Текст книги "The Star of Lancaster"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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The people loved Harry. He had noticed it when they were together. All the cheers were for Harry. He had that certain quality which drew men to him. A Plantagenet quality although he had the looks of a de Bohun. His father had never had it, for all his strength and power; Edward the King had had it, so had the Black Prince.

He felt angry because it had been denied him.

They never liked me, he thought. If I said I would abdicate tomorrow they would cheer themselves hoarse for Harry.

And what of me? He would tell me what I must do. He would remind me a hundred times a day that he was the King.

*Never will I give up, my son,' he murmured. 'Death's is the only hand which will place the crown on your head.'

Harry was hand in glove with his Beaufort relations. Trust them to go where the pastures looked greenest. It was an indication that they thought there was not much time left to him.

They had supported him whole-heartedly at one time. Of course they had. Their fortunes were firmly tied up with those of the House of Lancaster. His half-brothers—^result of his father's abiding passion for Catherine Swynford. Clever men all of them. And now they veered to Harry. They were going

to uphold him, even if it meant going against the King—

for the old King was not long for this world.

'The King is dead!' they would cry. 'Long live the King.* He was sad; he was in pain. He had committed a great sin

in compassing the crown and it had brought him nothing but

bitterness.

Harry liked to discuss his plans with John, who was his favourite brother, and his uncles Henry and Thomas Beaufort. Henry had been made Bishop of Winchester and Thomas, Duke of Exeter and Chancellor of England; they had been specially favoured as the sons of John of Gaunt and they had inherited a good deal of their father's shrewdness.

Their elder brother John Beaufort, Earl of Somerset, was dead and there had been a rift in the family when the King's son Thomas had married Somerset's widow for when Thomas had demanded her estates Henry Beaufort had refused to give them up.

In the quarrel, the Prince had taken sides and was in favour of his uncle rather than his brother and this had, of course, made a great coolness between them, and Thomas, knowing that their father was not on the best of terms with the Prince of Wales, did his best to turn the King still more away from the heir to the throne.

It was an uneasy situation. It brought Harry closer to the Beauforts who as Bishop and Chancellor were powerful men; and as everyone knew now of the King's fearsome disease which often kept him out of sight for long periods, an uneasy tension was growing up in Court circles. It was working towards a rift and it seemed that before long there would be a King's circle and one made up of the Prince's supporters.

At this time a new conflict had arisen in France.

After the death of Isabella in childbed her husband Charles of Angouleme, who had become the Due d'Orleans when his father had been murdered, married again. This time his bride was the daughter of the very powerful and warlike Count of Armagnac. Charles of Orleans was of a gentle nature, a lover of the arts, thoughtful, with a hatred of war, but he was in the hands of his forceful father-in-law who wanted to establish the power of the House of Orleans which meant destroying that of Burgundy.

Civil war in France was something which England could not fail to be pleased about. It was always so much better to let an enemy destroy itself than to waste one's own strength doing it.

The Burgundians sent to England to ask Henry for his help and offered in payment for it a bride for the Prince of Wales, Anne, the Duke's daughter.

Harry had no desire for the match, but he did think that a force should be sent to the Burgundians. Let Frenchman fight Frenchman. That was a good plan. There would be fewer in the field when he went over there to fight for the crown of France, which he fully intended to do when he was safe on the throne of England.

Henry considered the matter. He was feeling very ill. Peace, that is what we want, he thought. It is unwise for us to embroil ourselves in the affairs of another nation.

'Nonsense!' cried Harry. 'It will be to our advantage.'

*I am against it,' declared Henry. 'There shall be no force sent to Burgundy's aid.'

It seemed that that settled the matter; but on the day he made that statement the King suffered another attack, which was even worse than those which had preceded it. His face became an unsightly mass of horrible pustules which stood out all over it and when he touched his skin and felt them he fainted and had the appearance of a dead man.

The doctors came and said that he could not last long, but a few days later he recovered and even his face was slightly less unsightly.

