Wife to Henry V: A Novel (24 page)

* * *

All warmed by praises of her pretty face, her young dignity, Henry came to her bed. His choice, maybe, was not so wrong! She was young and healthy; why should he distress himself about her father? As for her mother—he would see there were none of Madam Isabeau's tricks.

He was gentler with her than he had ever been; but for all that, none so gentle, so that she could not but think of James and envy his lady. He felt her rigid still; put aside resentment at her coldness, tried to soften her with a gift...anything her heart desired.

“Freedom for the King of Scotland,” she said at once. “Permission for him to marry his lady.”

His eyes darkened. “One gift, not two. And it would be well not to trouble our privacy with other people, nor to plead a cause you don't understand. The marriage of Kings is a matter for policies. And,” he remembered Isabeau, “in my country no woman meddles in those.”

After he had gone she cried with the smart to her pride no less than to her body. And, still crying, remembered he had not refused her. He would, she thought, grant her wishes—both of them. It was a beginning. She would, she swore, be equal with any queen that ever lived, equal with Isabeau...equal with the King himself.

Henry had ridden off and left her alone at Westminster. A bare four days after her crowning! No time to learn this husband of hers. She was piqued and she showed it.

“He had no choice,” Gloucester said; and she had the notion that he was glad to have his brother away. “The King must show himself; the people ask and ask again. There is more to England my dear, than Westminster and London.”

“There is more to it than pleasing the people; there is pleasing God,” Bishop Beaufort said with one of his sudden changes from statesman to churchman. “There is thanking Him in His Holy Places—and Henry knows it.”

“Henry does the praying...and the people do the paying “ Gloucester said, tart.

“If the cause is good, why not?” The bishop was the statesman again.

“
You
are not one to give something for nothing, Uncle, for all your fine talk. Where have you hidden the Harry Crown and the other securities you took from my brother? And why do you dog him from camp to camp if not to remind him of his debt—you and your brothers in Holy Church? But the common people don't ask for securities; nor do they follow at a safe distance from the battle holding out a hand till they get their money again. No! Henry will get the money and off he'll go leaving me to sweeten a sour people.”

“You're no honeypot!” Beaufort laughed. “And yet you manage to sweeten the people—the common people.” He struck delicately, reminding his nephew that the sweetening did not extend to the nobles of England. “So have patience, boy, and your turn will come. Money or no money, Henry is bound to return to France; for all his glory that new crown isn't won yet—the little Dauphin holds about two-thirds of the country.”

“Yes,” Gloucester said at once. “Yes!”

Again she thought he could not wait for the moment for Henry to go He had enjoyed his regency—he made no secret of it—and longed to assume it again. She wished it would occur to Henry to name her joint-regent, saw no prospect of it and sighed. He had no great opinion of her! Had she a child it might have been different. But what chance did he give her with his snatching at love-making between the alarums of battle and deserting her the moment he got back to England?

“Patience you, too, Madam,” Beaufort said. She flushed, knowing his uncanny power of reading thought. He went with her to the door. “The King will send for you soon,” he said very low. “I have written.”

* * *

St Albans, Bristol, Shrewsbury. She followed Henry's progress. Back through Hereford to Kenilworth and his own beloved manor of Pleasantmaris.

When she heard of the triumphs—of the people’s joy, of the celebrations and the costly gifts-it was as much as she could do not to break out into open complaining. She was weary of Westminster with its encircling river and its walls and towers and its coming and going of fifty thousand people. She wanted to be riding the spring countryside, to show herself to the people, to share in the triumphs.

She tried to comfort herself—at least she was out of the way of Henry's coldness, his heartless lovemaking!

But it was no consolation, none at all. Henry must return to France. And if he were killed? It could happen; it could easily happen. Would she be pushed from pillar to post like Isabella when Richard had died? These English would be no more willing to pay her Queen's dower, though it was set down black upon white, than they had been to pay her sister's. But-mother of the King, a baby King! That would be another matter, a quite other matter.

* * *

She forgot about the triumphs of which she had been robbed, forgot the uncertain future, forgot, even, her loneliness, in the amazing news.

Jacqueline was in England. Jacque! She had run away from her hateful husband as she had promised.

