It was in a state of happy expectation that we arrived at Eltham. I could not restrain my excitement as we came through the magnificent avenue of trees and saw the stone walls and lofty archways of the palace. We passed into a cobbled courtyard.
Henry was waiting to greet us.
I wanted to pick him up in my arms, but I must remember that, although he was my little son, he was also the King. He smiled at me happily, so the formal greeting was not important. We should have an opportunity to be alone, when we would cast off convention and revert to the old easygoing relationship which was more natural to us.
How happy I was to be with him! He told me what had been happening to him—how he had to ride every day and practice archery. He wished it was not quite so often, but he was very fond of his horse. Best of all he loved his books. The Earl of Warwick, though, said he must not neglect sports or the study of arms for them.
“The Earl of Warwick will know best,” I said.
He accepted that rather dubiously; but I think on the whole he was a docile pupil.
He was very interested in the Christmas festivities. He had been allowed to take a hand in decorating the great hall and had helped bring in the yule log.
He had a present for me, he told me. It turned out to be a pair of gloves. He watched me unwrap them and put them on, studying me to see whether I was pleased with them.
I kissed him. I told him they were perfect. How had he known that I had always wanted such a pair of gloves?
“Dame Alice helped me to choose them,” he said modestly. “But I really wanted that pair for you.”
“They are the best gloves in the world,” I told him, “and I shall always treasure them.”
I was speaking the truth. I have them to this day. I often unwrap them and think of the time he gave them to me.
He told me that Jack Travail and his band of merry men were coming to amuse us and there would be mummers. He and his little companions would play all sorts of games. It was going to be a wonderful Christmas. “And,” he added, “you are here with me.” A remark which touched me deeply.
Among his Christmas gifts were some coral beads. He was delighted with them, and he told me that Dame Alice had said that they had belonged to King Edward.
“But,” he said, “there were three Edwards and she was not sure to which one they had belonged. I wish I knew. Do you know about the kings named Edward? One of them was a great warrior…like my father, but not so great of course. There were battles called Poitiers and Crécy—though they were not like Agincourt. He did not win the whole of France, though he did quite well. Then there was one who was always fighting in Scotland. But she didn’t tell me much about the second one. When I pressed her, she said, ‘You will know one day. But that time is not yet. It will depend on your tutor.’ He was the second Edward, and he is the one I should like to know about.”
I told him that I had learned my lessons at a place called Poissy in France. I could not enlighten him about the second Edward, but I would find out if I could.
I did find out later, and when I learned of the life of King Edward II, I felt very sad, thinking of the tragic fates which could befall kings. And it occurred to me that the second Edward was probably the one to whom those coral beads had belonged; and I rather wished they had not fallen into my son’s hand.
But that Christmas was a time for rejoicing.
There was great merriment when the boys played their games. I noticed they were all a little deferential to Henry, though most of them came from the noblest families in the land. They played blind man’s buff and hide-and-seek, and when Jack Travail arrived with his merry men, he devised new games and did little comic sketches which amused them mightily. He had brought with him some portable organs which provided special delight. I said afterward to Owen that it was wonderful to see my little boy enjoying fun naturally, unencumbered, however briefly, by his kingship.
I could not help thinking how wonderful it would be if we could slip away…taking Henry with us, and go with a few friends to some quiet place away from the ceremony of the Court…somewhere where we could live in the style of certain gentlefolk away from the turmoil of state affairs.
I think I must have been lulled into an even greater sense of security than ever, which made me careless. It was the relaxed atmosphere, the festive celebrations, the pleasure of having my son near me. I was bemused by my contentment.
It seemed nothing at the time. It all came about quite naturally, though it brought home to me the fact that I was being watched and that every little action of mine was noted, considered and judgment passed upon it.
The young people had retired to their beds and there was dancing in the great hall. Owen was present, but naturally he did not sit with me. We had to remember that in public he was the Clerk of the Wardrobe and one of the guards, and as such naturally would not be with me.
I sat watching the dancers, not wishing to dance myself. There was a great deal of laughter and chatter, and the musicians were playing tunefully. Often my eyes went to Owen across the hall, and our eyes conveyed tender messages.
Some of the courtiers had organized a competition.
“What are they doing?” I asked idly.
One of the men came up to me and said: “It is a contest, my lady. We were discussing who of us could leap the highest in the dance and turn the greatest number of times. Then someone said, ‘Let us put it to the test,’ and that is what we are doing.”
I clapped my hands and said: “Let us all see, then. Let us discover the champion.”
“Perhaps Your Grace will be the judge.”
“Why certainly. I will judge.”
They gathered around me.
“The test is who can jump the highest and turn the most number of times, is it not?” I said.
“Yes, my lady. They must jump while turning…as in the dance.”
“Well, let the trial begin. Who is to be the first?”