He must remain in his chamber, though. He could not show himself to the people or even the Court. Only those in his immediate circle should see him. The Queen ministered to him; she was gentle and reassuring, though it was hard to recognize in this poor maimed shrivelled creature in the bed the romantic Plantagenet who had come to Brittany an exile from his own country.

Harry took over the reins of government and the first thing he did was send men and arms to the Duke of Burgundy.

As a result of his actions the Orleans faction was defeated and it was victory for Burgundy.

The King did not die. In a few weeks he had recovered sufficiently to resume his duties. The first thing he discovered was that his son had gone against his wishes and sent troops to Burgundy.

He was incensed. He immediately sent for the Prince and demanded to know why he thought he could act in a manner opposed to his father—and his King's—wishes.

Harry replied that clearly the side to support was that of Burgundy. They had won, had they not? Who knew, they might be of help to him if he went into France at any time.

'Your fingers itch to lay hold of the crown, Harry/ said the King.

1 but think of the future.'

'And I am such an old and feeble man that I no longer warrant obedience.*

Tou are the King and must be obeyed.'

'Until you think me dead. You have to wait awhile yet, my son, before that crown is yours.'

'My thoughts were not on the crown, only on what I believed to be best for England.'

*And King Henry ... the Fifth, eh?'

'You are mistaken. I rejoice in your recovery.'

'You rejoice I Look at me ... if you can bear it. What have I become? This accursed sickness has taken hold of me, but God and all his saints, Harry, there is life in me yet and while there is I shall be King.'

Harry bowed his head.

The King dismissed his son. He had made up his mind; he was going to show Harry and his council that there was only one King in England and that was himself.

He had decided, he told them, to send aid to the Armagnacs. He was going to support Orleans against Burgundy; and to show his good faith, he was going to send his son to France with troops and supplies.

He sent for Prince Thomas, his favourite. Would to God he had been the elder, he thought; and yet he knew in his heart that this second son lacked that quality of leadership which Harry had inherited from his great ancestors. In a moment of clarity he thought: Is it possible to be jealous of one's own son? And he wondered if great Edward the Third had ever been jealous of the Black Prince. Never! He had let

the battle honours fall to him rather than accept them himself. But the Black Prince and his father had worked hand in hand. It was not the same with him and Harry; they were pulling different ways.

Thomas came to him. Henry faced him, with his back to the light. It was a habit of his now to stand in the shadows; people knew this and had cultivated a habit of looking at him as little as possible which they knew was what he wanted.

'Thomas/ said Henry, *I am sending a force of eight thousand men to France to assist the Orleanists.'

Thomas was aghast.

'I thought we were on the side of Burgundy.*

'Your brother is,' answered the King wryly. 'That does not necessarily mean that I am. But the side I favour is the one this country will support.'

Thomas smiled slyly. Another piece of contention between father and heir. That amused him. Harry really was a little too sure of himself.

'Thomas, I want to know, whom do you think we should support. Orleans or Burgundy?'

'My lord, if you support the Orleanists then so must we all.'

'Except your brother.'

'His support would be of little use without that of you. Father.'

'I believe that to be true. Your brother saw fit to act against my wishes while I was indisposed. Now I am better I propose to act against his. What say you to leading the force into France?'

Thomas was clearly delighted.

'I shall not wish you to go merely as Prince Thomas, my son. I have decided to bestow a Dukedom on you. What say you to the Duke of Clarence?'

Thomas fell on his knees declaring that he would serve his father with his life.

He almost forgot and tried to take his father's hand to kiss it. Then he remembered that his father's hands were always kept out of sight. There was a rumour that his fingers and toes had started to drop off. He did not know whether this was so for he was never allowed to see them.

He stumbled to his feet. He could not embrace his father.

He could do no more than reiterate his willingness to serve him.

Harry knew that his father was wrong to support the Orleanists, particularly after he had given aid to Burgundy.

'He is right/ reasoned Harry with Oldcastle, *to blame me for acting against his wishes. I knew what they were and I should have remembered that he was the King. But he is even more wrong than I to send aid to the Armagnacs just out of pique towards me. A King should never allow personal feelings to interfere with affairs of state.'

*Ah, you'll be a wise King, Harry, when you become one.'

*My father would not agree with you.'

