Robert Bourchier, the Lord Chancellor, was set to lead the princess to her prince.

He was the first layman to be entrusted with the title as the "keeper of the King's conscience." Though he was not a nobleman, he held judicial positions for many years. His role was to review important petitions and bring significant ones to King Edward's attention. He determined cases according to strict principles of common law. He served on the King's court as a diplomat and soldier. Bourchier was present at the invasion of Scotland a decade earlier and spent much of the past four years in France, culminating in the Battle of Crécy two years earlier where he became a veteran bowman.

Though his father was titleless, Robert was made a Baron. It was he that Edward entrusted to escort his daughter across the sea to her new home.

A tall, commanding figure with short grey hair and a pronounced nose greeted Joan in her formal room once she was properly dressed for her expedition.

He bowed. "It is time, my lady," Robert said after he introduced himself. He said the king has urgent business, so Robert needed to introduce himself directly.

"Let us go," Joan said with a sigh. She held her head up high as she followed him out of the sitting rooms, down through the grand hallways, out the large open castle doors through the large, fortified gate. Behind her followed her maids, servants, musicians, cooks, and guards. The entourage would require dozens of people, but they would all return back months from now. She was the only one not returning.

As Joan crossed the threshold at the top of the stairs down to the carriage, a crowd had gathered. She turned to wave goodbye to everyone who saw her off, making sure to plaster a smile on her face. She must be remembered as being proud of her position.

Up above in a high tower, she spotted her parents waving from the balcony. She nodded towards them. They were still her parents, and her deep love for them still remained. She could forgive them for sending her away to marry. She would reassure them she was happy once she was married, even if it wasn't true. She would never tell them in a letter how unhappy she was that Isabella should have been sent instead. Her fate has been sealed.

She waved goodbye to her whole life and stepped down the stairs.

* * *

"Oh my! So many trolleys!" Joan said, looking at the multitude of horse-drawn carts.

"Aye," Robert said. "And more is on its way to the docks."

It was truly awe-inspiring. Edward had spared no expense buying beautiful furniture and decorations to impress her Castilian family. Anyone who saw a small army worth of soldiers and servants would never forget the sight. It was more riches than anyone had seen in one place.

It even included a portable chapel so Joan could still do all her prayers in comfort even while between local stops. Outwardly she prayed for a safe journey. Under her breath, she prayed she would like Prince Pedro.

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"Dios mío," Joan said to herself.

"It will take a couple of days for us to reach the ships at Portsmouth," Richard explained.

"More than one ship?"

"Oh, with all this on one ship, I fear she will sink, so we'll sail four," Robert walked her to the large grand carriage.

"Oh, my," she said.

A sandy-haired young man no more than a couple years older than her in a soldier's uniform stood at the carriage door.

"Princess, I will lead everyone from my horse in the front. This is my son, John. He has followed me into a military career. He will be your personal bodyguard on our trip."

"My lady," the young man said with a bow. He looked like his father, with a similar square jaw and brown eyes, but shorter and blonder hair and a smaller nose that better suited his face.

Joan sighed. "I do not need a personal bodyguard."

"My dear lady, you will be the most well-known woman travelling through Europe. Rich and poor will stand on the streets to catch a glimpse of your carriage. And so will highwaymen and pro-Frenchman who wish to harm an English princess. You cannot be too safe," the Baron said.

Joan knew there was no point in arguing, so she silently held out her hand so that John Bourchier could help her step up into the carriage. He followed her inside and sat across from her.

Joan looked out the window. She didn't feel like talking to a stranger. She remembered how bored she was the last time she travelled to the southern city of Dover with her father to board a ship. Had it really been ten years? It felt like a lifetime ago, and now she would retrace a similar path as she had gone as a girl. She had been a child full of hope. Now the hope was reserved.

"The weather is fair today. The journey to Portsmouth should go well," John said after some time.

Joan said nothing. She was dressed in one of her fine dresses and her hair tucked back under a veil. She had much more ornate ensembles ready for her various stops along her journey until her grandest outfits when she reached Castile. Her English party would take her to English-controlled Bayonne, France where she would meet her groom, and from there the English crew would return home and a Spanish entourage would escort her to her new home.

She tried to imagine how hot it was in Castile, as Pedro had written to her about what it was like. She pulled at the ends of her long sleeves. It was already quite a warm summer, and it would be hotter the more south they travelled. Her dresses had been made out of the most luxurious and expensive fabrics with hand embroidery and lacing that required hours of labour. It was meant to show how rich her father was. It was not meant to be comfortable. Sometimes she wished she could wear a basic dress with breathable fabric like peasant women who also at least met men before they married them and maybe even were allowed to say no to a proposal.

"You are brave to move to another country," John said after another long silence.

Joan looked over at the soldier and again said nothing. She was a royal princess, and felt her station required an icy cold demeanour to the son of a man only recently given a title. If she had to suffer the consequences of a royal title, then she might as well act entitled to it.

If she thought too much about how they were a hundred miles from her parents and she would never see them again, she would cry. If she thought about how Isabella traded her marriage plans for Joan's freedom, she would cry. And she did not want to cry in front of this young man her own age.

"Have you ever been in love before?" John asked suddenly.

Joan turned her head sharply. "I am a princess; how dare you talk to me that way on my voyage to my future husband."

"At least I got you to say something," John said.

Joan turned her head indignantly to the window and thought to speak no more to make her point.