The Conniving Queen
Isabella of France. May of 1303. Louvre Palace, France.
I would remember when my mother, Queen Joan and how she use to devote time
together with me as a young girl. She told me of stories of great sovereigns and would
tech me for my growing up. She would also tell me of my future. Even if I were only just
a lady of seven years, I was still old enough to be engaged.
My father, King Philip IV had made plans with King Edward I for my marriage to
the English prince Edward since my birth. And I had to grow up learning to become a
great and fair Queen for my new home in England.
When my lady mother had called me to her chambers, I was told of great news
from my mother, the Queen. “Ma chère Isabelle.” She started, “I’ve just got news from
your father, that a Papal dispensation of your betrothal to Edward was established. Oh,
isn’t this great news Isabella?” I smiled warmly and replied to my mother,
“It is dear mother.” I felt purely joyful by this news indeed! “Does this mean I am
to be Queen of England?” I was just a girl, and didn’t comprehend of what all was happening.
My mother placed her hands upon mine, and said, “Only when you are of age and
the negotiations are done, Ma chère Isabelle.” My mother, Queen Joan, was a humble
and plump lady, with an adventurous, daring, and innovative heart that had my father
falling in love with her at the start of their marriage.
I knew both my parents we happy by this contract. It would bond England to
France and resolve the conflicts and construct peace from here on. Though I did worry
about what kind of Queen I would be. Most definitely a gentle and kind-hearted one, like my mother.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop worrying about my future. I know my mother had
expressed to me that patience is a virtue, however I just couldn’t think away from that
petite voice in my head that continuously made me anxiety.
February of 1305. Paris, France.
King Edward seemed too had been making delays to my marriage contract to the
Prince that I could sense my parents tensions about the English King around me.
I would often hear my father curse at him for the extended and unsettled terms of
the marriage contract, and how he would attempted to break the engagement numerous of
times. My father strongly believed this was for his own political advantage and a
witticism towards him itself.
It frightened me of the thought. Knowing what I was born for and then having it
taken away from you made not only my father irritated, but also my lady mother as well.
As her daughter, she only desired the greatest for me.
My mother, being the great Queen that she was told me to be tolerant and to pray
that all will go efficiently for she was pregnant with her seventh child and tried to stay as
clam as she could so she wouldn’t hurt the child. However, I knew she was as doubtful as I.
2nd of April, 1305. Paris, France.
I felt as if my world shattered down upon me, and there were nothing I could do.
My mother, The Queen, couldn’t birth her child; my baby brother. I remember staying by
her side as she started to lose herself and leave this world.
She’d rested with her eyes closed, not saying a word. I didn’t dare to talk either. I
kneeled beside my mother and held onto her hand and prayed to God that he wouldn’t take her from me.
But that wasn’t the case.
My mother died that day. I wept heavily with my three older brothers, Louis,
Philip and Charles at my mother’s funeral. My mother was the most important person in
my life, and now she was gone when I needed her the most.
November of 1305. Paris, France.
A marriage by proxy was permitted when I was the age of ten. And it appeared
that the English King desired the marriage for his son Edward to me—for now that is. I
even doubted the King now. After my mother’s death, I’d still been mourning her lost
and had felt different ever since that day on my mother’s death bed.
I felt lonely without my mother. Even my main lady, Théophania who had nursed
me since my birth couldn’t bring joyfulness to me.
However, my mother’s death had bought me closer with my studies. I’d
developed a fondness of literature, and started to learn English by this point in my life.
My English lessons were going well as planned, and my father and house maids praised
I was looking forward to meeting Edward, my future husband as well.
We were 11 years apart, and I still could not wait to meet the prince. I heard he was charming with
attractive features and was a highly passionate man.
I flushed at the single thought of him even though I knew it wasn’t proper
manners for a lady at such a high ranking and position as mine. Nevertheless, it made me
hopeful, even on my foulest of days.
24th of July, 1307. Paris, France.
King Edward was dead. The news approached to me at a later time, but this delay
of news wasn't bad to the amount of happiness I had.
The King tried for his last time to break the engagement, but it wasn't successful, and now the wedding would proceed on.
Edward and I were to marry at Boulogne-sur-Mer, in northern France next year on
late January. I was now 12, and had slender figure and was coming near to my full height.
I was deemed as the “Isabella the Fair” by countless of other man at court.
I knew Edward would treasure me as an exquisite and graceful wife to him.
However, more importantly, he would discovery me as a humble and great consort.
I will be Queen Isabella of England. And I was proud.