Her first thought was to ride to Dover to welcome her friend. She longed to see Jacque, to ask a thousand, thousand questions, to give a thousand, thousand confidences.

She longed to see Jacqueline—but she feared Henry. To encourage her friend might make trouble with Philip.

She put herself out of temptation by removing herself to Windsor.

* * *

Henry had sent messages of welcome to Jacqueline, orders for her entertainment. Gloucester himself was riding to Dover with a retinue fit to welcome a reigning Queen. But why? Catherine wondered. Wouldn't this anger Philip? And what was more important to Henry than Philip's friendship? Certainly no mistaken notions of chivalry!

“But why, why?” she asked a Jacqueline aglow at her daring escape, at her nearness to the handsome Humphrey. “Henry needs Philip—Philip spells France. He'd never risk France for any woman, not for Venus herself.” Catherine was a trifle bitter.

“Burgundy's false and your Henry knows it. When it suits Cousin Philip he'll go crawling to the Dauphin. But in me Henry has an ally. Such an ally! And he knows that, too. Holland and Hainault, Zeeland and Friesland are mine. And what's mine belongs to my friends. The richest heiress in Christendom if I had my rights. And why shouldn't I have my rights...when I have a husband to fight for me?”

“Fight for you? Your husband? But he's robbed you, insulted you, imprisoned you—that's why you ran away, isn't it?”

“Oh him!” Jacqueline waved an airy hand. “I don't mean Brabant, the nasty toad. Oh yes, Henry will find me a wonderful ally. Why should I grudge him anything since he's to be my brother? Listen, darling, darling Cat, and don't breathe a word. It's a secret. I'm going to marry Gloucester. We've arranged it.”

“You're crazy. You can't. You're married already.”

“Brabant isn't my husband—and never ought to have been. He's within the forbidden degree of blood. Whenever he came to my bed my flesh crawled. I'd shake as though I had a palsy. It was because I knew it was deadly sin. And why God didn't strike us all with thunderbolts I don't know.”

“Because the Pope countenanced it.”

“Then he must uncountenance it!” Jacqueline twirled on her toes. “I'm not going to live in mortal sin with an impotent boor. No, it's Humphrey for me, handsome Humphrey! This time I marry for love. Did you ever tell him, Cat, that I was ripe for a husband and an heir? I think you must have done—the man's hot for me.” “The man's greedy.” “I have enough.”

“There's never enough for a greedy man...and I'm not speaking of riches, only.”

“Still I have enough.” Jacqueline smoothed the rounded hips. “Enough to content any man.”

“But not this man. His name's a byword.” For all her shrugging Jacqueline was a little dismayed. She looked down at the full, white bosom in the low-cut gown, turned to admire a pretty plump leg outlined beneath the tight cote; her face cleared. “I've got as much as any woman in the world—and a great deal more besides.”

“Rank, lands, gold—and a pretty body thrown in! And still that's not enough to hold a lustful man.”

“Your lustful man may be kept faithful. What sends him lusting may hold him fast, if his wife have wit...and something more.” She cast another look over her charming body. “It's your chaste man—chaste and cold and hard to win to tenderness—that's the man you must fear.”

She gave Catherine a long, meaning look. It was the Queen's eyes that fell.

* * *

There was already gossip about Jacqueline and Gloucester.

Catherine was worried. Jacqueline was so headstrong, so very much in love. One could wish, almost, Henry had not given her refuge. He detested scandal at any time; but this particular scandal! It was probably all over Europe by now; and, certainly, it would make trouble with Philip. And yet could you blame Jacque, poor Jacque who hadn't known happiness in spite of two husbands? But a little matter like the need for happiness wouldn't interest Henry. And the scandal, the scandal! What would Henry say when he came home at Easter as he had promised? His anger would be terrible. Even now she trembled at the thought.

But Providence, it seemed, was kind. Henry would not be coming to Windsor after all. The people were clamouring to set eyes on the new, young Queen; he desired her to join him at Coventry.

She leaned against the casement all shaken with excitement.

The people wanted to see her.
Her
; Henry could no longer keep her from her rights. She would be beautiful and gracious and smiling; and all would be kind and easy between them.

And so leaning against the window she saw Jacqueline go by in the springtime garden, a letter in her hand; saw the bright eyes and smiling lips and guessed who had sent it. She bent to Jacqueline across the casement. “I'm to join the King!” she said.