The contest started. The men came and danced before me, twirling and leaping into the air. The watchers shouted the number of times they turned and gave their opinions of the height of the leaps.
We had almost decided on a winner when someone said: “Come on, Owen Tudor, try your luck.”
“I am no dancer,” protested Owen.
It was true. I had watched him in the ballroom with great tenderness. I would not have him like those mincing, prancing men who prided themselves on their agility in the dance. Again I thought of Gloucester, who, of course, was the perfect dancer. It was amazing how frequently his image came into my mind. It was a man’s place to excel at things other than dancing.
Owen was embarrassed and continued to protest.
“Come on, Owen Tudor,” someone cried. “Are you a coward, then? What will Her Grace think if you refuse to dance before her?”
Owen stood there slightly flushed. I smiled at him encouragingly.
“It is only a game,” I said.
The musicians started to play. There was nothing he could do but attempt to dance, which he did clumsily, twirling around and around.
“Higher, higher,” shouted one of the courtiers.
Owen leaped, lost his balance and fell straight into my lap.
I put out my hands and caught him. For a few moments I held him against me. I was not aware that I held him longer than I would normally have held anyone who had fallen upon me in such an impromptu manner until I became aware of the deep silence in the room. The musicians had stopped playing. Everyone seemed to be very still…listening…waiting for something to happen. I heard myself laugh.
“My lady …” stammered Owen.
“I do not think that Owen Tudor will win the prize,” I said as he stood up before me.
Owen looked overcome with embarrassment. “I am sorry …” he began.
I waved my hand. “You did protest,” I reminded him. “I shall blame all those who forced you to it. Come, let us continue with the game. I am eager now to see who will be our winner.
”
The music had started. There were two more competitors who wished to try their luck. But something had happened. People were watchful. Secretive glances passed between them.
It was not long before Guillemote raised the subject.
She made a habit of brushing my hair before we retired for the night. It was then that we discussed the events of the day and night.
She came to the point in her usual candid way.
“It was noticed,” she said.
“What was noticed?”
“You and the Tudor.”
“What was noticed?” I repeated.
“That he fell into your lap.”
“How could they help noticing? They were all watching the contest. Owen did not fall purposely.”
“It was the way you received him.”
“Received him? He fell into my lap. How should one receive a dancer who falls into one’s lap?”
I laughed at the memory. “He looked so funny,” I said. “Poor Owen, he did not want to do it. They should not have insisted. He knows he cannot dance. And why should he? Dancing is no occupation for a man of intelligence.”
“And wit…and all perfections,” added Guillemote.
I was silent. She looked at me accusingly.
“Did you not realize? It was the way you held him…the way you looked at him…the way he looked at you. It was clear to everyone in the room.”
“What are you saying?”
“My dear…my dearest mistress…how long do you think you are going to keep this a secret?”
“What…a secret?”
“What is going on between you and Owen Tudor.”
I was silent. She placed the hairbrush on the table with an angry gesture. “Secret!” she cried. “After this night it will be a secret no longer.”
“My dear Guillemote, how could I help it if he fell?”
“You could not help his falling. It was afterward. They are whispering about you. Don’t you see how dangerous it is? You are the Queen.”
“It was nothing,” I protested. “It was all over in a few seconds.”
“Long enough for you to have betrayed your feelings…and he, too. It was the way you looked at each other…the way he stayed there …”
“For a second or two?”
“It was too long. The looks were too ardent. And there were all those watchful ones who have already been…speculating. My lady, my lady, I beg you to think what you are doing…of what would happen if it were known to some of your enemies.”
“Guillemote, you are frightening me.”
She suddenly took me into her arms as she used to when I was a child.
“There,” she said in the old manner. “Perhaps they did not notice after all. It is just because I watch over you too much. I care too much …”
“Oh no, Guillemote, do not say that. Go on caring…caring too much.”
She stroked my hair.
“You should give it up, my dearest. It is dangerous. I do not know what would happen if it were found out…in certain quarters. Give it up now…before it is too late.”
“I could not, Guillemote. I have lost my child …”
“He is here…under this very roof.”
“It is not the same. You know they have taken him away from me. Dame Alice and Joan Astley…they are closer to him than I am. They have taken him away from me…no matter what you say. And as he grows older he will be farther from me. I love Owen, Guillemote. I just could not face life without one of them …”
“I know.” She sighed and kissed my cheek. “But you must be more careful. It becomes dangerous…and have you thought that one day they might want to make a match for you?”
“I will not allow it, Guillemote. I married for state reasons once. When I marry again, it will be for love.”
“You are the Queen, remember.”
“Yes, I am the Queen and I will not allow them to arrange my life. I will do as I wish.”
She nodded her head gravely and her eyes were full of fear.
