I ran up the stairs with the ladies behind me. I threw open the door and beheld my son. He was seated on the floor playing with a silver whistle, and in that moment the loss of my husband and my concern for the future were forgotten. I ran to him and knelt beside him. He regarded me solemnly, and my happiness was tinged with sadness because he did not recognize me. I was a stranger to him, and he was not sure what I was doing in his nursery.
I seized him in my arms. “Henry,” I cried, “little Henry…this is your mother come to you.”
He drew himself away, frowning; then he looked around him and, seeing Guillemote standing there, he gave a little crow of triumph and held out his arms to her.
She picked him up. “There, my precious. ’Tis your mother who loves you and is waiting to tell you so.”
He turned his head slightly and regarded me with suspicion.
Guillemote sat down and beckoned me to sit beside her.
“There,” she crooned and placed him on my lap. She knelt down beside us and I noticed how he clung to her hand.
“Poor little mite,” she went on. “He does not know his mother. It is so long, my lady, and he is very little. It will come. He learns quickly, our little one.”
Henry did learn quickly. In less than ten minutes he had accepted me. He had made up his mind that I meant no harm. I was a friend of his dear Guillemote, and if she accepted me, so would he.
I wondered if I should ever equal her in his affections, and I was filled with resentment against a fate which separated a mother from her baby.
I was greatly relieved to be at Windsor again with my ladies around me. How relaxing it was to be able to talk without considering one’s words first.
“It is so good to be with you again,” I told them. “I hope we shall be left in peace for a while.”
“My lady,” said Agnes, “you will make your own decisions. You are the Queen Mother now. It will be different from being Queen. There will not be so many duties.”
Joanna Troutbeck took my hand and kissed it. “We felt for you so much,” she said. “When we heard the news, we wished that we were with you.”
“It was so sudden…such a shock,” I told them. “Who would have thought that Henry could…just die like that?”
“He seemed different from other men…immortal,” said Agnes.
“And now he is proved to be as all men are. They must go when they are called.”
“We will do anything …” said Joanna Belknap.
“We want to help all we can,” they told me.
“I thank God I have my baby. Do you think they will take him from me?”
“If they try to, you must protest.”
“He is the King…and kings are the property of the State, they say. Oh, how I wish he were not a king! When I think of that little head weighed down by a crown …”
“Doubtless,” said Agnes, “he will hold it dear. Most men do.”
“It was a crown which killed his father…or the determination to hunt for it.”
They looked at me in amazement; and I went on, “Oh yes, he was killed in war as much as any man. Had he not wasted his youth and strength on the battlefield, he would be alive today.”
There was a brief silence and I thought: I must not talk thus. I have come here to forget…to be with my child…to make a new life.
I went on: “You must tell me what has been happening while I have been away.”
“The biggest news is the marriage of the Duke of Gloucester,” said Joanna Troutbeck.
“Is that so?”
“To the Lady Jacqueline of Bavaria.”
“But I thought she was married to the Duke of Brabant. How can she therefore marry the Duke of Gloucester?”
“The marriage was annulled. Or so she claims. The anti-Pope obliged and she was free. So she has married Duke Humphrey.”
“There will be trouble surely?”
“It would seem that neither of them cares very much for that.”
“But Brabant is the cousin of the Duke of Burgundy. They are connections of mine. As for Jacqueline, she was once my sister-in-law.”
“They are snapping their fingers at all those who object,” said Agnes. “The Duke of Bedford, we have heard, is furiously angry. Burgundy is not the man to brook interference and he naturally had his eyes on Jacqueline’s possessions. The Duke of Bedford fears he may lose Burgundy as an ally through this. There is a great deal of gossip about it at Court.”
“They have been very rash,” I said. “Are they very much in love?”
“As was said before, I think the Duke is very much in love with Hainault, Zealand, Holland and Friesland,” said Joanna Troutbeck.
“And Jacqueline?” I asked.
“She is in love with the belief that he, as her husband, will fight with her to get her possessions back.”
“So it is a love match between them both and these possessions rather than that of Jacqueline and Humphrey for each other?”
“Well,” said the cynical Joanna Troutbeck. “Is it not for such reasons that marriages are often made?”
I nodded sadly. “As mine was. Was I not fortunate to marry a man like Henry?”
“And he to marry you, my lady.”
“Yes, it was a good marriage. We were happy together…when we were together.”
They began to talk of other matters. I could imagine their whispering to each other when I was not there as to how they could turn my mind from those happy days I had spent with Henry and stop my repining.
· · ·
I had not been in England more than a week or so when messengers arrived from France. I knew they brought news of some calamity, and waited with trepidation for what they had to tell me.
They hesitated for a little while until I begged them to speak. Then one of them said: “It is the King, your father, my lady.”
“My father? What of my father?” He had been a source of anxiety for so long. What more could there be to fear?
“He is dead, my lady.”
