You better learn how to make the right friends or you’ll no get much older, will you?

My ancestors have been Kings of Scotland back to the start of recorded time. There’s a lot of royalty in Scotland. Royalty should make friends with royalty, don’t you think?

You can tell King James how he should go on. He should leave our land alone. Tell him. It’s a wife’s job to care for her husband. You’ll know what’s best, eh? He’ll listen to you.

(Offers the bowl.) I brought you some soup. From one mother to another.

JOAN. Thank you. No.

ISABELLA. I’ll put it here for you. (Puts bowl down.)

You should eat, my wee Queen. We don’t want you wasting away, do we? And you should learn the sword, my lady. You never know when you’ll need the knack, or at least you’ll have a better way to slice an apple. Quick as you like.

ISABELLA slices the sword through the air. It just misses JOAN’s pregnant stomach. JOAN freezes.

(Laughs.) Made you jump.

ISABELLA exits. JOAN still seems frozen. MEG takes the cover off the bowl of soup. She’s shocked.

JOAN. What is it?

MEG. I’ll take this out.

JOAN. Show me!

She goes to look. It shocks her.

What does she mean? One mother to another? What does she mean?

She has hold of the bowl, MEG tries to take it from her.

MEG. I’ll take this out.

JOAN. You said I’d know what folk meant. You promised me I’d know what people meant…

She means to kill me.

JAMES enters.

MEG. I’ll take this out.

MEG exits with the bowl.

JAMES. What was that?

JOAN. The Lady Isabella brought me some soup.

JAMES. Was it good?

JOAN. It was…

It was…

It was chickens…

JAMES. What’s happened? Are you ill?

JOAN (getting upset). Baby chickens, unhatched. Dead baby chickens taken before they could hatch… She just broke the eggs in a bowl… and there were the tiny chicks, pink, with no feathers…

JAMES. What do you want me to do, Joan?

He tries to touch her.

JOAN. Oh, dear God!

(Controls herself.) Excuse me, Your Majesty, I…

JAMES (cutting her off). Look at the state of you! How am I supposed to understand you if you never explain anything to me? It’s just this. It’s always this. Tears and glum looks and no reason for it! No reason! Ever!

JOAN. I’m sorry, Your Majesty, if…

JAMES (cutting her off). Oh, you’re not fucking sorry! You’re sorry for yourself and that’s an end to it!

Horrible silence.

If you told me what was wrong with you I could fix it. I would give my life and half my kingdom to fix it. If you show me the job you need me to do to make you happy I will get it done.

I can’t bloody guess, Joan. I need information.

JOAN goes and gets a box and takes papers out of it. The poem.

What are you doing now!?