When Henry VI told England that Joan of Arc had been captured by the pro-English French Burgundians, England's immediate feeling was pity.
She may have been his country's greatest threat at the time, but England admired her bravery. Either way, she deserved to stay free and in her homeland. Not to be betrayed by her own people, the Burgundians, who wished to sell her to England.
As a result, England was all for ignoring the offer. But to please King Henry he agreed to visit the Burgundians and hear out what they wished to say.
When he persisted in refusing, they insisted he at least see the prisoner and, for the sake of manners, he acquiesced.
She was being kept in a dark tower, sharp and narrow as a needle, poor thing. England climbed the winding stairs with trepidation. What was she like, the hope of France?
The door rattled on its hinges. The light of the tiny window fell full on the face of a dark-haired girl.
It was her.
France's lover. The one from that day so long ago when England's heart had broken.
She met his stare proudly and without remorse.
England felt sick. 'Are you not afraid?'
'If it is God's will, so be it.'
He turned around and left the room.
Some time later, he arrived back in his country. 'Well?' Henry asked.
England considered. 'I think she is too important to let free. That we should imprison her here, in England.'
'What about -' Henry started.
'Do as you think best.'
Henry nodded and England put all thoughts of her out of mind.
Just over a year later, Henry proudly told him that she was dead.