I was silent, thinking of my first glimpse of him when I was a child. Vividly I remembered the wild-eyed man who thought he was made of glass. I could remember the bleak despair in his eyes.
“The people of Paris mourn him deeply.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“And now he has gone to his rest, my lady, the rest for which he had so much longed.”
“So…he was in Paris?”
“Yes, my lady. The people cheered him when he came to the city. It warmed his heart to hear the shouts of ‘Noël.’ The people always loved him…even when he could not come among them…even when he was shut away from them.”
Love and pity were very close, I thought.
“He lay in state, my lady, for three days…his face uncovered that all might take a last look at him. He was in the Hôtel de St.-Paul, and crowds went in most devotedly to pay their last respects to him.”
“Yes,” I murmured. “He was well loved.”
“You should have heard the prayers, my lady. The people knew him for a good man. He was sadly afflicted. They said how different the fate of France might have been if he had been well enough to lead the country. They prayed to God for the soul of their dear prince. They said they would never again see one as good as he was. ‘Now it is all wars and trouble,’ they said. ‘Prince, go to your rest. We must remain to our tribulations and sorrows.’ They likened their plight to that of the children of Israel in captivity in Babylon.”
I listened impassively; and suddenly they were covered with embarrassment. They had been thinking of me solely as my father’s daughter and then had realized that I was the conqueror’s widow. I had left my own country and adopted his. It was an awkward situation in which they found themselves. They would have liked to say more, I knew, but they had said as much as they dared.
“How did he die?” I asked. “Was he at peace at the end?”
“They say so, my lady. They say he welcomed death with open arms.
He was tired of life. Fate had ill-used him.”
I thought: Yes, he had always wanted to go. There was nothing for him here but those long periods of darkness followed by brief lucid periods when he would know that it was during his reign that France had been lost, and his own son, the Dauphin, had been deprived of his inheritance. He had had to stand aside and see another proclaimed King of France. What did they think of me? Where was my place in all this? My little son was usurping the rights of the Dauphin.
“They took him to St.-Denis, my lady. The Duke of Berry made a speech over his open tomb. He said: ‘Lord have mercy on the soul of the most high and excellent Charles, King of France, sixth of the name.’”
I nodded…he was King until the end. Henry had agreed that he should retain the title until his death. I was glad that Henry had not robbed him of that, empty as it was.
“Immediately after the Duke of Berry had spoken, there followed a cry of ‘Long live King Henry, by the grace of God, King of France and of England!’”
I felt I could bear no more, so I thanked them for coming and dismissed them. I wanted to be alone.
There were so many memories…and all sad ones. I wondered about my mother. What was she doing now? She was no longer Queen of France. That was no loss to France. I was filled with a deep resentment toward her. Much of the tragedy which had befallen my father and his country was due to her. And now where was she? I doubted not that she would be looking after herself. She would have her luxuries…her pets…her lovers. And she would not shed a tear for that poor tragic man whose life and whose country she had helped to bring to disaster.
But what was the use of recriminations, of brooding on the past? I had to go on with my life. I was in a new land. I had become a widow. Perhaps they would send me back to France. But I was the mother of their King, so they could hardly do that. I must think of my son. Therein lay my future. I must forget my tragic past. My allegiance was to my new country.
I went to the nursery and gazed down on my sleeping child—King Henry of France and England.
The Duke of Gloucester called at Windsor.
What a handsome man he was! Far more attractive in a way than his brother of Bedford. He wore his hair closely cropped, as Henry had worn his. It was the best style for a soldier; and because it had been favored by the King, it had become fashionable. That would change now, I supposed, with his passing. But just now Henry was very much with us. Humphrey had a love of fine clothes, which Henry, being mostly at war, had no time for. He now wore a blue houppelande caught in at the waist with a jeweled belt. The full sleeves billowed out, and his long pointed shoes were the same color as his houppelande.
He studied me with a mixture of appreciation and speculation, as I guessed he did all women. His eyes were rather like Henry’s, but Henry’s had been clearer. Under Humphrey’s were the beginnings of pouches, which was an indication, I believed, of his indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh. I knew that he was quite unlike Henry in character and temperament. He liked good living; and wine and women played an important part in his life. Yet there was a certain aestheticism about him which was an intriguing contrast to that side of his nature. He was a great lover of the fine arts.
Bedford was more like Henry in character than Humphrey would ever be—though a pale shadow of him.
I was beginning to think that Humphrey’s life was guided by an overweening ambition.
“My lady Queen, my dear sister,” he said, taking both my hands and kissing one after another. “This is a grievous time for us both. How sad my heart is for myself…and for you.”
“You are kind, my lord.”
“I would there was something I could do to alleviate the pain you are suffering. Henry was a wonderful husband…a wonderful brother. There has never been, nor ever will be another such as he.”
“I believe that to be true. I believe, too, that I must congratulate you on your marriage.”
“You are most kind.”
“I was surprised to hear of it. The King knew nothing of it, I believe.”