It was soon after that that I made a discovery which, while it filled me with the utmost alarm, both excited and delighted me.
I was pregnant.
Why I should have been so surprised, I cannot imagine. Owen and I had been passionate lovers for some months. We had been living together, oblivious of everything around us. It was only when I had had to go to Court that we had to restrain ourselves.
I felt dazed with the wonder of it. A child—mine and Owen’s. How wonderful it could have been, if only …
As the realization of what this could mean swept over me, I began to tremble. What should I do now? How could I keep this secret? And it would have to be kept secret.
I will not part with this child, I told myself. I will do anything rather.
I had to think. I had to be clever. I was in a difficult situation and I must find a way out of it.
I did not want to say anything to anyone until I was absolutely sure. In the meantime I must begin to plan. What would be the reaction of those about me? But why should they govern my life? I was the Queen. I was the mother of the King and they had taken him away from me. Why should I not have a life of my own…children of my own who were of no interest to the state? It was unreasonable to deny me this. But I knew they would. I wanted to say to them: I will go right away. You can take away my title of queen. I do not want it. I only want to live in peace.
Wild plans came into my mind…plans which I knew it would be impossible to carry out. There was one thing only which I clung to, and that was my determination to keep this child with me…to bring it up as my own.
I was now sure that I was going to have a child.
When I told Owen, his reaction was the same as mine had been—that wonder and delight…and then fear.
“Owen,” I said, “what are we going to do?”
He was silent for a moment, then he said slowly: “There will be trouble.”
“I know. But…what can they do about us?”
“They can separate us to begin with.”
“I will not have it, Owen.”
“My dearest, you will have no say in the matter.”
“No say in the management of my own life!”
“You are the daughter of a king, the widow of a king. It puts you in a dangerous position.”
“Why…why…Henry is dead. They have taken his and my child from me. Why should they take everything else?”
He said: “We need to consider this very carefully.”
“First tell me that we shall not be parted. We must marry, Owen. We owe that to the child.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then,” I said, “I shall care nothing for the rest. We will fight them, Owen.”
“We must decide how.”
For a few moments he held me tightly in his arms. I knew that he was overcome by the wonder of what had happened, as I was. He was visualizing this child we should have…our very own…belonging to us…no pawn of the state, this one. Our child…Owen’s and mine. When I contemplated that, it was difficult to dwell on the problems we faced. But we had to be very careful…for the sake of the child.
“My dear one,” said Owen. “We have to think of this very clearly. We must be very clever. We must look straight at all possibilities…however alarming. We shall need the utmost skill to bring ourselves through this.”
I watched him intently. He was frowning. I could see he was contemplating the problem which loomed ahead of us with deep concentration, knowing full well that it could bring disaster to us both.
“How I wish,” he said, “that you were not the Queen.”
“It is an empty title,” I replied. “It always was. It brought me no power. It only made a prisoner of me. I cannot tell you how often I have wished that I had been born in some humble cottage.”
He laid his hand on my shoulder and smiled gently at me.
“We shall need all our energy…all our ingenuity to bring us through this, Katherine. Let
us think of that…and that only. We are going to marry in spite of everything and everyone. We are going to have our child. No one is going to spoil our lives. We must think as best we can how we are going to bring this about.”
“Why should this concern others? They have taken Henry from me. Is that not enough?”
“We must not brood on what has already gone. We have to plan, Katherine…plan logically. You are the Queen…mother of the King. Any children you may have might consider they have a claim to the throne.”
“How could they? They would not be Henry’s. They would be yours and mine.”
“I am thinking of what would enter the minds of some people. We must consider these things, Katherine. This is what makes our position doubly dangerous. If in high places it was thought that a marriage would be right for you, it would be to a prince of their choosing.”
“But I would never agree to that.”
“I am trying to think of how this will seem to them. The fact is that, if you and I married, our children would be legitimate. It would doubtless be our marriage to which they would object most strongly.”
“Nevertheless, we are going to marry, Owen. We must marry. There is the child. And Owen, I will not be separated from you and my child. It is my right to be happy with my family.”
“We will marry,” he said. “Oh Katherine, we have to tread with great care. We have to be very clever. You could not have the child here. It would be known throughout the Court at once.”
“Then what? Let us run away. Let us go to Wales. I should love to see your country, Owen. The mountains …”
“We should never escape them. If we ran away they would say we were really dangerous. No, we cannot run away. We have to find a way of living our lives…in secret.”
“Here…surrounded by all these people?”
“It will have to be somewhere else. One of the small, quiet manor houses. There are several you could use. But it would have to come about naturally. There are some of your household whom you could trust…and mind you, they must be those whom you could trust absolutely.”
“Guillemote …”
“Guillemote, of course.”
“And the Joannas…Agnes, and my confessor Johan Boyers…I could trust him.”
Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 07] Page 22