*He might well.'

'He does not like me, John.'

*It may be that he sees in you what he would have liked to be himself.'

*He has been a virtuous man. Faithful to his Queens, and well served by them. He has at least been fortunate in his marriages. It is this accursed disease which has taken hold of him and warped his nature. He thinks it is some affliction sent to him as a punishment for his sins.'

'Yet he is a man who has tried to rule his country well.'

'But he would say he had to step over Richard's dead body to do it.'

John was thoughtful. 'He broke his word to the Lollards.'

'You are obsessed by the Lollards. I could almost fancy you are one yourself.'

'I am, my lord.'

Harry stared at him. 'You have become serious, John,' he said. *I have noticed a change in you.'

'Yes, I am one of them, my Prince. What will you do now? You'll not own me as your friend.'

'The Lollards cannot rob me of a friend,' said the Prince. 'But have a care, John. The Church does not like you and the Church has great power.'

'The Church is afraid of us. And that brings us back to where we started. It may be that your father is a little afraid of you.'

'There's more to you, old man, than I ever thought.'

'There's more to me, my young bantam, than most people think/

They were unusually silent; both busy with their thoughts of themselves and each other.

It was Oldcastle who brought home to the Prince that there was an element of danger in his position. 'There are some who are planning to destroy you,' he said. 'They know that the King favours your brother of Clarence. His action over Burgundy has set them thinking. Watch out, my young Prince.'

'I am watchful,' said Harry. 'They shall not get the better of me.'

'The King is sick and near to death. You may depend upon it there are some who believe that no favour will come to you through them.'

Harry was aware of this and when he heard the rumour that he had taken money intended for the garrison of Calais and used it for his own purposes, he realized how serious was the threat against him.

His enemies had a good foundation on which to work. All knew of his way of life in the past. Was a frequenter of low taverns, a man who spent his time with strumpets and gamblers, fit to be King of England?

'They are right,' reasoned Harry, 'but that is not the whole truth. I am that wastrel. But I am something else besides; and I have always known that one day I must say good-bye to my former self and become a King and by God's very being I swear that when I do I shall be a King whose fame will stand nobly beside that of my greatest ancestors.'

But he had been foolish perhaps. He had followed a certain bent. He had mixed with low company. But I know them better than my father ever could. I shall know the men I rule and those I take into battle with me. My youth mayhap has not been so misspent as it would appear to be.

Now he must throw off his light ways. He must think clearly. He must take action against his enemies. He must not alienate his father too completely. The King was too wise, too shrewd, not to see the qualities in his eldest son. He was bemused now—bewitched one might say—by this loathsome affliction which had taken hold of him; his strength was

ebbing away; moreover he was persecuted by another shadow as great as that of this disfiguring disease. Guilt. The older he grew, the nearer to death, the more he remembered what he had done to Richard. There was the ghost who walked with him, who slept in his bed at nights. It was his cousin Richard.

Harry must put an end to his father's enmity. He must remind him that he was his eldest son; he must let the country know that there was no thought in the King's mind to set him aside.

It was New Year's Day and the Court was at Westminster. Henry appeared briefly and then he was draped in a cloak which exposed only his face. He seated himself at one end of the great hall, apart from the rest of the company. The Queen sat beside him and around them were a very few of their closest associates.

Suddenly the Prince entered the hall with a few of his attendants. Everyone present was startled because he was dressed in his student's gown with the needle and thread which was presented to students every year, sticking in his collar. In this simple garment he would have been immediately recognizable even by those who did not know him as a person of quality. He held himself with pride, and leaving his attendants clustered round the fire in the middle of the hall he approached the dais on which his father sat.

Harry knelt before the King who stared at him in amazement, wondering what prank this might be, when Harry unsheathed the dagger he wore at his waist and presented it to the King.

'What means this, my son?* asked the King.

*I have been accused of disloyalty to you, my lord father. My enemies tell you I have used for my own pleasure funds which should uphold the port of Calais. My enemies slander me, which does not grieve me greatly in itself. All men worth their salt are slandered by those who fear their own weakness. But that I should be accused of disloyalty and a lack of affection towards my King and my own father, that I will not endure. My lord, if you believe these calumnies directed against me, plunge this dagger into my heart.'

