‘What goes on?’ she demanded.

‘My lady, the people are running wild in the streets. They are robbing and murdering the Jews. There will not be many left in the city of London this night.’

‘We should not be here. Who knows where such violence will end.’

The guards agreed that the people, knowing she was at the Tower of London, might, when their evil work was done with the Jews, turn to her. They were in a violent mood and the lust for blood was on them. It could be said that the people’s hatred of the Queen was as great as that they bore towards the Jews.

‘Let us go then,’ said the Queen. ‘Let us lose no time.’

She had begun to tremble, remembering the venomous looks which had often been turned towards her; she had always known that the people of London would do her injury if they dared. They would never forget the Queenhithe she had demanded from them; they blamed her for the heavy taxes they had been forced to pay to reward her relations.

‘Have the barge made ready,’ she cried. ‘We will slip down the river to Windsor.’

Her women wrapped her cloak about her. She was eager to be gone without delay.

At the stairs the royal barge was ready. With great haste she boarded it.

‘Let us go without delay,’ she cried.

They moved along the river and then suddenly there was a shout from the bridge.

‘Look you there. It is the Queen. It is the old harpy herself.’

Faces appeared looking down from the bridge. Some spat.

‘Oh God save me from the mob,’ prayed the Queen.

Now came a deluge of rotting food and filth. It spattered the Queen’s garments.

‘Drown her!’ came the cry. ‘Drown the witch.’

‘They will kill us,’ said the Queen. ‘Oh my God, is this the end then?’

‘My lady, if we go on they will sink us,’ said the bargeman.

It was true. The mob was tearing up wood from the bridge. It was rough justice. The bridge was in a state of decay and had been declared to be a danger. The reason was that the King had given the bridge tolls to the Queen who had collected the money but had not attended to the repairs. One large boulder splashed into the river just missing the barge. It sent the water high all over the occupants.

They could not go on. ‘We might reach St Paul’s and stay at the Bishop’s palace there,’ said the Queen desperately. ‘He must offer us sanctuary. We shall be safe there. The King will hear of this and there will be some who will suffer for it.’

It was a good suggestion. In fact it was their only possible hope. The bargeman brought the vessel to the steps and they scrambled out.

In terror, filthy and dishevelled the royal party arrived at the Bishop’s Palace.

There they were admitted. It was sanctuary.

The next day the Queen left very quietly for Windsor. When the King and Edward heard what had happened their fury was great.

‘This is an insult I shall never forgive,’ cried Edward. ‘The Londoners shall pay for what they have done to you. I shall remember it.’

The King also vowed vengeance on his capital, and the Queen felt a little mollified. It had been the most frightening ordeal of her life.

‘I can never have a moment’s peace after what has happened,’ said Henry. ‘I cannot always be with you. You realise, do you not, my love, that we are fast moving towards war?’

‘Can nothing be done to avert it?’

‘The barons are determined on it. They are rallying to de Montfort. I am going to ask you, my dear, to go to France. Go to your sister. I could not do what I have to do if I thought you were here in danger. You must go. I beg of you.’

‘If you are in danger, Henry, my place is with you.’

‘You could not follow me into battle, my love, and I should be able to fight the better if I knew that you were in safety. Go to France, I beg of you. Perhaps you can plead your cause with Louis. Marguerite might help you. We may well need his assistance.’

She was thoughtful, but the memory of the mob on London Bridge remained vividly with her. She had nightmares when she dreamed that those murderous people were about to close in on her.

Henry was right. She should leave England. She would be of greater use to the cause in France. There she could raise money for Henry. She would not cease to work for him simply because she was not beside him.

So finally she agreed to go. Henry insisted on accompanying her to the French Court and there he left her as he said in the best possible hands.

He then returned to England and war.

Henry had taken up his headquarters in the Castle of Lewes. He knew that conflict was imminent, but he was hopeful. He had a good army. His son Edward was beside him and his brother Richard, King of the Romans, who had hastened to England when he knew that war threatened his brother, was there to fight with him. The Queen was safe in France, and he was certain that his chances were good.

The two brothers conferred together in one of the rooms of the castle with Edward and Richard’s son Henry. They knew that the barons’ army was encamped close by, and that only a miracle could prevent a conflict.

Richard was saying that they had the superior men, better trained, better equipped. Only the greatest ill fortune could bring them defeat.

‘Defeat,’ cried Edward. ‘I am surprised, my lord uncle, that you can use such a word. Let us rather talk of victory.’

‘I believe,’ replied Richard, ‘that it is better to consider every contingency.’

‘Save that of defeat,’ cried Edward.

He smiled at his cousin Henry, somewhat conspiratorially. They were the young ones with a belief in themselves which their elders lacked. Edward had no doubt of victory.

The King spread a map on the table and they studied it. Edward was to take up the right flank while Henry would be serving with the main forces under his father’s command.

‘The Londoners have sent a force to serve under Hastings for de Montfort,’ said the King.

‘They’ll have little quarter from me,’ cried Edward, his eyes flashing. ‘When I contemplate that they might have killed the Queen I promise myself revenge. They did not succeed in that evil design, praise be to God, but they insulted her. Think of that. The Queen. Our beautiful Queen to be treated so! I am glad they are here today. It gives me even greater heart for the battle.’

‘What we have to think of,’ said Richard, ‘is making the barons see that because once they rose against a king they cannot make a habit of it.’

‘They were powerful then,’ said the King.

‘They are powerful now,’ answered Richard.

He went to the window and looked out. ‘Something is happening,’ he said. ‘It looks like a messenger from the enemy.’

There were footsteps on the stairs. Edward flung open the door and one of the guards entered.

‘A messenger, my lord, from Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.’

‘Bring him in,’ said the King.

The messenger bowed. He was one of the minor barons.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I have come on behalf of the Earl of Leicester.’

‘Anyone who comes from our enemy is not welcome here,’ said Edward sharply.

‘My lord Leicester would put a proposition to you, my lord. He deplores that the country should stand divided. He believes that a settlement of differences should be discussed around a table and that this would be a more satisfactory way of dealing with them than through war.’

Henry said: ‘In that I am in agreement with him but it seems our conferences have come to naught.’

‘My lord,’ cried Edward hotly, ‘we know what this means. De Montfort is afraid of defeat. It is the only reason why he would wish to talk.’

‘The barons, my lord, would give thirty thousand marks to the treasury if an agreement were reached.’