You have my word. My solemn vow before God. Your lands will not be touched and your sons will not be harmed.

MURDAC. Then you can take them, you can take my boys.

JAMES. I thought I was alone here.

MURDAC. Well, you’re not. I’m the only man alive who’s sat where you’re sitting. I know what it feels like.

Let’s hold onto that.

The Queen’s Room

JOAN and MEG are sorting dresses for remaking. JOAN busies herself unpicking stitches, MEG is cutting embroidered panels from another dress.

MEG. You’re very quiet.

JOAN says nothing.

Quiet as a mushroom.

JOAN. What does that even mean?

MEG. Eh?

JOAN. ‘Quiet as a mushroom’, what does that even mean?

MEG. It’s just something I say.

JOAN. I don’t understand a word you say!

MEG. Why are you picking a fight with me?!

JOAN. I can’t imagine! I can’t imagine, I mean if I was a proper English princess I wouldn’t even know your name, would I? You’d just be a little ant scurrying about doing what I want and never speaking.

MEG. Are you seriously still cross about that?

JOAN says nothing, tearing cloth angrily.

Well, Your Majesty, here’s a limit to how nice I’m going to be to you because you’re stuffed full of crabbitnesses along with your bairn so don’t push my patience.

A beat.

You’ll do fine. I’ve helped all my aunties and my big sister and I’m telling you I know you’ll do fine.

And you’ll make the King so happy.

JOAN sighs.

Can I ask you something?

JOAN. Probably.

MEG. Have you never loved any man?

A beat.

JOAN (quiet). Love is a sweet, secret thing you do in cupboards.

JOAN has nicked her finger, she goes mad throwing the dress down, slapping at it.

Oh, the stupid thing, the stupid thing.

MEG is stopping her.

MEG. Stop it. Let me do it. You rest now.

JOAN. I hate small work, I hate it. My head starts buzzing as soon as I’ve got to look at anything as small as stitches! Oh, there’s no air in this place. I’ve no more room to move than a nut tight in its shell! I’m trapped in another stupid little hovel of a castle!

MEG. What’s wrong with it!?

JOAN. It has no empty cupboards.

ISABELLA enters right at the end of this. She’s been listening outside.

ISABELLA. Anything you need you can fit in a kist.

She’s carrying a covered bowl. She puts it down on a chest, beaming at them.

And it’s proper furniture. A kist has a hundred uses, a table, a shelf, a chair. You could fit two bairns and a week’s rations for a squadron of men in a kist like this. You can have all your wealth ready to carry the minute you smell smoke. And you could barricade a door with the thing. Drop it out the window and brain any bastard climbing up the castle. A cupboard is just a door in a wall. Get more kists. I’ll have the man make you up a few.