About seventeen miles to the south of Newcastle, and sixty-seven miles to the north-west of York, in the centre of the shire of Durham, the river Wear, in one of its windings, makes a curve in the shape of a horse-shoe, and incloses a lofty peninsula, or promontory. On this promontory, which is formed of seven hills, surrounded by hills still higher than themselves, stands the city of Durham, with its castle, its abbey, its churches and buildings, mirrored in the clear waters of the river, whose steep banks are clothed with hanging woods.
At a distance of some miles to the south of Durham is the castle of Auckland, the seat of the bishop, with a park abounding in deer and wild cattle; while three miles to the north-west is Beaurepaire, another fair park, in which stands the house to which the prior is wont, on occasions, to retreat for quiet and contemplation. At this crisis both of these parks were camps, and their silence and privacy were broken by the noise of arms and the tramp of warriors; for the English army lay at Auckland, awaiting orders to march, and the King of Scots lay at Beaurepaire, awaiting the coming of the enemy, and treating with great disdain, as I have written, the proposal made by some of his nobles to make for the woods, and retreat without risking an engagement.
Such was the position of the two armies when having entered Durham, I proceeded to the castle, and craved an audience of the Queen of England. At first it appeared doubtful whether it would be granted; but a hint as to my being charged with letters of importance from France opened the doors, and I was conducted to the presence of the royal lady on whose energy and presence of mind the fate of England, at that moment, in a great measure depended.
At the time when Philippa of Hainault was first brought to England and wedded to King Edward, at York, she was a girl of seventeen, with a brilliant complexion, and a tall, graceful figure, whom minstrels praised in verse for her "roseate hue and beauty bright." Eighteen years, however, had passed over her head, during which she had become the mother of ten children, and she retained little of that youthful beauty which minstrels had celebrated.
But what Philippa had lost in juvenile brilliance she had gained in matronly dignity; and at thirty-five, what with her still comely features, her serene aspect, and her stately, though kindly manners, she looked every inch a queen, of whom Englishmen might have said, as they did of her predecessor, Eleanor of Castile, that "to our nation she was a loving mother, the column and pillar of the whole realm."
And never, perhaps, had the Queen of England appeared to greater advantage than when, at this crisis, and in the hour of dismay, she, in the absence of her hero-husband and hero-son, defied all dangers, and ran all risks, to do her duty to the country over which her husband reigned, and the kingdom to which her son was heir.
As I knelt and presented the epistle with which I had been intrusted by the Governor of La Broyes, she looked at me with something like surprise, and, taking the letter from my hand, said gently—
"Rise, sir page; how is this? I thought you were lost."
"Yes, madam," replied I, in some confusion; "but you see I am found again."
"And how came you by this?"