"Otherwise all England is lost."
"Not so, John Copeland! We must let Sire Edward complete his
overrunning of France, if such be the Trinity's will. You know
perfectly well that he has always had a fancy to conquer France; and
if I bade him return now he would be vexed."
"The disappointment of the King," John Copeland considered, "is a
smaller evil than allowing all of us to be butchered."
"Not to me, John Copeland," the Queen said.
Now came many lords into the chamber, seeking Madame Philippa. "We
must make peace with the Scottish rascal!--England is lost!--A ship
must be sent entreating succor of Sire Edward!" So they shouted.
"Messieurs," said Queen Philippa, "who commands here? Am I, then, some
woman of the town?"
Ensued a sudden silence. John Copeland, standing by the seaward
window, had picked up a lute and was fingering the instrument
half-idly. Now the Marquess of Hastings stepped from the throng.
"Pardon, Highness. But the occasion is urgent."
"The occasion is very urgent, my lord," the Queen assented, deep in
meditation.
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