'Take back your dagger,' said the King. *Do you think I would kill my own son?'

*He would wish you to do the deed, my lord, if you could believe for one moment these lies which are told about him.'

The King handed the dagger back to Harry.

Tut it in your belt/ he said. ' 'Tis where it belongs.'

*So you believe me to be your good son and loyal subject.'

1 will believe it,' said the King, 'until it is proved otherwise.'

'And this matter of the Calais funds?'

*We will dismiss it.'

'Nay,' said Harry. 'I would have my innocence proved.'

'Then proved it must be.'

'Father, I mean that I would rather you killed me than believe I am other than your loving son and subject.'

'Rise, my son. Let there be no more conflict between us. You are my heir. My first-born. We know it cannot be long before I depart this life. Let us, for the love of God, be good friends for that little time.'

'Amen,' said Harry.

He was well pleased; he had discountenanced his enemies.

Christmas was celebrated at Eltham in Kent, one of the King's favourite palaces with its thick walls and buttresses. Many tragedies had been played out in it. And now he had come here to spend his Christmas and with him was Joanna, one of the few people he allowed to come near him.

She knew the worst. Poor Joanna, who had come to England from the gardens of forget-me-nots and found life had turned out to be very different from what they had imagined it would be when they had walked together in those gardens, not speaking of their hopes and being so happy when they materialized, until they found that life was cruel.

The cherished crown was an empty bauble bringing him nothing but care and disappointment; his once splendid body was betraying him.

He was a sick and sad old man.

In the great hall the revelries persisted. There must be revelries for Christmas even though the King could not honour the company with his presence. Down there they would be playing their games; they would choose the King for the night; the mummers would divert them and there would be laughter and song.

Joanna watched him mournfully.

'You should be with the company, my dear,' he said.

*I should be with you/

Toor Joanna, it has been a sad life we have had together.'

'That is not true/ she protested. *It has been a good life.'

*A good life! I did not know you were deceitful, wife. Look at this body of mine ... made hideous ... loathsome ... I wonder you can look at it.'

*It is yours/ she answered soberly, 'and it is my wish to care for you, to soothe your ills and be all that I promised to be.'

'You have done that,' he said. *I have been blessed in you as I was in little Mary. I doubt she was happy ... any more than you. She died of bearing children ... one after the other. Why did I not see it was too much for her? And you, Joanna, what have you had from life? Two husbands, one an old man when you went to him and the other a man persecuted by this horrible sickness.'

'Let us make the most of what we have, Henry.'

'Wise Joanna. For what else can we do?'

She soothed him as best she could. She tried not to show the aversion the sight of him must arouse in her. She was fearful because she had heard it whispered that his state had been brought about through witchcraft; and because she was a foreigner whom they had never liked there were some who declared she was the witch.

Henry did not know this. He must never know.

She must do her best to help him live through the months ahead of them. There could not be many left to him.

It was Lent. The King felt weaker. He had summoned Parliament in February and right at the last moment had been too unwell to attend.

He asked the lords to remain in London, which did not please them as they must do so at their own expense.

But they should be there. He felt their presence was needed.

March had come, and fierce blustering winds swept through the streets.

It was customary for the King to make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Edward the Confessor at the back of the high altar in the church.

Joanna tried to dissuade him.

'It is too cold,' she said, 'and you are so unwell.'

'It is expected of me,' the King reminded her.

'People must understand,' she said.

But he would not listen.

It was a slow and painful journey to the Abbey, but he reached the shrine and even as he did so he fell swooning to the ground.

His attendants picked him up and it was suggested that he be carried to the nearest room and one where a fire was burning. A pallet of straw should be brought and when this was done, he was laid down before the fire in the Jerusalem chamber.

'Let us send for the Prince of Wales with all haste,* said the Archbishop.

The King lay breathing with difficulty and he seemed to be dying when Harry arrived.

He knelt by his father's side. The King looked at him with glazed eyes and murmured his name.

Tather, I am come,' said Harry.

