Cressy and Poictiers: The Story of the Black Prince's Page

by John G. Edgar

Joan, Countess of Kent, was a princess of the house of Plantagenet, and one of the most comely and captivating women of whom England could boast. Indeed, at an early age her beauty won for her the name of the Fair Maid of Kent. She was daughter of Edmund, Earl of Kent, son of the first King Edward, and, having been born about the time when her father perished on the scaffold, during the domination of Queen Isabel and Roger de Mortimer, she was, of course, a year or two older than the hero whose heart she had so thoroughly captivated.

It is said that the course of true love never does run smooth, and of this the prince and his fair kinswoman were doomed to experience the truth. In fact, King Edward and Queen Philippa had other views for their son, and the obstacles in the way of a marriage were such that the prince despaired of overcoming them; and, while he, debarred from indulging in the passions of the heart, gave his time and thoughts to war and ambition, Joan, after waiting for a few years with the vague hope of some change occurring to render their union possible, bethought herself of making up for lost time, and so managed matters that she became the object of contention between two men, each of whom claimed her as wife. Of these, one was Sir Thomas Holand, a knight of Lancaster; the other was William, Earl of Salisbury, son of that fair countess in whose honour King Edward instituted the Order of the Garter.

Naturally the dispute was warm, and caused much scandal; for it appeared that Joan, after being solemnly betrothed to Salisbury, had given her hand to Holand, who, albeit of inferior rank, was a handsome and accomplished chevalier, and when Holand went to the continent Salisbury took possession of the bride. At length the pope was appealed to; and his holiness having settled the dispute by pronouncing the Countess of Kent to be wife of Holand, Salisbury indicated his acquiescence in the decision by marrying another woman.

Affairs having reached this stage, no hope remained to the Prince of Wales save to forget the past; and in this respect he, no doubt, did in some degree succeed. Nevertheless, the romance was not at an end. Soon after the battle of Poictiers, Holand went the way of all flesh, and Joan Plantagenet, now thirty-two, but comely and captivating as in girlhood, was free to give her hand to whom she pleased.

Of course such a woman was not likely to be without wooers, and it speedily became known that one of the nobles attached to the prince's service sought her in marriage. This noble was Roger, Lord de Ov. Nor, in aspiring to the hand of her who had been sung of as the Fair Maid of Kent, was he deemed guilty of presumption. Young, handsome, courteous in hall and strong in battle, with a great name and broad baronies, he was not the person whom the widow of a Holand was likely to reject on the score of dignity. But it appeared that the widowed countess was not to be so easily won; and the noble, finding that his suit did not prosper, implored the prince to interfere in his behalf. The result was not what might have been anticipated; for the lady rejected the advice with a disdain which was almost too much for the prince's patience.

"Fair kinswoman," said he, "it seems to me that you scarce know your own mind."

"My lord," replied the countess with much animation, "never did I know my mind better: when I was under ward I was disposed of by others, but now——"

"But now?" said the prince, whose imagination rapidly conducted him back to the time when he himself was the most ardent of her admirers.

"Now," continued she, making a great effort to speak out, "I am mistress of my own actions, and I cannot but call to mind that I am of the royal blood of England. I cannot therefore cast myself away beneath my rank; and I am fully resolved never to marry again, unless I can marry a prince of virtue and quality."

Needless would it be to dwell on the scene that followed. Suffice it to say that as the countess spoke the prince felt the old flame rekindle in his heart, and when she concluded he was kneeling at her feet.