“He is a very mighty King and companion at war to your two noble brothers.” “Dame,” she said, “I shall not go to Spayne.” And with great gentleness she sighed. Now, it was Sunday evening and a great press of clouds about the sun, all red and violet, and in the water also these colours and the bridge white in the glowing brightness, and I looked out on these things as I answered– “Ye must do your devoir to your father.” And Jehanne Plantagenet made reply– “Yea, I will do my devoir, please God, but I shall not go to Spayne.” And she lifted her head to aview the sunset, and we heard the sowning of the trumpets as the companies of the King’s archers came into the yard. Then she took my hands and said– “Dame Alys, give me leave and I will this day tell you something–and something heavy withal.” I had great joy and honour in her amours, and I answered her– “Behold my heart is as your own.” Whereat she kissed me and said, “Ye shall hear.” And her eyes were troublous of grief as she spoke. “Truly,” she said, “when I go to bed right doleful and weary of heart, one comes and parts the curtains and stands looking at me, and it is a lady in a gown of samite with a crown on her hair and rings on her hands, and she looks at me mournfully and as one who would give me warning.” Then I was amazed, and made reply: “I desire you by the love of God to tell me who this lady is.” Then said Jehanne Plantagenet– “I think it is Blaunche of France, who was first wife to this Don Pedro, and is now in Heaven.” “Surely,” I said, “this cannot be. Wherefor should she give you warning?” “Sith you ask me,” said Jehanne Plantagenet, “I believe she gives me warning that I am to marry a right dishonourable and ungentle Knight and one that would slay me even as he slew her.” Thereon I, right affrighted, bade her speak words of good cheer, for this was a grievous thing she said, and one not for credence that the King Don Pedro had slain Queen Blaunche. But the Princess was sure of it, for she vowed the vision came as a warning. “And I,” she said, “sith I would rather die in Westminster than live in Spayne, will not have this marriage.” Then was I blithe to tell her of the great feastings there would be for her wedding, both in this realm and in Spayne, and how she would be a Queen and have her own court; howbeit, she put it all by. “Dame Alys,” she said, “say no more, for I have such a love for another man that I may not bear to leave the place where he is.” Then a two times she gave a little sigh, and I was sore amazed. “Dear lady,” I said, “Who is he?” She answered me. “A man of war, one of the divers captains of the King’s archers, and I have such a puissant affection for him that I could not turn to any other.” There was a while stillness and one without touched the dulcimere, and I heard the bells ringing from the Abbey of St. Peter, and the sun was almost set. Then Jehanne Plantagenet kneeled down to me.