King of England sufficiently for him to accept her as part of the peace terms. It was humiliating…distressing beyond words—and I suffered with him.

My mother looked beautiful in spite of a certain obesity which only seemed to add to her voluptuousness. She was animated and I understood that what she craved most in life was excitement, and the significance of this occasion could not stop her enjoying it.

As for myself, I felt I had left my childhood behind me forever.

We disembarked and, as we approached the royal tent, I saw Henry.

He was very tall and slender; and what struck me most about him was his immense vitality. He was comely enough, with a pleasant oval face. I noticed his long, straight nose. I usually looked at people’s noses, as people do look at the features of others when they are particularly aware of their own. His complexion was fresh and he looked as though he lived much of his life in the open air. He had brown hair and eyes of the same color, very bright and, I noticed with relief, quite gentle, though afterward I learned they could flare into sudden wrath. I was agreeably surprised and I felt great pleasure as his eyes eagerly turned on me and I knew that he was not displeased.