'Where am I?' asked the King.

'You are in the Jerusalem chamber in the Abbey,' Harry told him.

The King smiled faintly. 'They told me I would die in Jerusalem,' he said. 'Send in the crow^n.'

It w^as brought and laid beside him on a cushion made of cloth of gold.

The King seemed satisfied.

He closed his eyes.

Those about him watched him closely.

'It is the end,' said one.

'He is no longer with us,' said another.

Harry knelt at his father's side and looked at that face made hideous by the disease from which he had suffered. Joanna knelt at his other side. She raised her eyes and looked across her husband at Harry.

He is the King now, she thought.

Harry said: *It is all over,' and one of the attendants placed a silk towel across the King's face.

'It is for you to take the crown, my lord,' said one of Harry's followers.

He picked it up and even as he did so the King moved as though aware of what was happening.

The towel was removed from his face and Henry opened his eyes and looked straight at his son who was standing be-

side him with the crown in his hands.

'What right have you to it, my son,' he said, 'seeing that I had none?'

Harry answered promptly: 'Sire, as you have held it and kept it by the sword, so will I hold it and keep it as long as I shall live/

'I am not yet dead,' he said. 'They would have sent me off before I am ready. But my time is near. Do as you will but now recommend me to God and pray that He will have mercy on my soul.'

The King took the sacrament and closed his eyes; but even now he lingered on.

'Harry,' he said, 'come close to me. This is our last farewell. I love you well. I am proud of you. Always deserve that pride, my son. Look at me now. I was once strong as you are now. Think, in the midst of your glory and prosperity, of the kingdom to which I go and whither you must come. Love the Lord God and fear him. Be not too fond of ease but engage rather in the things of God and in those pleasures and sports which have in them nothing of the foulness of vice. Pay my debts and may God give you his blessing, laden with all good things that you may live iDlessed for ever and ever.'

Harry was deeply moved. He promised his father that he would endeavour to be all that he would wish him to be.

The King smiled and lay back.

This time there was no doubt that he was dead.

Harry had become King Henry the Fifth.

OLDCASTLE

The night was stormy. There were few people in the streets but those who were might have seen a cloaked figure hurrying along towards the Abbey. None would have guessed that it was the King of a few hours. Purposefully he strode, ducking his head against the wind until he came to the doors of the Abbey.

He entered and as he did so a monk came towards him.

*I would speak with you, brother. I would confess my sins and ask absolution,' said Henry.

*My lord!' cried the monk, for there w^as no mistaking the authoritative tones of the new King. *At this hour ...'

'Enough of the hour. I have urgent work. Come. Take me to the confessional.'

Tollow me,' said the monk.

So Henry followed and there in the confessional he went down on his knees and burying his face in his hands he said: 1 have lived a life of dissipation. I have been a diligent follower of idle practices. I swear by God and all his saints that from this day I shall alter my course.'

'The Lord will hear your resolution, my son,' said the holy man. 'You are young. You have years ahead to make recompense for past follies.'

*I must tell you of the heinous sins I have committed. I have been wicked, profligate, a frequenter of low taverns and an associate of robbers and prostitutes. I have been a slave to

vice. I have turned my back on virtues. I have caused great anxiety to my father. I have been wanton in my ways.. /

'Repent,' said the monk. 'Truly repent. You are young yet. You have a lifetime before you.'

1 have lived on this earth for twenty-six years, Father, and I have committed more sins than the average man commits in three score years.'

'Take heart, my son. You have opportunities ahead of you. Devote your life to the service of your country. Eschew your fleshly desires. Put on the mantle of a King and a virtuous King and the barren willow will be converted into a fruitful olive.'

'Give me your blessing and let me confess to you that you may know^ all.'

There were a few seconds of silence and then the King began to talk of those nights he had spent in the lowest taverns of East Cheap, of the orgies in which he had played a major part. He wished to conceal nothing. The holy man must know how low he had sunk.

The monk listened and at the end of the King's recital, he said: 'Go your way. Your sins will be washed away by the good deeds you will perform.'

But the King w^as not yet satisfied.

