John had no time to mourn. The remaining members of the retinue were in chaos. Many had died in such quick succession that their numbers were a small fraction of those who arrived. Some others had run off in fear.

Robert was buried quickly on the castle grounds with no ceremony. There was no easy way to return him to England at the time, so he would remain in a foreign land where his family could not visit, just like all the other men who had passed away.

"Protecting Joan is all that is important," John told Andrew Ullford. "I will move her outside of Bordeaux where the air is cleaner and people are farther apart so as to not so easily spread this plague."

"For how long? Surely we should take a ship back to England with anyone who is left?" the lawyer said.

"I don't know. Maybe a week. We will need to arrange another crew. We don't have enough people to command a ship now. This plague must die down at some time."

"Don't I have any say in what happens?" Joan asked. She put her hands on her hips.

They both looked at her after not acknowledging her the whole conversation.

"We have to decide these things quickly," Andrew said.

"What would you like?" John asked.

With both of them staring at her, suddenly her voice was gone. All she could picture was Robert's body with the buboes and remember his moaning. How foolish they had all been to dismiss the town's warnings. Robert paid the price for their errors. She didn't want to fall to the same fate.

"Is it possible to make it to Bayonne?" she asked quietly. "Is it safe?"

"Impossible to know. Bigger cities are more at risk for disease, and we don't have enough soldiers left to protect you if we set out on the road and face criminals," John said.

Joan looked back and forth between the men. "If there is a place outside the city we can be safe," she said.

John nodded. "It's our best chance. We don't know what's safest. But we have to have hope and do something."

"I will organise the remaining men and see if any townsmen are willing to sail for payment. It could take time," Andrew said.

"We aren't going to Castile?" Joan asked.

"Who knows how far this disease goes. We do know England is safe," Andrew insisted.

"We can sail to England or directly to Castile if we can find someone who knows the way. We should see if there is any news if it has spread there before we take another risk," John said.

"I see," Joan said. She had known for years that Castile would be her final destination, and now it seemed impossible to reach it.

Andrew turned to John. "You take the princess to the nearest small town. We will correspond often. I will see if it's possible to go to England or Castile. No matter what, we need to get away from this death."

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"Agreed," John said as they shook hands.

The locals said the nearest village was an hour ride outside of Bordeaux called Loremo, and news made it sound like the pestilence was not a problem there. The farmhouses were spread far apart, so the paths were empty of the filth that built up in cities.

"You must pack quickly, and only what can fit in a saddlebag. We don't know how long we will be," John said.

Joan had not packed for herself before, and rooms brimming with heavy dresses, she packed only a few plain linen dresses, some from her dearly departed maid. She didn't like taking dresses from a dead girl, but her own gowns were too heavy and ornate, and her maid would no longer be needing them.

"Oh, I miss her," Joan said when John entered her room.

"I know, but we cannot delay. We need to go."

"Yes."

John and Joan each took a horse and set out for Loremo. Joan fit everything she needed in bags she could care on one beast. The endless trunks of valuables were meaningless to her. Everything royal about her was left behind at the Château de Langoiran.

John knocked on many doors while Joan remained on horseback. He told her to keep her title a secret, lest someone demand more for her safe return. They went home to home until he found a home with a spare room in exchange for coin. An older farmer and his wife had a room with a pallet bed. Their house was bare and small, but they welcomed her in.

"I will sleep on a blanket on the hay in the kitchen," John said.

Indeed, the accommodations were not as Joan was used to, but she saw how meagerly the farm couple lived on modest furniture and food they grew themselves.

"Thank you for your kindness," Joan said to them.

John helped the farmer during the day, and Joan tried to help the wife in the kitchen even though she had not known hard labour. It kept her hands busy and her mind occupied. The day started early, fetching water from a well to bring inside to boil, scrubbing laundry in the morning, tending to the garden, picking, chopping, cooling, cleaning pots and pans was all day work.

"Your hands are very soft, sorry if they cannot stay that way," the wife said. "The lye is hard on mine."

"Don't worry about me," Joan said, even though her hands were soon raw and sore.

At night, Joan couldn't sleep. The thin mattress on the floor was the least of her concerns. Her body hurt all over, but her mind was the one that wouldn't let her rest.

She got up and snuck into the kitchen, taking each step delicately so as to not bother anyone, until she saw John lying in the corner of the room, barely visible in the moonlight.

He jumped up. "Your highness!" he whispered. "What's wrong?"

There was so much wrong; she wasn't sure where to begin.

"I'm so sorry about your father," she said after a moment. "If it weren't for my marriage, he would be alive and well in England."

John stood close to her so their voices wouldn't need to travel far. "Do not blame yourself. You didn't cause this. No one knows what caused this. God may be angry, but it's not at you."

He put his arms around her and pulled her in close. "I'll do whatever I just to protect you, Princess."

"Do you remember when you asked me if I had ever been in love before?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I had not been when I asked you," he said.

"...And now?"

He took a step closer to her. He locked eyes with her. "Yes."

"Kiss me," Joan said, and so he did. She had never been kissed before, the sudden rush of satisfaction and best as his lips kissed her lips and cheek and neck. His hands were around her waist, holding her tightly against him.

It felt that the whole world could end at any moment. It felt like even a moment of reprieve in a harsh and awful world. She felt connected with someone else in a way she hadn't ever before.

They separated, and she thanked him for being there for her.

"I'll always be here for you, Princess."

"Say my name," she whispered.

"Joan." He kissed her neck, then her cheek. "My dear, sweet Joan." He kissed her lips.

"I love you, too," she said. "I want you to hold me tonight."

"You are still betrothed," John said. "We can only love each other until you meet your prince."

"I cannot."

"You must," John said. "Good night, my love. Try to get some sleep."

She went to bed alone, tingling all over, feeling guilt and fear and heartache. It felt like Castile was so far away, and she didn't know if she could or should make it there.