“No. It happened after his death.”
“My lord Bedford …”
Humphrey raised his eyebrows. “Speak not of it, sweet sister. I have had scolding enough from that quarter.”
“It was a dangerous thing to do, perhaps.”
“But love laughs at danger.”
“Yes, I suppose so. And my kinsman, the Duke of Burgundy, what thinks he of the match?”
“Ranting and raging, I doubt not. Poor little Brabant being his kinsman, Burgundy will have his eyes on Jacqueline’s possessions.”
“I daresay you propose to win them back for her.”
He smiled at me and bowed his head. “We shall see what happens,” he said. “In the meantime I am here on a mission. I looked after our little King well during your absence. Do you agree?”
“Yes, and I thank you.”
“It was a sacred duty. He is an important little boy…the most important in the land. He will help you overcome your sorrow, I trust.”
“I know he will, and I am grateful to you for acting as his guardian while I was out of the kingdom.”
“It was a pleasure as well as a duty. If anything had happened to that child, I should have had to answer to the people. They will adore him when they see him.”
“He is too young as yet to be exposed to the people.”
“Oh, give him a taste of it. I’ll warrant he’ll love to hear the people shout for him. Which brings me to the proposition which I have been commissioned to put to you. Parliament is to be meeting in a week. The Council has decided that the monarch should be present.”
“My baby!”
“Yes, madam. You will drive through the streets of London with the child on your lap. I can promise you it will be a most affecting sight.”
“But…he is too young.”
Gloucester lifted his shoulders. “He is already a king. He will have to grow accustomed to seeing the people. He cannot begin too soon. You will be with him all the time. And…it is the wish of the Council. I think you should prepare to come to London.”
I looked at him in dismay. It was clear to me that the peaceful days were over.
So I went to London for the meeting of Parliament, and I rode through the streets seated on what looked like a throne set up on a chariot, and on my lap was my baby son.
How he delighted them! There is nothing like a baby to touch the hearts of the people. They marveled at him; and indeed he played his part magnificently. I had feared he might scream and cry, but instead he seemed very interested in everything that was going on. Only when the shouts were particularly loud did his little fingers curl more tightly about my hand.
They had dressed him in fine robes, which pleased him. He kept stroking the cloth of gold and velvet and chuckling to himself.
He had quickly grown accustomed to me, and there were times when I thought he knew that I was his mother.
Guillemote said I had weaned his affection from her and that I was the important one with him now. That delighted her as much as it did me. Guillemote was a good woman—a mother to me in my early days and one of the best friends I ever had.
There he sat, my little one, interested in the crowds and music and appearing to listen with solemnity when the proclamations were read out in his name.
I sensed the loyalty of the crowds. Their great hero was dead, but he had left them his son who one day would be a great king.
That was the mood of the people that day.
· · ·
I returned to Windsor, glad to be back but still glowing from my son’s triumph in winning the hearts of the people of London.
I felt I was moving away from my sorrow, and if they would allow me to keep my son, I could be happy. But I knew, of course, that that was hardly likely.
For a year I was left in peace—if peace it could be called, to be continually in fear that something could happen at any moment to disrupt it.
I think I wa
s fortunate to be left so long undisturbed. There were reasons, of course.
It has often amazed me how significant a part Humphrey of Gloucester played in my life, for I think it was largely due to him that I was, at this time, left in peace. I do not mean that he arranged it. Humphrey was not the man to concern himself with other people’s comfort. But this reckless marriage of his with Jacqueline of Bavaria had caused such anxiety to Bedford and those about him that they could give little thought to anything else.
The King was a baby. He was with his mother and her household, so there was no immediate need for him to be a concern of the State—even though he was King—until he was a little older. His affairs could be dealt with later.
The great trouble was that Jacqueline had been married—still was, some believed—to the Duke of Brabant. Burgundy had arranged that marriage and was eager for those rich provinces which Jacqueline had inherited to remain with the Burgundians. And now Gloucester was threatening to take them.
I knew there was trouble between Bedford and Gloucester and that Bedford said this could never have happened if Henry had lived. He would never have allowed Gloucester to marry Jacqueline while the help of Burgundy was necessary to England. Gloucester had placed that in jeopardy and had done a great disservice to his country.
Gloucester snapped his fingers at Bedford and was, so I heard, planning to take a force to the Continent, not to help his brother consolidate Henry’s gains as he should have done but to fight his own little war for the possession of Hainault, Holland, Zealand and Friesland.
In the secrecy of our royal nursery I said to Guillemote: “Perhaps we should be grateful to Gloucester.”
She looked at me with an expression in her eyes which told me she was cautioning me.
“I know, I know,” I said. “He is undermining England’s cause. But let us be frank with each other, dear Guillemote: but for that, they might be turning their attention to us.”
She admitted that was so.
“I dread the day when they make their plans. They will take him from me, Guillemote. I could not bear that.”
Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 07] Page 16
