Spring 1348, Windsor Castle, Windsor, England

A heavily pregnant Philippa started her lying in, but she allowed her daughters to visit her. Men were not allowed in the sacred space. She remained abed in a large darkened bedroom, surrounded by ladies who read to her or told their own happy stories. Philippa thought by that point after so many pregnancies, the mood didn't need to be set. However, it was tradition, so she took to the room until the birth and repeated the well-worn rituals.

Joan tried to come by once a day just to talk to her mother, soaking up her presence as much as she could before she left the country. Sometimes she visited with Isabella, and sometimes the girls visited separately.

One morning, Joan woke up with great pain in her stomach, and when she went to the privy to relieve herself, she screamed at the sight of blood between her legs.

Thinking she was dying, she ran to Philippa. "Mother! I'm bleeding!" she cried, desperate for the comfort of her mother. She told her of the blood she saw.

"Hush, princess! You shouldn't bother your mother and the baby," one of the ladies said.

"Oh, it is all right. Come here, child." The Queen beckoned her to the bed. She took Joan's hand "You are not dying. You are becoming a woman."

It was true that at aged 14, Joan noted changes in her body, budding breasts, hair under her arms and on her sex. But it was gradual and didn't interfere with her life, so she hadn't asked anyone what was going on with her body. No one had warned her about this.

"Once a month, you will bleed, and it is God's way of preparing your womb for a baby. I was a year older than you when your brother was born. Your body is telling you that you are soon ready to be Peter's wife. You will be ready to have his heir."

"Why does it hurt?" Joan asked.

"Because as women, we can handle it." Philippa stroked Joan's hair. "I'll have one of the maids fetch you some rags, and you will wear it to catch the blood. This will become routine, and one day you won't give it any thought. You won't have one when you are with child, and one day you will be done with them altogether."

The servants fetched her the spare cloth, and the ladies in the confinement bedchamber helped Joan clean herself up. Her aches didn't lessen, but she felt pacified by her mother's words.

"Mother..." Joan paused for a moment. She had been trained by some of the greatest tutors in Christendom about languages, theology, and the arts, and yet no one had explained human fundamentals to her. "I don't know how a man and a woman create a baby. I don't know what happens when a husband and wife lay together. I do not know how to be a wife, and soon I will be one."

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"Oh!" Philippa gasped. "Oh, darling. That is something I can't fully teach you. You will know what to do when the time comes. God created marriage so we can create children. Peter will guide you in his bed. You mustn't be too knowledgeable beforehand because men want their brides innocent. It may hurt you at first, but hopefully you'll grow to like it. Your father and I love each other very much, and we never met before our wedding. We were lucky; not everyone is blessed with their true match.

"But men can be kind or cruel. Some men are black of heart and cannot be good husbands, and then it will be a great pain to bear. As a wife, you cannot tell him what to do. I tell the King my advice, and he listens or not to it. You will likewise guide your husband. If he does something in bed you do not like, unfortunately you must do it, but if there is something you like, you can compliment him and kiss him sweetly, and that encourages him to act to your liking."

"I'm so nervous," Joan confessed. She couldn't picture being alone with a man, let alone being intimate. She spent no time with boys her age. She couldn't picture sharing a bed with one.

"It is like with your horse Red Arrow. You do not whip him into obedience, but it is a horse's nature to be guided to good behaviour. You ride him, then give him treats and he is gentler when you ride him instead of anyone else. You are his master. You broke him in, and he lives for your affection. Your husband can be the same, if you are gentle with your words so he thinks your ideas were his ideas and he acts in such a manner to be treated by your kind words."

Joan wasn't sure she understood marriage or the act any better. "When shall I go to Castile?"

"I told the King I would like to see you set sail, and your brother or sister is due soon. You shall set sail this summer, God willing, and be wed by November," Philippa said.

Joan wondered so much what her betrothed looked like. Should she call him Peter or Pedro? Would she call him darling or sweetheart when they were alone? Mi amor? Would she be able to understand him clearly if he had an accent? Was he tall and handsome? Fair-haired or dark like a raven? Would tenderness come easily to her when they met?

Philippa assured her not to worry.

Later, she sought out her sister, reading in their room. "Have you started monthly bleeding?" Joan asked quietly.

"Yes," Isabella said without looking up.

"When?"

"Maybe two years ago."

"Two years!" Joan exclaimed. "And you didn't warn me?"

"It is not a pleasant thing to discuss. I wanted you to stay innocent. Will you tell Mary and Margaret to watch out for it?"

"That's different. They are two and four. They are babies," Joan said. "I feel like a different person now. Like I'm no longer a child. Did you feel like this? Like one day you were someone you didn't know as well?" Joan asked.

Isabella stroked her chin. "I suppose. It is just a part of life. It's not worth getting angry at something you cannot avoid."

"I will leave for my marriage this summer," Joan announced.

"You are lucky," Isabella said.

* * *

Only weeks after, Philippa birthed a healthy baby boy named William. As she recovered, King Edward made plans for everything Joan would need for her final voyage.