"DO YOU FORSAKE SIRE EDWARD, CATHERINE?" Painting by William Hurd Lawrence
"Madame and Queen," the Countess answered, "in this world every man must scratch his own back. My lord has entrusted to me his castle of Wark, his fiefs in Northumberland. These, I hear, are being laid waste. Were there a thousand men-at-arms left in England I would say fight. As it is, our men are yonder in France and the island is defenceless. Accordingly I ride for the north to make what terms I may with the King of Scots."
Now you might have seen the Queen's eyes flame. "Undoubtedly," said she, "in her lord's absence it is the wife's part to defend his belongings. And my lord's fief is England. I bid you God-speed, Catherine." And when the Countess was gone, Philippa turned, her round face all flushed. "She betrays him! she compounds with the Scot! Mother of Christ, let me not fail!"
"A ship must be despatched to bid Sire Edward return," said the secretary. "Otherwise all England is lost."
"Not so, John Copeland! Let Sire Edward conquer in France, if such be the Trinity's will. Always he has dreamed of that, and if I bade him return now he would be vexed."
"The disappointment of the King," John Copeland considered, "is a lesser evil than allowing all of us to be butchered."
"Not to me, John Copeland," the Queen said.
Now came many lords into the chamber, seeking Madame Philippa. "We must make peace with the Scottish rascal!—England is lost!—A ship must be sent entreating succor of Sire Edward!" So they shouted.
"Messieurs," said Queen Philippa, "who commands here? Am I, then, some woman of the town?"
Ensued a sudden silence. John Copeland, standing by the seaward window, had picked up a lute and was fingering the instrument half-idly. Now the Marquess of Hastings stepped from the throng. "Pardon, Highness. But the occasion is urgent."