“Oh Cat, how good! But he should have asked you long since—it's your right. But rights, rights! What rights have poor women but what husbands choose to give? Look at me—reigning countess in my own right! To me the oath was sworn, the knee bent. But Philip makes his sly bargain with Brabant,” and she would not call him husband. “And now it's to Burgundy my people look, Burgundy whom they serve and obey, Burgundy to whom in the end my lands would go if...” she smiled down at her letter, “if I were fool enough to stay with Brabant.”

“You have no choice.”

“Have I not?” Jacqueline smiled again.

“Jacque, Jacque, have a care! Remember Philip. Remember the oath between him and your husband. Who fights Brabant fights Burgundy; and, in return Brabant's possessions—and that means yours, Jacque, as long as you're married to him, need I remind you?—will go to Burgundy. Of course Philip will see that your marriage holds good. If you try to break it then he becomes your mortal enemy.”

“And—if I have a husband to fight for me?” The plump hands caressed the letter.

“Then Philip becomes more dangerous. Suppose you got the marriage annulled—and I think you won't; suppose you took Gloucester—if Henry allowed it and I know he won't. Do you think Philip would allow everything you possess to pass into a new husband's hand and out of his own for ever? Never think it! Philip becomes not only your enemy and Gloucester's enemy but Henry's enemy—England's enemy.” .

“Then leave Henry to deal with him! And leave me to deal with Henry. I fancy I can manage him. And now let's forget Cousin Philip while we may.” She swung into a gay mood. “Let's go to the Wardrobe, you'll need clothes for your progress. When do you start?”

“At once, almost. Will you ride with me?”

“Not I. I've done enough riding lately—away from trouble.”

“Then see you don't ride towards it. Jacque—you mean to be left behind with Gloucester.”

“Naturally; though for all the good it may do me I may as well be at Mons. Westminster's as far, or so it seems.” She pouted. “But we waste time! To the Wardrobe. Your clerk has a pretty taste in clothes; and in women, too, so I hear.”

“Change the subject you may; but still your mind runs on wantonness.” Catherine tried to play sedate, but for all that she could not help laughing.

“Can you wonder? Twice married—and not a single hour of love. Nor will have unless the fates are kind. As for your Wardrobe clerk, certainly I shall turn my charms on him. Oh not for wantonness—Gloucester's my fate; but to coax him, if you'll letrme, to give me a gown; or two, perhaps. I left home in a hurry!” She laughed thinking of that hurry.

“Take what you please—no need of coaxing. As for this clerk of mine, if his eye rove too freely, why then he shall be punished. We'll have no scandal in the Queen's household.”

“Can you avoid it? Such a handsome fellow, so I hear.”

“I haven't noticed him.”

“Haven't noticed the handsome Tudor, gentleman of Wales?”

“Gentleman?”

“Owen Tudor, Esquire.”

“Esquire!” Catherine shrugged. “He must be thirty if a day. Why isn't he a knight, this gentleman from Wales?”

“So you
did
notice him! As a matter of fact he's Henry's age—thirty-five or so, though he looks younger. As for the knighthood, Henry offered him one. Here you've been in England two months and you don't know the first thing about your own servants. He's something of a hero, this Tudor, let me tell you! He fought against Henry in Wales when they were boys together; then he fought
for
him at Agincourt—that's when Henry offered him the knighthood.”

“Why didn't he take it?”

“This!” Jacqueline tapped her hanging pouch. “So Henry offered him a place in his household instead.”

“Which he didn't refuse; more lucrative, no doubt.”

“No doubt...except that the man's honest.”

“No grass grows beneath your feet! Where did you learn all this?”

“My women. Like all the women in this house they're crazy about the man; you can't stop them talking. Not that I want to. Cat—'' she was suddenly serious, “freedom, life itself may hang upon a servant's word...as I know well. We think we're safe; but who knows what the future will bring? Did I? I'm alive now only because I knew whom to trust. The first thing I do wherever I go is to find out all I can about the servants. It's an example you'd do well to copy. But—” she was lighthearted again, “here we stand gossiping about this marvel when we might be setting eyes on him. Come, Cat, I'd like to see this wonder for myself.”