'My father died in great remorse,' he said. 'And I who have inherited his crown must share that remorse. He believed at the end that he had no right to the crown, that he had taken it from Richard and that he would have to pay for this action. Richard's death ...'

'That is a heavy sin to lie on any conscience,' interrupted the monk. 'If the King your father murdered his predecessor ... he cannot hope to enter the kingdom of heaven.'

'He did not murder Richard by his own hand. He did not mean him to die, mayhap. But Richard died at the hands of those who served my father. If he did not actually kill him, he believed he shared that guilt. It hung heavily on his conscience.'

'And you, my lord, you knew nothing of this?'

'I was recently returned from Ireland. The crown passed into my father's hand while I was in that country. I knew nothing of Richard's death save that it had to be for the safety of my father.'

* 'Twill not be laid at your door, my son. Ease your con-

science by giving Richard a royal burial/

1 will have him laid in this Abbey. It is his rightful place/ *Go in peace, my son. Change your ways. Throw off the

cloak of vice and \Tap yourself round with that of virtue. Serve

your people well, for in that way you will best serve God.' When the King came out into the night he felt uplifted.

Harry the dissolute Prince had been replaced by Henry the

resolute King.

The Coronation was to be on Passion Sunday, the ninth of April in that year 1413.

The King was already beginning to astound all those about him by his serious demeanour.

Many said it would not last. They would soon have Harry filling the Court with his dissolute companions. This dedicated role was one which was new to him but they had to admit that he played it with skill.

He had not seen his drinking companions for days; and they had left Court on his suggestion. He was in close touch with his uncles the Beauforts, and gave Henry Beaufort back the Chancellorship from which he had resigned on being nominated to the Bishopric of Winchester. The Earl of Arundel had been a great favourite with his father but Henry did not share his father's devotion to the man, although he realized that the head of such a powerful family must not be offended. He was appointed Treasurer. Henry did public penance for his father's sins and everyone knew that what he really had in mind was the compassing of the crown for he had had Richard's body removed from Langley and buried in Westminster Abbey; and he announced that on coronation day he intended to grant a general pardon to all prisoners except those who had been imprisoned for murder or rape.

It was a good beginning but most people were cautious as yet. Harry the Prince had had too lurid a reputation to be able to cast it off with a few good deeds. He announced that he would found three religious houses at Richmond, one for Carthusian, one for Celestine monks, the other for Bregen-tine nuns; and in these prayers were to be offered by day and night for the repose of his father's soul.

The weather was unseasonably cold. It had been a harsh winter and persisted so through to the spring, but on corona-

tion day people thronged the streets in spite of the bitter winds. After the traditional ceremony in the Abbey, Henry came out into the streets and by this time the snow was falling fast and the strong winds were making it into a blizzard.

A snow storm in April I Surely such a rare phenomenon that it must be a sign from Heaven.

As Henry battled his way back to the palace for the coronation banquet, it was said that this was God's way of telling England that the King had put off the ardours of his youth. He was being chastened by the bleak snow. A good omen. But there were also those who looked upon the storm as a warning of evil to come.

In any case there could be no doubt that Henry had become a new man.

Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, sought an audience with the King.

The last time the King had seen his Archbishop was at the coronation when Arundel had placed the crown on his head. Now Arundel had a serious matter to discuss and Henry guessed its nature.

Arundel had been an enemy of the movement which was sweeping across the country and known as the Lollards. The aim of this community was, in fact, the complete disendow-ment of the Church; an object which might have seemed worthy of nothing but derision at one time but had in recent years proved itself to be a menace.

These Lollards were the followers of John Wycliffe; they were reformers and their interests were not only confined to the reformation of the Church. It was believed that Lollardry was at the root of the Peasants' Revolt and they had brought disaster very close to the crown. Therefore it was a movement which must be closely watched and since he had come to the throne no one was more aware of this than Henry.

His father had never enjoyed security and he had yet to learn how firm his own hold was. When one had come there by what some might call a devious route and a debatable claim, one had to take care.

The King received the Archbishop with a show of friendship but a certain lack of warmth. He did not greatly care for the old man, but he must be approaching sixty, thought